Jesse McCann: The Journey (The McCann Family Saga Book 1) Read online

  With the arrival of Fall, the days turned magical as the foliage on sycamore and sweet gum spread vibrant color against a background of green pines. The deer became active in the autumnchill, with does running from the bucks, and the bucks fighting over the the does who were indifferent at best. By November, the skies were crystal clear and brilliant blue. Jesse had to admit it: this side of Texas was more beautiful than the canyons and mountains farther west or the treeless high plains of the panhandle. He was almost persuaded to stay forever, but he knew that any day he would meet with destiny, for he had a dream- fueled premonition that he was living on borrowed time.

  VII: Secrets and Surprises

  Just before Thanksgiving, an unseasonable snow fell over East Texas. An unusually cold and wet autumn had followed a dry hot summer, and so it was in that region of wild and fickle weather. Something about the climate's surprising change was exhilarating to Jesse as long as he was safe and warm in his bed. But as evening closed in, he began his patrol along the saw mill roads, beginning at Buck Hennessy's office, where he left Belle hitched under a lean-to with a basket of hay. Following the now familiar paths on foot, he passed the loggers' camps. There the tents of the migrant loggers stood almost empty, as many had moved to the warmer climate in the Rio Grande Valley; but the permanent mill workers remained, shuttered inside their cottages, fearing the legendary wolf Tahsha who, legend had it, appeared when the weather turned.

  Jesse unexpectedly crossed paths with Annie who looked rosy cheeked and pretty, dressed against the chill in warm cape and bonnet. She was heading uphill to the full-blood Minna's house and asked if he would escort her, as the first cold snap brought out the woodland predators. He happily agreed to guard her with his very life.

  “A strange night for a social call, Miss Annie. Is this woman in need of your magical cures?

  “Not this time...afraid she's long past curing,” she laughed. “You 'll think I'm crazy, but I feel her drawing me up this old hill when she wishes to see me.”

  “She is your friend?”

  “In a manner of speaking, Jess.” Annie's voice became guarded, and he let it go at that but placed a helping hand at her elbow as they trudged up a trail now icing over. At the top of the bluff they came to the Caddoan style hut with a thatched roof and a shed along side where goats huddled against the wind. Through the windows glowed many flickering candles, and a pungent fragrance of something akin to incense filled the open doorway.

  “Welcome to my home Jesse McCann.” The woman before him was past middle age but retained a dark exotic quality enhanced by broad cheekbones, braided hair and a bright homespun skirt.

  “Sit here by the fire, the two of you. I shan’t keep you long. The snow is beginning to stick to the roads. “Sit...there,” the woman ordered, pointing to a spot by the hearth.

  “Yes, Granny,” said Annie as she kissed the woman's cheek. Jesse was taken aback and shot Annie a quizzical look.

  “Are you surprised at someone like me being her grandmother, since she is part Morgan?” Minna smiled, but her black eyes seemed to drill though to his soul. “You seem to be Annie's friend... the only friend she trusts. It is time you knew the secrets that very few have known. I tell you because Annie cares for you.”

  “Granny, please...” Annie whispered.

  Jesse watched the fire and candle light dance across the women’s faces , highlighting the even features. Though Annie’s coloring was far more fair, there was a clear resemblance to Minna. By their complete ease with each other, it was obvious that the girl had been raised by her grandmother there on that isolated hill , away from the world below.

  “I care for this girl too,” he answered softly, placing his hand over Annie's.

  “Then you deserve to know who she is and what she is.”

  Then began her story: “Annie's mother died in childbirth. She was a hard-scrabble Irish girl and less than a lady some said. She was married to my son who is a half -blood. My son lives, but I see him no more. Some say he wished to go to a place where he could be accepted. Some say he was off to the reservation by Domingo, Morgan's foreman. The father of my son...Annie's grandfather...is none other than Reese Morgan himself. I am not proud of that fact , but fact it is. This unholiness would never has never set well with Morgan's family....his wife and daughter Lorena and her preacher husband Wyatt.... not to mention his flock at the Full Gospel Church. But he does not deny who we are to him.”

