The Woman Who Loved Jesse James (33 page)

“Tim! Go back to the house!” I shouted.

“Mama, I want to be with you.” The barn door rattled as Tim tugged at it. I had visions of him pulling it free, and the horse trampling him as it raced for freedom.

“Tim, go back to the house! This instant!”

“Mama, I’m scared!” he wailed. “I want Daddy!”

I wanted Jesse too. I wanted him here, taking care of his horse, and taking care of me. I wanted to be inside my house, snuggled in blankets before a warm fire. I wanted to sip a cup of tea while he brushed out my hair.

But all I had was a wild horse, a frightened child, and quickly failing strength. “Will you just calm down!” I shouted, addressing both Kentucky and Tim, and myself.

To my amazement, the horse stilled. It stared at me with one terrified eye, its sides heaving, body shuddering. I put one hand to its neck, and smoothed the velvety coat, now slick with sweat. “It’s all right,” I soothed. “Everything is going to be all right.”

I led the now docile animal back to the damaged stall, and tied its halter to an iron ring in the wall. Then I rubbed it down with clean straw and covered it with a blanket. Weary beyond measure, I picked up the lamp, and slipped back into the storm.

Tim sat in a soggy heap in front of the door. I picked up him up and balanced him on one hip, then carried him and the lantern back to the house. Raindrops sizzled against the glass of the lamp chimney, but it didn’t shatter, and by its wavering light I was able to avoid the worst of the puddles and make my way onto the porch, where I doused the flame and went into the house.

Mary had fallen asleep in her crib, and Tim was almost out in my arms, exhausted from his ordeal. I stripped off his wet clothes and mine, then dressed us both in flannel and carried him into bed with me. I was too jittery with adrenaline to sleep, but I welcomed the comfort of warm quilts. The worst of the storm had abated, the lightning and thunder passed, the rain a gentle wash against the windows. I lay back on the pillows, my sleeping son beside me, and thought, as I always did at this time of day, of Jesse. Where was he tonight? Was he warm and dry, in a house with friends or a hotel in some distant town? Or was he camped in the woods, soaked to the skin and missing home? In the time I’d known him, he’d certainly been in worse situations. He’d stared down death more times than I could count. He’d escaped so many times I’d grown to think of him as invincible. But on nights like this I was haunted by fear for him. Jesse James the outlaw was the stuff of legends, but Jesse James the man was after all a mortal. How much time did he have before his luck ran out?

I did my best to hide my worries
from the children. Though Tim asked every morning if Daddy was coming home today, Jesse had left often in Tim’s short life to attend horse races or visit friends, so this absence wasn’t particularly upsetting to the boy.

A more pressing concern was my growing shortage of money. I was reluctant to ask Frank and Annie for help, though I know they would have offered. Instead, I accepted a neighbor’s offer to buy Kentucky. The cut on the horse’s leg had proved minor, and there was no other damage from those moments of terror in the barn. But the memory of how close I’d been to death beneath those slashing hooves left me with little love for the animal, and I was glad to get a good price for him.

I delivered the rent to Mr. Twitchell’s office in person. He was clearly surprised to see me. “Mrs. Howard, I would have expected your husband to come to see me,” he said, the implication clear that Jesse should be ashamed of letting a woman take care of his responsibilities.

“Mr. Howard had business out of town to see to,” I said. “May I have a receipt, please?”

He wrote the receipt, and handed it to me, a sour expression on his face. “Tell your husband I won’t tolerate him being late again,” he said.

“He won’t be.” I planned to put aside most of the money I’d received for Kentucky to safeguard against future such embarrassments. Jesse might balk at this, but I was determined to stand my ground. As Annie had pointed out, I had children to think of now, not just myself. Though I would never leave Jesse, I would do my best to see that my children never suffered for that decision.

For the time being, we would be all right. Jesse would be home soon. For my own sake and the sake of my children, I couldn’t afford to consider any other possibilities.

And then one day, Jesse was home.
He came riding into the yard at sunset, on a chestnut mare I’d never seen before. He wore a fine new suit and his hair was freshly barbered. His smile made my heart leap in my chest. He reined in the horse, then swung down and swept little Mary into his arms, and gave Tim a big hug. Carrying Mary, Tim clinging to his side, he strode to me, eyes shining. “It’s good to see you, sweetheart,” he said, and gave me a long kiss that left me dizzy and grinning like a girl.

