Taming of Jessi Rose Read online

  “I know, but you were gracious and kind.”

  “I’ll bet you didn’t think I had it in me.”

  He looked down into her eyes. “They might’ve thought that, but I know better. You are gracious and kind, not to mention magnificent and beautiful.”

  “You’re prejudiced.”

  “I am that.”

  Later, after supper, Jessi stood in the door and watched Griffin and Joth play marbles out in the corral. They were too far away for their conversation to be heard, but Jessi could see Griffin giving her nephew pointers on shooting angles and the positioning of his body. Griff may have learned some things about cows from Joth today, but Joth was learning from Griffin, too—like how to be a good man, and the many ways to look adversity in the eye and not blink. If Jessi had her way, Joth would also learn how to be a caring husband, because she’d decided she would marry Griffin Blake, she just hadn’t told him so yet. How could she not love a man who’d given her sunsets?

  That evening, after hearing Joth recite his prayers, Jessi sat on the edge of his bed, listening to his last words of the day. She told him, “Griffin and the Twins were pretty bowled over by how much you knew about cattle.”

  “Were they?” His eyes were shining.

  “Yes, they were. You’re going to be a fine rancher someday.”

  He just grinned.

  Jessi touched his face tenderly. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yep.”

  “How would you feel if Griffin and I got married?”

  “Will I have to live somewhere else?”

  Confused by the question, Jessi replied, “No. Why would you think that?”

  “Because when Reggie Becker got a new pa, his mama made Reggie go live with his grandmother up in Dallas.”

  Jessi knew that Reggie was one of Joth’s classmates, but knew nothing about his family or their situation. “You won’t have to move away, I promise. Griff and I both would miss you dearly if you weren’t here.”

  “Would you?”

  “Extremely.”

  He went silent a moment, then said softly, “I’ve been real lonely since Gramps died.”

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  “But Griff’s starting to fix that.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “He’s a lot of fun, Aunt Jessi. He calls you the Governor.”

  Jessi laughed. “Does he, now?”

  “Yep, and he asked my permission to court you.”

  Jessi went still. “He did?”

  “He said since I was the only Clayton male, he had to ask me.”

  That Griffin would be so caring as to seek permission from Joth made Jessi’s heart full indeed. “And what did you say?” she asked him softly.

  “I asked him would he be nice to you, and when he said yes, I said yes, too. Did I say the right thing?”

  “Yes, darling, you did, and you asked a real fine question, too.”

  “Are you crying. Aunt Jessi?”

  She nodded. “A little bit, but they’re happy tears.”

  “Does this mean you and Griff will have to kiss?”

  “Yep, we have to, it’s part of the rules.”

  “Ugh! Mollie tried to kiss me at school one day, and I told her I’d make her eat a lizard if she ever tried it again.”

  Jessi’s tears spilled onto her cheeks as she laughed at that, and she wiped them away. “It’s time for you to get to sleep.”

  She leaned down and gave him a tender kiss on the brow. “Good night, Jotham Clayton. May all your dreams be good ones.”

  He gave her a strong hug and said, “Good night. Aunt Jessi.”

  Jessi found Griffin out on the front porch watching the first act of the evening’s sunset. “So, I’m known as the Governor, am I?” she asked, standing above him with a hand on her hip and a smile on her face.

  He looked up and laughed. “He told you? Wait until I see that boy. Doesn’t he know that when you talk man to man you don’t tell the womenfolk?”

  “Guess not,” she chuckled, as she took a seat beside him.

  “What other beans did he spill?”

  “That you asked his permission to court me.”

  Her serious tone made him turn to look into her eyes.

  “Yes, I did. This will affect his life too. I wanted to make sure it was all right. Does he approve? I know he told me he did, but he’d tell you the real truth.”

  “He does, as long as we don’t make him move away.”

  “What?”

  After Jessi explained she said, “I reassured him that we couldn’t live without him and he seemed much more at ease after that. He said you’re a lot of fun, and that you’re fixing the parts of him that have been sad since my father’s death.”