  Annie sat, at first, with head bowed and then lifted her eyes to gaze into the fire. Now Jesse had just learned that the object of his deepening devotion was a quarter- breed whose father was born on the “wrong side of the bed”, and it mattered not at all to him. But oh yes, he knew what the church's response would have been. He himself had been steeped in a legacy of the straight and narrow.

  “Beware of those close to your father,” the woman said.

  “How could you know...”Jesse began, leaving his sentence unfinished.

  “I see all, and it is a heavy burden to bear. Beware of man more than beast, Jesse McCann . You are in harm's way. You can not fight this thing. You cannot make it right, though you live a million years”

  Jesse nodded, stunned that this backwoods native knew the things he dared not tell his own mother. Still, he placed no stock in soothsaying and prophecy, as he had been raised by a no -nonsense mother of German stock. It seemed this new world he had entered, just eight months ago, was filled with a mixture of intrigue and chicanery.

  They said their goodbyes and left Minna standing at the door looking sad and weary. They two hurried back down the trail, which by now was passable but tedious. As they started out down the hill, the snowfall began to accumulate in a layer of white across the countryside, and it frosted the pines in picture postcard perfection. They felt a sudden northern wind blasting downward from the Panhandle, swirling flakes of snow all around them as the temperature fell.

  Annie drew close to Jesse, instinctively, searching for the comfort and warmth of a trusted human being. Jesse felt a fierce protectiveness as he placed his coat around her and guided her.

  At the bottom of the hill, they paused to rest, and he held her for a fleeting moment with a mixture of tenderness and something beyond, something that he could not allow; but it was there, and they both knew. It was she who pulled away and left the words unspoken between them and mounted her horse and rode away through the night. Jesse continued on toward camp, watching her for as long as he could see her.

  During those unguarded moments, an animal crept silently, directed by an instinct as primitive as the primeval wilderness that was its territory. And then it waited within the stand of pines at the edge of the path, watching, until Jesse passed before it . The animal saw its chance and sprang unseen, hidden by darkness. So powerful was its impact, Jesse fell, helpless, losing his weapon in the leafy rubble and mounting snow. It was on him, the crushing weight of it pressing against his chest, its enormous fangs inches from his face. He found himself staring into the brilliant wild eyes of a man-killer.

  My God, help me!

  The dagger-like fangs sank half way to the jugular, as the animal savored human blood. Spurred on by the taste, it trapped Jesse's neck within its massive jaws, while toying with him and the idea of finishing the kill. Jesse beat at its head with his fists and then gripped its massive and muscular neck to no avail. The animal's strength was unnatural. After an eternity of mindless horror, he felt it release him.

  As the weight of the massive body lifted from his chest, he took a ragged breath and rose to his knees. His hand sought and found the rifle which he brought to his shoulder and aimed. At that moment, he looked into the face of his adversary. He knew its name .It was as if he could read its every thought, whether a figment of his befuddled brain or something more mystical, the message was clear:

  I am the one you have hunted for I am Tah-sha. We are alike ...you and I ….unwanted outsiders...not so different after all...but you have not my power nor my cunning. You are
unworthy prey. We are better allies against those who bring harm... than enemies to each other.

  Jesse shook the cobwebs of fear and confusion from his mind, as his finger came to rest on the trigger. He prepared, reluctantly, to end Tahsha's life, but in the end he had not the heart to pull off the shot. Still clutching his rifle, Jesse dropped, senseless, into the snow.

  VIII: The Awakening

  Jesse's sleep swirled with dreams that floated to the surface from the deepening pool of his subconscious mind. He saw himself at age nine playing in the streets of Mt Mission, kicking a can all the way down the street, hearing his mama's voice from far away calling him to supper. Yet he just kept kicking that can farther down that dusty street and turning down side roads, until he couldn’t remember how to get home any more.

  Mama. I’m sorry, Mama.

  Then came a voice so real, so close, jarring him half out of his reverie: “Jess! Sit up and drink this. Jess, can you hear me?” Hands were pulling at him, wrapping a blanket around him, filling his mouth with sips of burning liquid.

