Chapter 7
The next morning, I handed Mr. Jackson a mug of coffee to go with his portion of the omelet we were sharing; this one flavored with a bit of wild onion and some of his beef jerky. And yes, a bit of cheese as well. He didn’t talk much, neither did I, but he did tip his mug in my direction to indicate some appreciation.
“I’m sorry, but there are only about a dozen eggs left.”
“I’ll see what can be done about that.”
I blinked. “I … didn’t mean …”
He looked at me again rather intently then slowly nodded. “When I make a bargain, I stick with the terms.”
“The terms didn’t say anything about granting me wishes like you are some fairytale genie.”
He gave a snort of a chuckle. “No. They did not. But I like to eat at least as much as the next man and I’m smart enough to know that chickens will help with that.”
“Um … it doesn’t have to be chickens. Ducks or geese are good as well.”
“Do tell.”
Whether he meant it as a joke or not I decided to be honest. “Poppa was fond of duck hunting at one time … before the Troubles. He said Arkansas had some of the finest duck hunting in the country. People have winnowed down the wild flocks trying to feed their families but there’s still enough of them to be worth cultivating and I can catch some and domesticate them. Mawmaw taught me how. That’s how the flock I had … before … got started.”
“You … caught ducks to start your own flock.”
“Yes I did,” I said tilting my chin up a little. “All it takes is a fishing net, patience, and the ability to put up with their pinches and keep their flight feathers clipped until they are resigned to their fate.”
“Resigned to their fate, huh. Were they happy with their fate?”
Now I knew he was laughing at me. “Maybe not by human standards but the drakes were happy enough that the flock grew and the females laid a lot of eggs and would hatch them if I left them in the nest. They still pinched but that’s a duck for you.”
Tongue in cheek he asked, “And geese?”
“Mawmaw kept a few geese which I helped her with, but Josiah didn’t manage them properly. They stopped laying, and if they wouldn’t lay they went in the pot. I told him I would keep him in goose and feathers if he would just let me have the flock, but he wouldn’t go for it as he refused to accept it was him that was managing things wrong. I did get the mules out of him but not until that woman he’d taken up with threw him over for someone else that would help her start the Cantina. They were the last ones that Poppa bred. Their dams were draft horses which is why they are so big. They were doing poorly until I bartered them away from him last summer.”
“I remember you saying something when we met.”
Something struck me in that moment. Contrary to the way things usually ran, I was doing most of the talking. I knew that meant he wasn’t telling me things; the question was it on purpose or not.
Breakfast was an easy clean up because we’d shared the skillet rather than get plates out that would need to be cleaned and repacked. It seemed like a practical thing to do in the beginning but felt intimate by the end. I grew uncomfortable but wasn’t successful at hiding it. He looked at me and asked, “Second thoughts?”
“No.” Then to be honest I clarified, “This … bargain is going to take me a place I’ve never been; and I’m not just speaking about your home.” I could feel myself blushing, but this needed to be said. “I’m not backing out … or backing down from the agreement. I’m not even asking for time. I’m trying to deal with the baggage I picked up with Levi. But I’m nervous and … I’m working on it. I’ll get it under control.”
“Well as you work on it give this a think or three. I’ve never been married. I’ve got an idea of how this is supposed to work. Got an idea of how I want it to work. It keeps hitting me. And you being just nineteen … that’s a stick that is stirring my brain.”
“You’re younger than Levi was.”
He snorted. “Do me a favor, make one of those things you’re working on a way to not bring him up so much.”
I realized he was correct. “You’re right. I shouldn’t. And I won’t when I can help it, but it is going to take some practice not bringing him up. I’ll make mistakes.”
Probably nicer than most men would he said, “I’m not asking for perfection. You won’t be getting that from me either. Just … pick a different yardstick to measure me by.”
I nodded hoping he would be as willing to use a kinder yardstick to measure me by than a dead woman impossible to measure up to.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
We were within site of the mill when Mr. Jackson suddenly said, “Dammit, I don’t even know what to call you.”
“Coralie.”
“Coralie?”
Then while he was still wrapping his head around my mother’s bit of nonsense, I told him the rest of it. “Coralie Annag Delmira Dunlop Tanner. I was the last girl of my generation and apparently they thought it cute to dump all of the leftover inherited names on me. French, Scottish, and German. However, if you ever call me Cora I cannot promise not to throw something at you.”
He got over his surprise and saw I was trying my best to make the uncomfortable truth funny.
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes. My name is Coralie, not Cora. Cora was Poppa’s sister and … less said about her the better. Or so Poppa informed me. Do you prefer me to call you Dunn or is there something else?”
“Dunn,” he answered finally moving us forward again. He was driving the wagon with his horse tied to the back. “I don’t have a middle name.”