  Griffin was touched by the words, Jessi could see it in his face and hear it in his voice as he said, “He’s a fine boy. It’ll be my honor to watch him grow up and be a fine man.”

  “You’re a very fine man yourself, Griffin Blake.”

  “But not fine enough to marry?”

  “Finer.”

  He searched her eyes. “What’s that mean?”

  “It means, will you marry me? And don’t you dare laugh,” she added quickly.

  He studied her closely. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “I’d like to wait until Darcy’s out of our lives. We shouldn’t have to split the watch on our wedding night.”

  He fought hard to contain his excitement. “I’d really prefer it be sooner, but you’re right. Let’s get rid of Darcy first.”

  Jessi also needed time to gather her courage; the story of Bob Winston had yet to be told.

  He put his arm around her waist and drew her close. “I’m glad you said yes.”

  “So am I. I love you, Griffin.”

  He kissed her softly. “I love you too, boss lady.”

  They cuddled close and sat that way in silence until the sun went down and the night crept in.

  A few days later, Jessi’s hand had healed enough to handle reins, so she and Joth went to town that morning to see Gillie. Joth needed to see her about getting information on Juan Cortinas for his school essay, and Jessi needed her talented mentor to make her a wedding dress.

  Gillie was surprised, to say the least, not by the news of the marriage but by Jessi’s request. “You want a dress? You, who will probably go to your grave in a pair of denims?”

  “Yes, Gillie, I do. Granted, I’ve not been real partial to dresses lately, but Griffin and I are getting married. I have to do what’s appropriate.”

  “Since when? Jotham, your aunt was such a mischief maker she used to put snakes in my handbag.”

  Joth had a tale to beat that. “Ross McCoy painted Mr. Trent’s chair one morning and when Mr. Trent sat down the whole bottom of his trousers were bright red. When Ross’s daddy got through with him, he couldn’t sit in school for three whole days.”

  Jessi, who was in the process of leafing through some of Gillie’s dress sketches, shook her head at the story.

  “So, Joth, what do you need to know about Señor Cortinas? You and I can talk while your Aunt Jessi looks at the sketches.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Well, his full name was Juan Nepomunceno Cortinas and he was the son of a very wealthy Mexican family. His friends called him Cheno.”

  Joth nodded. “I know that part. The Twins call Griffin Cheno. They said they named him after Señor Cortinas.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. They said it was because Griffin has a red beard and likes to help people too.”

  “Well, that certainly describes Señor Cortinas. Some folks called him the Mexican Robin Hood. Now, let’s see if I remember the story. It began back in ’59, if my memory is correct, and as I said before, the Cortinases were large landholders down on the border. They were ranchers just like the Claytons.”

  Joth smiled.

  “One day, Cheno went into Brownsville for his morni
ng coffee and saw the sheriff trying to arrest one of the Cortinases’ former servants.”

  “Why?”

  “The servant was drunk.”

  “Oh.”

  “Cheno didn’t mind that the sheriff was trying to arrest the drunk, but he thought the sheriff was being a little abusive.”

  “What’s abusive?”

  “It means the sheriff was being too rough.”

  “I understand. So what did Cheno do?”

  “He tried to talk to the sheriff, but the sheriff cursed him.”

  “That wasn’t very nice,” Jessi offered, looking up.

  “Cheno didn’t think so either, and he got mad and shot the sheriff in the arm and dragged the servant up behind him on his horse and galloped away.”

  “I’ll bet the sheriff was really mad then,” Joth declared.

  “He sure was.”

  “What happened next?” Joth asked.

  “Well, like Quanah Parker and the Comanche, he declared war.”

  “Over a drunk servant?” Jessi asked.

  “No, the servant was just one more incident in a series that had the Mexicans as outraged as the Indians over the way they were being treated by the Anglos.”