  “Buck is here,” said the voice. “We're going to get you back to town!”

  “Mama? I cant seem to find my way home.”

  “No Jess, it is I...it is Annie Morgan. We're going to pull you up and lift you to Mr. Hennessy's wagon.”

  God sent you two saviors...a girl and a one legged man, whispered another voice inside his cold sluggish brain. In his state of mental suspension, he thought he heard laughter ringing across the woods. ...a girl and a one legged man. .now wouldn’t that just figure? He had lost his bearings. He thought he saw the eyes of Tahsha change into the eyes of the native woman Minna. He had finally been broken. I have lost my mind was the last thought of which he was capable. Then all went black once more.

  It would be the last thing Jesse remembered the next morning. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he stared, double -vision, at lace curtains and a clock hanging against floral wallpaper. He could not focus on the numbers. Looking down at himself, he realized he was dressed in a an oversized night shirt , and his neck was a wrapped with a blood stained bandage. There at the foot of his bed sat a disheveled and weary looking Buck Hennessy who seemed desperate for someone to talk to: “I see you’re comin' around. I got just one thing to say. You missed!”

  “What?”Jesse whispered, swallowing hard against a raw, burning sensation.

  “You missed the shot. The wolf was nowhere to be found, but he left his John Henry embedded in your neck... damnedest thing ...stopped just short of ripping out your throat. If that don’t beat all, I don’t know what does. You suppose that Indian holy woman threw a charm on that old wolf?”

  “Mr Hennessy...whose bed am I in?”

  “Well... you spent the night in Annie's bed...without her in it, of course! She went on into town 'cause there's no one to cover for her at the dining hall. She gave me strict orders to stay right here with you, 'til she gets back. That gal knew something was wrong when you didn’t come to breakfast at the hotel. You are damned lucky .You were out there all night with that norther' blowin' in. You did lose some blood ol' boy... just enough to cause you to faint... 'less you fainted from fright. You sure called for your mama.” At that thought, Buck's belly quivered in an all out effort to control his misplaced mirth.

  “I'm not going to die?” croaked Jesse.

  “Naw, but wouldn’t that take the cake...a man survives a wolf attack but dies lying in two inches of snow. You came closer to dying from exposure than loss of blood. But ...no...it ain’t your time.”

  “Whose bed clothes am I wearing?”

  “That there's my gentleman's night shirt . We stopped at my office to collect Belle on the way back in and picked up some clothes. I have a little cot there in the back room.. .keep my belongings in there.”

  “I feel a bit foolish in this thing,” said Jesse.

  “Well, I didn’t recon' you'd want to wear my long johns.... but if you prefer...”

  “No...no thank you!..This will be fine. Jesse came to his full senses, jarred by the disturbing thought of wearing Buck's underwear.

  “Yessir, got all fresh bed clothes forty years ago when I married my Charlotte. She died of the swamp fever right after. Never remarried ...didn’t see no need with no children. Never found one to match her. Sometimes that ol' brass ring only comes 'round once on life's merry-go round, boy. You gotta grab it while you can....so to speak.”

  As if on cue, in marched Annie, cheeks flushed, with a soup bowl wrapped in a large napkin.

  “I brought venison stew from the hotel. I want you to try to eat it,” she ordered Jesse.

  “Shouldn’t I be eating clear broth or something. Mama always...”

  “You need meat to mend, Jesse McCann, and your mama's not here.”

  Jesse reached out and grasped her hand. “Thank you, Annie. Thank you for everything. I owe my life to you.”

  Annie set the bowl on the nightstand, and unexpectedly kissed him on the cheek. The fragrance of lavender and freshly starched linen surrounded him, and his pulse quickened, even in his weakened state. An observant Buck slapped his knee and guffawed. “I expect the boy won't need that blanket now. His blood is hotter than...uh...”

  Annie shot Buck a look but finished that well worn phrase for him: “... a billy goat in a pepper patch?...oh yes, I've heard it before.”