“Really? That must be a relief.”
“It is a pain in the butt. Or was. The military doesn’t let you get away with not having one however and they made me at least pick a letter. I picked ‘X’ and I sign my name with it but it means nothing.”
“Ok.”
“No lecture that I should have given it some thought and come up with something meaningful?”
“Why? Do you wish you had … whatever it was you just said?”
“No,” he said with a snort of a laugh and the beginnings of a smile.
“Then I don’t see it matters. It is certainly easier to remember than the mouthful that was hung on me. Looks like someone recognizes you.”
Turning his head to look where I indicated, we both saw a man coming down the mill’s stairs with a friendly wave.
When we pulled up he was full of curiosity when he said, “Dunn! How ya been ol’ Son? Didn’t expect you until the next shipment come!”
“You’ll expect this next part even less Howard,” Mr. Jackson responded.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
“By the power vested in me by the State of Arkansas I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Boy had that been a quick ceremony. Howard Davenport seems a kind man. But he is also lean and tough as old raw hide. He doesn’t suffer much patience for what he called tomfoolery. We’d both had to prove our identities. Mr. Jackson … Dunn … was already well known to Mr. Davenport. The only thing he did was provide his National ID so the number could be put on the official documents. I on the other hand was not known so I had to show my National ID, my passport (long out of date), my birth certificate (lucky I had it and that it hadn’t been destroyed in the Troubles), my marriage certificate, and then a certified copy of Levi’s death certificate as well as the notarized and sealed letter the bank gave me saying that the mortgage on the farm was released. That was the easy part.
Where it got a little sticky was when I asked that the words “love” or “cherish” be removed from the wedding vows.
“Why?” Mr. Davenport asked suspiciously.
“Dunn Jackson and I have come to an understanding. Or you can call it an agreement or a contract or any definition you want to hang on it. We are both going into this in good faith. Either way I don’t think it is very smart to walk into such an understanding and then turn right around and lie about it in a vow.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve heard these things called a marriage of convenience. Well it isn’t very convenient for people to start out the chute expecting things they have no right to expect from the other.”
“Be that as it may young woman, I still need something to fill the blank with. The only witnesses are my two sons which is barely enough to pull it off that you aren’t under duress. I’m already having to scratch out the part about rings since neither of you have one. You want to keep the Decency Committee out of your business – and mine – then you best come up with something that will pass muster. I can’t just sign the paper and say ‘Ya’ll are married. Kiss her and go on about yer business.’ That wouldn’t even fly with my wife … not to mention her I gotta live with.”
Dunn just looked at me. I knew that feeling. He might have been acting like he was leaving it up to me, but what it really was is that I was being tested. I turned to Mr. Davenport then looked over the speech he normally gives. They made it way more complicated than it had to be and I decided to fix that. “Ask us if we vow that we are both legally free to marry each other. Then say, that being the case, do you, I mean we, vow to be loyal to one another till … um … till … er …”
Dunn said quietly, “Till death do us part.”
I swallowed and nodded. “After that part you can throw in that legal authority bit about vested power and all that.”
Mr. Davenport gave us both a searching look then nodded. “Short and to the point. Good enough. And likely more honest than many I’ve witnessed. Now stand here and let’s get ‘r done.”
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
I looked at Dunn and said, “You took out the part about kissing the bride.”
“Yep.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because Howard is a good man, but his sons have tongues that are hinged in the middle and run at both ends. Our business is our business.”
I relaxed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a hint of a smile in his voice. Then he said, “Though maybe I should be thanking you. I hadn’t intended on doing business. If we didn’t have your wagon I would have had to get to the homesite and turn right around and come back with mine. Someone is nosing around. Looks like I either have competition or it’s the tax man.”
“Why can’t it be both? I heard the State Rep is buying up businesses that can’t pay their taxes … or at least getting pieces of the businesses. The man isn’t stupid, and no one should be stopped from improving their lot … the question is whether it is by legal means or not.”
After a short silence he said, “Still, most would have been upset I was doing business on the wedding day.”
“Business is what keeps a roof over our heads.”
“And food on the table.”
“I’m gonna put food on the table, you just take care of the roof.”
“That a fact,” he said, and his humorous disbelief pinched me a bit.
“Yes. I’m not just gonna sit on some chair with my feet propped up while you do all the work. We’re partners, and I mean to pull my share of the load. For instance,” I told him quickly pulling the slingshot from my pocket and taking aim at a grouse that I had just spotted out of the corner of my eye.
Dunn stopped the wagon and I hopped out and then climbed back in with the dead bird. He looked at the bird then me and said, “Alrighty then.” He flicked the reins and we continued down the road.
