Only a few weeks after we received the news that ended the fight for states’ rights, Mama and I were in the yard, pulling dry clothes off the line, when we saw two men with heavy beards trudge along the road toward the boarding house. Mama straightened and shaded her eyes to stare toward them.
I threw down a clean shirt, poised to flee. “Shall I find Papa?”
“No, I don’t think they mean us any harm. Look how slowly they move, as though they’ve been walking a long time.”
We watched until the men grew closer, and we recognized the faded uniforms as ragtag Confederate butternut. The toes of their boots were worn clean through, and one had an empty jacket sleeve pinned up high.
The taller man addressed Mama. “Are you Miz Mimms?” At her nod, he continued. “A friend asked me and my brother to deliver this message to you.”
“Thank you, sir.” Mama took a piece of dirty paper folded to a small square and slipped it in her apron pocket. “Would you like to sit and rest a spell? We can get you some food if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am. We are right hungry. Thirsty too, and that’s a fact. Been walking a long time, clear from Kentucky, but we’re almost back to home.”
Mama and I sliced bread and brought a dipper filled with cool water for them to share. The men sat in the shade of the porch and stretched their legs, wolfing down the bread as though ravenous.
“Have you run into any trouble on your way?” I could not keep the thought of my brothers traveling alone and in such a bedraggled state from my mind.
“Mostly just folks tired and hungry as we are. Everybody has the same idea. They all want to get back to their families, and there ain’t much food to share along the way.”
The shorter soldier nodded. “There’s a lot of homes and barns burned to ashes. We’re hoping things will be steady back at our farm.”
“I hope so too, and wish you both Godspeed in your journey,” Mama said.
The taller man swiped a sleeve across his mouth and nodded before he and his brother pushed themselves to their feet and set off to continue their determined trek.
When the men were out of earshot, Mama pulled the paper from her pocket and carefully unfolded it. Her brows pinched together as she read aloud.
Dear Aunt,
I write these words with a heavy heart. Jesse was riding in to surrender with the other men of his troop in Lexington when Federals started shooting. One of their bullets caught my brother in the chest. He’s bad hurt and too weak to make the trip to Ma and Reuben in Nebraska. I’m counting on you to take care of your nephew until he gets well enough to go home. We’ll be coming from Lafayette County, though I don’t know how long it will take us to get there.
This from your nephew, Frank James
She lowered the paper. “We need to prepare a sickroom.”
I chewed my lip. How badly was he wounded? Then it occurred to me. Jesse must be in mortal danger indeed, for him to be moved to us rather than his mother’s new home in Nebraska. Zerelda and Reuben had been forced from their farm in Kearney after the General Order was signed in January. It banished anyone giving aid to the guerilla rebels. Zerelda’s outspoken approval of her sons’ activities, and the shelter she offered them and their friends, put the Samuel family near the top of the list of those sent into exile. Zerelda, Reuben, my cousin Susan, and the Samuel children fled to Rulo in southeastern Nebraska, not far across the border from their beloved farm. In a letter filled with venomous rage and anguish, Zerelda had begged Uncle Thomas and Papa to check on her property whenever they could, declaring they would return to Missouri as soon as the Federals allowed them to do so.
I burned with curiosity while tearing linen cloth into bandages, all the while keeping an eye on the road leading to our home. Adding to my sense of unease, William Locke continued his thinly veiled efforts to be closer to me than I wished. One day he went so far as to touch my arm, allowing his moist fingers to linger on my skin. I stepped away and froze him with a stare before marching from the room. His gaze made bile rise in my throat and reminded me of the way a buyer examined a milk cow. I prayed he’d grow weary of waiting for me to change my mind and take leave of the boarding house once and for all.
As days passed, the razor-sharp edge of anticipating Jesse’s arrival dulled. I kept myself busy in the kitchen with Mama and Aunt Susan, and with the endless chores of housekeeping. Once the sun set and the evening cooled, Lucy and I walked outside, where we could speak freely.
A full moon high in the sky lit our path while grass cushioned our feet and silenced our steps. Crickets chirped their summer song, and trees smelled of damp wood near the pond where a bullfrog bellowed mournfully for a mate.
“Zee, do you suppose Frank and Jesse could have been intercepted? I heard the Federals will look for any reason to hang a rebel.”
I shook my head. “Frank knows how to be cautious. He’ll be sure not to take any chances.”
Unspoken words hung between us. As kin to the James boys, the possibility of the Federals knocking on our door and ordering us into exile made the small hairs on the back of my neck rise. I lifted a thick braid that hung halfway down my back and allowed a cool breeze to caress me. Lucy’s skirt swished as it brushed against a bee balm plant, lifting the fragrance of lemon to my nose.
“Mama and Papa are eaten up with worry not knowing what may come next,” I said. “I wish we’d get news. I feel as though we’re balancing on a narrow log trying to cross a wide river.”