  Buck chuckled with uncontrolled glee.

  Thanksgiving arrived three days later, and although sporting a bandage, Jesse was feeling better. Mr. Lincoln had proclaimed the national day of thanks a holiday during the war between the states; and since then, it had been a grand day in Morgans Bluff, especially at the Full Gospel Church. Jesse vowed he would not step foot on church property, after the confrontation with his preacher father, whose true identity he had been warned not to reveal. But Jesse had changed. The experience that would become known as “the night of the wolf” had altered his perception of life and how to live it. It had been an awakening to reality: some things must be faced head on , else you lived your life jumping hurdles that became increasingly higher next time around. For that reason, among others, he asked Annie if he could accompany her to the Thanksgiving dinner .The quick and lively light in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

  After the cold snap three days before, the weather turned again. The light snow had melted, and skies were clear and bright blue above the true green of tall whispering pines. The day could not have been more perfect, or so it seemed in the beginning. A large crowd arrived for the celebration .Even Reese Morgan with his wife , as well as the brooding “bull 'o the woods” Domingo who sat at the fringes of the gathering watching Jesse's every move. Brother Wyatt and Lorena and their brood arrived in the only fringed topped surrey in town; and down by the creek, Mr. Percy and Buck stashed bottles of wine for secret sipping. The church rules did not allow for the imbibing of spirits, and so strict was this rule that grape juice was used in place of communion wine .Mr. Percy's only purpose in the church was to sample the juice used for the Lord's Supper to be certain no fermentation had occurred.

  Annie and the other women draped sheets over the outdoor tables and then loaded them with baked yard hens stuffed with cornbread mixed with sage leaves and pecans, venison roasts, garden vegetables , mincemeat pies and Annie's buttermilk biscuits with freshly churned butter. The children could barely wait. As time wore on, the younger ones stood big eyed around the table, unable to be still as the feast was blessed by the saying of “grace”. After fervent amens were done, it was a free-for- all, with mothers admonishing their children to wait while they filled their plates for them.

  Reese Morgan, the mill owner, a tall man with iron gray hair and serious countenance, had stepped down to the creek to sip wine with Buck Hennessy. Jesse's interest was peaked by Morgan's words to Buck, overheard in passing:

  “I am telling you now...gear up and get some men on line to lay down the track into the forest .The railroad is coming through to the mill. We can get
more lumber shipped faster than pushing it down Big Muddy for the cut...and then out to the steamboat for delivery. We can more than double our profit. Be ready to go when the deal is made.”

  “Mr Morgan, how do you plan to get the land you need to bring that rail in?” Buck asked. “These folks you see around you...they own all the land in this here county. Land is as precious as air to these folks.”

  Jesse passed on by, realizing he was eavesdropping on a private conversation. It was an interesting topic, but he filed it away for future reference. As he turned to find Annie, he heard the insinuatingly oily voice that he recognized as the preacher Elias Wyatt:

  “Mr McCann. I am surprised to see you here again after our last meeting. I hope you have dropped the ridiculous assumption that I know that woman. It would do you no good to pursue the matter further, you know.”

  Now he stood facing the man one on one. Jesse's reply was swift and sure: “No more than it would serve you well to send your man after me. I sir, am holding the winning hand here. I have secured my proof of your identity with an unnamed person with instructions to unseal its contents upon my death...whether by natural causes or foul play.”

  Jesse stared the so- called preacher down with icy blue eyes and saw an identical pair staring right back. Before another word was said, Domingo steeped forward and grabbed Jesse's arm and gave his ultimatum: “Leave now while you can leave upright and on your own two feet.”

  “Let go of me. There are no consequences worse than those I have already faced. I will not run,” Jesse proclaimed to Domingo. Then turning to Wyatt, he spoke his piece: “Unless you are willing to have the truth known here and now, in front of your flock and the citizens of Morgan's Bluff, call off your big dog . The choice is yours.”

  Wyatt's face turned purple with rage. “You win for now,” he hissed between clenched teeth, “But retribution will come...when you least expect it.”