Jo, p.1
JO, page 1
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, places, characters, and events are products of the author’s imaginations, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
2022 by Caryl McAdoo
All rights reserved
First Edition May 3, 2022
Peaceable Publishing
Printed and bound in the United States of America
AISN : B08WRTB8QT (ebook)
Also available in print!
ISBN : 9798-4226-471-32 (regular print)
ISBN : 9798-8075-537-37 (large print)
Coming soon in Print, Large Print, and Audio!
Cover art by Randi Gammons OF Randi Gammons Graphic Design
For author to speak, contact:
Peaceable Publishing
Post Office Box 622
Clarksville, Texas 75426
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter OneChapter Two
Chapter Three Chapter Four
Chapter Five Chapter Six
Chapter Seven Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty
Chapter 21 Epilogue
Sneak Peak / ELLA
All the Prairie Roses Collection Titles
Sneak Peek /TEXAS TWOSOME
Coming Soon Titles
All Caryl’s Titles
Reach Out to the Author Author Reaching out to You
A Few Favorite Links for You to Enjoy!
Chapter One
March 15, 1840
Five miles outside of Memphis, Tennessee
The wagon rounded a curve. Right there on the side of the road, a herd of goats nibbled on the little trees and grass and weeds along the fence. “Pa, may I have a kid of my own? Please.”
“You’ll have to ask your Papa, Jo.” Her father could never tell her no, but Papa might. The goats belong to him and Mima.”
“A kid is a lot of responsibility, honey.” Her mother gave her a look that said if Papa agreed, she wouldn’t object. “Maybe it would be better to wait until you’re a little older.”
Jolene looked from her father to her mother. “But I’m six now! I’ll take good care of a baby goat, especially if she’s all mine! She can sleep with me and everything. Please, Ma?”
“Sweetheart, your father said to ask Papa.”
“All right, I will! And if he says yes, then I can have one? How much farther is it, Pa?”
“A mile or so. Their place is just around the next bend in the road. How about being quiet for a while?”
Not talk? That was so hard.
It’d been a long trip, and she’d tried, but there was so much she wanted to know, especially after hearing that very morning about the royal wedding happening just after Pa loaded her and Ma up in the buggy and got on the way!
A new question just burned its way out.
“How come Queen Victoria got to marry her cousin? I thought that was against the rules. Don’t they have to follow the same rules as us?”
“Not really, sweetie, but I don’t think they’re first cousins. Second or third cousins aren’t as bad.”
“What number cousins are Queen Victoria and Prince Albert? Why do they still call him prince? Isn’t he a king if he’s married to the queen? It just doesn’t seem right—her being queen and him only a prince.”
“Shhh. I’m not sure, baby. Maybe Mima will know.”
“Is that because she and Papa came from England?”
“I don’t know, honey, but they did come from England. Remember your father asked you to be quiet.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will.” She met her father’s stern eyes and smiled. “Can we go to England someday? I’d love to see the Queen.”
“What about your goat? If Papa gives you one, who would take care of her while we went off to England? It’s a very long way away across the ocean.”
“Well, she could visit her mother while we were gone, couldn’t she? So, can we go? It’s still my birthday week! Can we go for my birthday? Please?”
A pop sounded. “What was that?”
“It sounded like a gun.” Pa slapped the reins over the horse’s rump.
“A gun? But why . . .”
The buggy rounded the bend in the road and then turned off toward the house set back in the trees just as another pop sounded. That one louder.
“That was gunshot. What in the world—”
“Oh, hurry, Thomas!” Her mother’s voice was scary.
“Get under the seat, baby! Right now! Cover up with the blanket. Cover your head, too, and don’t make a sound or move at all until I come get you. Do you understand?”
The horse was going so fast. It slung her one way then the other.
“Yes, Ma.” Jolene scurried under the seat and blanket as fast as she could. Her heart bumped against her chest so hard. Ma helped get her all covered up.
“Stay there! Don’t come out! Promise me!”
What was happening?
“I promise.”
Why was someone shooting at Mima and Papa’s?
Why was Pa driving so fast and her mother so afraid? She filled her lungs with the stale air under the blanket but needed more air. She uncovered her face and gulped another breath.
“Jolene Mae! Don’t uncover even your face! Be perfectly still. Do you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The buggy came to a stop, and she could tell Pa jumped down by the shaking on his side, then her mother’s side shook, too.
The door slammed.
Papa hated anyone slamming the door. She was always careful to hold it until it shut so he wouldn’t get onto her in that upset voice he used sometimes.
Pa hollered loud. Another gunshot sounded. It was so loud; it made her jump, but she had to be still.
Ma screamed his name. Then another boom. Her body jerked again a little. The shot startled her, but she stayed as still as she could.
Jolene’s heart pounded. Her breath came hard.
What had happened?
Was it Papa shooting?
It got so quiet. She lay still as she could. She hoped her mother would hurry up. Where was she? Why didn’t she come?