The next morning, I handed Mr. Jackson a mug of coffee to go with his portion of the omelet we were sharing; this one flavored with a bit of wild onion and some of his beef jerky. And yes, a bit of cheese as well. He didn’t talk much, neither did I, but he did tip his mug in my direction to indicate some appreciation.
“I’m sorry, but there are only about a dozen eggs left.”
“I’ll see what can be done about that.”
I blinked. “I … didn’t mean …”
He looked at me again rather intently then slowly nodded. “When I make a bargain, I stick with the terms.”
“The terms didn’t say anything about granting me wishes like you are some fairytale genie.”
He gave a snort of a chuckle. “No. They did not. But I like to eat at least as much as the next man and I’m smart enough to know that chickens will help with that.”
“Um … it doesn’t have to be chickens. Ducks or geese are good as well.”
“Do tell.”
Whether he meant it as a joke or not I decided to be honest. “Poppa was fond of duck hunting at one time … before the Troubles. He said Arkansas had some of the finest duck hunting in the country. People have winnowed down the wild flocks trying to feed their families but there’s still enough of them to be worth cultivating and I can catch some and domesticate them. Mawmaw taught me how. That’s how the flock I had … before … got started.”
“You … caught ducks to start your own flock.”
“Yes I did,” I said tilting my chin up a little. “All it takes is a fishing net, patience, and the ability to put up with their pinches and keep their flight feathers clipped until they are resigned to their fate.”
“Resigned to their fate, huh. Were they happy with their fate?”
Now I knew he was laughing at me. “Maybe not by human standards but the drakes were happy enough that the flock grew and the females laid a lot of eggs and would hatch them if I left them in the nest. They still pinched but that’s a duck for you.”
Tongue in cheek he asked, “And geese?”
“Mawmaw kept a few geese which I helped her with, but Josiah didn’t manage them properly. They stopped laying, and if they wouldn’t lay they went in the pot. I told him I would keep him in goose and feathers if he would just let me have the flock, but he wouldn’t go for it as he refused to accept it was him that was managing things wrong. I did get the mules out of him but not until that woman he’d taken up with threw him over for someone else that would help her start the Cantina. They were the last ones that Poppa bred. Their dams were draft horses which is why they are so big. They were doing poorly until I bartered them away from him last summer.”
“I remember you saying something when we met.”
Something struck me in that moment. Contrary to the way things usually ran, I was doing most of the talking. I knew that meant he wasn’t telling me things; the question was it on purpose or not.
Breakfast was an easy clean up because we’d shared the skillet rather than get plates out that would need to be cleaned and repacked. It seemed like a practical thing to do in the beginning but felt intimate by the end. I grew uncomfortable but wasn’t successful at hiding it. He looked at me and asked, “Second thoughts?”
“No.” Then to be honest I clarified, “This … bargain is going to take me a place I’ve never been; and I’m not just speaking about your home.” I could feel myself blushing, but this needed to be said. “I’m not backing out … or backing down from the agreement. I’m not even asking for time. I’m trying to deal with the baggage I picked up with Levi. But I’m nervous and … I’m working on it. I’ll get it under control.”
“Well as you work on it give this a think or three. I’ve never been married. I’ve got an idea of how this is supposed to work. Got an idea of how I want it to work. It keeps hitting me. And you being just nineteen … that’s a stick that is stirring my brain.”
“You’re younger than Levi was.”
He snorted. “Do me a favor, make one of those things you’re working on a way to not bring him up so much.”
I realized he was correct. “You’re right. I shouldn’t. And I won’t when I can help it, but it is going to take some practice not bringing him up. I’ll make mistakes.”
Probably nicer than most men would he said, “I’m not asking for perfection. You won’t be getting that from me either. Just … pick a different yardstick to measure me by.”
I nodded hoping he would be as willing to use a kinder yardstick to measure me by than a dead woman impossible to measure up to.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
We were within site of the mill when Mr. Jackson suddenly said, “Dammit, I don’t even know what to call you.”
“Coralie.”
“Coralie?”
Then while he was still wrapping his head around my mother’s bit of nonsense, I told him the rest of it. “Coralie Annag Delmira Dunlop Tanner. I was the last girl of my generation and apparently they thought it cute to dump all of the leftover inherited names on me. French, Scottish, and German. However, if you ever call me Cora I cannot promise not to throw something at you.”
He got over his surprise and saw I was trying my best to make the uncomfortable truth funny.
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes. My name is Coralie, not Cora. Cora was Poppa’s sister and … less said about her the better. Or so Poppa informed me. Do you prefer me to call you Dunn or is there something else?”
“Dunn,” he answered finally moving us forward again. He was driving the wagon with his horse tied to the back. “I don’t have a middle name.”
