It took Jesse and Frank mere minutes to plan our exodus. Because they said it would be too obvious, they decided Annie and I couldn’t travel together. “I’m putting Annie and Robert on the train to Kansas City,” Frank said. “Her father will let them stay until I can get back.”
Jesse had already told me that the children and I would take the train to Donnie Pence in Nelson County, Kentucky until he came for us. Jesse trusted Donnie, a former guerilla comrade, completely. They’d grown up together in Clay County, and I remembered his bushy walrus moustache from the few occasions I’d seen him since. After the war, he’d ridden with Jesse in the early years, until a bullet helped convince him to settle in Kentucky.
Dick Liddil rented two large buckboard wagons and horses to pull them. When the sun dropped low enough to peek over the horizon, we scrambled to load the items we could take. With Mary on my hip, I gave Tim a small bag of clothes to carry, while the men loaded trunks, the dismantled pieces of our beds, and even a small stove. Annie carried her bags to the wagon, looking as though she might burst into tears at any moment. The men arranged items with practiced skill. I looked at the clear evening sky and gave thanks for the absence of heavy clouds that might bring rain.
Jesse, Frank, and Dick planned to linger near Nashville until they discovered what information Bill gave authorities and whether what he said would connect John Howard and Ben Woodson to the outlaws everyone sought.
Our wagons would of necessity travel in different directions, so before we parted, I hugged my sister-in-law. Tears trailed down her cheeks.
“Good-bye, Annie. I hope we’ll see each other again soon.”
She held me close and swallowed a sob. “I’ll pray hard we make it through this.”
“As will I. Take good care of yourself and my little Robert.” I kissed the cheek of the now three-year-old boy, remembering the months I had nursed him for Annie. “Good-bye, my little sweetheart. May God bless you.”
There were shadows under Frank’s eyes too, when he kissed me good-bye. He’d been so content in his role of farmer. I knew he would miss the life he’d created for himself, and I sensed his sorrow at becoming a wanderer yet again.
Jesse took his brother’s hand to shake it, but Frank grabbed Jesse’s shoulders in a tight hug. It lasted a moment before Jesse broke free and rubbed his sleeve across his eyes.
“Damned dust,” he muttered to me.
Frank drove the buckboard away, his horse tied behind it so he could turn the reins over to Annie when they were closer to the depot. Jesse watched them with an attentive gaze. Then he turned and slapped the reins, and the horse carried us away. Dick rode alongside, slouch hat pulled low. Jesse’s mare, tied to our buckboard, followed behind.
“I’ll have you on the train first thing for Kentucky,” Jesse said. “You’ll need to travel from a different depot than Annie so a nosy reporter doesn’t put two and two together. Donnie will be waiting. He’s a loyal man and will look out for you and the children.”
“How long until you come for us?”
“I’m not sure. It may take a little while but keep watch. I’ll be there soon as I can.”
A breeze blew against my face while the children dozed. Stars blinked through the maze of treetops, and I considered the quiet strength of the tall oaks and pines along the road. They had to sink their roots deep to flourish through strong winds and stormy weather. If someone tried to transplant them, they’d soon wither and die.
“What are you thinking, Zee?” Jesse asked in a soft voice.
“Only wondering where we’ll go next. Have you decided yet?”
“I’m considering a stay in Kansas City. We’ve been away a long time. I think we both need to be among our kin again.”
“Is that wise?”
“I won’t take us anywhere that isn’t safe.” He pulled back on the horse’s reins. “We’re close enough to the depot for me to leave you now.” Jesse handed me twenty dollars in greenbacks. “This is the last of our cash. I don’t think the tickets will run you much. After you buy them, use what’s left for any expense you have until I get to Kentucky. Be frugal as you can.”
“But what if you need money?”
“I can take care of myself. Don’t worry about me.”
The children stirred and stretched. Jesse leaned down to kiss them and Mary clung to her papa.
“Be a good girl, Mary. Tim, you must stand in for me. Look out for your mama and sister.”
“I will, Papa,” came his small voice, speaking as stoutly as he could manage.
Finally, Jesse took me in his arms. He kissed me hard and whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Please be careful and come back to us soon.”
He touched his hat and smiled. “You know I will.” He pulled an envelope from the pocket of his coat. “I need you to mail this when you reach Kentucky.”
I nodded and tucked the envelope into my bag. “I’ll take care of it for you.”
Jesse untied his horse and swung into the saddle. Dick Liddil pushed ahead on the road, and I swatted the reins across the horse’s back. When I turned to give Jesse a final wave, he was gone.
The creak and roll of wagon wheels and the horse’s clip clops silenced any other sounds. We didn’t have far to go. By the time the sun peeked around clouds and lightened the horizon with color like a ripe peach, we’d arrived at the depot. I pulled the horse to a stop and tied him to a post. An engine hissed in readiness to leave, waking Tim and Mary.