Someone went up the porch stairs, then in a little bit, another person. Was it Ma and Pa? Did they go in the house? Did they forget her? No. Ma would never do that.
Everything inside her wanted to lift that blanket and peek, but she didn’t dare.
Why was it so quiet? She lay very still. After a bit, her eyes grew so heavy. She tried to keep them open, but then she just had to give them a little rest.
Why weren’t her parents coming to get her?
Josiah turned off the road. At the sight of Thomas’ buggy, his heart soared. “Bless God! He decided to come early.” Had they just gotten there? Why was the horse still hitched up? Where was Jo? The tree swing hung still.
Pulling past his son’s rig, he gasped. His daughter-in-law lay face down on the ground. What in the world—? His mind reeled at the carnage. A bit ahead of Madeline, his son sprawled across the porch steps, his leg at an odd angle.
His throat went dry.
What had happened?
His eyes couldn’t be right. They were . . . his brain refused the thought.
“God! God! Father God—”
It couldn’t be.
Ilene! Where was his wife? Had she seen them?
Running past Thomas, he stepped through the door. The room looked normal, but it wasn’t. The house was too quiet. He called out. “Ilene? Where are you?” He stepped across the hardwood floor. His boots reverberated in the silence. It proved difficult to put one foot in front of the other.
His heart raced. Why didn’t she answer? “Ilene?”
He stepped into the kitchen. Mis’ess Hood, the neighbor, lay on the floor. Blood stained the bodice of her dress. A pool of the dark redness had pooled beside her.
“Oh, Lord! No!” Where was Ilene? He found his wife in the bedroom, a big hole in her chest. The mattress covered her feet. Drawers pulled out of the dresser lay scattered about.
He went numb.
How could it be?
In a stupor of disbelief, he placed the mattress back on its frame before lifting his wife onto it then placed a pillow under her head. He leaned over her and kissed her forehead.
Thomas. He had to get his son and daughter-in-law. He dragged his boy into his old room then struggled to get him up on the bed. Next, Madeline. He lifted the lifeless body of his daughter-in-law and carried her to lay beside her husband.
Oh, Lord. How? Why? His eyes teared and blurred his sight. He sank to his knees.
Who had done it?
What monster killed his family?
And why? He’d stowed away a bit of savings, but nothing to cause a thief to . . . More tears welled, and he wept. Amidst his sobs, a thought hit him hard. Jo! Where was his little Jolene?
Jumping to his feet, he hurried back outside. “Jo? Jolene! Where are you, baby? It’s your papa! You can come out now.”
Nothing moved. Only the leaves in the trees rustled in the breeze. The buggy! That’s why the horse was still tied up! He ran to it.
“Jo? Where are you, baby girl? It’s Papa.”
First thing, he spotted the little bundle un
Little golden curls fell over her forehead and cheek. He straightened one then scooped her into his arms. “Little angel. Papa’s angel.” He hugged her to himself and rocked her.
“Papa? I took a nap because I had to be so still. Where’s Ma?” She stretched her arms toward the sky. “Does Mima have cookies? Can I have my own baby goat? Do you know why Prince Albert isn’t the king now?”
“Oh, my baby girl. A terrible thing has happened.”
More grief and sorrow than any child should bear fell upon Jolene. Poor child. Days passed by like a parade clown. Perhaps not soon enough, or maybe too soon, the dear girl embraced a new reality.
While she would always miss them all, her mother visiting her dreams lessened the pain in her little chest.
That and her grandfather and everyone at church reassuring her Mima and her parents lived in Heaven and were waiting for her.
The days piled upon themselves.
Uncle Abe, her Papa’s younger brother, came to help, then Miss Hattie hired on to cook and keep house. No doubt, Mima would have approved.
Josiah met Rabbi Simon Goldman who came to the farm each quarter to supervise the making of the special Torah parchment. The business expanded to new heights.
More goats were bought, and to all’s surprise, Jolene had a God given talent for calligraphy. By twelve, her birth and marriage certificates were in high demand, fetching a princely price.
Abe convinced his brother to expand the goat herd, breeding only the best milkers. Each day, the does produced over twenty gallons of milk that two milkmen came and hauled off.
The bottom line looked very nice, quiet high actually.
If only Josiah could catch his breath on muggy days, things would be wonderful for the old widower. He expected—and hoped more as Jolene grew—to join his wife, son, and daughter-in-law sooner before later.
A new doctor hung out his shingle in Memphis, and Jolene—she heard about him at church—finally convinced her grandfather to pay the man a visit.
Almost ten years later, February 22, 1850
Halfway from Memphis to the Foster Farm
“Oh, Papa! Will you please stop arguing with me and listen to reason? We have to. What would I do if anything happened to you?” Jolene patted the old darling’s knee. “Come on. It’ll be an adventure. We love those, don’t we?”
