On May 1, 1881, the children and I arrived in Kansas City. Clarence Hite, Jesse’s cousin, took us to Nancy’s house. Nannie fussed over the children and clucked her tongue at me. Her husband Charles peeked over a newspaper in front of his face and acknowledged us with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
When Jesse arrived a few days later, I scrambled into his arms. He told me he’d rented a small house in Kansas City for us, not far from my brother Thomas. Although we still would live under assumed names, after four years, I would once again be near family, and the thought soothed my soul, save for one lingering doubt.
“Will it be dangerous for us to live in the heart of Kansas City?”
“The best place in the world to hide is right out in the open.” He picked up my bag to load it. “That way folks don’t suspect you’re up to anything.”
Jesse did take a few new precautions. He grew a thick beard and let his usually neatly cropped hair grow to over his collar. A potion he bought from the mercantile turned his hair and beard from sandy blond to a dark brown, and he used a cane when he strolled about the city, walking with a feigned limp. Jesse guffawed when he told me of stopping in to say howdy to the sheriff, just to prove he could do it. My uneasiness over his behavior grew.
On a sunny afternoon, he pushed away his empty plate and leaned back in his chair. “I have a meeting tomorrow night. Don’t wait on me for supper.”
I gathered up the dirty dishes and put them in the dry sink. “Who are you meeting?”
“Just Frank and a few of the boys.”
My brow arched. “I thought Frank was busy working for his father-in-law.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s abandoned the idea to make some quick money.”
“It’ll upset Annie if he rides with you again. She has her heart set on him working a regular job.”
Jesse chuckled. “I haven’t said he will and I haven’t said he won’t. It’s all just talk now.”
I poured hot water into the sink and scrubbed a pan until my wrist hurt. If only he’d forget about secret meetings and quick money. And then, as though providence had answered my prayers, Jesse awakened the next morning with a swollen jaw. His tooth throbbed with pain, so he canceled the meeting. The affliction kept him in bed for days, and he only slept with a heavy dose of laudanum.
But when news came that President James Garfield had been wounded by an assassin’s bullet, Jesse rose from his bed. The story captivated him, along with the rest of the country. He read every article he could find about a man named Charles Guiteau who shot the president before he could step on the train to leave for a summer vacation.
“By heaven,” Jesse told me, “even I have better protection than the president of this country does.”
Much to my distress, the event energized him, and his health improved enough to reconvene his meeting. By mid-July, he had packed up to leave.
“Don’t worry, Zee. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t think it would all work out. I promise no one will be hurt.”
When he hugged me, I felt the jab of a pistol-shaped lump under his jacket and shuddered.
Only a few days later, the newspapers heralded a bold train robbery in Winston. The story pushed aside President Garfield’s battle for life, as reporters gleefully announced the James gang had struck again. Apparently furious at the brazen act, Governor Thomas Crittenden gathered railroad executives to meet on the subject. Newspaper stories spread the outcome of their discussion like wildfire. The governor had offered ten thousand dollars each for the capture or killing of Frank and Jesse James. Ten thousand dollars! I went white with fear. For such an enormous sum, anyone could be tempted toward betrayal. A stranger, an enemy—a friend. Jesse had done many things wrong, but he was my husband, and I couldn’t stop loving him even if I wanted to.
When Jesse made his way home, I begged him to take us far away. But as he always had, Jesse made light of my fears. Indeed, he appeared more stimulated than I’d seen him since the days right after the war ended.
“My name’s in the papers again,” he said to me. “Just where it ought to be.”
I wondered how quickly a fire burning so bright could be extinguished.
In September, Jesse left with Dick Liddil riding beside him. I wasn’t surprised when the papers reported another train robbery, this time near Blue Cut. Governor Crittenden stormed all the way to Kansas City, determined to take down the James gang, along with anyone who dared offer them help. Bill Ryan’s trial would soon start and bring with it even more notoriety. I tried to talk to Jesse about the risks of his choices and how much I feared what might lay ahead. But Jesse refused to be swayed.
Yet for some inexplicable reason, in November, he changed his mind. “You were right. It’s time to pack up. We’re moving to St. Joe.”
Bone-weary, I went through the motions of packing and loading a wagon. Since our marriage, I’d lost count of the number of times we’d run from one place to another. I looked at my son’s face and almost cried.
Tim had been happy in Kansas City, living near cousins with whom he could play. When I told him we were moving, he looked at me with heartrending questions in his eyes. “But, Mama, why must we go?”
“Papa has business in St. Joseph. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
It tore my heart in two that Tim and Mary must live the lives of vagabonds, wandering from one place to the next, through no fault of their own. I remembered how I’d once spurned the conventional security of my parents’ home. Now I longed to set down roots. St. Joseph wasn’t the answer. We needed to find somewhere far away where we could live in peace. I stopped packing and went to Jesse.
“The children are getting older and these constant moves hurt them. They hurt me, too. We need to find a place where we can stay put and have a normal life. I don’t think St. Joseph is right for us.”
“You know very well how important it is to stay on the move. I know what I’m doing.” At the look on my face, his brusque tone softened. “I’ll tell you something, Zee. I know I can’t keep up the same pace forever. The only answer is to settle down someplace where we can be happy—when I have enough money to do it.”
I wanted more than anything to believe him. Yet I remembered how many times before he’d made promises that had failed to materialize. “This can’t go on, Jesse.” Tears burned behind my eyes. “I know something terrible will happen if you don’t stop what you’re doing now and consider your family.”
