Loreli said, “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Gibson. Your girls are lovely.”
“Thanks. Pleased to meet you as well.”
Loreli was accustomed to being stared at by men, so she paid Gibson no mind when he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her.
“I hear you and Jake are marrying,” Gibson said.
Loreli looked at Jake and kindly said, “Yes, we are. I do hope you and your family will join us for the wedding.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m sure my wife would be willing to lend a hand with the fixings if you need help.”
“That’s a very kind offer. The girls and I will drive over next week so I can introduce myself.”
“She’d like that.” He was still staring, but trying not to.
Jake asked, “How about we stop over on our way home instead? That way Loreli can meet Denise, and you and I can talk about some things.”
The girls began jumping with glee.
Jake looked to Loreli. “Do you mind?”
“Oh, no. I’d like that in fact.” Arthur Gibson seemed so friendly, Loreli could only surmise that he and his wife were not members of the old guard.
“Then let’s head over to the wagon,” Jake said.
Bebe asked, “Uncle, may De and I ride with Mr. Gibson?”
A smiling Art said, “I don’t mind, if you don’t, Jake.”
The girls were looking so eager, Jake nodded. “Go ahead. Mind your manners, though.”
“We will!” they promised.
The four young friends raced off to see who would reach the Gibson wagon first.
Chapter 11
The two wagons pulled out of the church grove. Jake handled the reins while Loreli sat on the seat beside him. The day had turned as hot as the early morning had hinted it would be. Even though Loreli’s parasol kept off the sun, it did nothing to reduce the effects of the heat. She was broiling in her clothes and still simmering inside from Appleby’s raging sermon. “I won’t be going back to that church.”
“I understand.”
“I know I’m a sinner. I don’t need it thrown in my face.”
“The girls and I will still go, though.”
“I don’t think the girls should be around that pious little insect either, but that’s your decision.”
“They enjoy the Sunday school.”
Loreli couldn’t argue with that, so she didn’t. “What is Gibson’s wife like?”
“Nice—bossy.”
“I like her already.”
He chuckled softly, “The two of you should get along fine.”
There was humor lighting his dark eyes. Loreli decided she liked seeing him smile. “I didn’t mean to upset you last night.”
For a moment there was only silence, then he responded quietly, “I know.”
“Just thought the story might help you understand why I am the way I am,” Loreli confessed further.
“And I appreciated it. It can’t be easy to talk about.” Jake thought back on all she’d suffered at the hands of those men, and how alone she must have felt facing life on her own. “You didn’t do or say anything wrong last night. The problem is my own.”
“Is it something you wish to talk about?”
He shook his head. “No.” And Jake didn’t. In a year’s time she would be moving on; that was a given. A man like him had no business thinking she’d stay. Gambling queens did not hitch themselves to hog farmers, at least not permanently.
Loreli searched his face but couldn’t see behind the mask. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” In order to lift the mood, she changed the subject. “Tell me about the Gibsons.”
“He and I have been friends for many years now. He lost his first wife after Charlene was born. Then about a year and a half ago, he got himself a mail-order woman.”
That surprised her. “This is the wife he has now?”
“Yep. Denise answered an ad Art ran in a newspaper back East. They started writing back and forth. A few months later, she came out on the train. She’s from Cleveland, I believe.”
Loreli had only been to Cleveland once, for a high-stakes poker game. The other players had been city officials, a Catholic priest, and members of an acting troupe in town to do a performance of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” She’d done well that night.
Jake went on. “He and Denise got along so well, all the unmarried men around wanted wives too.”
“And that’s when they sent for my friends?”
“Yes.”
“So are you going to tell Arthur the truth about why we’re getting married?”
“Haven’t decided.”
“Don’t you think you should? I’ll need to know how to act.”
They were turning off the main road and down a thin gravel track that led to a long squat farmhouse. Surrounding the house were fields of chest-high green and yellow cornstalks. The familiar scent of hogs permeated the air.
“Can you pretend as if this is a real love match?” Jake asked.
She searched his face. “If that’s what you want me to do.”
“I do.” He slid his eyes over her lightly painted mouth and felt his manhood thicken with life. “Denise has been after me about finding a wife. Arthur may be able to handle the truth, but I’m not real certain about Denise.”
There was no time for further discussion as the wagons reached the house. Standing on the porch steps, shading her eyes against the fierce sun, was a tall, big-boned woman dressed in a brown day dress. Denise was a beautiful, brown skin giantess. Her husband, Arthur, rivaled a titan in size. Loreli thought them a perfect match.
Denise called, “How do, Jake? Who’s that with you?”
“Denise, this is Loreli.”
Arthur Gibson and the girls piled out of his wagon, and Jake came around to help Loreli down from his. He placed his hands on her waist and slowly swung her off the wagon. The heat of their bodies mingled.
“I like it when you do that,” she said in a voice only he could hear.
His mustache twitched with amusement. “Behave yourself, we’re with company.”
“Just playing my role,” she replied softly.
The girls ran inside so that Aggie and Charlene could change out of their dresses. Loreli and Jake stepped up onto the porch.