“Long as they’re close to home, I guess we do.” He flicked the reins over the gelding’s back, and the horse broke into a trot. The fence line whizzed by.
“But that’s just crazy thinking, Jo. We can’t just pack up and move across the county. Don’t you worry; I’ll be fine. I can still catch a breath.”
Turning sideways in the buggy seat, she rubbed her brow. What could she say to convince him? He had to give way to good sense.
“You heard him just as well as I did. The air is just so heavy with moisture here. That’s why you can’t breathe sometimes, but if we move to Santa Fe, you won’t have near as much trouble.”
A coughing fit took him over then he wheezed, gasping for air before he shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m not doing it. Our family is buried here. We can’t run off and leave them.”
“But they aren’t, are they? Haven’t you told me these past ten years how they’re in Heaven waiting for us? Papa, I’m not ready for you to join them.”
“Don’t you worry, that’s a long way off yet. What about our goats? You have certificates to make. Besides, what would the milkmen do if we moved?”
“Well, we could sell them some of the goats. That’ll make them happy, don’t you think? We will take the best bucks and does with us. There’s no reason we can’t keep right on making parchment once we get there and get settled. The business may even be better in Santa Fe.”
“Rabbi Simon is coming next week. I like sleeping in my own bed in my own house, Granddaughter. I’m too old to be traipsing across country to make a new start. I can’t build another house. Now drop it. I’m fine.”
“With all due respect, sir, no. I can’t because you are definitely not fine, are you? Do you not hear yourself wheezing with almost every breath? Doc Mansville says moving to the desert will add years to your life. Just you wait and see how good you’ll feel, how much better you’ll breathe.”
“That old sawbones ain’t that sharp, Jo. He doesn’t know that. How could he?” He turned off the road.
“It’s science, Papa. Desert air is so much dryer there, so the air’s thinner. It’s easier to breathe for anyone. Think how good it will be for me.”
“I appreciate that, darlin’, but I got years to live right here.”
“We’ve just got to take some time to figure out what all needs to be done before we go. We just can’t stay here.”
“Now shush about all that nonsense. Shouldn’t have ever let you talk me into going to see that old quack anyway. Now come on, Jolene. We have work to do.”
“What work? As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing more important than this conversation. You know it isn’t nonsense. You know Doc is right, so I won’t hush. I can’t. Someway, I have to get through to you.”
“You’re so hardheaded.”
“And you are all I have in the world! It hurts my heart when you can’t breathe. What would I do without you, Papa? I never want to find out.”
“You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, little girl.”
Her heart fell. “I’m not. Will you at least promise me you’ll think about it? I want you to go on inside and take a load off. I’ll help Uncle Abe with the milking and feeding.”
“No doubt I’ll think about it, but I’m not doing it.”
“Well, you just head on in and boss Miss Hattie around while she cooks our supper.” She play-punched his shoulder. “You know she’s sweet on you.”
“Daughter, hush. Your Mima will roll over in her grave, you talking like that.”
“Oh, Papa. She wouldn’t care one bit. I have no doubt, not one, that she’d want you to have a happy life. There’s nothing wrong with you having a lady friend. Remember what they say at weddings . . . until death do us part. Did you and Mima say that?”
“Gracious, child, that was over forty-five years ago. How can I remember exactly what was said?” He reined the horse to a stop inside the barn.
“I’m sixty-four, and I don’t need or want a lady friend. For sure not that old Russian. I can hardly understand her half the time.”
Jolene laughed. “That’s only because you’re getting so hard of hearing. I wonder if the desert air would help your hearing, too.” She jumped down, giggling, and ran to the other side. She extended her hand.
“Here, Papa. Now please, do as I ask. Go inside and get comfortable and set your mind to thinking what all we need to do before we leave. Make a list. Miss Hattie can fetch paper and ink.”
“You sure are bossy.” He let her help him down then paused a minute before he took two big breaths. “What about Buford Maxwell?”
“What about him?”
“Thought you set your bonnet for the young man?”
“Oh, Papa, that was two years ago. He’s such a boy. If I ever do marry, you can write it in stone I’ll be hitching my star to a mature, grown-up man.” She patted his chest. “Someone like my best friend and grandest grandfather.”
As in his usual fashion, he held one arm out. She snuggled into his chest and helped him to the house. Once inside, she held his hand, easing him down into his rocker.
“Need a glass of water or anything before I get busy?”
“Not a thing. You go on. Miss Hattie can fetch for me if I need anything.”
Speaking of the lady, she appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on her apron. “Not unless you say please, I won’t, you old codger.”
“Say please and flip you some gold, huh?” He chuckled.
“I’ll be in the barn, Miss Hattie.” Jolene headed outside, but turned and stuck her head back in. “Could you get him some paper and ink for me? He needs to make a list.” She smiled as she turned and quietly closed the screen door.
“A leest you need to make, huh? What go on that leest of yours, Meester Foster? May zi ask?”
