These Is My Words (28 page)

Read These Is My Words Online

Authors: Nancy E. Turner

Just then, the men came in the door, bringing with them a gust of cool air and dust that smelled like rain coming. We all sat and Savannah made coffee, and it was good and strong, and we began to talk together like I never had before with my brother and his wife, and somehow that made me feel even more connected to Jack Elliot. Just like my conversation with Savannah had never happened, suddenly I was back in his spell, and each time his eyes caught mine there was a fiery sparkle in them that made me want to blush, and I remembered kissing him and wanting to marry him. Is that love?

Then he got so bold as to discuss our marriage plans with them, and I just listened to the sound of his voice, like it wasn’t happening to me. What Savannah had said about the horses was weighed on my mind, so when there was a time of quiet and refilling the cups, I said, Captain Elliot, I have decided when we are married you can do what you want with those horses, sell them all if you want, except for Rose and a couple we might need to work and pull the wagon. I’d rather run cattle like you said, and that’s fine with me. He looked at me and crooked his mustache, and his eyes twinkled bright in the lamplight.

It got late as we talked then, the wind howled around the little house, making noises in all the corners, making us thankful for the shelter of the heavy rock walls, and after a while we saw the lights go down in Mama’s house, except for one in the front window for me. Savannah said, Just let April sleep here, I hate to wake a sleeping baby. You men better walk her to Mama’s house for safety.
Both
of you.

Captain Elliot started to say, I’ll walk her, Albert, you needn’t bother, but Savannah insisted. There’s always safety in numbers Albert, now hurry along, she said, shooing us off the porch. I knew she thought she was protecting me from any more fervent advances. But, how I wished she wouldn’t.

 

August 5, 1885

I picked up my last letter from Jack. It was very formal, starting with

My Dear Mrs. Reed
,
I have been given orders to search for some Indians who made a tuckus at the San Carlos Agency and left the reservation, and I might be gone for several weeks. I believe it is important that we should come to an agreement on a date in the future to meet, and suggest that a church would be a good place, and of course we will be properly chaperoned by a minister and your family. Then and there might be a good time to state our future intentions in the matter we discussed previously, and so, to form a binding agreement on the subject
.

What a dust cloud of words he writes! I had to smile as I got some clean paper and began a letter back to him.

I told him how I wanted to get Ernest home for the wedding and that December might be a good time to do it, and asked him if he could arrange to hire someone to stay at the ranch so I don’t have to put Albert to such trouble for a whole month while we’re gone.

August 28, 1885

Today is April’s birthday, she is two. I will be twenty-two soon. My, that seems old. I had all my family over for dinner, and we shared our meal on the porch on the coolest side of the house. I told them I have finished reading Treasure Island and Harland said it sounded mighty fine, and could he borrow it, so I will let him, but he must be careful with it. He promised he would, and I know he will lay awake at night, dreaming he is Jim Hawkins and imagining he is fighting pirates in his room.

The rose bush is blooming, covered all over with white roses with a beautiful smell. I want to see Jack again. My eyes are tired from looking down the road.

September 14, 1885

There is a letter from Jack, and something for Albert and Savannah. Jack says in his letter that he is still out on a mission, and does not know when he will return, but he sent a letter to Ernest’s commanding officer, urging him to grant Ernest some leave at Christmas. He will come as soon as he can, he said.

The letter begins with
My dearest Mrs. R.
, and ends with
In Devotion to You, J.E.
I read those few words over and over, listening in my head to his voice saying them. I can’t seem to imagine how all this has come to pass that now I am to marry that man.

October 1, 1885

Jack sent another letter and said to me he wanted very much to take me to meet his father, who is still alive and living on a ranch near Austin, Texas. Since it wouldn’t do to go there before we are married, he asked Mama if she thought it would harm April’s health to travel for a month so he could take us all three on a Wedding Trip, and we will stop in and see his Papa and do some other sight seeing from a train. Imagine taking a baby on a wedding trip! But he said, we are a family, and he wouldn’t dream of not having her along to show his Papa.

