Always and Forever (24 page)

Jackson wanted to laugh but knew she probably would cut off his ears. “Grace, please.”

The softness of his entreaty made her stop. Had she heard him correctly? “What did you say?”

“I said, please.”

She searched his eyes in the dark. “Have you ever said that to a woman before?”

He knew what he was supposed to say, but it was also the truth. “No. Not like this.”

“Why now?”

He could see she was not going to give him any quarter, so again he told the truth. “Because you’re turning me inside out, woman, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat.”

Grace felt a smile come over her heart, but once bitten, twice shy, and he was not going to get off so easily. “What’s to keep you from waking up tomorrow and breaking my heart again?”

Jackson winced inwardly, but knew he’d earned it. “Knowing that I’d hurt you again.”

Grace looked away. The sincerity in his tone threatened to put tears in her eyes. On one hand his words were a tender balm to her hurt feelings, but on the other hand she wanted to yell at him for putting her through this turmoil in the first place. Loving a man could make a woman crazy.

“Grace, I’m stubborn, pigheaded, and yes, I got way too much pride, but these past two weeks without you have been hell.”

She turned back to him then. “You make this very hard, Jackson.”

“I know, darlin’, and I’m sorry, but being around you makes me not know my own mind sometimes. That’s hard on a man.”

He reached out and drew a crescent across her cheek and the familiar sweet gesture closed her eyes. “Forgive me…” he whispered.

How could she stay angry at a man who’d opened his heart and let her look inside? “I should make you walk the plank.”

He smiled. “If you can find one, I’ll walk it.”

She tried to remain firm, but a smile peeked out.

Seeing it, he picked up her hand. “I’m sorry, I really really am. Will you at least let me walk you back to your wagon?”

She nodded.

Still holding hands, they prepared to stroll away when a female voice rang out from one of the nearby wagons. “It’s about time you two made up!”

“Sure is!” shouted another.

Grace’s eyes grew round.

“Loreli, you owe me two bits! I told you they’d be back together before we left Illinois.” That was Trudy.

“Pay you tomorrow!” Loreli yelled back.

An astonished Grace stood there speechless while Jackson’s laughter split the night.

They made it back to Grace’s wagon without further comment from the eavesdropping brides, and once they did, were reluctant to part.

“I should get to sleep,” she said, wishing they weren’t on a wagon train in the middle of the plains so they could spend the night in each other’s arms and not have to worry about being heard or rising before dawn.

“If I promise not to stay too late, can we sit and talk awhile?” he asked, hoping with all his might she’d say yes.

The request pleased her immensely. “I suppose a little while wouldn’t hurt, but let’s find a place away from the choir.”

He chuckled. “Any particular place in mind?”

Grace shook her head. “No, how about we just walk?”

“Okay.”

So side by side they headed off into the darkness, away from the camp. Grace felt a contentment she’d thought she’d lost. No, she didn’t need a man to make
her life full; she’d been blessed since birth, but having him by her side did make the world seem brighter. Only time would tell how long they’d be together, but when the time came to part, she’d have no regrets because life would go on.

They slowed a good distance from the circled wagons and stood in the silence of a stand of trees partially bathed by the moon’s pale light. A downed trunk provided a place to sit.

“What do you wish to talk about?” she asked.

Jackson thought for a moment as he searched his mind for a topic of conversation that wouldn’t lead to another falling out. “Tell me about this pirate grandfather of yours.”

The question surprised her. “How’d you know about that?”

“Martin Abbott mentioned it the day he and I met. He said that’s partly why you’re such a hellion.”

He added, “I was born a slave. My daddy was sold at birth to a Texas planter on the eastern side of the Republic. He never knew who his parents were. I envy you being able to trace your line back so far.”

She found the tribute touching. “Many in the race can trace their lines back, even some who weren’t free.”

“I know, but there are many more of us who can’t, and I’m one.”

Grace searched his eyes and saw an openness in them he’d never shared with her before now. “You’re right of course, but I can’t remember ever
not
knowing who my ancestors were. On my mother’s side I’m a Prescott, descended from the Buccaneer, as we call him, and on my father’s side I was an Atwood. He was a runaway from Maryland.”