“It’s good to see you,” I echoed, stroking his hair, touching his shoulder, my hands reluctant to leave him.

Was this the same brooding, morose man who had left not a month ago? He looked five years younger, and more handsome than ever.

“Where have you been, Daddy?” Tim asked.

“Off getting presents for you.” He handed Mary to me and returned to the horse. From the saddle bags he took his gifts—a rag baby for Mary and a mouth harp for Tim, who immediately blew a loud blast on his new toy.

Then Jesse turned to me. “And this is for you,” he said, handing me a knotted blue silk handkerchief.

There was a hard lump in the middle of the handkerchief, and when I unknotted the ends, I saw a gold ring with a large diamond solitaire. “A ring as fine as the woman who wears it,” he said, slipping the jewel onto my finger.

I held my hand out to admire it. The diamond sparkled in the fading sun. “It’s beautiful,” I said. I shifted my gaze from the ring to his blue eyes. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” He slipped his arm around my shoulder and we started for the house, the children trailing after us.

Hours later, after the new horse—whose name was Cassidy—was stabled, dinner eaten and the dishes washed, and the children snug in their beds, each clutching the new toy Jesse had brought them, he and I retired to our bedroom. I had informed him of the sale of Kentucky and how I’d used some of the money to pay the back rent. “I’m sorry you had to do that,” he said. “But I’m proud of you for handling things. I know I can always count on you.”

His praise made me feel two inches taller, and more in love with him than ever.

In the bedroom, I started to pull the pins from my hair, but he stopped me. “Let me do that.”

I sat on the end of the bed while he knelt behind me and unplaited the strands. Then he pulled a brush through the locks in long, soothing strokes. The temptation to close my eyes and bury all my worries and fears beneath a blanket of peace and contentment was almost overwhelming. But I knew problems that were buried had a tendency to grow tenfold, so I forced myself to sit up straight and address Jesse in a voice that was clear yet casual. “I saw the story in the papers about the train robbery at Glendale,” I said. “‘We are the boys who are hard to handle.’ What were you thinking?”

He chuckled. “How did you like that? I thought it was a nice touch. Just when the railroads had begun to get lazy, Jesse James is back to make them toe the line.”

“Who was with you? I didn’t recognize the names.”

“Oh, just Clel Miller’s little brother, Ed; my cousin Wood and some men they knew. Young fellows mostly. They grew up hearing stories of the James gang.”

I imagined a group of young men, in awe of their idol, the notorious Jesse James. Jesse would thrive in their midst, with no one to contradict him and—unfortunately—no one to rein him in.

“Frank was talking the other day about the men you used to be friends with—your fellow bushwhackers,” I said. “He said they’re all dead or in jail now. Only the two of you are left.”

He set the brush aside and sat facing me. “Buck needs to quit sitting at home, brooding, and come ride with me,” he said. “One holdup would set him right.” He reached up and unfastened the top button of my shirtwaist.

“Annie says she’ll leave him if he goes back to being an outlaw,” I said.

His hand stilled. “You wouldn’t leave me, would you?” he asked.

The gruffness in his voice unnerved me. I covered his hand with mine. “No, Jesse. I could never leave you.” I might as well have tried to cut out my heart and leave it behind.

He traced the curve of my jaw with the back of his hand. “My work takes me away sometimes, but I’ll never leave you or forsake you,” he said.

I closed my eyes as his lips covered mine, and let this promise vanquish my worries. I had no control over what Jesse did for a living, no power to stop those who hunted him, no way to predict the future. The only guarantee I had was this moment, and I’d be foolish not to take what enjoyment I could from it.

We made love with the urgency of any lovers long parted, yet for me, at least, every caress was tinged with melancholy. Jesse was energetic and eager, but I sensed desperation beneath his ardor, as if he too, was determined to grab hold of every sensation, while he still could.

Whatever ill will had existed
between Jesse and Frank when Jesse had left town vanished upon his return. He had been home only three days when Jesse decided we should leave our little house and move in with Annie and Frank. “I’m going to be traveling more and I don’t want you and the children to be alone,” he said.

