In Part Two the travellers encountered a Confederate airship, while Jeb and Jeannie got close.
I turned, Soames and Gordon were already running. They brought Jeb back to camp in an awkward lift between the two of them. Jeb was unconscious.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Fell in a prairie dog hole and broke his leg,” Soames said. “When we pulled him free he passed out.”
I looked at Gordon. “I’ll have a look when we lay him down,” he said. He had skills in setting bones. Claimed it came from growing up on a farm. “And it’s probably best to do it quick, before he comes round. Lay him over by the fire. We need to keep him warm, I’ll put extra wood on.”
“What if it’s seen?” Soames asked. We’d made sure all fires were out before it was dark since our meeting with Gerber and his men.
“It’s a risk we need to take.”
They laid him down and removed his pants. Gordon felt up and down the leg, assessing the break. “At least it didn’t come through the skin,” he said. He turned to me. “I need some of the planks we cut for fuel, bring four or five of them, and twine.” He looked at Soames. “I need to twist and pull the leg so the bone is sitting properly. If we don’t it will heal wrong. Either way he may end up with a limp, but not doing it might leave him as good as crippled.”
“Do it,” Soames said.
“I’m going to. I need you to hold him still, make sure he can’t thrash about.”
“He’s unconscious.”
“Right now he is. But when I start he may not stay that way. Miss Jeannie, I need those things now.”
I went. That was as close as Gordon ever came to giving me orders. By the time I came back they were done and they had put Jeb’s pants back on. Gordon used the timber and twine to brace the leg. We put him in the bed on my wagon.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“Hope it sets properly,” Gordon said, “and he can still walk.”
“What about the other wagon?”
“We’ll deal with it tomorrow,” Soames said.
“One of us should stay with Jeb through the night,” Gordon said.
“I’ll take the first watch,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Soames asked, doubt in his voice. He was probably concerned about the argument Jeb and I had.
I nodded.
Sitting on the wagon bench with my hands wrapped round a mug of coffee I watched the stars and thought. Behind me Jeb breathed deeply, the sound of resting sleep. I was left trying to sort the turmoil of what he’d said. A few hours ago we’d both enjoyed being in this wagon. I certainly wasn’t enjoying it now and I guessed, hoped, that when he woke he wouldn’t enjoy it either.
In the sky the stars were so bright, so many, it looked like someone had punched a million holes in a black curtain and then shone light through a kaleidoscope of colored glass. They moved slowly around the sky, a reminder that, even while I was sat on this motionless wagon in the middle of the prairie, life was moving forward, moving on, going somewhere else.
My thoughts turned to California. Since the appearance of Gerber and his flying machine the west coast had lost its lustre. It was possible, maybe even likely, that it would fall under the malign Confederate control, no place for me. But maybe there’d be a ship, maybe some other country would accept my right to be a human.
“Miss Jeannie,” Gordon said.
I looked round in surprise, unaware how deep my reverie had become. A fine lookout I’d been.
“Go get some sleep, Miss,” he said.
§
The next day we ditched the small wagon, harnessed the other walker, and had both horses pulling my wagon. With the horses sharing a single load we should have moved a little faster, but rough, rolling terrain filled with prairie dog holes kept things slow, as well as trying to avoid unnecessary bumps for the sake of Jeb’s leg.
He slept most of the day, waking only a couple of times. He sipped some water, forced down some food, and Soames helped him relieve himself. The effort of that set him back to sleeping. His rest was less peaceful as we travelled. Larger bumps made him whimper. The first few times I thought he’d woken, but when I turned to look he was still sleeping, though with a pained expression.
So far Jeb had got off lightly on account of the concentration the terrain had demanded, and his injury, but the pain he caused was there in my chest, a solid lump which refused to move when I kneaded it. As the day drew on anger grew to join the pain. Mid-afternoon we came to a small copse and set camp early, partly to rest the horses, partly to avoid Jeb’s leg being bounced more. We chopped some trees into a size the walkers could use for fuel and set a fire to cook on. Gordon and Soames went to scout ahead.