“Your daddy was a slave?”

She nodded. “The most resourceful, smartest, and
kindest man I’ll probably ever meet in this lifetime.”

He smiled at the love in her eyes. “That great, huh?”

She smiled in reply. “Greater. He was owned by an Annapolis sea captain and had been bred to the sea. That was how Black seamen slaves were described back then. Plantation slaves were bred to the land. Men like my father and his father were bred to the sea. He went on his first sea voyage at the age of eight.”

“When did he run?”

“During the spring of 1852. He was twenty-four at the time and trusted enough by his sea captain master to be the quartermaster.”

“Like a quartermaster in the army?”

“I suppose. He laid in the supplies, ordered provisions, handled the books. I don’t know what an army quartermaster really does, but in the Buccaneer’s day, the quartermaster was the man who saw to the equal divvying up of things like plunder and food, and made sure everyone, including the captain, got no more than his share. The famous pirate Captain Kidd had a Black quartermaster for a time.”

“Really? Or are you making this all up?”

Taking mock offense, she punched him playfully in the arm. “No, I’m not making this up. The Buccaneer knew these men and he made his daughter, my Great-great-great-aunt Lilith write all his memories down before he died.”

“Okay, okay, put your cutlass away, Pirate Queen Atwood. Who else did this old pirate granddaddy of yours remember?”

Her eyes were shining with humor. “Abraham Samuel.”

“And who was he? Don’t tell me he was the captain of an all Black pirate ship.”

She shook her head, no. “There were no Black pirate
captains, as far as I know, but Abraham was a West Indian runaway and a quartermaster on the pirate ship
John and Rebecca.”

“And?”

“And later the King of Fort Dauphin.”

“Where was that?”

“Madagascar.”

“Madagascar? Who in the world would make a pirate king?”

“Other pirates. It’s said Samuel had a very powerful presence, was extremely intelligent and very strong—all the right attributes of a pirate king. He also had slaves and wives.”

Jackson cocked his head. “Wives? As in more than one?”

“As in more than one.”

Jackson stroked his chin as if contemplating the information. “Doesn’t sound like a bad job, being a pirate king.”

A grinning Grace shook her head. “You probably can’t even handle
one
wife, let alone wives, plural.”

“Be willing to give it a good-old Texas try, though.”

“Men,” she snorted.

For a moment, they settled into a companionable silence, then Jackson’s thoughts changed direction. “The Mitchell sisters weren’t real nice to Belle.”

Grace’s anger resurfaced. “The Mitchell sisters are harpies and I should’ve replaced them when I had the chance.”

“Too late now.”

“Yes, it is.”

Grace sighed, “Well, they’ll be someone else’s problem once we get to Kansas City. Maybe husbands will temper their meanness.”

Jackson snorted, “If they can
find
husbands. I’m
tempted to warn those men to head for the hills.”

Her voice held amusement. “I’ve been considering that too.”

He was glad they were no longer at odds. “So, is the journey all you hoped it would be?”

“In many ways, yes, the women have pulled together wonderfully, and I get to see the beauty of the countryside, but I doubt I’ll ever travel by wagon again.”

“No?” he asked, chuckling.

“Positive. My hips are going to be permanently black and blue from riding that hard seat.”

She then looked at him. “Speaking of black, why do you always wear black?”

“Out of respect for my daddy. When his murderers are brought to justice, I’ll quit mourning.”

The bitterness in his voice was quite apparent. She searched his eyes in the dark. “Your father was murdered?”

“Yes, and once I get you and the women to Kansas, I’m heading back to Texas to hunt down the Rebs that did it.”

A strong sense of fear came over Grace. “Alone?”

“Alone.”

She wanted to tell him how dangerous that might be, but was certain he already knew. Now that the nation had turned its back on reconstruction, justice was barely alive in many areas of the country, but it was already dead in Texas; he would be taking his life in his hands if he journeyed there. “You can’t go there alone.”

