Wild Sweet Love by Beverly Jenkins
Chapter 10
Teresa stepped out onto the back porch. The eager face of the young man from Kansas looked very familiar, but placing him was a different matter.
“Hello, Miss July,” he gushed, eyes bright, sounding as if he were having difficulty containing his excitement.
“Hello,” she replied kindly. “I know we’ve met somewhere before. I just don’t remember where.”
“Henry Adams, Kansas. Name’s Tom Kelly. I interviewed you for the Nicodemus Cyclone after that big shootout with the bounty hunters at the Liberian Lady saloon in Henry Adams, a few years back.”
“I remember now. How are you?”
“Much better now that I’ve found you. I came all the way to Philadelphia just to see you.”
Teresa could see Molly, Madison, and Emma crowded in the doorway, listening. “How’d you know I was here?” she asked.
“Once you sent that wire to your sister-in-law saying you’d been released, the news spread through the Great Solomon Valley like wildfire. Letter to the parole board took care of the rest. Told them I wanted to use you as an example for a story I was writing on how crime doesn’t pay.”
“Excuse me?”
“No, no,” he said hastily, seeing the challenge in her eyes. “That’s not what I’m really going to write about. I lied to them because I didn’t think they’d give me your whereabouts if I said folks back home just wanted to hear how you were doing.”
Teresa was touched. “Folks have been asking after me?”
“They have. You cast a mighty long shadow for a lot of years. You and your brothers kept folks entertained with your exploits. Would you mind if I asked you some questions? I promise not to take up a lot of your time.”
“Not at all.” She turned to Mrs. Nance. “Can we use the parlor?”
“Of course.”
Teresa knew the press would find her sooner or later, so a newspaper from back home might as well get in the first shot.
For the next hour, she and Tom Kelly sat in the parlor talking, laughing, and talking some more. He brought her up to date on some of her old companions and acquaintances.
“Cherokee Bill’s in jail at Fort Smith,” he said. “He tried to break out a few weeks back and a guard was killed. Word is he’s going to hang.”
Teresa shook her head. “What about Tom Root and Buss Luckey?” Years ago she had ridden with the two Black outlaws in a gang headed by a White man named Nathaniel “Texas Jack” Reed.
“Far as I know, they’re in jail at Fort Smith, Arkansas, too. They robbed a train down in Indian Territory last November and a deputy was killed when the law tried to apprehend them.”
“Judge Parker still around?”
He nodded. “Heard he’s not well, but his court is about to be dissolved. Rumor has it he’s pardoning most of the people he locked up. Cherokee Bill’s trial may be one of his last.”
Teresa didn’t see herself being pardoned. Parker had sent her to prison to teach her a lesson. She wondered how many outlaws, criminals, and bank robbers Hanging Judge Isaac Parker had seen in his life on the bench. Too many probably. Members of her family were included in those numbers. “Have you seen my brother Neil or my sister-in-law Olivia?”
“Your brother’s been working for the trains out in California. Came home about a month ago. Saw your sister-in-law just before I left.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat. “She asked me to deliver this letter.”
Tears stung her eyes as she took the envelope from his hand. “Thanks. Is she well?”
He nodded. “And still mayor. Got herself reelected a few weeks back.”
Teresa thought that good news. She’d been real skeptical about Olivia when they first met. Teresa didn’t like her because she’d held Olivia responsible for Neil wanting to turn himself into the law. Over time, however, they’d become the sisters both women had wanted growing up. She put the precious letter into the pocket of her skirt, and the interview continued.
Meanwhile, outside the parlor door, Madison was pacing. When his mother passed him on her way to the kitchen, he said, “They’ve been in there for over an hour.”
“He’s from her home, Madison. They probably have a lot to talk about.”
“But why is it taking so long?”
She gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. “You sound like an impatient child. Emma’s making lunch. Go get some. Teresa will be done when she’s done.” She moved on.
It was good advice, he realized. He also realized he had no idea why Teresa being in the room with the reporter was causing him to react this way. When had he become so possessive? Not sure he wanted to go down that slippery slope, he headed for the kitchen.