“Tim, you stay here with your sister while I get our tickets for the train.”
“Yes, Mama,” he replied, dangling a toy horse in front of Mary’s face.
She giggled and reached for it.
At the ticket window, a man with spectacles and long gray whiskers raised his head from the papers on his desk. “May I help you, ma’am?”
“I’m traveling to Nelson County, Kentucky, with my two children. We need tickets. I also have a wagonload of goods to ship.”
“Let’s see. For you, the children’s fares, and your cargo, the charge will be twenty-five dollars.”
My eyes widened. “What? How can our passage be so much?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s twenty dollars for your fare and five dollars for a shipment to Kentucky.”
“Let me think about it for a moment, please. I’ll be right back.”
I turned from him and pondered what to do. How could I travel with two young children and not so much as a penny to spare? What if something happened to delay our arrival and I couldn’t feed them even a scrap of bread or send a telegram for help? I stared at the wagon where my children played together, and an idea came. I gulped and went back inside the depot.
“Sir, I have a fine horse and a wagon filled with household goods. I’m a widow trying to get my children back to our family and can’t afford to take everything with me. Do you know anyone who might like to buy the wagon and horse and all the goods except for my trunk?” The lie came so easily that my cheeks burned. I forced myself not to look away.
But the man at the window misunderstood my embarrassment and regarded me with kind eyes. “Well, ma’am, I suppose we can always use another buggy and horse to rent. And come to think of it, there are often folks passing through who need to buy a few items they forgot to bring along. How would it be if I gave you forty-five dollars for everything? Would that help you out?”
“Oh, yes, thank you. You’re most generous.”
“That’s all right, ma’am. I’m sorry for your loss. I’d like to think if my wife was left alone, somebody would help her out, too.”
The clerk counted out the money, less the cost of our tickets and payment to ship the trunk. I put the cash in my purse and smiled at him. “Thank you again, sir. Can you tell me when the train leaves?”
He pulled out a pocket watch. “It’s scheduled to go in thirty minutes. It should be a nice ride for you unless some bandits decide they like the looks of our train.” He laughed at his own joke until he saw the color drain from my face. “Oh, don’t worry, ma’am. Our train hasn’t been held up in a long time. You got nothing to fear.”
I nodded and swallowed hard. As I walked back to the children, I had to press my lips together to keep them from trembling. I’d just lied to a gentleman who did me a kindness and sold him a horse and wagon that belonged to someone else. I supposed what Jesse had said was true. A person could do just about anything with their back pressed against the wall.
Tim looked at me with his father’s eyes. “Mama, can we have something to eat?”
“I have a sandwich to split between you. It will have to do for now.”
They reached for the small offering from the sack I’d brought from home. Tim took slow and purposeful bites while Mary stuffed her cheeks so full, she looked like a chipmunk. I wasn’t hungry.
A loud whistle caught my attention. Mary covered her ears while we watched passengers climb the steps to board the train. I took the children’s hands. We walked to the car, and I pointed out my trunk to the porter. Reaching our seats, Tim and Mary settled across from me. Fearing some quirk of fate might cause me to be hauled from the train and sent to the sheriff, I closed my eyes and prayed we’d soon be underway.
But no one chased me. When the train chuffed from the station, I breathed a sigh of relief. Tim and Mary peered out the window to see a herd of cattle. They pointed and giggled until the rocking motion lulled them to silence, then to sleep.
I pulled from my bag the envelope Jesse had given me. He’d addressed it to D.T. Bligh, of the Pinkerton agency. The name sounded familiar, and I searched my memory until it came to me. Bligh was one of the detectives who’d been after Jesse and told everyone in Kearney he hoped he’d live long enough to see Jesse James at least once. I stared at the envelope, and noticed the flap wasn’t quite sealed. I knew I shouldn’t, but at that point, nothing could stop me from opening it to see what Jesse had written.
The plain white paper showed a simple message in Jesse’s scrawl.
Mr. Bligh, you have seen me. Now you can go ahead and die. From your friend—Jesse James
I shook my head. His hatred for the Pinkertons still rankled him, even though Alan Pinkerton had given up on the idea of finding Jesse James. Jesse took a strange delight in toying with his enemies and did things calculated to fan bright flames even higher. It was as though he lived for the challenge of outwitting anyone who hunted him.
I rested my head against the cool window and stared at the scenery flashing past. The day’s deeds had soured my stomach. I closed my eyes. What has happened to us, Jesse? What has happened to me? My thoughts circled back to the money in my bag, and I deliberately tucked what I’d done in a corner of my heart where rested all the things for which I hoped God would someday be merciful enough to forgive me.
But something else in my thoughts could not be so easily banished. Each minute, the train took me farther away from two small babies lying in the cold damp ground of Tennessee.