Thankfully, Jesse wasn’t gone long. As the months passed and my belly swelled, Frank and Jesse decided to move us from Hyde’s Ferry Road to a small farm owned by an old bachelor, Felix Smith. Jesse wanted the continued assurance of a place for Tim and me near Frank’s family, while he made plans for what would come next.
My first view of the whitewashed farmhouse made me smile. The two-story residence was even larger than the boarding house from my childhood. We took the second floor, while Frank and Annie lived on the main. Mr. Smith resided in a small addition on the side but would share meals with us as part of our board.
“This is the most charming place I’ve ever seen,” I said.
“I knew you’d like it. The house has plenty of room, and the land is good. I’ve decided to try my hand at something new because I want you to be happy, Zee,” he nuzzled his face against my cheek. “Frank says there’s potential to grow a good crop. With the baby coming, I’d like to stay closer to home.”
I gulped, and my heart summersaulted. “Oh, Jesse. Nothing would make me happier. I know this is a different life, but I’m grateful you’re willing to try. I’ve always thought I’d make a good farmer’s wife.” I tweaked his ear. “Perhaps we can get a milk cow, too. How wonderful if we could provide for our own needs and not be beholden to anyone else.”
“Beholden to no one,” Jesse said with a kiss planted on the tip of my nose. “That sounds like a good life.”
Jesse rose early each day and went to the field, tinkering with the plow and arguing with Frank over whether tobacco or hemp would bring more profit. Once they shook hands on planting both, Jesse harnessed the mule and coaxed neat seams into the ground. On Saturdays, he drove into town and talked with other farmers to hear their suggestions. When he came home, he had a bounce to his walk and I suspected he enjoyed the conversation far more than he did the long days of working under the sun.
At the end of a day thick with heat and humidity, Jesse woke in the middle of the night with a pounding headache. His body burned, and so much sweat poured from him, I fetched a towel and sent for the doctor. When the doctor came, he studied Jesse’s symptoms and turned to me.
“He’s got malaria.”
My hand flew to my belly until the doctor assured me the sickness wasn’t contagious. He left a bottle of quinine and told me to keep Jesse in bed.
I sponged his arms and legs to keep down the fever that reddened his skin. Jesse tossed and turned, but I didn’t stop until he grabbed my hand.
“Here you are, stuck with taking care of me again. I’m sorry, Zee.”
I dipped the cloth and ran it down his arm. “I don’t imagine you got sick on purpose. If you take your medicine and do what the doctor says, you’ll be up again soon.”
“This won’t help us in growing our crops, will it?”
“Don’t worry yourself. Frank hired some men to help. The crops will be planted on time,” I said.
He fretted with the sheet that covered him. “You know money is scarce. One of the things about farming I hate most is that it takes spending a lot of cash and waiting months before there’s any return. And that’s if the weather’s mild, bugs and blight stay away, and the crop grows the way it should.”
“Don’t worry about it, dearest. You must keep your mind easy and rest.”
But several weeks passed before Jesse could leave his bed. Even then, his energy remained sapped, and along with it, his will for the hard work of farming. After investing what it took to plant our crop, we had almost nothing left, and the time for my confinement drew closer. The worry over how we’d pay the doctor’s bills kept both of us up at night.
Jesse grew increasingly morose over his powerlessness and our empty pockets. He told me he planned to leave again.
“But I need you here when the baby comes. I’m afraid what happened before might happen again.”
His eyes shadowed before he pulled me to him. “I won’t be gone long. Frank and Annie will take care of you until I get back. I’ve an idea for something to bring in quick money.”
I toyed with the collar of his shirt. “I pray each time you leave that nothing will happen to you, but I can’t help wondering. What if God is looking at the things that have happened and passing judgment on us?”
His eyes widened. “I can understand why you might believe such a thing of me. I know what I’ve done. But why, pray tell, do you think God would sit in judgment of you? You’ve done nothing except defend your family. Could it be you’ve become unhappy married to a man who can’t do anything well except be an outlaw?” He swallowed, and his eyes did not meet mine.
I cupped his face and turned it toward me. “Jesse, I’d never think such a thing. You’ve always been good to me and the best father to Tim. You’ve done everything you can for us. Yet I keep thinking of what happened to our babies.”
Jesse wrapped his arms around me. “I tell you no just God would punish you in such a way. Do you think God was punishing Ma when the Pinkertons killed Archie? Do you think our babies were taken away because God wanted to teach me a lesson? I remind you of your own words to me not so many years ago. God doesn’t punish people for doing what they have to do.”
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I rested my head against his chest. “When our babies died, Dr. Montgomery spoke of God’s will.” I gulped and went on. “Please rethink going away. At least consider a different life as your brother has done and pray over the right thing to do.”
His arms dropped to his sides and he stepped back. “I haven’t been much on prayer for the past few years, and even if I was, I can’t think about that now.” He turned and walked toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back. “Plans have already been laid, Zee. It’s too late to change them.”