After the interview, Teresa stood on the front steps and watched Tom Kelly drive away. Talking with him had been fun, but the knowledge that he’d be heading west in a few days left her melancholy. She wanted to go home so badly she could taste it. The desire to feel the hot wind on her face, to sleep under the stars and see the mountains against the horizon all rose up at once, and she had to fight hard to keep from succumbing to the ache in her soul.
“Are you okay?” she heard Madison ask quietly behind her.
She shook her head. “Nope. So can you go back inside and leave me to myself for a few minutes?”
“Sure,” he said softly.
She heard the door close and sighed. When she was younger, her brothers would always tease her if she cried, so she’d learned to do it only when alone. She needed that privacy now, and as she wiped away the tears gathering on her cheeks, she’d never felt so alone.
Teresa was quiet for the rest of the day. Madison could have chosen to do any number of things since he wasn’t going to the bank, but he hung around because he was concerned about her. His mother and Emma were concerned as well, but nobody tried to get Teresa to talk about what she was feeling or took offense at her mood. Instead they left her alone and hoped she’d work through her sadness.
After dinner, Madison was about to suggest a ride in the park when Emma came into the parlor with a stunned look on her face. “The front yard is full of newspaper reporters,” she said. “I mean, they are shoulder-to-shoulder.”
Madison and Teresa moved quickly to the window, and sure enough out front saw enough reporters and men carrying cameras to cover a presidential election.
Madison said, “What the hell—”
His mother asked, “Teresa, do you think Mr. Kelly told the Philadelphia papers where to find you?”
“He said he was going to try and sell the story, but I thought he meant out West.”
Madison was fairly certain this was Richards’s doing and he was not pleased. “I’ll go out and see what they want.”
When he stepped outside, he was peppered with angry questions.
“Mr. Nance, is it true that Teresa July is living here?”
“Mr. Nance, who gave the okay for such a dangerous woman to be released here?”
“Mr. Nance, as a banker and a son, aren’t you concerned that this outlaw may turn on your mother and rob your bank?”
“Isn’t your mother concerned having such a desperado on the premises? What’s her church think about this heathen outlaw in our midst?”
“Mr. Nance!”
“Mr. Nance!”
Madison had never dealt with such chaos in his life. The angry questions continued to be shouted at him and the camera flashes were blinding. And watching them trample his mother’s flower beds and lawn infuriated him.
Inside, Teresa felt bad for him. It was she they wanted. The angry questions matched their angry faces. They were riled up and probably wouldn’t leave until she made an appearance. “I need my Colt and my gun belt,” she said to Mrs. Nance.
“What on earth for?”
“So they’ll take their cameras away and leave you and Madison in peace. It’s me they want to see, Teresa July the outlaw, so I’m going to give her to them.”
Mrs. Nance stared.
“Please, Mrs. Nance. You aren’t going to have any flowers left, and Madison looks ready to throw some punches. I’m going to go change. I’ll meet you back here.”
“Teresa?”
“Get my stuff.” She took off running.
Teresa dragged on her leathers. She knew how to handle the press, she’d done it her entire outlaw life. Reporters had loved her and her brothers out West. If she didn’t go out there and charm them there was no telling what they’d print and she didn’t want them dragging the Nance name through the mud. After all they’d done for her, it wouldn’t be fair.
Madison had just opened his mouth to tell a reporter to get the hell out of his mother’s flower beds when the screen door behind him opened and Teresa drawled, “Hello, boys!”
The reporters all but fell over each other to get a closer look. Flashes went off like July Fourth fireworks, and the din of male voices shouting to be heard filled the air.
Madison turned to her and his jaw dropped. She was wearing a tight-fitting suit of black leather. Around her waist was a gun belt studded with cartridges. The Colt stuck in the belt was big and sported a white mother-of-pearl handle. On her feet were black-heeled boots. A black flat-crowned hat hung down her back from a string around her neck. When she walked by him and stood on the step below him all he could see was the way the snug leather clung to her legs and accentuated the curves of her hips. He had never been rendered speechless by a woman before, but couldn’t have made a sound if his life had depended upon it.
The press made up for his silence. Teresa took questions, posed for pictures, and showed them her Colt, adding with the patented July grin, “Make sure you tell your readers the Colt is only for your pictures. Parole board doesn’t want me carrying, and I’m trying to play by the rules.”