A train trip is something I have always wanted to take, so I am excited, and I planned to use some money and have some nice clothes to take along. I want to look like a lady, not a wagon train settler this time, so I am going to town and I will come home with some corsets and new cloth to begin sewing up a storm.

October 6, 1885

My whole house was a flurry of patterns and bits of cloth in different colors, and we were talking and having coffee and sewing and laughing when out of the blue there was a knock on the door, and Jack was standing there. Come in, I said, and he reached for me to put his arms around me, but I pulled away. Come in and say hello to Savannah and Mama and Melissa. They are here helping me sew some traveling clothes.

He just smiled, and said, So glad to see you all, and shook my hand instead. I squeezed his fingers so he knew I was truly glad to see him, too. He reached into his blouse front and pulled out a piece of paper. I have something here you might like to see, he said, handing it to Mama.

He didn’t know she can’t read, so I said, Well, the light’s pretty bad, let me read it for you, Mama. Ernest’s orders, he’s got leave for December, from the eighteenth to the thirtieth! We were all plum excited to look forward to him coming home. Just a few weeks away. Oh, my, I said, that means we have a wedding to get ready for in the same few weeks.

Jack grinned, Look’s like that’s in full swing too, he said, looking around. Did you get my letters, Sarah?

Yes, I said, I got two. And I’ll be glad to go see your Papa with you, that will be fine, don’t you want to invite him to come here for the wedding?

He shook his head. Cattle ranch, you know, you just can’t leave, and he’s stubborn, won’t trust it to anyone else. But I wrote you three letters. Well, but that’s why I’m here, I wrote him we were coming and so I have some business I wanted to discuss. I know he always needs good horses. What would you say to selling him some, and we could travel with them, ship them, when we go?

I looked at Savannah. She pretended to be concentrating on a buttonhole. So I said to him, Well, I think that’s a pretty good plan. I’ll try to have them ready and shoed and all. Do you want to pick out a few head now so I know which ones to work on?

No, he said, you don’t have to do anything to them. I have taken six weeks leave for that time, and I’ll be here to get them ready. I just don’t want to take any that are your favorites or anything. I can see you all are busy, but if you’d allow me to just wander through them and look them over, maybe we’ll choose them tomorrow. I mean, Miss Savannah, if I still have leave to stay the night at your place? She nodded. Ladies? he said, nodding and lifting his hat back to his head.

It seemed like he had just filled up the room with himself, and now the door shut and it was so empty. I tried to keep sewing, and think about the horses he was picking out. I stuck my thumb with the needle so many times I made a blood stain on my new dress and had to run dip the sleeve I was working on into some water. Putting the dress on the table, I said, Well, I just have to see which horses he is looking at, to be sure he doesn’t pick wrong.

Mama looked up at me and smiled like a cat with a mouse between its paws. Well, Sarah, don’t you think he might get the wrong ones? You don’t want to lose Rose, you’d better go see what he’s doing. Now out with you! And don’t run!

I found him in the barn looking at the big stallion. He’s a pretty valuable horse, I said.

Jack looked up quick, startled that I was behind him without making a sound. Lord, Sarah, he said, Ever thought of becoming an Apache Scout? You walk like an Indian.

I told him I hadn’t meant to sneak up on him, and asked him had he really come here just to look at horses?

No, he said. It was just a believable excuse, I really rode here just to kiss you.

Well, I said, some people say too much kissing before a marriage leads to unfortunate consequences.

He folded me up in his arms, and said, How much is too much kissing? Then he kissed me. Is that too much?

No, I said.

So he kissed me again. How about now?

Not at all, I said again.

Then he kissed me like he had done before. Is that too much? he whispered.

I think it’s getting close, I said.

Okay, he said, then I’ll settle for a hug, and he squeezed me to him where I listened through his shirt to his heart beating faster and faster. After a bit he said, Even this is dangerous. Let’s look at your horses.