“Leave our home? Jesse, no!” We had lived here longer than any other place in our marriage. Our children had been born here. And two of them were buried here.

The two little graves in the back yard drew my gaze. From the kitchen window I could just make out the wooden cross that Jesse had carved and set up as a marker. I’d taken comfort from the knowledge that Gould and Montgomery were out there close, not alone or abandoned to neglect.

Jesse put his hand on my shoulder. “It will be all right, Zee,” he said. “We can come back to visit, and when things are more settled—when we have a place of our own—we’ll move them with us.”

I bit my lip, holding back tears. I wanted to believe in a future in which we’d have a home of our own, and peace and safety at last, but I no longer trusted in such a fantasy. “I don’t want to go,” I whispered.

“I know.” He bent and kissed the top of my head. “But it’s for the best. I won’t rest easy knowing you and the children are alone while I’m traveling.”

I could have pointed out this hadn’t particularly bothered him before, but perhaps his renewed criminal activities
had
made things more dangerous for us all. I didn’t bother to ask where he was going, or to pretend I didn’t know what he planned to do. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Why are you putting yourself—and us—in danger like this?”

“It’s only for a little while longer.” He dismissed my worries with a wave of his hand. “I just want to get a stake. Then we’ll buy a farm out west somewhere, and start over. I’ll raise racehorses and wheat.”

The idea of Jesse as a contented wheat farmer on a western homestead seemed as impossible as my persuading him to give up the idea of any more robberies. He had started out holding up banks and railroads as an extension of his bushwhacking activities, a representative of those for whom the war hadn’t ended. But somewhere between revenge and riches, his motives had changed. Now Jesse craved the excitement and danger every bit as much as he enjoyed the rustle of cash in his wallet.

We packed our belongings and moved to Frank and Annie’s farm the next week, thereby avoiding having to pay another month’s rent. I cried bitter tears as I looked back on Montgomery and Gould’s little grave, craning my neck until even the tree that sheltered them had disappeared from sight. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was losing them all over again, and that no matter what Jesse said, we would never be back.

Either Frank had said something to Annie, or she had decided on her own to stop taking her worries over Frank’s future out on me. She went out of her way to be pleasant to me and the children, and even managed a smile or two for Jesse. I had yet to meet a woman who was immune to Jesse’s charms. The hardest female heart would melt in the heat of his brilliant blue eyes and roguish smile.

One morning in early November, we were all at breakfast when a telegram arrived. Annie accepted it from the delivery boy and brought it to Frank, a worried frown on her face.

We all watched as he unfolded the page. “It’s from Mother,” he said, then read, “George Shepherd says he killed Jesse near Short Creek. Marshall Liggett says it’s true. What do you say?”

I stared at Jesse. “Do you know anything about this?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I haven’t seen George in ten years or more.” George Shepherd, a former bushwhacker, had ridden with Jesse and Frank in 1868 and ’69. He was arrested and convicted of the robbery of a bank in Russellville, Kentucky, and spent time in jail.

Frank struck a match and lit one edge of the telegram and watched the flames consume the paper. “Prison must have done something to George’s mind, to make him lie like that,” he said.

“But why would Sheriff Liggett say it was true?” Annie asked.

“Maybe he wanted part of the reward money,” Frank said.

A chill shuddered through me, and I hugged my arms across my chest. I hated being reminded of the bounty on Jesse’s head.

Jesse didn’t look very happy with this latest news, either, but he wasn’t thinking of the reward money. “George and I used to be good friends,” he said. “Even if you didn’t like a man, if you served with him you would never betray him. What’s the world coming to, when an old friend will betray a man, all for the sake of some cash and his name in the paper?” He stood and tossed his napkin on the table, then walked out of the room and out of the house.

I stared after him, my heart in my throat. Jesse had always been invincible—the man who could not be tamed, the robber who couldn’t be caught. Even a rumor that he could be killed made my blood run cold.

Jesse and Frank decided
they should visit Zerelda, both to calm her fears and to get a better feel for the climate in Missouri. Annie protested vehemently, but Frank ignored her, calmly packing his bags and then kissing her goodbye, as if she’d never said a word.