The men laughed and more questions were shouted her way. They wanted to know the name of her horse. Had she seen her brothers? Did she like Philadelphia? By the time she called out, “Last question, boys,” she had them eating out of her hand. Some of the reporters wanted to arrange one-on-one interviews to be conducted in the weeks ahead, and Teresa agreed.
The reporters hung around for a little while longer, writing down her colorful quotes and taking more pictures. When they’d finally gotten their fill, they put away their pens, packed up their cameras, and left en masse.
A tired but happy Teresa entered the house, went into the parlor, and collapsed in a chair. Mrs. Nance was smiling with surprise. “They loved you!”
Teresa’s eyes were sparkling. “Yes, they did, and I had fun.”
Madison could not get over her attire. When she walked by him and into the parlor, the snug black leather fit her so alluringly he had to fight himself to keep from easing up behind her and filling his palms with her luscious looking behind. He had never seen anything like them. “Is that how you usually dress out West?”
“All the time. This pair’s new,” she explained and running her hand over her leather-sheathed thigh. “They’re still a little stiff, but the more I wear them, the more they get broken in.”
Molly stated confidently, “I’m going to make me a pair.”
Madison stared at her, shocked.
His mother countered, “Rebecca has some.”
He started to chuckle. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”
“No. They’re brown. Aren’t they, Teresa?”
“Seen them with my own eyes.”
Madison looked to the heavens, but not for long because Teresa’s outfit kept grabbing his attention. All he could think about was pulling those leathers down and showing her how much they aroused him.
Teresa wondered if Molly could see the heat in her son’s eyes. Teresa certainly could. Each time he glanced her way, the intensity grew, making Teresa remember the slide of his hands on her skin. Beneath her short-waisted leather coat, her nipples were ripening to his silent call. Farther south, her core was blossoming as well.
Madison managed to look away from Teresa long enough to ask his mother, “What time do you want me to fetch you in the morning?”
“A bit before seven.”
He nodded. “That should get us there in plenty of time.”
Being around Teresa was making his manhood harder and harder. To avoid embarrassing his mother and himself, he thought it best that he leave. The anticipation of having the lady outlaw all to himself for the next few days only added to his arousal, as did anticipating removing her leather trousers, so he said, “I’m going to head home. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Molly nodded. “Okay.”
“See you, Madison.”
Lying in her bed later that night surrounded by the darkness, Teresa reviewed her day. And what a day it had been. Tom Kelly. Madison. The newspaper reporters. Madison. A buoying letter from her sister-in-law, Olivia. Madison. Madison, Madison, Madison. He filled her thoughts. Having never been taken with a man before, the feelings he evoked were overwhelming. She knew that some of what she felt was fueled by plain old-fashioned lust, and she would make no apologies for being woman enough to acknowledge that. But why did her life seem brighter when he was around? Why did his smile make her heart swell, and why, when he wasn’t around, was he becoming all she could think about? It was curious. Something was going on between them, and she liked it, but she wasn’t sure she was supposed to.
The next morning, she rode with Madison, Molly, and Emma to the train station. In spite of the early hour, the huge edifice was filled with noise and people hurrying to catch their trains. She was fascinated by all the different races, languages, and manner of dress, but to someone accustomed to wide-open spaces, the press of the crowd was stifling and the din of hundreds of conversations in tandem with the shrill whistles of the departing and arriving trains deafening.
When the time came for Molly and Emma to depart, Teresa gave them both strong hugs. “Have a safe trip and a good time, she said genuinely.
After receiving parting hugs from Madison, they boarded. Madison and Teresa waited on the platform while the train’s whistle sounded. When the locomotive slowly began to make its way down the tracks, they waved at Molly in the window, then walked back out into the sunshine to where he’d parked his buggy.
As he merged into the heavy morning traffic of buggies, streetcars, and delivery wagons, he asked, “Would you like to get some breakfast? Mr. Watson’s place is open.”
Teresa liked the old gentleman and his food. “That sounds good.”
Because they had to drive back to the Seventh Ward, it took some time, but they kept glancing at each other and smiling. Content on the seat beside him, she asked, “So what do I have to do to get my drawers back?”
He grinned, shrugging. “Oh, I don’t know. Been thinking on it, though.”
“Well, you can’t keep them. I don’t have that many pairs.”
“Understood.” The idea of hanging on to them like an erotic trophy had crossed his mind, but he didn’t tell her that. “I’ll come up with something.”
