The Love and Loss of Joshua James Read online

  The Love and Loss of

  Joshua James

  A Prequel to The Cattleman’s Daughters

  By

  Danni Roan

  Copyright © 2016 by Danni Roan All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. FIRST EDITION https://authordanniroan.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  The Love and Loss of Joshua James (The Cattleman's Daughters, #0)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

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  About the Author

  Prologue

  A farm near Fairborn, Ohio

  March 1868

  Joshua James stood on the front porch of his family home, gazing across once fertile land. A cold breeze fluttered the clothes on the line, but he did not notice. Behind him, the door of the small two-story house closed with a click, and the soft thudding of boot heels made him turn to see his oldest friend walking toward him.

  Joshua didn’t speak but instead looked up into troubled, midnight-blue eyes.

  “I’ll not be back here again, Josh,” the other man said, “but I’ll be going with you.”

  “I’m sorry, Ben,” Joshua spoke, resting a sun-browned hand on his friend’s broad shoulder.

  “It’s nothing to do with you, Josh. Things just aren’t what I thought.” Benjamin Smith smiled sadly at his friend. “I’ll meet you on the fourth,” he added, stepping down off the porch.

  “Uncle Benni! Uncle Benni!” a child’s voice called excitedly as a small, blonde girl in pigtails came racing down the path followed by a redheaded toddler in a pink dress.

  “Hello, Katie,” the tall dark-haired man said, grabbing the older girl and tossing her in the air, “and here’s our little Meg.” He lifted the two-year-old as if she were a feather.

  “Can we have a ride?” the girl called Katie cried, her pale green gaze eager.

  “Alright, but I can’t stay long,” Benjamin Smith replied, walking toward his horse as the girls squealed with delight.

  Joshua stepped through the door into the kitchen of the small house where his sister stood. Jerusalem James had always been a beauty with her snowy blonde hair and startling ice-blue eyes. She took after their father as he did in both coloring and height and at five-seven, she was statuesque.

  “Jemma?” he spoke softly.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jemma’s words were harsh. “I’ve said enough already.” She looked up at him, eyes blazing. “I will not spend the rest of my life grubbing a living from some poor piece of earth like Ma and Far.”

  “Jem’?” he tried.

  “No, Joshua,” she swiped her hand downward like a falling ax, “I want more than that in this life.” She turned eyes flashing with anger and pain. “I’ve been corresponding with Mr. Johnson and he wishes to marry me.” She turned her back and gazed out the window where Benjamin was leading his horse around the yard, his saddle full of giggling girls.

  “You won’t need to worry about me; I’ll be well cared for. I’ll live in a big house with servants and have pretty things. I will wear beautiful dresses and go to fancy parties. I’ll have everything I want.”

  Joshua took two steps across the hard plank floor to stand behind his sister. “What about Ben?”

  Jemma stiffened her spine at the name. “Benjamin Smith is a fine young man, but we want very different things.” Her words were cold.

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, Joshua turned the pale-haired young woman around. His best friend had been in love with her for as long as he could remember. “He loves you, Jemma.” His words sounded empty.

  “Love doesn’t put food on the table,” she snapped back at him, meeting his cool blue gaze with a glacial stare.

  “Ma and Far loved each other and we never went hungry.”

  “Enough, Joshua. I have no more to say. I’ll be leaving next week for Boston with Mr. Johnson. You don’t have to worry about me; you can go with a clear conscience.” With her final word spoken, she turned and walked through a door at the end of the kitchen.

  Joshua ran a hand through his pale blonde hair that was not quite as light as his sister’s and moved toward the stairs.

  Placing his hand on the knob he opened the door and stepped into his room, the sorrow in his heart easing a bit as he stopped to look at the form curled peacefully on his bed. For a long moment, he stood there studying the woman that made up the other half of his heart.

  “Josh? Is that you?” the woman stirred, and he hurried to her side.

  “Don’t get up Bridgette,” his voice soft, “you look tired.”

  “I am tired; I have two rambunctious daughters and a husband with a hearty appetite.” She smiled and poked him in the stomach with a finger. “It didn’t go well I take it,” she said, studying his face, all humor now gone from her voice.

  Josh couldn’t speak, so he only nodded.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Bridgette spoke again, this time sitting up and wrapping her arms around him. “How’d Benji take it?” she asked, her voice soothing as she stroked his hair.

  Joshua breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of his wife. She smelled of wildflowers in springtime and it eased his troubled heart.

  “He says he won’t come back here again,” Josh said, pulling her close. “He plans to meet us in town on the fourth.”

  Bridgette pulled away from her husband and gazed up into his eyes before brushing his hair from his forehead. “You can’t change people, Josh.” She spoke gently, “All anyone can do is their best, and pray.”

  From somewhere deep inside a smile found its way to his face. “You’re an amazing woman Bridgette James,” he said pulling her close. “I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.” He kissed her softly, letting go of his sorrow on a sigh.