So we walked among them and petted them, and I told him which ones were the parents of which, and that I had a list I kept, and he looked at things like the shoes and feet, and the teeth and the set of the eyes. And we talked no more of kisses and dangerous hugs, but I thought about them plenty.

October 8, 1885

I apologized to everyone, even Toobuddy, for being in such a bad mood yesterday. It is not because Jack left like they said, it was just my time of month so they shouldn’t say it’s because I love him. Do I love him? Is this love? He is not comfortable and familiar feeling like Jimmy was. He is not peaceful to have around, nor calm. He is like a thunderstorm, big and noisy and sometimes frightening. And always, there is a sense of something about him. He’s a good shot and a dangerous fighter, and brave even when the Indians surround him or the walls are burning down. But walls don’t burn every day.

He’s just a man, though he takes over a room without knowing it when he’s there. It must be that soldiering, and being in command of soldiers, that makes a man seem to do that. He is too tall. He is too handsome. I have seen women in Tucson cast their eyes at him while we drove through town. What kind of man is that for a husband?

He’s only good with horses when it comes to riding them and keeping them going, but doesn’t know about breeding lines nor feeds and grooming like my Papa and brothers and Jimmy. He doesn’t go to church regular, and is right there in town, so there’s no excuse, and he has never once asked me if I studied the Bible. And he likes to torment me, and laughs when I get upset when he does.

No, of course not. I do not love Jack Elliot. He is low and coarse and a soldier, and not the kind of man I want to spend my life with.

November 1, 1885

I got a letter from Jack today.
My Dearest
, it began, without even saying my name, as if I would recognize that it was addressed to me alone. It talked about his schedule and how he had bought train tickets, and had something important he needed to discuss with me. And it ended with
In deepest devotion
, and it made me sigh to read those few tender words. I love Jack Elliot. Oh my soul, I do love him so.

November 29, 1885

I have not had a letter in so long. Maybe he will just come again to see the horses. But he doesn’t come and doesn’t come, and I am growing to believe it was a dream. How could I have thought I loved a man like that?

December 4, 1885

A package arrived at the station from Jack. Inside was a letter, and a gift for April, and one for me. The letter says he will be here on December 15th, and has arranged for the wedding to take place on the 20th, and we will stay in town until the 22nd, when we will leave early in the morning for Texas. He asked me to arrange for someone to bring April to the station so we can have the two days alone and then take her with us.

April has gotten a pretty little hat with a ribbon around it and a little silk flower on the back, which she insists goes in front so she can see it in the looking glass, and she just won’t listen to me. My gift is a beautiful pair of lace ladies’ gloves. They must be only for church or traveling, as they would not hold up to even the lightest of tasks. They are beautiful and I will treasure them. How thoughtful he can be! How could I have doubted myself?

December 19, 1885

Jack is here. Ernest is too. We have a houseful of excitement and so much going on with horses to ship and all, leaving tomorrow before sunup for Tucson.

I feel all in a flurry and I wish I could just say No, this is all a mistake, stop everything. The whole house is a mess, and everyone seems more excited than I, and they just carry on so, that I can’t get a word in edgewise. Ernest has bathed and tended the horses I am sending to Jack’s Papa, and he was just in here asking me for horseshoe nails, like I would keep them in the kitchen. Mama is finishing some sewing for me but wants me to find the yellow thread I was using, and she fussed around in my sewing bag. I don’t know where that spool went, I told her just use anything that will hold.

Yesterday Ernest talked a blue streak and wanted to see my land and we did but all the while I was thinking about everything else I needed to do. Jack and Albert are talking horses from morning to night, and suddenly they both decided this would be as good a time as any to frame up a new room on Albert’s house. With all the boys helping they have put up a room in no time—all but the last clapboards are finished—but it is just one more commotion on top of all the wedding fuss, and of course, Harland mashed his thumb blue with a hammer, and Savannah’s babies cried all day from the noise, and Mama and Melissa cooked up a feast for all of us three times a day, but their house is too small so they did it in my kitchen. On top of everything there is all that dishwashing and wood chopping, and glory, but I am tired.

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