Denise, who hadn’t taken her eyes off of Loreli since the moment Jake drove up, immediately came over and stuck out her hand. “Denise Gibson.”
Loreli liked her already. “Loreli Winters. Pleased to meet you.”
Denise scanned Loreli for a silent moment before turning to Jake. “Now I see why those old hens in town are flapping and squawking. She’s a beauty, Jake.”
Loreli looked his way to see how he would respond. Because he seemed at a loss for words, Denise drawled, “Jake, you’re supposed to say, ‘Yes, Denise, she is…’”
“He’ll do better,” Denise promised Loreli. “He just needs a few lessons. Spending so much time with livestock and cold fish like Rebecca Appleby, it’s a wonder he knows how to speak at all.”
Jake shook his head with amusement. Loreli chuckled. A smiling Arthur Gibson cautioned his wife, “Now, Denise—”
“It’s the truth,” Denise replied. She gestured to the four chairs on the porch. “Have a seat. I have some lemonade inside. Do you want a glass?”
Everyone did. Jake and Loreli took seats side by side. Denise returned promptly carrying a tray topped with the glasses of lemonade. Once everyone chose a glass, Denise set the tray down on the porch, then took the vacant chair next to her husband.
Loreli took a sip and found the drink refreshing after the drive in the hot sun.
“Rumors say you came out with the mail-order brides,” Denise said to Loreli.
Loreli nodded. “I did. Came mainly for the adventure. Had no plans on marrying at all, until I met Jake.” She turned to him, looked up into his handsome brown face, and confessed, “Never thought I’d fall in love with a man at
first sight.”
Jake knew she was just acting, but his body didn’t care. The desire in her eyes looked so real, he reached out and stroked her cheek.
The moment was interrupted by the girls coming outside. The Gibson daughters had changed into shirts and denims.
“We’re going to show Charlene and Aggie our new jacks,” Bebe said.
“Okay,” Loreli told them, wondering how she’d ever be able to leave them when the time came to dissolve this so-called marriage.
After the girls went charging off, Denise said, “Those twins are good girls. Glad Jake finally found someone to love them.”
Loreli had no idea her feelings for the girls showed so plainly, but she basked in the unexpected compliment. “They make it real easy.”
“When’s the wedding?” Arthur asked.
“Saturday afternoon,” Jake replied. “Just a small gathering. Nothing fancy.”
Denise brought her hands together in a show of glee. “This is so wonderful. I’ve been praying for Jake for a long time. I knew Rebecca wasn’t the one. You’re his blessing, Loreli.”
In response, Loreli turned to Jake and said softly, “He’s been my blessing too.”
Jake felt like a barn about to catch fire. She was handling this play far better than he. In an attempt to extricate himself from the spell of her tawny eyes, he stammered, “Uh-uh, Art, how’s the stallion?”
“You two can talk about that horse any time,” Denise scolded. “I want to hear about the wedding.”
Loreli could have kissed her. “She’s right, Jake. So tell her.”
The faint, sweet notes of Loreli’s perfume were threatening to overwhelm him. Trying not to inhale too deeply, he shrugged and said, “Nothing to tell.”
Loreli sensed their game was unsettling him. Enjoying it, however, she countered playfully, devilishly, “Sure there is. My friends from the wagon train are handling the decorations and the food. There’s going to be a fiddler and a piano.”
Jake stared at her as if she’d just declared the President had been invited. He wanted to shout his disbelief, but remembered he was supposed to be acting as if he were in love with this impossible woman. “I didn’t know you and the ladies were doing so much,” he managed to say calmly.
Loreli leaned over, and lovingly hooked her arm in his. “I’m sorry, I thought I told you.” They both knew she hadn’t. Continuing her subtle assault, Loreli smoothly threaded her fingers into his. “We ironed out all the details when I met them in town on Friday.”
Loreli liked the size and feel of his large hands. The dark fingers were long and the nails cut short.
Jake fought to keep himself unmoved by the warmth of her soft fingers, but she was entirely too close to mount any kind of defense. He knew she was acting this way because he’d asked her to, but she was also trying to get a rise out of him, and she’d certainly done that. He shifted imperceptibly on the seat to accommodate his body’s response to her stimulating nearness.
While Denise and Arthur looked on knowingly, Jake leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Aware that the Gibsons were watching, Loreli smiled up at him and said softly, “As a matter of fact, I am. Are you?”
Jake was about to respond when Arthur said, “All right you two, close the curtains. There are children about.”
Loreli dropped her head as if embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“Never apologize for being in love,” Denise said. “Art and I sure don’t. Do we, darlin’?”
Laughing, he replied, “Not a bit.”
“Please, say you’ll stay for supper?” urged Denise. “There’s plenty.”
Jake looked over at Loreli. “Well?”
Pleased with the offer and the camaraderie, she replied, “I’d like to stay, but it’s up to you.”
He turned back to Denise and declared, “We’ll stay.”
Because folks often lived miles from the nearest neighbor, visits, especially with good friends, were special.
The meal consisted of grilled chicken, collards, squash, and the best yeast rolls Loreli had had since leaving Chicago. “Denise, everything is wonderful.”
Denise grinned. “Thanks. What’s your specialty?”
