Love Rules (12 page)

“Thought so. A Johnny Reb, were ya? Well, I’m glad you’re back. So you need a milkin’ cow, huh?” The old man peered at him. “I didn’t believe in that war, ya know. Did my best to stay away from it. Course when the army comes ridin’ up in your yard, it’s hard to ignore ‘em. Don’t know if it done any good or not. Lot’s of killin’, and for what? Works out that way a lot, son. They freed the slaves then

didn’t do anything about ‘em. Didn’t give them jobs, didn’t give them a place to live. Seems like we’re right back where we started. Just freed them. What good did that do? Now, the politicians will bicker about the cotton and shipping and wage war on taxes and stuff and it will still be the same, yah.”

“Yes, sir, you’re probably right.” Jesse hoped he wouldn’t ask why he suddenly needed a milk cow.

“Got yourself a woman and a babe, I hear.” Jenkins chuckled. “’Bout time.

Good fer you.”

“News traveled fast. How’d you know?”

“My son Ben saw her hangin’ up diapers the other day outside, as I sent him over to Nickleville fer some supplies.”

“Nickelville. Why there? Why not Greenville or better yet, Bright Star? Why go so far out of your way?”

“Greenville’s got troubles of their own, what with a politician trying to scare up the war again. The Federals done moved in there, and it’s hard to get supplies in and out. Reckon I’ll wait till things settle down there first.”

“Federals, huh?”

“Yep. Don’t like goin’ into Bright Star that much. They ain’t got everything I like. There’s a Swede over to Nickelville. I like trading with him. Been to Duck Creek, but they haven’t got much in dry goods. Anyways, Ben said your wife was a looker, too.” Mr. Jenkins chuckled. “That’s good news, son. You’re plenty old enough to start a family. Glad ta see ya settlin’ down with a brood of your own.”

Mr. Jenkins had come from the old country of Sweden and once in a while his speech reflected it. He was a fair-minded man and wouldn’t care that Maggie was part black. It seemed that Swedes took a different look at it all. Others in the area wouldn’t be so open-minded; it would be asking too much. However, Mr. Jenkins would spread the word thinking everyone would be happy for him, too. There was no way of stopping it. People would learn about Maggie and Abby soon enough.

He just had to figure how to deal with it.

Rather than go into details, Jesse didn’t correct him on the matter of marriage, but it bothered him greatly on the ride home with the cow. Did Maggie understand that all hell was about to break loose soon? No, how could she? She

didn’t know that he’d made up his mind…they were getting married. He was about to make local history, marrying a black woman.

He’d been thinking of his new family ever since he found out he had one. He had to make things right somehow. Marriage seemed the only way. He loved her and that wouldn’t be changing. He loved the baby, too. In fact, now that he thought of it, he was going to make a very good father. He’d never had a kid before, but the experience excited him. He took to the baby right away. Abby was not only a big part of Maggie, she was part of him, too. And he didn’t need to be told to protect her. His own instincts had kicked in the minute he realized the big-eyed toddler was his baby. His baby—God, that sounded good. Still, he knew Maggie didn’t want him getting too close to her daughter, and he wondered how he was ever going to straighten her out. The beautiful woman hadn’t forgiven him for turning her in…yet. He had to re-win her trust and her love. Problem being, he didn’t know how to go about it. A lot of men wouldn’t try, but those men didn’t know what a prize Maggie would be. He did.

Abby sat happily playing in the yard as her mother did another load of wash, this time the sheets and linens. She had managed to clean everything in the cabin, and the sweet smell proved it. The place never looked better. She was even sewing some curtains for the windows.

As he arrived with Gertrude following behind, Maggie saw the cow and ran toward him. Jesse silently drew a breath. Seeing a smile on her face melted the coldness in his chest. Just to see her happy again made his heart grow light.

“That’s a fine looking cow,” she remarked as he brought Gertrude into the barn. She followed him, and Abby hung on to her side.

Seeing the woman he loved in britches made his loins tighten. Somehow he had to get used to it. He didn’t need to be thinking those thoughts. How could he convince her he truly loved her if all he talked about was her beauty? No, he had to find another way to impress Maggie. “Her name is Gertrude, and she likes you to warm your hands before you milk her, Mr. Jenkins said.” Jesse kept his gaze away from her beautiful curves.