“I fear what may come, too. Nothing is certain. I suppose all we can do is occupy our minds with other things and wait.”
We walked a few more steps in silence before I spoke again. “I can’t help hoping that when Jesse arrives, Mr. Locke will have something else to think of besides bothering me. He gets bolder every day.”
Lucy grinned and fanned her face. “Mama will be sorely disappointed if you refuse him again. I’m sure he must have a few good qualities. I know Mama and Papa are certain he’d be a perfect match for you.”
“Perfect if I wish to live the life of an old woman long before it’s time for me to be one.” I shot a sly glance at her. “Perhaps I should tell Mama to consider you for Mr. Locke instead, since you’re more smitten with his charms than I. He might make a better husband than your young soldier, Boling Browder.”
Lucy’s muffled snort told me all I needed to know. We laughed and turned back to the house.
The next afternoon, while hanging wet laundry on the line, I heard horse hooves on the road. My heart jumped, and I stared in the direction of the sounds, worrying whether soldiers or other scoundrels could be on their way to raid our home. But all I saw was a small buckboard pulled by a thin old horse. A much younger animal, saddled and tethered, followed. The wagon squeaked and rattled, one wheel shimmying as though ready to fall off. A bearded man on the driver’s bench hunched over the reins.
When I recognized him, I called out to Mama and Aunt Susan, who were sitting on the porch cutting vegetables. “It’s Frank!”
“Thank the Lord,” Mama said, jumping up to greet them.
Frank looked thin as ever. A heavy, dark beard partially obscured his face, but his blue eyes were still sharp and alert. Frank motioned toward the back of the wagon as Papa and Uncle Thomas joined us. “My brother’s life hangs by a narrow thread. There’s a bullet in his lung. He’ll need every bit of attention you can give him.”
Jesse’s head rested on a folded blanket, his body wrapped so tightly, he looked like a babe swaddled in a quilt. He appeared to be unconscious, face flushed and gaunt with small beads of moisture gathered across his forehead. Despite the stubble of a beard, he looked very young. I touched his cheek to check for fever, and his eyelids flickered. They opened, and I saw the same strikingly pale blue I remembered from times spent years ago when we played together as children. Then, his eyes had reflected a mischievous sparkle. Now they looked empty, whether from pain or the effects of hard living, I wasn’t sure.
Frank spoke again, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for this. We had to take him someplace safe where he can get the care he needs. There’re too many who want nothing more than to see one of the rebel gang swing, even though he lawfully surrendered and took their damned Ironclad Oath on his sickbed so they’d let him leave.” Anger simmered beneath Frank’s pain.
Mama squeezed his arm. “Try not to worry. Jesse is our kin, and we will do whatever we can for him.” She motioned for Papa and Uncle Thomas. “Can you get him inside, please? Be gentle as you can.”
They tugged on the pallet and lifted Jesse from the wagon. We followed them into the house, and though my father and uncle moved in a slow and cautious manner, Jesse’s jaw clenched and he groaned in a way that made my breath catch.
Once they got him settled on a bed, Mama turned to me. “Zee, you sit with him for a moment while I speak with Frank. I want to find a way to get word to Zerelda so she knows Jesse is here. Then I’ll be back. Perhaps later we can try to give him some soup. He needs nourishment to build his strength.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Jesse’s chest rose and fell in a halting way, as though his lungs could not fill completely with air. I brushed aside the shock of sandy hair that covered his forehead.
At my touch, his eyes opened and darted around the room before he focused on my face. “Zee?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Is it you?”
I took his hand felt the calloused palms of a horseman. I’d already learned from Mama that reassurance must be one of the first treatments given to a patient. “Yes, Jesse. You’re safe. We’re going to take care of you until you’re better. Rest now, and very soon you’ll recover your strength.”
My words appeared to bring a small measure of comfort. His eyes closed, and his body relaxed into the mattress. As he slept, I took the opportunity to study my cousin’s face.
He was nearly eighteen, two years younger than me, yet he struck me as much older and harder than the last time we’d been together, five—or was it six?—years earlier. His family had stopped by to visit us on their way to a funeral. Jesse and I were walking together in the yard when he grabbed my arm and threw down a challenge. “Unless you give me my first kiss, Zee, I’ll climb up to the hayloft and jump right out to the ground.”
The foolish comment reminded me of a melodramatic story I’d recently read, and I laughed at his blatant impudence. But I tilted up my head to lightly touch my lips against his. Now that same young man lay before me, still and quiet with the dust of travel settled over him and a gleam on his skin that hinted of fever. I decided not to wait any longer for Mama. If I fetched the water myself, I could at least cool him down and sponge him clean.
But when I attempted to pull away my hand, his fingers tightened around mine.