There were quite a few vehicles parked near Mr. Watson’s place, and it took Madison a few moments to find a place to put his. The only spot available was in front of one of the political clubs, and he pulled in there. Because of the early hour, the political club was still closed, so he felt fairly safe in believing the horse and buggy would be still there when they returned.
The inside of the storefront restaurant was much more crowded and lively when they entered, but when the diners noticed Madison and Teresa waiting to be seated silence fell over the place and everyone stared at them. A confused Teresa turned to Madison, who appeared just as puzzled. Out of the back came Mr. Watson. Walking toward them, he grinned and began to applaud. Soon, others joined in, and the sound rose. By the time he reached them, folks were cheering and tapping silverware against their water glasses. The noise seemed to shake the windows, but neither Teresa nor Madison had any idea what it meant.
Then Watson called out in a loud voice, “Ladies and gentlemen! Mr. Madison Nance and the very lovely Teresa July!”
The crowd roared so loud, Teresa felt like the President.
Madison grinned. “You’re famous.”
“I know, but this is embarrassing.”
“May I show you to a table,” Watson said, gesturing elaborately.
“Please,” Teresa said, hoping the din would die down. Folks were smiling and clapping and standing up. She half expected this kind of reaction from a room full of men, but there were women on their feet applauding and smiling as well. She was amazed.
Mr. Watson led them to the same table they’d had on their last visit, but this time the other tables were all occupied, so there’d be no intimate privacy. In fact, all of the people nearby looked on with bright smiles.
Once Teresa and Madison were seated, Mr. Watson said to her, “I knew there was something special about you the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Mr. Watson, please—”
“No, let me finish.”
Teresa nodded.
“Folks here in the East have been real taken with all the outlaws and gunfighters out West. Things in the newspaper about this one and that one. The stories are exciting and make everything about the West seem bigger than life. Then you and your brothers come along. Robbing banks is wrong. I know it and you know it, right?”
Teresa nodded, reluctantly.
“But you were Black. Now, we had outlaw stories in our own papers that were just as hair-raising as the White ones. We’d shake our heads with disapproval every time you all robbed something, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t be as excited as the Whites were about reading about their kind.” He asked her, “Does that make sense to you?”
“Sure.”
“Especially now that you’ve paid your debt to society and did your time. The community is real tickled to have you here, Miss July, so welcome to Philadelphia.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you see yourself in the papers this morning?”
“No.”
Watson sent a waiter to his office, and the young man returned with a stack that he placed on their table. Sure enough, there she was, posed in her leathers and smiling. Madison leafed through a few of the others until he saw pictures of her, and true to Watson’s claim, all the editions, both Black and White, seemed elated by her presence in the city. One White paper promised its readers more pictures, another promised future detailed interviews, while still another promised to find out if it was true that she ate raw skinned squirrels for breakfast and slept outside in a tepee. Madison shook his head. Teresa notwithstanding, he wondered if the city newspapers would offer this much coverage to the upcoming antilynching march his business association and some of the other Black organizations planned to have.
Teresa and Madison gave the waiter their orders, and when their food arrived a short time later, they ate their meals while the other diners scrutinized their every move, especially Teresa’s. She became self-conscious about how she was handling her cutlery, how she reached for her water glass, and if she was chewing like a horse. The last thing she wanted was folks gossiping about her manners, because that would undoubtedly reflect back on Molly Nance, so she tried to comport herself in a way that would make her mentor proud.
“How’re you doing?” Madison asked.
“I feel like a two-headed calf at the fair.”
He chuckled. “They’re just interested, that’s all.”
“I know, and I guess I should have expected it, but I didn’t. Not all this—newspapers, folks clapping and whistling, Mr. Watson bowing and scraping.”
“It’s probably going to be this way until the papers find something new to embrace, so for the moment, you’re it.”
“I guess.” Teresa never sat anywhere where she couldn’t see the exits, but Madison was seated with his back to the room. When she looked up and frowned, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“That Richards fella is coming up behind you. Looks mad too.”
Madison didn’t turn around. He knew that by now Dawson Richards had probably heard from Paula that he knew he was married and probably wasn’t pleased. Not that Madison cared. He tended to think they were just about even, but the other shoe still had to drop on Richards. He’d stopped by to see Ben yesterday, and Charlotte had already engaged a lawyer who planned to take his payment from the settlement she was sure to receive.