“Gertrude. All right. We’ll take very good care of her. She’s a prize,” Maggie said, her hand going over the cow’s rump. “Who is Mr. Jenkins?”

“Our closest and best neighbor. He’s a Swede. He lives over the hill yonder about ten miles. You can milk a cow, can’t you?” Jesse asked, not looking at her.

“Of course I can milk!”

“Good.” Jesse left them both in the barn to tend to more chores he had on his list. “Oh, and there’s an old Negro man that lives the other direction, but he don’t socialize much with white folks, says it’s indecent. So I leave him alone like he wants. I’ll bet that old man is close to a hundred, but he don’t act it.”

He turned and studied at her for a moment, reacting physically to Maggie. He frowned. “Mr. Jenkins assumed you are my wife, so don’t bother settin’ him straight. It takes too long to explain anything so complicated to the Jenkinses.

They mean us no harm though.”

Maggie firmed her lips. “Did you tell him we were?”

“Nope, I said he assumed, Maggie.” Jesse’s jaw tightened.

“You should have told him the truth. My God, don’t you realize they might arrest you or me or both of us, and then what would happen to Abby?” Maggie came closer.

“Look.” Jesse’s control hung on a tight leash, and he wondered how long he could bite the bullet and not say something he’d be sorry for later. “There will be trouble no matter what. You might as well face it, whether we are married or not, people will assume you are my woman, and rightly so because that baby is mine.

One look and anyone could tell, and I’m claimin’ her. You hear that, Maggie? I’m puttin’ my life on the line, for her and for
you.
But I’m doing it because I want it that way. Understand? You
are
my woman. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t, and we’ll have our share of hell, just bein’ together. Slavery may be over, but it don’t allow for what we done. So we can ban together and be a family like we should, or we can fight each other and everyone else out there. That’s up to you.

Make it easy on yourself.”

“But we ain’t livin’ in sin,” she objected vehemently.

“Well, why don’t you announce that, if you really think anyone would believe it after looking at Abby? We had a child, Maggie. In most southern people’s opinion, that is definitely livin’ in sin. You better get used to people talkin’ behind your back, and stiffen your spine because that’s what is gonna happen. And there

will be others who want to see us dead. I’ll handle them, but you’ll have to take what the white women say with a grain of salt. You work hard, make this place livable, and some might actually think well of you. But the majority won’t. We both knew all this before Abby was born. It didn’t matter then, and it don’t matter now. They will think what they want to think about us. Whether it is the truth or not.”

His gaze met hers as fire shot from her eyes. “We stepped over the line a long time ago. I wanted you then, and I want you now. Nothin’s changed. That’s my baby, and I’m claiming her. Come hell or high water, I won’t let anyone hurt her, you understand. Not because of your rules, but because she’s mine. I’ll die first. I don’t care what color skin she’s got. You came here. You made the decision to do that. But I’m making the decision that you will stay, and you will be my woman and let me help raise my child. We are family, like it or not. I’m all you got. And from this moment on, Maggie, we are stickin’ together.”

As though he’d decided it long ago, he stood before her. “I’ll find someone who will marry us.”

“No! I won’t marry you. Marryin’ is nothin’ more than a piece of paper,” she protested hotly. “Besides, it’s agin’ the laws in most places, and we’d most likely both be hanged for it.”

“You got no choice in this one, Maggie. You want to live here, under my roof, under my protection, we’ll marry.”

“It's a fool notion and you know it.”

“Look, I don’t know if you are Christian or not. I never bothered to ask you, but I am. I was raised a Christian. It may not look like it, it may not sound like it, but I’m a God fearin’ man. If we cain’t marry, then I will have either a black preacher or an Indian holy man marry us. One way or another, we will be married!”

“Of all the stupid….”

“Oh!” he scoffed as rage enflamed him from her rejection. “Don’t carry on so.

I’ll abide by your rules, but you’ll abide by mine, too.”

“Yours?” she scathed.