Initially I stayed away from the wagon. Anger at Jeb’s rebuf gnawed me. I’d been rejected before, but this was something different. Our closeness over the past weeks, the proximity we would continue to have for the duration of the journey, meant that his rejection could not be buried in the normal way. I could not bar him from my house and throw myself into entertaining. I fingered a pouch on my belt, feeling the contents through the supple leather. A phial of delta water; a frogs thighbone; a twist of paper containing ash from a cremated baby. There were other things in there which I couldn’t identify by feel; feathers, a dried tongue, and various loose herb leaves.
Anger burned in the pit of my stomach. It had felt so good, so good, how he readily responded to my guidance as we rode together. The temptation to invoke the Loa and curse Jeb thumped like a pulse in my gut. Unbidden words began to form in my head, an incantation learnt before I understood what the power of words could accomplish.
“Jeannie.”
Jeb’s voice slid straight through the spell, rupturing it with a simplicity that belied the hurt I was nurturing. I blinked, realizing my eyes had been shut.
“Jeannie, I want to speak to you.”
I stood, and walked to the wagon.
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” Jeb said.
“So what the hell happened?”
He said nothing. A thump started in my gut, a little pulse. I turned.
“Don’t go. Come up here so we can talk, please.”
I looked at him, he smiled wanly, the pain from his leg visible in the pinched whiteness of his cheeks and the dark circles around his eyes. It was a bad break and he’d be lucky for it to heal with the rudimentary treatment we could provide.
“Why did you do that to me?”
“I was scared.”
His voice was small, like a child admitting wrongdoing to a parent. My chest lurched, my anger dissolved. I clambered onto the wagon, shaking it in my haste. Jeb groaned with pain and I was beside him, running my hand across his brow. “Sorry,” I said, “sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I never felt this way before and you’re so…”
He fell silent, his head shook a little.
“So, what?” I prompted.
“So beautiful.”
I kissed him, gripped his cheeks between my hands and dragged his head up as I bent down. He responded, his tongue seeking mine. The anger disappeared, changed in an instant to the heat of desire for this man, old before his time and young enough to learn.
His hands sought me, holding my hips. I slid a hand down his chest to his waist.
“My leg,” he muttered.
“Wont be an issue,” I said.
I leaned to kiss him again.
He stared at me, a constant smile on his lips. I watched the flush on his cheeks, the rise and fall of his chest. He clenched his eyes shut.
“Jeannie!” he gasped.
“Yes,” I said, leaned over and kissed him.
When we broke he asked, “Am I forgiven?”
I stroked his cheek. “Maybe.”
He shifted and gasped in pain.
§
As the sun fell towards the horizon Gordon and Soames returned with news.
“There’s an abandoned homestead,” Soames said.
“Where?” Jeb and I asked in unison.
Gordon pointed vaguely, waving his arm in a small arc. “It’s over there, about an hour in the walker.”
“How deserted is it?” Jeb asked.
“No one’s been there for a couple of years at least,” Soames said.
“Since the war started?” I asked.
They both shrugged.
“There’s plenty of cobwebs,” Gordon said.
I smiled. Gordon’s laconic bent always made me smile. It was like the plain landscape he described from his youth had given him nothing to use as a reference for future use.
“It’ll be nice to sleep inside,” I said. “Even if it’s just one night. Sometimes I wonder if I ever really slept in a house, in a bed, or if it was just a dream.” I grinned, mentally luxuriating in a bed that probably didn’t exist, or if it did was too full of mice, spiders, or snakes to use.
Jeb stared at me wistfully, I smiled at him. He smiled back. From the corner of my eye I caught Soames turning to look at us in turn.
“You made up then?” Soames said.
“We’re at too close quarters to hold a feud,” I replied, turning to him. He wanted to ask questions, you could see it all over his face, but his rigid New England upbringing held it in check. You can take the boy out of Boston, but Boston lives on in the soul.
Soames yawned, then said, “Well, maybe tomorrow we can light a fire in the hearth, brew up some coffee and sing songs together. Right now I’m going to sleep. Night, Jeb, Miss Brash. Night, Gordon”
He headed off to the other wagon.