Sure enough, when Richards reached their table, he snapped, “I ought to take a buggy whip to you.”
Madison put down his coffee cup and looked up. He said drolly, “And good morning to you too, Richards. You seem upset.”
“How dare you tell Paula and the Carters I’m married. My personal affairs are none of your concern.”
“You aren’t married?”
“Of course not!”
“That isn’t what Charlotte claims.”
He looked startled.
“You know Charlotte, don’t you?” Madison asked. “Lives in New Orleans. Mother of your three children.”
Richards’s eyes blazed with fury.
Madison kept up his cool recitation. “I talked to her a few weeks back. She’s having trouble keeping food on the table. She’s here in town, I hear, and talking with a lawyer.”
Because Richards had grabbed everyone’s attention with his holier than thou entrance, he now had a diner full of Black folks taking in every word of the conversation.
Madison continued, “Thanks for sending the press to my mother’s house. Hope you’re ready for your interviews. Someone, and I’m not sure who, plans to send a copy of your marriage certificate to the city papers. I didn’t see anything in today’s edition, but there’s always tomorrow, or the day after.”
In response to that shocking news, the diners began to whisper. Madison and Teresa noticed it, and so did the livid Richards.
“I’ll get you for this,” he promised.
“You’re threatening me in a room filled with people. Surely you’re smarter than that.”
It was obvious the ward boss didn’t know what to do. Had he been a child, he would have been sputtering, he was so angry. “I’m a dangerous enemy, Nance.”
Madison shrugged. “I’m sure you believe that.”
Teresa had never seen this cold, confident side of Madison before, and she was impressed. She hoped Richards wouldn’t be harebrained enough to start a fight in the middle of the restaurant, but she waited to see how the confrontation would play out.
Mr. Watson walked up and asked Richards, “Is there a problem, Mr. Richards?”
Richards, his eyes never leaving Madison, said, “No. I was just leaving.”
“Good,” Watson said. “I’ll walk you out.”
He growled, “I know where the exit is.” Giving Madison and Teresa one last angry glare, he turned and strode away.
“Well now,” Teresa said, “nothing like a little anger to spice up your breakfast.”
Madison smiled. Charles Watson did too, then returned to his kitchen. As Teresa and Madison went back to their meals, the restaurant was abuzz.
“I didn’t know there was steel beneath that city boy suit,” Teresa said.
Amusement was in his eyes. “There are lots of things you don’t know about me.”
“So I see. I like it, though.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. Thought you were soft when I first met you.”
“I noticed that.”
“No offense, but the way you dressed and talked—where I come from that spells S-O-F-T.”
He chuckled. “And now?”
“Now? I think Richards might want to think twice about crossing you.”
“You are as smart as you are beautiful.”
She laughed. “So where are we going after we leave here?”
“You mentioned wanting to go riding, am I right?”
She grinned. “Can we stop by your mother’s so I can put on my leathers?”
Madison silently cheered, but kept that to himself. “Sure. That’s no problem at all.”
“Will you ride with me?”
Will you ride me?was his mental response, but he buried that, too. Instead, he nodded. “I have some old clothes I keep at Mother’s house somewhere. That’ll save us having to make a stop by my place as well.” He looked her way and saw she was smiling. “Why the smile?”
“Just thinking about your mother wanting her own leathers.”
He shook his head. “She is something.” His tone turned serious “And your coming to stay has been good for her. She’s always done the charity work and been active in the church, but she hasn’t had the spark she used to have before my father passed.”
Teresa saw the feeling in his eyes.
“Now, she’s sewing again and talking about balls and wearing leathers. I’m very grateful.”
Teresa was touched by his words. “She’s a real special lady. And I like a man who cares about his mother.”
“Most of us only get one, so I have to take care of her, especially with my father gone.”
His unabashed devotion made her think of her brothers and her mother Tamar. They’d fetch her from the grave if she asked them to.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked.
She nodded.
Madison paid the bill, then escorted her to the door. Calls of good wishes and “Welcome to Philadelphia” heralded their departure. A smiling Teresa gave the diners a wave good-bye, and with Madison by her side, stepped out into the sunshine.