Now would be the time for me to insist. To demand he do what I asked of him. I took a deep breath to speak, when the baby in my womb kicked hard. My hand flew to my belly. We had no money. My confinement was near, and I dared not let emotion compromise my baby’s welfare. I had no choice but to wait.
Over the next few weeks, Jesse rode away then returned many times. With each trip, he gained more of his old strength, sitting tall on his horse the way he used to. By early July, I had begun my confinement, and when Dr. Goodman, who attended me, said our baby appeared to be growing in a normal way, I breathed out a sigh of relief. My legs and feet weren’t swollen, and my belly didn’t grow as large. The doctor seemed satisfied there would be no complications.
When Jesse returned that evening, I told him what the doctor said. He glanced at me then jerked his gaze away. I chose not to ask what he was thinking, fearful of inflaming emotions that could risk the health of my baby.
But on July 17, 1879, Dr. Goodman delivered a plump and rosy girl. I wept at the sight of her, at hearing her loud cry, at running a finger over her ruddy pink skin. Jesse stood beside me as the doctor announced her arrival and handed her to me. This time, Jesse had remained in the room, sitting with fingers steepled and a grim look on his face during my labor. When he saw the baby at my breast, his features finally relaxed, and his eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
Soon, Annie and Frank appeared with Tim and Robert to admire the new baby. Robert stared.
Annie prodded my son. “Who is that, Tim?”
“Sissy,” he responded.
I smiled and nodded. “That’s right. She’s your baby sister.”
“Now we need to let the new mama and baby rest.” Annie smoothed Tim’s errant cowlick. “Let’s go downstairs and I’ll fix dinner.”
Tim happily scampered away with Annie and Frank, as Jesse stroked our daughter’s tiny hand.
“I have an idea what to name her,” I said.
“Well, I suppose it’s fair for a mother to name her daughter. What do you suggest?”
“I thought we’d christen her Mary Susan, after my mother and your sister.”
“Ah,” he said, letting the baby wrap her fingers around his pinkie, “I think that is perfect.”
Jesse seemed easier now that his pockets were filled with money. He paid off the debt we owed at the mercantile, gave cash to the doctor, and paid Felix Smith for back rent.
One week after Mary’s birth, Jesse presented me with a Smith and Wesson pocket pistol. It had a mother-of-pearl grip inscribed with my initials.
“That’s for giving me a daughter almost as pretty as her mama.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Thank you, Jesse.” “I know how you feel about my old pistol, but I thought you’d like this one. Of course, you won’t be able to shoot for a while, but when you’re up again, I’ll show you how to use it.”
Later, I gave Annie some money to buy pretty little dresses and bonnets for Mary at the mercantile. Dressed in bows and frills, my daughter looked like the blue-eyed china doll I’d once seen in a store window. Showering her with the gifts our twins would never have eased my pain a little and helped fill the hole they left in my heart. It was a happy time, yet most of my smiles were due to Jesse staying close to home. Perhaps Mary’s birth had given him peace, too.
One late afternoon, Mary nestled in my arms as I stroked her soft hair. Jesse walked into the kitchen. His eyes were downcast, and he stared at a paper in his hand.
My heart jumped at the look on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s a telegram from home.” He lifted his chin to look at me and swallowed.
I held my breath.
“There’s no easy way to say it, Zee. It’s your sister. Lucy. She … a sudden fever settled on her, and she’s gone.”
My eyes closed and another hole ripped open in my heart. “Oh, no.”
“I’m afraid it’s true. Your brother Thomas sent the telegram. I can’t believe it either. Lucy was so good to us both.” He shook his head and knelt beside me. “It might not be a good idea for you to travel, but if you want to go home, I’ll find a way.”
“You know I can’t leave with the baby so young.” I shook my head, and tears dropped on Mary’s head like soft rain. “What could I do for Lucy now anyway? I’ll write a letter to Boling and pray for her soul.”
Later that night, in bed, Jesse held me until I fell asleep. I dreamed Lucy came to see me. We hugged, and she kissed my cheek before her spirit—for I know she’d come to comfort me—faded away. When my eyes opened, my cheeks were wet, but I knew she was at peace.
And so was I.
While I regained my strength, Jesse began to wander from home again.
“I’m finished with the idea of farming,” he told me. “It’s not in my blood. I’m going back to take what we need from those who can spare it until we’ve got enough money to buy the ranch we want.”
His words chilled me, and I noticed he didn’t mention Frank. Over the past months, they’d become more distant with each other. Frank avoided Jesse, and the only recent moment of levity they shared came on the day Annie found a newspaper story that declared the famous outlaw Jesse James had been shot dead. The brothers clapped each other on the back, succumbing to spasms of laughter. I couldn’t even smile over their amusement. The story made me shudder.
With Frank in pursuit of his passion for farming, Jesse’s world narrowed. Most of his old companions had been killed or remanded to jail, so he sought out new friends, and found men such as Dick Liddil and Bill Ryan. Bill lived in Missouri, but he often stayed in our barn when he came to Nashville. Bill made me uneasy from the moment I met him, and I felt as though his eyes bored into my back every time I walked past him.