“Sure I can.” Jackson could feel her concern and it touched his heart, but going back to Texas was something he’d already made up his mind to do. He owed it to his daddy and to himself. “It has to be done and I’m the only one who can do it.”

Grace realized she knew very little about this man,
still. There were demons inside him that might cost him his life, and she didn’t like the thought of that.

“But I will be careful. I promise.”

She knew that no matter how careful he tried to be, he could still lose his life.

He must’ve sensed that, because he said, “I didn’t bring you out here to weigh you down with worry.”

“I know, Jackson, but—”

“No buts. Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Grace wanted to try and convince him to choose another path, but knew how stubborn he was, and that in spite of her feelings for him she had no right. His father had been murdered; only he could decide how to alleviate that grief.

They walked back in silence, and once they reached her wagon, he said, “So, now you know why I’ve been having such a hard time with my feelings for you. I can’t commit to anything or anyone until I can clear up things back home.”

Jackson knew he hadn’t told her the whole story. He still didn’t know how to tell her he was also wanted in Texas.

“Don’t worry,” she told him. “We’ll take the days as they come.”

Jackson’s heart swelled.

Grace reached up and tenderly cupped his cheek. “Thanks for telling me.”

He turned her palm to his lips and kissed the center. “Thanks for not cutting off my ears.”

Their smiles met and she whispered, “Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight.”

And for the first time in many nights, they both slept peacefully.

She woke up the next morning to find a bundle of
wildflowers on her wagon seat and a note that said,
Hope you like them
. There was no signature, but she didn’t need one. The fragrances of the multicolored bouquet filled her nose, and his kindness filled her heart.

Over the next few days, Jackson made it plain to everyone how he felt about Grace. Every morning when she got up, she found on the seat of her wagon a piece of paper weighed down by a beautiful coral-colored rock. Sometimes the notes were just a few lines wishing her a good morning or a good day, but others were so poetic and moving they put tears in her eyes.

One read:

In the old age, black was not considered fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty’s name;

But now is black beauty’s successive heir,
And beauty slandered with a bastard shame.

When the wagon train stopped that afternoon, Grace was so excited she hunted down Loreli and Katherine and showed them the paper.

Loreli looked at the well-penned words and said, “My goodness, Grace. I’ve known a lot of men in my life, but they’ve never written me poems.”

Grace grinned as Loreli handed the small piece of paper over to Katherine.

As Katherine read, her eyes widened. “Grace, do you know what this is from?”

Grace hadn’t a clue. “No.”

“Honey, this is Shakespeare.”

She handed it back. “And I think it’s one of the sonnets that he supposedly wrote to a woman he called the ‘Dark Lady.’”

Both Loreli and Grace stared.

“There are rumors Shakespeare had a Black mistress
named Lucy Negro and the poems were for her.”

Grace read the lines again, now more amazed than ever.

Katherine added, “I worked at a newspaper in Virginia a while back and a woman I did a report on claimed to be a descendant of Lucy’s.”

Loreli shook her head and smiled. “Shakespeare. Grace, if you don’t want that man,
I’ll
take him.”

The women laughed and a still stunned Grace went back to her wagon.

As the rest stop ended, Grace picked up the reins and slapped them down on the team’s back to get them moving. She realized once again that Jackson Blake was proving to be much more complex than she’d ever imagined.

That evening after dinner, she found him playing checkers with Yancey Fitzgerald’s two sons. Because of the lengthening days, dark was coming later and the boys, James and Solomon, were playing as one against Jackson. Since Yancey and the boys had joined the train, Jackson made it a point to spend some time with the boys each day. He shot marbles, challenged them to footraces, and even took them up individually on his horse and let them ride with him at the front of the train. As a result they worshipped the ground he walked on. Yancey did, too.

But as Grace stood behind the boys to watch the checker game, she could see they were losing badly. Jackson had enough kings on his side of the board to launch a medieval crusade.

“He’s beating us again, Miss Atwood,” the older boy, Solomon, said with a mock glumness.