Almost a month had passed since Jesse came back to our home. He’d turned an important corner, but he was not out of the woods yet. He would improve enough to sit up, then sink back into lethargic weakness. My emotions followed the path of his well-being, either bursting with elation or dropping into despair. Dr. Lykins cautioned that he fared as well as could be expected given the nature of his injury, and that our most important job was to make sure he rested so all his energy could be used to recover.
Jesse’s conduct fluctuated as much as his body. On good days, he would gamely chew and swallow each bite I fed him. Other days, he seemed unwilling to even attempt lifting his hand. Yet difficult as his illness was for all of us, I knew Jesse chafed under his weakness more than anyone else.
One early October day, after a brief visit from Frank, Jesse became increasingly morose. “I could be out helping protect us from the Union’s Reconstruction rather than lying around here like I’m older than Methuselah. Frank is doing his part. I want to do mine.”
He pushed away the tray of food I’d brought him and fixed his gaze on the window.
“Jesse, it does you no good when you refuse to eat. How will you ever regain your strength without food?”
“It doesn’t seem to make much difference. I’m tired of doing what I’m supposed to do and not getting better.”
I set the tray on his bedside table. There were times when Jesse acted much younger than his age, yet I tried to understand. For such a young man, he’d lived an amazingly independent life, traveling in primitive forests and along backcountry roads. I knew the hard set to his jaw came from the experience of riding with border raiders, and I imagined it was torture for him to lie in bed and be reliant on others.
My musing sparked an idea.
“How would you like to go outside? I can help you to the porch. There’s a comfortable rocking chair to sit in and feel the sun on your face.”
His lips curved up, and I recognized a boyish gleam in his eyes.
“Can I? Would it be all right?”
“Eat your lunch, and I’ll help you outside. If this adventure does as much good for you as I think it might, perhaps your mother won’t be so angry when she finds out I let you leave bed against doctor’s orders.”
I had yet to see Jesse clean his plate with such enthusiasm. Once he’d finished every bite, he swiped his hand across his lips.
“I’m ready. Let’s do it now before you change your mind.” I helped him swing his legs over the side of the bed. The edges of his lips whitened.
“Are you sure you feel strong enough? We could try again tomorrow.”
“No. I want to go outside now.”
I lifted his arm and draped it across my shoulders.
“On the count of three, we’ll stand up. One … two … three.”
Jesse struggled to his feet, leaning most of his weight on me. Despite how thin he’d become, I was still much smaller, but if sheer determination counted for anything, we would both stay upright.
In a shuffle step interrupted by a pause every few moments, we made slow progress outside the bedroom, through the parlor, and onto the front porch. Jesse dropped into the rocking chair, pale and winded, perspiration dotting his forehead. After my own breath returned to normal, I checked his wound and was relieved to see no fresh red seeping through the bandage. With a blanket folded across his knees against the cool autumn air, Jesse closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sun as though he’d forgotten its warmth. He sat that way in silence for several minutes until color returned to his cheeks.
When he opened his eyes, new hope stirred in them. “Thank you, Zee. This makes me feel as though there’s a chance someday I’ll be well again, sitting on my horse, and doing what needs to be done.”
A long-absent spark brightened his eyes and lifted my heart higher than a thin summer cloud. “I’m glad. You needed to see what made you who you are. Lying in a bed for weeks has sapped your strength and your will. From now on, we’ll venture outside as often as you wish no matter what anyone else says. It’s what you need. It’s what will save you.”
Jesse took my hand, and his thumb brushed across the palm. “You’re the one who knows me best. Not even Ma understands the way you do.”
“Yes, and won’t she be furious once she knows what we’ve done?”
Jesse laughed out loud. “Indeed, she will. But I wager she’ll be pleased enough at the result.”
In that moment, it didn’t matter to me what Aunt Zerelda or Mama said.
When Mama discovered our adventure to the porch, she lectured me about responsibility and told me to obey the doctor’s orders. After that, Papa drew me aside and in a gentle voice counseled me to have patience. I heard them both but paid no mind to their advice. Each day, Jesse and I ventured to the porch, and before long, he leaned less heavily on me, able to sit outside for longer periods of time. And during each outing, I could see his countenance sharpen as he absorbed the sunlight and inhaled the scent of a clean breeze.
Our continued treks to the porch meant Jesse stopped complaining about meals, and his appetite improved so much that he ate anything I served him. In the open air, he became much like the Jesse I remembered—lighthearted and happy. We ate together outside at least once each day and called the meals a picnic.