“Really? That must be a relief.”
“It is a pain in the butt. Or was. The military doesn’t let you get away with not having one however and they made me at least pick a letter. I picked ‘X’ and I sign my name with it but it means nothing.”
“Ok.”
“No lecture that I should have given it some thought and come up with something meaningful?”
“Why? Do you wish you had … whatever it was you just said?”
“No,” he said with a snort of a laugh and the beginnings of a smile.
“Then I don’t see it matters. It is certainly easier to remember than the mouthful that was hung on me. Looks like someone recognizes you.”
Turning his head to look where I indicated, we both saw a man coming down the mill’s stairs with a friendly wave.
When we pulled up he was full of curiosity when he said, “Dunn! How ya been ol’ Son? Didn’t expect you until the next shipment come!”
“You’ll expect this next part even less Howard,” Mr. Jackson responded.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
“By the power vested in me by the State of Arkansas I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Boy had that been a quick ceremony. Howard Davenport seems a kind man. But he is also lean and tough as old raw hide. He doesn’t suffer much patience for what he called tomfoolery. We’d both had to prove our identities. Mr. Jackson … Dunn … was already well known to Mr. Davenport. The only thing he did was provide his National ID so the number could be put on the official documents. I on the other hand was not known so I had to show my National ID, my passport (long out of date), my birth certificate (lucky I had it and that it hadn’t been destroyed in the Troubles), my marriage certificate, and then a certified copy of Levi’s death certificate as well as the notarized and sealed letter the bank gave me saying that the mortgage on the farm was released. That was the easy part.
Where it got a little sticky was when I asked that the words “love” or “cherish” be removed from the wedding vows.
“Why?” Mr. Davenport asked suspiciously.
“Dunn Jackson and I have come to an understanding. Or you can call it an agreement or a contract or any definition you want to hang on it. We are both going into this in good faith. Either way I don’t think it is very smart to walk into such an understanding and then turn right around and lie about it in a vow.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve heard these things called a marriage of convenience. Well it isn’t very convenient for people to start out the chute expecting things they have no right to expect from the other.”
“Be that as it may young woman, I still need something to fill the blank with. The only witnesses are my two sons which is barely enough to pull it off that you aren’t under duress. I’m already having to scratch out the part about rings since neither of you have one. You want to keep the Decency Committee out of your business – and mine – then you best come up with something that will pass muster. I can’t just sign the paper and say ‘Ya’ll are married. Kiss her and go on about yer business.’ That wouldn’t even fly with my wife … not to mention her I gotta live with.”
Dunn just looked at me. I knew that feeling. He might have been acting like he was leaving it up to me, but what it really was is that I was being tested. I turned to Mr. Davenport then looked over the speech he normally gives. They made it way more complicated than it had to be and I decided to fix that. “Ask us if we vow that we are both legally free to marry each other. Then say, that being the case, do you, I mean we, vow to be loyal to one another till … um … till … er …”
Dunn said quietly, “Till death do us part.”
I swallowed and nodded. “After that part you can throw in that legal authority bit about vested power and all that.”
Mr. Davenport gave us both a searching look then nodded. “Short and to the point. Good enough. And likely more honest than many I’ve witnessed. Now stand here and let’s get ‘r done.”
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
I looked at Dunn and said, “You took out the part about kissing the bride.”
“Yep.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because Howard is a good man, but his sons have tongues that are hinged in the middle and run at both ends. Our business is our business.”
I relaxed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a hint of a smile in his voice. Then he said, “Though maybe I should be thanking you. I hadn’t intended on doing business. If we didn’t have your wagon I would have had to get to the homesite and turn right around and come back with mine. Someone is nosing around. Looks like I either have competition or it’s the tax man.”
“Why can’t it be both? I heard the State Rep is buying up businesses that can’t pay their taxes … or at least getting pieces of the businesses. The man isn’t stupid, and no one should be stopped from improving their lot … the question is whether it is by legal means or not.”
After a short silence he said, “Still, most would have been upset I was doing business on the wedding day.”
“Business is what keeps a roof over our heads.”
“And food on the table.”
“I’m gonna put food on the table, you just take care of the roof.”
“That a fact,” he said, and his humorous disbelief pinched me a bit.
“Yes. I’m not just gonna sit on some chair with my feet propped up while you do all the work. We’re partners, and I mean to pull my share of the load. For instance,” I told him quickly pulling the slingshot from my pocket and taking aim at a grouse that I had just spotted out of the corner of my eye.
Dunn stopped the wagon and I hopped out and then climbed back in with the dead bird. He looked at the bird then me and said, “Alrighty then.” He flicked the reins and we continued down the road.