His presence made me anxious and drove a wedge between Jesse and me. I tried not to let it show, but sometimes my tone was sharpened. One evening, after a long day of tending to the two children and watching Jesse come in and out making mysterious plans for his next trip, my voice betrayed me.
“So how many will we have for dinner tonight?”
Jesse acted as though he barely heard me. “I don’t know. Depends on who shows up.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “But I need to know how much food to make.”
He turned to look at me, a scowl on his face. “Use your judgment, Zee, and don’t peck at me.”
Stung, I marched to the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil. Something gnawed my husband, though I had no idea what. He was so secretive, and I feared the influence his new friends had over him. I sliced potatoes into chunks and mulled over our situation.
A few moments later, Jesse came to stand behind me, circling his arms around my waist. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. There are a lot of things happening. You know money’s tight again. I’ve got to do something to make quick cash.”
I stiffened, and he nuzzled my neck. “Please, sweetheart, you know how much I need you.”
I put down the knife and the sound of his smoky voice turned me like a flower to the sun. “Please don’t leave, Jesse. I’m worried. I don’t trust these new men.”
“Try to understand my position. Now that Frank refuses to go with me, I had to find others to help. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I try to, but this life is wearing me thin. When will this marauding ever stop? When will we be free of it?”
“Maybe sooner than you think. I sent a letter about some property in Nevada, and I’m getting more information about acreage I heard of in Nebraska. Either would work out well for raising horses. Once I find out how much money I’ll need, we can make our plans.”
I said nothing and picked up another potato to slice.
The next morning, Jesse rode out, not returning this time until the middle of September. I could tell by his beaming face that the trip had gone well. He kissed Tim and the baby before putting his arms around me.
“I have something for you,” he pulled out a small velvet bag. “This is my thanks for being such an understanding wife.” He opened the bag and withdrew a diamond ring. Then he took my hand and pushed it on my finger next to the thin gold band I hadn’t removed since the day we were wed.
“It’s beautiful,” I said as the ring sparkled from the fire’s light. Even though I knew his guilt had prompted the gesture, I still loved it.
“You deserve this and more. I tell you, my dear, it won’t be much longer until all our dreams come true.”
But by the time the year ended, Jesse was gone more than not. It seemed like he’d been driven into a frenzy of activity, though he spoke little of it to me. When at home, his eyes seldom left the window and he wore his guns until he went to bed at night. Jesse kept the pocket pistol he’d given me loaded and hidden in the bottom of a trunk near our bed.
Only his love of horses did not change. Jesse bought a new sorrel stallion named Jim Malone. He and Dick Liddil raced the animal at the track. Occasionally, Frank left Annie to join them. The horse won an impressive nine times, and Jesse boasted that none could beat him. Yet he soon grew disenchanted and sold Jim Malone, vowing to find an even faster horse.
By early 1881, I wondered how much longer he could keep such a pace and how much longer I could deal with it. Only my children gave me something to think of other than the devils chasing Jesse’s soul. Even the children had grown restless. Tim, now more than five years old, had taken to staring out the window when other children played near our house. “Mama, can I go outside and play with them?”
“I’m sorry, but Papa feels it best that you stay in the house with me.”
Tim’s eyes were wide. “Doesn’t Papa like other children?”
“It’s not that, dear. He worries about you and doesn’t want anything to happen. Come along. I’ve been thinking about making some candy. Would you like to help?”
He looked longingly out the window but turned away to join me. My boy tried so hard to be good. It broke my heart that he couldn’t be like the other children. Jesse had become fiercely protective, and jittery that any slip of the tongue would bring dire consequences. He’d even forbidden me from talking to the neighbors except on occasions when such rudeness became impossible. I thanked God to have Annie and little Robert nearby, or my world would have grown even smaller than when I lived at the boarding house. Some invisible force drove my husband, and I despaired of discovering what it could be—or of how to fix a wound I couldn’t even see.
On a cool late March evening, a rider galloped to our house just after I’d put the children to bed. Jesse pulled out his revolver and peered through the window. A moment later, he sighed and holstered the weapon. “It’s Dick,” he told me and opened the door.
Dick Liddil rushed in, puffing, and carrying the odor of dust and layered sweat. “I just heard Bill Ryan’s been arrested. He was drunk on his ass at a bar in White’s Creek. They found him with money and weapons in his pockets, and he started to brag in that Irish brogue of his about being an outlaw and fighting the government. You know how thick-headed he can be when he’s in his cups. The man can’t be trusted. I’ll wager he’ll soon squawk to high heaven about everything he knows.”
Jesse’s face grew pale, and his body stiffened. The flames from the fireplace made his eyes glisten like a fox’s.
“Frank’s visiting at the next farm. I’ll ride over to get him,” Jesse said. “We need to clear out of here before Ryan talks, or there’ll be a noose for each of us.” He turned to me and repeated the words I’d heard so many times.
“Start packing at once. We need to be gone before the sun comes up.”