“But I do consider my family.” A brow rose over one eye. “You’re never far from my thoughts. And you’ll soon see how much better life is going to be for us when everything you’ve asked for comes to pass.”
Soon. That’s what he always said. My nerves were at a breaking point, and I feared uttering the caustic words on the tip of my tongue. Now even Frank had taken his family far away, moving east without speaking a single word of his plans to Jesse. When Jesse found out, he bristled with shock and anger. “Buck’s run out on me! Never thought that day would come.” His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, and he turned away from me, unwilling to look me in the eye.
In fact, most of Jesse’s old comrades were gone. Even Dick Liddil didn’t come around the way he used to. I had hoped such changes would persuade Jesse to consider the hope of new possibilities, but instead, he became more wary and began to fill his broken circle with new men.
One of them was named Charlie Ford. I’d met him a few times and found his presence tolerable. He was a tall man, and young, with a jutting jaw that reminded me decidedly of a neighbor’s bulldog. Jesse liked him, and treated him with the same teasing affection he’d always given Frank.
Charlie helped us move to a tiny rental house in St. Joseph.
“It won’t be long until I find a better place,” Jesse said. But then he added something I didn’t expect. “I’m moving Charlie in with us.”
“What? You mean until he can find a house of his own?”
“No, I mean for him to stay. I’d like an extra gun. It will make my mind easier knowing he’s around to help keep an eye on things. I know how you think, sweetheart, and I’m telling you there’s no need to worry. Charlie’s a good friend. I trust him.”
“But this house is too small for all of us.”
“We’ll move to a bigger house soon as I can find one.” His reassurance, meant to placate me, made my shoulders slump in growing despair.
The gray, damp chill of November didn’t help. I shivered at the weather and viewed the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday with a grim eye, expecting a pitifully poor celebration for us. Jesse had warned me we were out of money. Until he could replenish our funds, we would have to buy from the mercantile using credit. I chafed at the way the clerk looked at me when I made a purchase, but with the children to think of, there was nothing I could do.
Inside the tight quarters of the house, we nearly tripped over each other. It grated on me to see Charlie everywhere I looked, following Jesse like a shadow. Despite my misgivings about him, Charlie spoke polite words to me, yet they were oddly reminiscent of someone who didn’t really mean what he said. He kidded with Tim, the same way Jesse did, and told my son to call him ‘Cousin Charlie’.
One day, Jesse brought home news I’d been waiting to hear. “I’ve found the perfect place for us. It stands high on a hill, taller than any other house in St. Joe. I can see anybody who comes near. And no one will be able to see me.”
For once, I didn’t mind getting ready to leave. The new house wasn’t much more than a stone’s throw from where we were staying, so the move would be easier than many others had been. The only thing that bothered me was that it would take place on Christmas Eve.
As we packed, Tim tugged at his papa’s pant leg. “But how will St. Nicholas find us?”
“It will be an adventure,” Jesse told him. “Saint Nicholas is the one who showed me the house and said how much you’d love it. When it snows, you’ll have a fine hill to slide upon. If you’re good and help your mama, he’ll bring you some nice surprises on Christmas morning.”
I wondered how Jesse planned to accomplish such a feat. We already owed the mercantile for food. I knew we wouldn’t be granted further credit to purchase toys.
When we arrived at the new house, my worries diminished enough for me to smile. It had been recently whitewashed, and green shutters at each window made the place look cheerful and familiar. We hauled in boxes of household goods and clothes. Jesse and Charlie carried a few pieces of furniture inside, but the house already held most of what we needed. I unpacked my iron skillet, the large pot, and our plates.
Jesse and Charlie talked to each other in whispers while I worked. Then they called a hasty good-bye in my direction and left. I paused from putting away dishes to notice the children’s drooping eyelids. I’d lost track of time.
“You both need to go to sleep. Come along now.”
“That’s right, Mary. St. Nicholas won’t come unless we’re asleep,” Tim announced, in a voice full of brotherly authority.
I tucked them both in bed and rubbed my forehead. I didn’t want to think about Christmas morning. The thought of seeing hurt and disappointment in their eyes made my own sting with unshed tears. There had to be something I could do. Perhaps if I fixed a fine breakfast of flapjacks, they’d at least have something special to eat. I couldn’t remember if I had maple syrup and went to my knees, sorting through a box filled with food.
Then the front door opened, and a cold wind swirled inside, startling me upright. Jesse carried in a small evergreen tree, and the scent of pine filled the room. Following him, Charlie held a box.
“Here’s a tree with a few pretties to put under it for the children,” Jesse told me. Charlie put down the box, and Jesse reached inside. “How about this? A painted sled for Tim. He can use it to slide down the hill, or I can pull him behind my horse. And don’t you think Mary will like her?” He showed me a cloth doll dressed in blue indigo and wearing a bonnet.
Tears of relief and exhaustion filled my eyes. I clasped my hands together over my heart. “Oh, thank you. I was so afraid they’d wake up to nothing. That would have broken my heart.”
“Well, we can’t have anything like that. Here.” He pulled a small bottle of my favorite lavender scent from his pocket. “For you, sweetheart.”
Jesse had even gotten hold of a few ripe oranges, although heaven alone knew how. I couldn’t let my mind wander to the sorrow of where any of it had come from. I focused instead on the joy I would see in my children’s eyes.
The tears spilled over. I hugged my husband and whispered, “But I have nothing to give you.”
“Don’t you know you’re all I need? Now and always.”
I smiled through my tears. Charlie blushed and slipped out the front door.