“Are you taking first watch again tonight, Miss Jeannie?”
“Yes, Gordon.”
“Right. Nighty night.”
§
The homestead was more substantial than I expected, even after Soames and Gordon’s enthusiastic descriptions the previous evening. It sprawled over a single level with a long verandah along the front. The clapboard had been painted thick and heavy and was still intact, though it was faded and would need attention soon to prevent swift deterioration. The windows were shuttered so I couldn’t see if they were glazed. The door was blue. A windmill water pump spun in the breeze, an insistent whirring sound. Fifty yards or so to the west of the house there was a tall barn.
I pulled round so Jeb could see from the back of the wagon. Soames and Gordon climbed out of the walkers and, along with me, stood at the back of my wagon.
“Well?” Soames asked.
“Did you go inside?” Jeb asked.
“No.”
“So how’d you know about cobwebs?” I asked Gordon.
“Looked through the shutters,” he replied.
“Can we get in?”
“Miss Jeannie, Soames wouldn’t let me. Of course I can get in. Even if the locks rusted a bit, it wont be much more than five minutes.”
I looked at Soames. “Shall we go in now?”
He nodded. “I still don’t like breaking into another man’s property,” he said.
“How about we treat it careful, and leave a note?”
“Open the damned door, Gordon,” Jeb called. “My leg is agony, and I reckon a nice warm fire inside is just the ticket to help. Hell, there might even be a bath we can boil up some water for.”
There was a bath, a big tin thing. There was also a range and a big kettle. They took hours to get up to heat. We investigated the house. It had been locked up securely. This was planned and carefully executed house closure. I was reminded of when the plantation owner and his family withdrew to Columbia for the season, and the main house was locked up, except for a house slave or two.
In one of the bedrooms I lifted a dusty cover and looked at a chaise longue. It was out of place, the whole house was out of place. I called for help. “Gordon, Soames.” I had them carry the piece of furniture to the kitchen. We’d only lit the range, for simplicity. Jeb was on the floor. His eyes lit up as the cushioned recliner was brought in.
“This house get’s better and better,” he said. “Now, find me a bottle of laudanum for my leg and I’ll never leave.”
“Nothing so good,” Soames said. “But before we were summoned to be removal men Gordon found a writing desk, and some writing.”
“What does it say?”
Soames took a sheaf of papers from his pocket and referred to them as he spoke. “Man name of Devlin Cooper built the place,” he said. “He paid a heap of money to transport all the timber for the building, for the construction, for the fittings.” He stopped, reading ahead in silence. We waited until he spoke again. “His wife and kids died of cholera in San Fransisco before they could come and join him. The letter says he’s taking his rifle and going on a one way walk. The deeds of the house and a signed letter of transfer are with it.” Soames waved a sheet in the air. “It’s dated three years ago. Lord rest his soul.”
The air turned sombre as Soames fell silent. The range drew air and the logs in it roared as they burnt. The room was getting nice and warm, a heat I hadn’t been used to for many weeks. But that wasn’t what raised my temperature. It was the look on Jeb’s face as he gazed at Soames hand, the one which held the title deed for the property. He wanted a farm, and here was one gifted to him. I’d felt like he could see into my soul, now I could see right into the secret places of his heart, only they weren’t hidden, they were all over his face.
The last few days had moved at a whirl. We were lovers, then he hated me and I cursed him, then he wanted me, and I wanted him. Now he thought to live in this mausoleum, and I hoped to find a ship east from San Fransisco.
It was too much to deal with.
§
Our overnight stay turned into two, then three nights. On the third day Gordon took one of the horses for a ride and arrived back at a gallop mid-afternoon.
“There’s a town,” he shouted, as he slid from the saddle.
“Where?” we asked. The three of us were sat on the verandah enjoying the sun and mending clothes.
“About four hours ride south.”
“What’s the name?” I asked.
“I didn’t go too close, Miss Jeannie.”
“So, we’re not really in the middle of nowhere. It just feels that way,” Jeb said.