  Gillie looked at Joth and said, “Just like Reed Darcy is trying to steal your land, the Anglos were stealing the land from the Mexicans. They didn’t care about the Spanish grants that proved the Mexicans owned the land; they wanted all the land on the northern side of the Rio Grande, so they set out to get it. Granted, some Anglos purchased the land legally, but others didn’t, and that’s why Cheno declared war.”

  Gillie then told of how Cheno rode into Brownsville in September of 1859 and terrorized the town. “The residents of Brownsville were all sleeping late because they’d all been to a party in Matamoros the night before, so when Cheno rode in with about a hundred men, there was chaos. They sacked stores, turned prisoners out of jail, and shot five men who were either brave enough or loco enough to try and defend the town.”

  Cortinas and his men held the town for some time while the frightened citizens stayed locked in their homes. Only after receiving pleas from the Mexican authorities did the Mexican Robin Hood and his men leave Brownsville. He then rode back to his Santa Rita ranch and issued a proclamation declaring war on those persecuting the Mexican landholders. As a result, many Mexicans came to Santa Rita to aid Cortinas in his fight to defend their legal rights.

  “Meanwhile,” Gillie said, continuing, “the Anglos in Brownsville organized a local militia called the Brownsville Tigers and decided they were going to march on Cheno and his men over in Santa Rita.”

  “And?” Jessi asked.

  “And they got their butts whipped. It took them a week to march the seven miles upriver in their uniforms, but they may as well have stayed home. Cheno and his men were hiding in the chaparral and as soon as the Mexicans opened fire, the Brownsville Tigers took off running so fast they left their cannon behind.”

  Joth laughed.

  “That had to be the quickest retreat on record,” Jessi said grinning.

  “I don’t know, but if it isn’t it has to be fairly close.”

  “What happened next?”

  “They sent in the Texas Rangers and got the same result. The Rangers did manage to escape with their cannon, though, and after that, Cheno sent out another proclamation. This time he called on the Mexicans in the Valley to join him in the fight. He said he only wanted to protect Mexican land and rights.”

  “Did the authorities believe him?” Jessi asked.

  “Of course not; they called him a bandit and a horse thief and in December sent in the Army.”

  “Did they have to retreat too?” Joth wanted to know.

  “No. Cheno and his men were the ones in retreat that day, but they made it safely into Mexico.”

  Though the Texas Rangers and the Army did their best to capture him, Cortinas, now based in Mexico, became even more of a thorn in the side of the Texas authorities. He burned the ranches of non-Latins, attacked Rio Grande steamboats, raided border towns, and then slipped away time and time again, frustrating the Rangers and the Army no end. Cortinas’s campaign soon drew the attention of the government in Washington and Lt. Col. Robert E. Lee was sent to investigate. His reports to the War Department, Texas officials, and the Mexican government brought about a cooperative agreement that settled the issues Cortinas had championed.

  “What happened to him after that?”

  “He stayed in Mexico and became a general in the Mexican army. Later he was the governor of the Mexican state of Tamaulipas.”

  Joth went over to Gillie and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Gillie. I’m betting I’ll have the best essay in Mr. Trent’s class.”

  “I’m betting too,” she replied.

  Jessi spent a few more moments looking through the sketches.

  “Did you see anything that caught your eye?” Gillie asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Then let me pick out something. I’ll just need to measure you.”

  Jessi didn’t argue. Gillie had been making clothes for Jessi most of her life and she trusted her judgment, so while Joth took out his paper and pen and started in on his assignment, Gillie and Jessi went to the back room to do the measurements.

  “Have you and Griffin set a date?” Gillie asked, as she moved around Jessi’s body with her tapes.

  Heeding Gillie’s silent command, Jessi raised her arms so the tape could measure her bosom. “No, we want to get Darcy out of the way first.

  “I’m real glad you decided to say yes, Jessi. He’ll be a good partner for you.”

  Jessi smiled. “I think so too.”

  “But speaking of Darcy, any more news on the Grimes woman?”