  Bridgette giggled pulling away. “Go on with ye, then,” she chided, slapping him on the shoulder. “It’s kissing like that got us into this situation again, now isn’t it?” Her smile took any bite from her words.

  “It’s different this time, isn’t it?” Josh asked, looking down at the small bump of her stomach.

  “Oh, it’s early yet and you know how women say each time’s different.”

  “You were never sick like this with the other girls, though.”

  “Joshua James, don’t you be worrying about me now, you have enough to do to get us packed and ready to go. I’ll be all right.” She kissed him again to prove her point. “Now go fetch the girls.”

  “GRANDPA? GRANDPA?” the deep male voice rolled through the dream like slow thunder. “Grandpa, it’s time for supper.”

  “Eric is that you?” Joshua blinked up at the young man, his first grandson.

  “Yes, Grandpa it’s me.”

  “I still can’t believe how you’ve grown,” Joshua added, looking up. “You�
��re not as bulky as your father, but you are as tall and as broad in the shoulders. I would not have thought it possible when you first arrived.

  Eric smiled. “I know Pa worried about me back then,” he said, grasping the handles of the wheeled chair and turning it toward the door. “Did you have a nice nap out here on the porch?”

  The old man chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I did. Did I ever tell you how I met my first wife?”

  Chapter 1

  “IT WAS A SUNDAY. BENJI had talked me into going to a church social, said there was a woman I needed to meet. Her name was Gabby something or other, I don’t remember now, he said she spent Sunday afternoon in the church grove with her best friend.” Joshua gazed around the table to see that his audience was still listening, and with a smile, he started again.

  “I was hopeless around women and never knew what to say. Except for Ben, I was the tallest in town and awkward to boot. I ran to skinny, where Ben had bulk.” The old man smiled again his eyes twinkling at the memory.

  “I didn’t know how to go about meeting this young lady Ben had told me about, so I decided I’d just walk right up to her and introduce myself.” He chortled, “That morning I put on my best clothes, slicked back my hair and rode into town. Once I got there, I took a deep breath and stepped through the trees into my future.”

  SUNLIGHT DAPPLED THE earth as it drifted through the leaves of the large oak trees turning the grove green and gold with shadow and light. Joshua James stepped from beneath the canopy of darkness and blinked as motes of molten light filtered into the still space.

  Before him sitting on an old blanket was an angel, a vision of beauty. Her russet locks glowed with hints of fire, the sunlight playing like a hallo around her head. At first, she didn’t see him; she was adjusting the hem of her skirts around her, the deep brown fabric spreading out like a pool.

  Joshua couldn’t breathe. It felt as if his heart had stopped working, like the whole world had come to a halt as he gazed at the woman before him.

  “Hello,” the girl finally spoke.

  “I think I’m going to marry you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think, and he blushed, red realizing that she had heard.

  “Ye do, do ye?” the girl questioned, a wicked grin spreading across her face as the gleam of mischief entered her eyes. “Help me up then, my mysterious bridegroom,” she laughed, raising a hand.

  Still blushing scarlet Joshua hastened to help her to her feet then remembering himself snatched his hat from his head. “I... I.... I...” he stuttered as drops of sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

  “Now you just stand there and let me look at you,” the young lady said, lifting her chin. “I think I have the right to see what I’m getting now, don’t you?” her voice was lilting as she raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms behind her back, and began to walk around him, looking him up and down.

  “Not bad,” she spoke again, “though you could do with some fattening up,” she added, poking him in the ribs with her index finger and making him jump. “A bit ticklish as well, I see.” She took one more circuit around him, and Joshua tugged at his best collar.

  “Now, dear husband,” the girl continued, “would you mind telling me your name?”

  “THAT’S HOW IT ALL STARTED,” Joshua spoke to his family at the table, “from the moment I saw her I knew that we belonged together.” His ghostly eyes sparkled remembering that happy day.

  “I didn’t know that, Pa,” a now-grown Katie spoke, sniffing softly.

  Joshua smiled at his oldest daughter, “It’s the whole truth, darlin’, and I never doubted she’d marry me after that day.” He smiled again. “Mind, she twisted me in knots before she agreed to be my wife, but that’s how I met her.”

  “And Uncle Brion?” Meg asked, tossing her mane of coppery hair over a shoulder, “Did he take to you as well?”

  Joshua’s smiled broadened, “Not for a good while, no, but that’s another tale. Now I think I’m ready to call it a night. I’m very tired.” He sighed as if he were already asleep.

  “I’ll help you, Grandpa.” Eric rose from his place at the table, leaving his coffee and pie and pushed the old man to his room at the front of the house.

  The sounds of “Good-night, Pa” and “Good-night, Grandpa,” followed them down the narrow hall from the crowded kitchen.

  THE CHICKENS WEREN’T up yet but Joshua was wide awake. The dream from earlier in the day still spun through his head conjuring up visions of Bridgette even in slumber. If he closed his eyes, he could see it all again, he could feel the sun on his face and smell new things growing on the spring air.

