The Woman Who Loved Jesse James (8 page)

“We are proud of you,” I said. “All of us.”

He patted my shoulder. “That means a lot. We had a lot of scary times, but we believed in the cause, in fighting for the South. We believed we could make a difference and that made it worth it. Even if it meant doing things I never thought I’d do.” His hand traced a path along my side, up and down. “Brutal, bloody things. Things I can’t begin to tell you.”

“Is it those memories that keep you awake?” I asked.

“Some, but it’s not so much what I did as what was done to me.” His hand stilled. “I left home a boy, believing nothing bad could ever happen to me, and I came home near a dead man. Knowing I almost died shook me to the core. It makes me wonder how much time any of us have left.”

“But you didn’t die. And you won’t. Not for a long time.”

“How can any of us say?”

The desolation in his voice distressed me. I searched for some way to comfort him. “At Lucy’s wedding, you told me your destiny was to fight for the South,” I reminded him. “Doesn’t the fact that you survived prove God has more great things in store for you?”

“All I know is, I feel the need not to waste any time. I want to take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way—whether it’s to right a wrong or to enjoy what time I can with you.”

He pulled me to him and his mouth found mine. I responded as ardently as I knew how, pressing my lips to his with heated fervor, arching my body to him without shame. His hand on my hip steadied me, as his tongue urged my lips apart.

His kisses grew bolder, and I grew bolder still in my response. I opened my mouth to him and twined my tongue with his, reveling in the taste and feel of him. All my hours of fantasy were nothing compared to the reality of this moment. To have him here with me, solid flesh and blood, when he had so nearly died, was reason enough to abandon caution and enjoy these new sensations without thought to consequences.

He massaged my hip and I writhed against him shamelessly, feeling the hard length of him pressed against the juncture of my thighs. He clutched me fiercely and gave a muffled groan, then stilled, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I felt a warm wetness on the front of my gown and drew back in surprise.

“It’s all right,” he soothed, stroking my shoulder. “Being so near you was too much for me. I couldn’t wait.”

The realization of what had happened made me blush, but I had little time to ponder the situation. Jessie had pulled up the hem of my gown and gently parted my legs with his hand. His gentle caresses and skillful fondling sent a flood of sensations through me—heat and tension and longing. I wanted to pull away from his touch, yet at the same time I never wanted the contact to stop.

“Wh
. . .
what are you doing?” I whispered.

“I’m making you feel as good as you’ve made me feel.” He bent his head and began to nuzzle at my breast. His tongue traced a circle around the tip, wetting the cloth, flicking back and forth against my painfully erect nipple. He moved to my other breast and I bit back a moan, and arched against his hand, which pressed me down firmly into the bed.

Just when I felt I could not bear the onslaught of sensation any longer, release came, sudden and sharp. I bucked against him and would have cried out, but his mouth covered my own, his tongue plunging between my teeth, silencing me.

He kept his hands on me, easing me back to myself, then holding me close. I clung to him, panting. The pleasure I’d occasionally found at my own hands was nothing compared to this.

He raised his head and looked at me in the dim light. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Did you like that?”

I nodded again, unable to find words to express my feelings.

He chuckled. “Can’t say I’ve ever rendered a woman speechless before.” He kissed the top of my head. “Go on. You’d better get back to your own bed. Your pa will be coming down to start the cook fires before we know it.”

I nodded and slipped from the cot and hurried back to my room. Upstairs, I changed out of the wet gown, stuffing it far back in the wardrobe to be retrieved for washing later. Sallie slept on, snoring softly. I crawled beneath the covers and stared at the ceiling, marveling at everything that had happened.

“No, I can’t,” I turned my head away.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “You know I won’t hurt you.”

“I know, but
. . .
it’s wrong, Jesse.”

“What’s wrong about two people who love each other being together?”

I raised my eyes to his, searching them to see if he meant the words. “I do love you, Zee,” he said.

“I love you, too, Jesse.”

“Then come to me tonight.” He kissed my cheek. “I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you, too, but—”

“It’s all right.” His voice was soft, soothing, his hands stroking my back, heating my skin and sending fluttering sensations through me. “I’m not some man who’s going to take advantage, then leave you. I want to marry you.”

“Marry me?”

He nodded, his smiled dazzling. “I want you to be my wife.”

“Oh, Jesse!” I threw my arms around him and he lifted me off the ground. I felt like shouting or weeping, but I did neither, merely clung to him, my heart pounding as if I’d just run across the fields.

Slowly, he eased me down until my feet touched the ground once more. “We can’t tell anyone until I’ve broken the news to Mother,” he said.

Aunt Zerelda. The name cast a dark cloud over my happiness. Though she and I had always gotten along, everyone knew she set great store by her oldest boys, Frank and Jesse. She had yet to think any woman was good enough for her sons. “What do you think she’ll say about us getting married?” I asked.