“Poker.”
For a moment, Denise cocked her head Loreli’s way, and then she laughed. “I meant cooking.”
“I know that’s what you meant. I can’t cook. Jake thinks it’s a sin, but I’ll make up for it in other ways…”
Seeing the sly promise in her eyes, Jake shook his head at her outrageousness and told her, “Eat.”
It was early evening by the time the Reed family was ready to head home. While Jake brought the wagon around, Denise demanded and received a parting hug from Loreli.
“You take care of yourself, now,” Denise said.
Loreli had a feeling she and Denise were going to become good friends before it was all said and done. “You do the same. I’ve had a nice time.”
Jake drove up in the wagon. The girls got in the bed, and Loreli told Denise and Arthur, “I know I’ll see you both soon.”
“Count on it,” Denise replied.
So with a wave to the Gibsons and their daughters, Loreli climbed aboard. The twins called good-byes to Charlene and Aggie while Jake headed the wagon back out to the road.
Once they were underway, Loreli leaned over to him and asked, “How’d I do?”
He nodded and said, “You did fine.”
She smiled. “Good. Had you going there for a bit, though, I’ll bet?”
He smiled. “Behave.”
A contented Loreli sat back against the wagon seat and listened to the girls sing “Amazing Grace.”
The men Jake had asked to attend the union meeting began arriving at the Reed barn around eight o’clock that same evening. There were six in all, including Arthur Gibson and Matt Peterson, who was the last to arrive.
Jake started the discussion. “Do we want to organize?”
Art spoke up. “I think we should.”
Matt Peterson said, “You all know where I stand. The faster we do this, the better off we’ll all be.”
Jake agreed, but a few of the men weren’t so sure. One man, fifty-five-year-old Paul Fletcher said, “There’s only six of us. What difference can so few make?”
“It only takes one man to change the world,” Jake pointed out.
Jake hadn’t wanted Fletcher to be involved. The overweight Fletcher and his wife, Wanda, were good friends with Sol and Victoria Diggs, and Jake was certain Diggs would know everything that had gone on in the meeting by the time the cock crowed in the morning. However, Fletcher was one of the largest landowners, and his throwing in with them was almost necessary if they were to succeed.
Fletcher said, “Well, I don’t think we should rock the boat. Look what happened to Doyle, Granger, and Sears. I hear the bank foreclosed on them.”
“All the more reason to band together,” Matt Peterson said. “Maybe Diggs wouldn’t have foreclosed had he known we were behind them.”
Jake said, “Matt’s right. We might also have been able to call on the Knights for support.”
“Have we heard anything more from the Knights, Jake?” Arthur Gibson asked.
“Not since the meeting I had with their man last month. He was supposed to come down here and talk with us, but so far, nothing.”
One of the men in the back, Wayne Young, asked, “Is it true the Knights aren’t segregating, and that men of the race can expect to be officers as well?”
“As far as I know. According to their man, there are thousands of us in their ranks, and all are given full membership.”
It was well understood that for any of the unions and farm associations to amass the clout needed to challenge the nation’s capitalists, incorporating the thousands of Black workers into the fold was a necessity. Yet, many of the organizations were unable to set aside their prejudices and were relegating the men of the race to separate entities formed with
in the larger body. So far, the Knights continued to agitate for a colorblind labor movement, but Jake was a realist. In the face of the steady disenfranchisement of the race being perpetrated at all levels of American society, it was anyone’s guess as to how long the Knights would remain prejudice free.
“Well, I say we pool our corn crops this year and let the big owners bid,” Jake said then.
Paul Fletcher pointed out sagely, “Some men up near Topeka tried that tactic and failed.”
“Only because they didn’t stick together,” Arthur countered. “Some withheld part of their crops and made side deals. It undercut the others, and the whole alliance fell apart.”
“That won’t happen here,” Matt Peterson declared.
Fletcher groused, “How do you know?”
“Because we’re all honest men, Paul,” Jake said.
The big-jowled Fletcher didn’t look convinced. Jake wondered how long it would be before Fletcher went his own way. Jake didn’t see him sticking it out, for many reasons. The least being, the man was afraid.
Art said, “Well, Jake, I say we form an alliance and see what happens. If we don’t get what we want—well, at least we will have tried. It isn’t as if we’re getting rich doing it this way.”
The rest of the men agreed. At least everyone but Fletcher, who said, “I need to think about this some more. You all are relatively young men, I’m not. If I’m going to take this risk, I have to be sure it’s right.”
Jake’s jaw tightened, but he said evenly, “Take some time, then. We’ll need your decision by midweek.”
Fifty-year-old Brass Barber owned a farm almost as large as Fletcher’s. Until this point in the meeting, the black-skinned, gray-haired Brass had been content to keep his own counsel, as was his way, and had not offered any comment. He did now. “Paul,” he told Fletcher pointedly, “if you decide not to go with us, I expect you to keep everything you’ve heard here tonight to yourself.”
Fletcher squirmed under Barber’s direct eyes. “Of course, I will.”
No one believed him for a minute.
Jake said, “All right, then. How about we meet again next Sunday?”
Art cleared his throat to get Jake’s attention.