  Fairborn, Ohio March 1868

  Joshua absently rubbed at his right shoulder as he stopped to check the harness straps one last time. It still hurt sometimes when he did too much lifting, but pain was a part of life and you either got on with it or you didn’t.

  “Is it hurting badly?” Bridgette called as she packed yet another tin of flour into the tight confines of the wagon.

  “No, just feeling itchy today,” he called back, not meeting her eyes. She could always tell when something was wrong.

  “It was a bad wound,” she said, marching around the side of the wagon and pulling his shirt aside to examining the puckered scar that marred the thick flesh above his left breast. She looked up, meeting his frosty blue eyes, and shook her head.

  “You never tried to stop me,” Josh said, liking the feel of her warm hands on his skin.

  “You felt it was your duty and when a man believes that, no power on earth can sway him.”

  “I might have been a fool,” he said with a grin.

  “Most men are,” she answered, plucking a blonde hair from his chest and making him jump. “There, now you have something else to complain about.” She flounced her skirts and headed to the house.

  Joshua shook his head but smiled. He had thought it was his duty when the war was flagging and needed more men. He and Benji had both gone away all dressed in blue. He rubbed the bullet scar again.

  He had been lucky, the bullet struck the soft flesh and passed through without damaging bones. He felt the small bump on his other collarbone. That had broken when he fell and being unable to fire a rifle again he had been sent home.

  Another wagon came rumbling along the road, soft dust tossed up by the horse’s hooves floating in the air like a misty cloud. He smiled recognizing his old friend.

  “You about ready?” Benji asked his hands steady on the reins of his four-horse team.

  “Bridgette’s fussing. I gave her that list of supplies the company recommended and she’s double-checked that we have it all at least three times over but keeps adding things to it anyway.”

  “You got room for the girls inside?” Benji asked seriously. His voice had lost all its laughter over the past few weeks.

  “Bri and I will sleep on the ground and the girls can sleep inside.”

  “Girls can sleep in mine if Bridgette can make them up a bed. She should not have to sleep on the cold ground. Besides I don’t sleep much anymore anyway.” His dark eyes were shrouded.

  “Benji, you’re here.” Bridgette’s lilting voice echoed across the quiet yard. “I guess that means we’re ready to go.” She looked about her slowly taking in every aspect of the morning.

  A door creaked open behind them and they turned to see the Blakely’s step from their house each holding the hand of a granddaughter.

  “Mam, Da.” Bridgette smiled brightly, “We’re having a grand adventure, aren’t we?”

  “Uncle Benni!” Katie called, already scrabbling up the wagon wheel to the driver’s seat next to him. “You gonna ride shot-gun for me, little one?” the big man asked. “I sure could use the company.”

  “Meggie too, Uncle Benni.”

  “Alright. Meggie too,” he said, nodding to Mr. Blakely, who swung the little red-headed firecracker up as well.

  “Da, will ya pray fer us?” Bridgette asked, swallowing hard as she looked in
to the aging faces of her parents.

  “Aye.” The old man smiled sadly, pulling the hat from his head.

  The prayer was in Gaelic, a sweet soft blessing for safety and peace. Only the Irish understood the words, but the spirit was felt in them all.

  Bridgette hugged her father, and the old man’s hand trembled when he let her go. Turning she forced a smile for her mother then squeezed the smaller woman tight.

  “I’ll write to ye often,” she said, her voice bright with hope. “And when we’re well settled, we’ll send for ye to visit. It’ll be grand.”

  Her mother held her hand a second longer before Bridgette turned away and Joshua helped her up into the big covered wagon. He paused a moment, kissing his mother-in-law’s teary cheek, and shaking the hand that had given him his greatest blessing.

  The thunder of hooves caught them by surprise. “I’m with ye!” Brion Blakely shouted as he pulled his horse to a halt and threw the lead line of four fine packhorses to Benji. In one swift move, he was out of the saddle and wrapping his parents in a bear hug, his red beard tickling his mother’s neck.

  “I thought it was just talk, Brion,” Joshua said, one foot still on the wagon rung where he’d started to climb up.

  “Nay, I was speaking truth when I said I’d come. Da knew, didn’t ya Da?”

  “Aye.” The old man said, “You’ve got a gypsy’s soul Brion and I’ll not tie ye down.”

  “If I tire of this lot, I’ll be along home as quick as you can wink,” the lean, red-haired man guffawed. “Now away!” He lifted his voice and threw himself back into the saddle, spurring his horse to the lead.

  Bridgette Blakely-James sat as still as a painting on the rough seat of what would be her new home for several months. She didn’t dare look behind her to see her mother standing in the yard, the sorrow of parting etched across her soft features; one crack in her armor and she knew she would shatter.

  Mary Blakely was the strongest woman Bridgette had ever known and her heart would break if she looked back. How had her mother done it all those years ago? How had she forsaken hearth and home to travel not across a country but across an ocean forever separating her from her blood?