One afternoon, after settling him in the chair, I went inside to fetch our lunch of chicken and potatoes. I carried out the steaming food, my steps light. Jesse cleaned everything from his plate and washed down the food with a great gulp of water. When he leaned back and grinned, I raised a brow.
“What are you finding so humorous today?”
“I haven’t felt this good in a long time. Every day is better. It won’t be long until I can be back to fighting with Frank.”
“I don’t understand what fighting can change now. The war is over, and the Federals are in control. Papa says we must learn ways to soothe them rather than enflame tensions.”
“I witnessed too much of Federal ways to think they can ever be soothed. I saw what they did to Southerners. Fine strong boys getting their brains blown out. Houses burned over people’s heads. I once had a Federal hold a knife to my throat, and he would’ve cut me from ear to ear if a soldier named Archie Clement hadn’t shot him dead. He’s the one who taught me the way to fight is to show up where no one expects to see you. Then do what you have to do and ride away like the wind.”
I shuddered at his words. “I can’t imagine living through that kind of horror.”
“And I hope you never learn the meaning of such horror. It changes someone to kill and see killing and wash enough blood off their hands to turn creek water red. No, I’m not worried one bit about enflaming Federals or anyone else who tries to betray me. The sooner I’m back at the work of making them pay for what they’ve done, the better.”
I clamped my mouth shut to avoid saying anything I might later regret. My own feelings were at war, wondering whether I should champion Papa’s position, agree with Jesse’s, or succumb to my own sorrow at his eagerness to leave. I piled empty dishes on the tray, to avoid looking at him.
He viewed me curiously. “You’re not pleased about something. What is it?”
“I’m not certain fighting is going to gain anything for anyone, but I am glad you’re getting well.”
“One thing is sure. Once I leave, there’ll be much less work for you. It’s a wonder you’re not down sick in bed too, the way you’ve run yourself thin taking care of me. You’ve been my anchor, Zee. I’m only alive now because of you.”
His words pacified me but did not take away the sting of his potential departure. Yet I had no right to voice such feelings, and forced myself to smile.
As Jesse’s strength grew, he ventured farther from the house, although I insisted someone must always be with him. On the day we walked to the barn and visited with Uncle Thomas’s mare, Lully, Jesse couldn’t have been more lighthearted. The scent of sweet hay and Jesse’s smile when the mare nuzzled his palm with her velvet nose, lifted my spirits.
“Mark my words, Zee, I’ll soon be sitting on a horse again. That day can’t get here soon enough. One of the worst parts of being sick for so long has been not riding. There’s nothing I love better than being on the back of a fast horse, flying like the wind.”
“I have no doubt you’ll be in the saddle again. Whenever you have that stubborn look, you generally accomplish what you set out to do.”
He picked up a brush to run down Lully’s neck, and she tossed her head and nickered in response.
“Once I can ride, I’ll be able to join Frank and see to it that justice is done.”
“But your mother needs your help with the farm,” I chose my words carefully. “Don’t you think that’s more important than exacting revenge?”
“Dirt has been done to me and mine, and whether the Federals want to call the war over or not doesn’t matter. Don’t they still keep their boots pressed hard on our necks? Yes, they do, and I don’t know if they’ll ever stop. I don’t intend to walk away from anyone who tries to take away my rights or who turns out to be a traitor.”
Something about his words triggered a memory that sent a shiver down my spine. What was it Jesse had said?
Before I could answer my own question, his eyes softened, and he took my hand.
“You’ve done so much for me these past weeks. More than anyone ever has. I don’t feel right unless your pretty face is the first thing I see every morning and the last at night. You know Ma plans for me to go home within the week, and quick as I can sit on a horse again, I’ll be riding out to join Frank. I don’t have any right to ask such a thing, but if I don’t end up gut shot in some far-off place, when the time comes for me to go back home, I’d like it if you married me.” He pressed my hand to his chest. “I need you, Zee.”
My eyes widened. Jesse moved close enough that his breath stirred my hair. I looked up at him, searching for a sign that his feelings echoed mine. His hand cupped my cheek, and for once, it wasn’t me who kept us on our feet. Had he not placed his arms around me, I would have fallen under the crush of emotion. Although I hadn’t allowed myself to admit it, this was the moment for which I’d been waiting. This was the man I wanted to spend my life with. Jesse leaned down, and his breath warmed my face.
Just before our lips met, I remembered something Jesse said about Mr. Locke. The name he’d called him in an eruption of blistering fury.
Traitor.