“Aye.”
“You and Soames should go and investigate.” Jeb looked at Soames, who nodded.”
“But not today,” Gordon said. “I rode the cuddy hard to get back. She’ll need to rest.” He took the still panting beast to the barn.
Jeb asked, “Jeannie, could I get a few minutes with Soames?”
I smiled and nodded. I closed the door and went into the kitchen. At the back of the property Cooper had planted a grove of trees. They had managed to survive the lack of attention, despite their young age, and broke up the view of endless grass. I stared at them and mentally started deciding what Gordon and I would pack on to the one wagon we would take.
This was pretty much the ideal spot for Jeb and Soames dream. I could imagine a similar house and barn being built within sight of this one so that the children, when they arrived, could play together. The men would build up herds of cattle or sheep, or grow corn, or whatever farming they decided to do.
Gordon and I would continue west. It had been a long time since I smelt the sea and lengthy sea voyage would do wonders to blow the—
“Jeb wants to speak to you,” Soames said. I hadn’t heard the door opening, and jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He turned back.
I followed him. At the verandah he continued out towards the barn. I stopped next to Jeb. “You wanted to talk?”
“Sure, come and sit.”
I perched next to him on the bench, careful not to knock his leg. “You like it here,” I said, only half turned to look at him. The calm planning I had been doing in the kitchen was crumbling and I felt sick.
“Yes. Don’t you?”
“It’s lovely,” I muttered and looked straight ahead. My vision blurred, I blinked tears away.
“I’m glad. I want you to stay with me.”
When I looked at him he had a serious, worried look. His eyes were warm and bluer than some days. He’d combed his hair.
“Until when?” I asked.
Now he looked confused. “Always,” he said. “I want you to be my wife.”
A tight knot bound between my breasts and Jeb appeared to fall down a long dark tunnel. He caught me as I toppled forward, but missed my arm which flopped against his leg. He called out in pain.
I came to with him cradling me. Soames and Gordon were running from the barn.
“Are you okay?” Jeb asked.
I nodded a little, my mouth dry, and my ears ringing.
“You know, when they get here, they’ll expect to know your answer. I’d kind of like to know myself.”
It could of only been a few moments that I stared into his eyes. The grew as large as pools and I felt a fugue familiar to a vodou trance. Was I, an enchantress, enchanted? It didn’t matter. There was no conflict anywhere in my soul, no fear, or worry.
I nodded. Jeb’s face returned to normal now with a smile as wide as any of the rivers we had crossed.
“What now?” I asked.
Jeb gripped my hands, squeezing them in his. Soames and Gordon arrived. “Now, nothing. But tomorrow These two go to town, register the change of deed with the Mayor or whoever, and find the preacher to marry us.”
“What if he wont do it?” Plenty states still forbade a marriage like ours. And we didn’t even know which state we were in.
“Then Gordon will have to be my best man, and Soames will wed us.”
“Will that be legal?”
“In what country? The U.S.A? The Conefederacy? Are we even sure this is land that has been claimed by anyone. All that matters is we want wed. The rest can go hang.”
I turned to Soames and Gordon. “What will you do?”
“There was talk of gold in California before we left Washington,” Gordon said. “Soames and me fancy a go at prospecting. We’ll take a horse and wagon, and go make a fortune.”
“I thought you were going to be a farmer?” I said to Soames.
He nodded. “Yeh, me and Jeb. I fancy a house the other side of the orchard, when it’s grown a bit. But I need a bit of capital to build anything fancy as this.”
“But this belongs to you as much as Jeb.”
“It belongs to all of us,” Jeb said.
Gordon and Soames looked at each other, Gordon nodded.
“It’ll belong to you two,” Soames said. “It’s the only wedding present we had available.”
§
A couple of days later we were on the verandah again. The morning sky burnt brightly as the sun rose in a cloudless sky. Soames and Gordon’s wagon headed south towards the small town we no knew to be Minneloa. From there they would go west towards the mountains.
We, Jeb and I, would farm.
End
Story by stuartcturnbull, art by Darkmoon_Art on Pixabay