  “Not so far. Griffin’s friend Preacher went to Austin to talk to the sheriff there, but I saw Roscoe the other day and he says he may be willing to testify about Dex’s death. He said Reed did order the killing.”

  “That’s promising. Now, if he can only be convinced to stop his drinking.”

  “He looked awful,” Jessi confessed.

  “Smells worse.”

  “Gillie,” Jessi said warningly.

  “I know, and I’m sorry, but I’ve never had much patience with Roscoe. I just wish he would stand up to Reed one time. That’s all it will take.”

  “Easier said than done sometimes.”

  “I know. I know.”

  Jessi paused a moment while she thought back. “When mama died and all of the gossip started about her and Reed, Ros would come over and ride with me. We never talked about anything, just rode. It made me feel like someone in the world cared. I’ll never forget that, or the trees we climbed, or the lizards we were always hunting. He was a good friend, but that was a long time ago.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Silence reigned a moment as they both mused on the past, then Gillie asked, “And what is this about you brawling with Minerva?”

  Jessi hoped she wasn’t in line for a scolding. “It wasn’t a brawl, it was more like a punch.”

  “Was it a good one?”

  “Broke one of her teeth.”

  “Good for you!” Gillie clapped her hands. Jessi laughed.

  When Gillie was done, Jessi had Joth gather up his things and they left the shop for the journey back to the ranch.

  That evening, as Jessi and Griffin were drying the last of the supper dishes and putting them in the sideboard she asked, “Where do you suppose Preacher’s gotten to, Griffin? He’s been gone almost a week now.”

  “Chasing leads no doubt. He’ll be back, he always is.”

  The dishes were now done and they went out to the porch with the hopes of finding a cool breeze. The ever present daily heat had not abated, nor had there been any rain. The nights now were almost as unbearable as the days.

  As they sat, Jessi still had the Preacher on her mind. She was worried about him and missed his blessings at the supper table. “How’d you meet the Preacher?”r />
  “Tracking the man who killed his wife.”

  Jessi’s heart turned over. “Really?”

  “Yep, an outlaw named Bivens.”

  “Was he someone Preacher had turned in for a bounty?”

  “No, he and Preacher were in the same gang.”

  She found that answer surprising. “The Preacher was an outlaw?”

  “Back then he was, yes. Robbed banks, hired out his gun—you name it. Even robbed trains for a while.”

  Jessi shook her head. “I would never have believed it.”

  “Everybody has a past.”

  His serious manner made her look into his eyes and then gave rise to thoughts about her own past. What would he say when it was revealed? “So, why did Bivens kill her?”

  “Because he took a shine to her and couldn’t have her. Her name was Tilda and she was a spinster seamstress when she and the Preacher first met. In fact, she was one of the customers in a bank that the gang robbed, and to hear Preacher tell it, it was love at first sight. He came back to the town a few weeks later and tried to court her but she wouldn’t have him. She told him he’d have to walk on the right side of the law.”

  “So he did?”

  “Yep. Quit the life. Started going to church and everything. A year later some of the old gang members came back to town. Bivens knew she was Preacher’s wife, but he didn’t care. One night while Preacher was in town, Bivens goes out to the house, forces himself on her…cut her throat. She bled to death.”

  Jessi was appalled. “How did he know it was Bivens?”

  “He got a letter from one of his former outlaw friends saying a drunken Bivens had bragged about the deed in a saloon up in Laramie.”

  Jessi shook her head sadly. Who knew Preacher carried such tragic memories inside?

  “Out of respect for his dead wife, he knew he couldn’t just go and hunt Bivens down and kill him like he wanted, so he became a bounty hunter. That way he could do it within the law.”

  “Did he ever find him?”

  Griff nodded. “In Nevada, right after he and I met. He’d tracked him for almost a year.”

  “How’d you meet him?”

  “I was cooking a rabbit in the middle of the night in upstate Nevada and he walked up to the fire. One minute I was by myself and the next minute he was standing there. Scared me so bad, I almost shot him.”