“She’ll be happy,” he said. “She likes you, and she’ll love any woman I love.”

Jesse was used to being the center of his mother’s world, so naturally he thought she’d be happy about anything that made him happy, but I wasn’t so sure.

After Jesse’s father, my Uncle Robert, had died in the California gold fields, when Jesse was only three, Aunt Zerelda had been left with nothing. Uncle Robert had no will; by law everything went to his children—Frank and Jesse and their younger sister, Susan. A local official was given control of the estate on behalf of the children and a neighbor, Mr. West, was given guardianship of the children. A widowed woman, even one of Zerelda’s strong temperament, had no power, even over her own children. Determined to regain control of her life, Zerelda chose the only course open to her—marriage to a wealthy neighbor.

The marriage was only talked about in our family in hushed tones. What little I knew I’d picked up listening in on my mother and older women gossiping. It seems Aunt Zerelda’s new husband, Mr. Simms, didn’t care for children, and Jesse and his siblings continued to live with their guardian, Mr. West. Unable to bear being apart from her children, Zerelda left her husband after eight months and moved in with the Wests. Those must have been desperate times for her, and part of me couldn’t blame her for clinging to her children so tightly after that.

But fortune smiled on Zerelda, in the form of Mr. Simms’s death. He did have a will, and had left his estate to her. She had a little money now, and more determination than ever. She chose a better husband in Dr. Samuel, and had him made the children’s guardian. She even had him sign a paper before their marriage that guaranteed that, in the event he preceded her in death, she would retain ownership of the farm and all his property. Never again would Aunt Zerelda be cut off from all that was rightfully hers.

I could admire all these things about her, while knowing she was just as unlikely to surrender control of Jesse. It didn’t matter that he was a grown man who had fought in a bitter war and almost died; he was still her golden boy, and I was sure she wanted to be the only woman in his life. The question remained—would Jesse stand up to his mother and go against her wishes when it came to marrying me?

Most people looking at me would have said I was no match for Zerelda. Despite sharing the same name, we were physical opposites: she was taller than most men, and capable of striking a man down if he crossed her; I stood barely over five feet and made no claims to physical prowess of any kind. Zerelda was known for her scorching tongue. She was never reluctant to express her opinion on any matter and countless men lived in fear of her tirades. I was quiet and usually kept my opinions to myself.

Better women than I had made the mistake of turning their eyes toward Frank or Jesse and been driven away by Zerelda’s sharp tongue. But loving Jesse had made me brave—brave enough to face even Aunt Zerelda’s wrath. “I’ll come to you tonight,” I said, smiling up at him. “I want us to be together.” That night, and forever.

Jesse and I spent many pleasurable nights
together in the next weeks. As a lover, he could be both tender and fierce. I never knew which Jesse awaited me in the evenings when I slipped into his bed. His ever-changing nature fascinated and excited me.

I think my mother might have suspected what was going on between us. Not that we were sharing his bed; she would never had condoned such wantonness. But she saw that Jesse and I had developed an affection for one another.

“I think your cousin is the kind of man who could turn a young woman’s head if she isn’t careful,” she said to me one afternoon as we worked in the kitchen. We were making pickles, and the air was full of the smell of vinegar and spices.

“What do you mean?” I asked, pretending not to understand.

“Jesse is younger than you,” she said. “He’s a long time from being ready to settle down, while you should already have a husband and family of your own.”

“You’re wrong,” I said. “About Jesse, anyway. There’s only two years’ difference in our ages, and he’s ready to settle down. In fact, he’s asked me to marry him.”

To my mother’s credit, her hand didn’t falter in lifting a heavy jar of pickles from the canner, but when the jar was safely on the table she turned and studied me, her eyes full of sadness. “I had hoped you’d find a husband among our neighbors,” she said. “A stable man who could care for you.”

“Jesse will take care of me.”

“Jesse has a wildness in him I fear will never be tamed.”

I stuck my chin in the air, defiant. “He’s a good man, mother. He loves me and I love him.”

She shook her head, perhaps seeing it was useless for her to argue. “Think about this, child. Marriage is for life. You don’t want to make a mistake.”

“Jesse and I will be happy,” I said. “But please don’t tell anyone yet. Jesse wants to wait until he’s told his mother.”

My mother’s frown deepened. “Zerelda won’t be pleased.”

“She can’t stop us,” I said, with more bravado than I possessed.

“I hope you’re right, child. Though I’m not sure even Jesse James can stand up to his mother.”

In October, Zerelda sent word once more that she expected Jesse to come home. Frank had returned, and she wanted all her children around her. “I have to go,” Jesse told me as we lay in each other’s arms in a secluded copse where we’d been meeting. Wrapped in blankets against the chill of fall and hidden from the sight of others, I was drowsy and content until his words roused me. “I’ve intruded on your family’s hospitality long enough,” he continued, before I could protest. “I’m well enough now to ride, and there’s work to do.”