“Mine. We
will
marry, somehow, someway. You will present yourself as my wife and my child. Hard as it’s gonna be, I won’t touch you lest you invite me, and

we will sleep in the same bed, as I am not sleepin’ on the floor in my own house for the rest of my life. We’ll build a room for the baby and this will be your home.

When I die, you will erect a tombstone for me that reads, ‘Jesse Coleman, beloved husband and father.’ Understood? Those are
my
rules,” Jesse said and walked off.

“Why is it so important to you for us to marry? The very action will bring reaction. Marryin’ will only call more attention to us, don’t you see that?”

Jesse turned to look at her. She glared at him, her mouth open, her brows drawn down. He came close so he could meet her eye to eye. “I just told you why.

And although we are guilty of fornication, I loved you then, I love you now, and you will be my wife by all that’s holy. Do you understand? You think I made love to you because I lusted after your body. Well, it’s true in part. I loved that part of you, too. However, I loved your spirit, your innocence, you courage. And when I took you in, I loved the way you held yourself proud and faced what they did to you. I loved your heart that was so giving.”

“No one will recognize our marriage,” she protested. “They’ll likely hang us.”

“Maybe so, but Abby is gonna know at least I tried to make it all come right for us.” His eyes met hers once more with a steel edge.

He stared for a moment and thought on her words. “Everybody’s got to die, Maggie, one way or another. We made our bed a long time ago and whether it’s a hard bed or not, we got to lie in it. But I don’t and will never regret taking you as my woman.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say, but she gathered his admission of love into her soul like a prize possession, staring after him with a desire she thought long put away. Tears came into her eyes. What she had brought upon them and their child? Despite everything, she still loved Jesse and would till she died, but she was older now, had seen more of the world, and wasn’t sure they could ever make it. Most everyone would be against them. Even if he did really love her, the odds were against them.

What amazed her was that Jesse was more than willing to die for her and the baby, with or without her rules. Her heart swelled with the knowledge and yet broke, too. How could it all work out right?

Maybe he just committed to her and the baby because of responsibility. She didn’t know. Surely as the sun was hot, he could walk away from them both and no one would hold him to it.

She found the butter churn, cleaned it up nicely, and got it ready. She’d make butter in the morning after milking the cow. She could study on Jesse’s words and figure out what to do about things next then. What he’d said made a lot of sense and was the truth. She’d come to him for protection and to see if Jesse had any real feelings for her. His revelation of love shocked her beyond words. Had she misjudged him all along?

Memories of her confinement dimmed.

As she was cleaning out the churn, two women rode up in the yard in a buggy, well-dressed, with matching umbrellas to shade their eyes from the probing sun.

Maggie straightened herself and waited. She’d seen many finely dressed ladies come in and out of the fort; these ladies didn’t look much different. One was young, the other much older. Maggie suddenly wished she’d have dressed better.

They probably didn’t know what to think of her in britches.

They didn’t say anything at first, just stared at her without cracking a smile.

Then after glancing about the place, the older lady spoke up and got out of the

carriage. “Hello, there. We’re looking for Jesse. Jesse Coleman?” The woman sauntered up to her boldly, her dress tight fitting and revealing. She wore an expensive perfume and jewelry on her ears and arms and neck. She had blonde hair and blue eyes and a figure to be proud of, Maggie noticed.

“This is still his place, isn’t it?” The woman glanced about, as if unsure of herself.

“It’s his place, all right. But he isn’t here. He’s gone to town for some supplies.”

Maggie didn’t stare, but went back to her work. She’d bite her tongue out before asking who they were. And she wouldn’t be feeding them information about herself either. They could draw their own conclusions. She realized early on from other ladies on the plantations back in Louisiana that a black woman must always know her place.

“I see. Well, I’m Lucy Stewart and that lady in the carriage is Constance Newman, old friends of Jesse’s. It’s a shame we rode all the way out here and didn’t run into him. We wanted to welcome him home from the war.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Maggie. He left before sun up. He’ll likely be back soon, if you want to wait. I could make you some tea or coffee?” She cast the other woman a quick appraisal and lowered her head. It would be ill-mannered to stare, but they sure were looking at her. However, it was the other woman that interested her so, because like as not, she sought Jesse.