Jolene - A western Romance

By E.A. Steele

An amazing story of a mother that would do anything for her son whom she loves so much.

The strength of Jolene's love for her son is remarkable. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outlaws Publishing LLC
• Release date: May 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224455874

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Copyright © 2017 by Elizabeth Davis

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

This book may contain views, premises, depictions, and statements by the author that are not necessarily shared or endorsed by Outlaws Publishing LLC.

For information contact: [e-mail]

Cover design by Outlaws Publishing LLC

Published by Outlaws Publishing LLC

May 2024

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DEDICATION

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To all of the brave men who tamed the Wild West and to all the brave women who tamed them.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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I would like to thank the following extraordinary people who have all contributed to the writing of this book in their own unique way:

aflower_bak My grandmother Elizabeth Rhea, my parents Robert and Mary Rhea, my sisters Kathy Allen and Leah Lawson, my daughter Rebecca, and my son Nathan. Special thanks to my husband Troy who holds down the fort so that I can write and my daughter Rachel Meredith who spends hours proofreading with me.

Thank You!

00007.jpeg Prologue

With the warmth of the sun beginning to bring a sweat to his brow, Jim Adams wiped his sleeve across his face. Taking in the feel of the breeze and the smell of the west Texas prairie, made his morning task of rounding up cattle an agreeable one. The day was beautiful; it was one of those Texas days when the sky is blue, there’s not a cloud in sight, and a gentle wind blows in from the north every now and again. 

Jim had just sat back in his saddle for a moment’s rest when the screams began. He knew immediately where they were coming from. Driving his spurs deep into the gelding’s flanks he rode across the pasture heading straight for the house, praying that he would make it in time for Mary and the children. 

Jim rode up minutes after the Indians struck. Before he was even off his horse he was screaming the names of his wife and children. When he could find no sign of his children, he knew they had been taken. His wife lay bleeding in front of the cabin. Jim scooped her up, attempting to stop the flow of blood. He knew it was useless, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up. Finally, when reality set in, he clutched her body to his chest sobbing and screaming her name. She was gone and he knew it. With his heart breaking he carried her inside and laid her on their bed. He covered her with the quilt she had made for them. Tears streamed down the big man’s face, as he cursed himself for not being there to protect them. He should have been there for Mary and the children. His children! He kissed his wife’s forehead and ran back outside to his horse.

Damned, heathens! he shouted. However, his anger was quickly replaced with desperation. He must save his children. He mounted up and wheeled his horse around as he searched the ground for evidence. Signs showed there had been at least five men. He would need help.

Numbly, he rode the five miles to his neighbor’s. He saw the billowing gray smoke from a distance and he knew something was terribly wrong. Sure enough, as he got closer, he realized that he had ridden from one nightmare straight into another. His friend Matthew lay dead in the yard, arrows through his body. Matthew’s two boys, just youngsters, lay near the front door. 

Must have been trying to protect their momma, Jim was a strong man, but the devastation and the death was overwhelming. He dreaded what he would find in the cabin. Inside the cabin, Matthew’s wife lay on the floor still clutching their baby. Both of them had been killed by the same arrow. He gathered the bodies and placed them in the cabin. He would bury them if he returned. 

A cold resoluteness began to work its way up Jim’s spine, replacing the feeling of anguish. His wife had been murdered and his children taken from him. Matthew and his family had been struck down mercilessly, and those responsible for it all were still alive and well. Jim swung himself back onto his horse and wheeled it around. Hard as it was going to be, and at whatever cost, he would get his children back and the Indians would pay dearly.

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The Indians had ridden hard for hours. By the evening, when they stopped to set up camp, Johnny had begun to cry for his mother. Jolene had tried everything she could think of to quiet him. She could tell by the way the Indians kept looking at him that they were beginning to get fed up with the noise.

Daddy will find us, she had promised him and she knew deep in her heart that it was true. She knew her daddy would find her and take her home. Johnny was too little. He wanted his momma and could not understand that she was not coming for him. 

Jolene had pressed her body against him as tight as she could when she realized that the Indians were coming for him. They had pushed her roughly aside and cutting Johnny’s ropes had scooped him up and walked out of the camp with him. A few minutes later the crying had abruptly stopped, and the big Indians had come back to camp alone. Jolene had been just a child, but she knew what had happened to her baby brother. She had curled up in a little ball at the base of the old tree that she was tied to. Then she had quietly cried herself to sleep. 

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In the end, Jim found them. No one was ever clear on how he accomplished what he had. He had come across the small body of his son killed by the Indians. He had wrapped little Johnny up with a blanket that had been meant to keep him warm on the ride home. Through tears Jim tied his son to the back of his horse as gently and securely as possible. Then he mounted back up. 

God take my Mary and little Johnny in your arms and keep them safe till I get there. He wiped the tears from his eyes as another emotion began to take hold of him. Jolene was still out there and so were those responsible for the killing of his family. 

The Indians had bedded down for the night when Jim struck. There were no Indians left to tell any tales. No one ever got clear on the exact details. All anyone knew was Jim had ridden into the Indian’s camp and had unleashed hell. When it was all over, Jim had found his daughter, cut the ropes that bound her wrists and feet, and picked her up. Jolene buried her face against his strong shoulders and had only then allowed herself to really cry. She had seen the little bundle on the back of the horse and had known it was her Johnny. She had cried into her daddy’s chest until she had no more tears left. All the while Jim kept one arm tightly wrapped around her. Not daring to loosen his hold on the only thing he had left. It’s okay baby girl, it’s okay. 

He had comforted her for miles, singing songs, telling her stories, trying to keep her mind off of the losses she had suffered. He was well aware of one more she was going to run into. He had gotten the Indians, but they had gotten him too. But for the short time he had left, he held his little girl in his arms and when finally, she had gone to sleep, he had ridden on, long after his strength was gone, to get her to safety. He had listened to her breathing while his heart was breaking. What would become of his beautiful child? He had ridden into town with Jolene in front of him in the saddle, sound asleep, safe in her daddy’s strong arms. 

The townsfolk remembered him riding in, handing the still sleeping Jolene to the deputy, and then sliding off his horse, all of his strength gone, the arrow that he had hidden from Jolene, sticking straight out of his back. They had buried him with his Mary and Johnny in the town’s cemetery. The womenfolk had cleaned up the cabin and saved what could be salvaged. The farm belonged to Jolene and it was decided by the town’s judge that it would be left alone until the time Jolene would be of the age to take care of the property. Jolene was taken in by the pastor and his wife. Although she was raised with love and care, she never forgot those who had taken her family away from her.

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CHAPTER ONE

Jolene pushed back a strand of red hair that had fallen across her eyes and watched as the sun begin to rise over the hills. The worries, now such a part of her life, made her appear older than her twenty-six years. Her eyes once the colors of a spring sky were now a watery blue and were rimmed in red. Her hands were no longer the soft hands of a young girl, but were now hands hardened from years of scraping out a living in a ruthless land. Her hair hung down her back in what was meant to be a braid. She was a young woman, but she had lived hard. On closer examination one could see she was beautiful; thin and tired, with a haggard look in her eyes, but beautiful none the less.

An assortment of chickens pecked at the ground near her feet, oblivious to the hopelessness of the woman. She would take her eyes off the horizon and look down at them every now and then. The rooster had stopped his crowing, finally convinced that everything was awake and raring to go, and was now dutifully scratching the ground and calling for his hens to enjoy some morsel he had found. She threw a handful of cornbread scraps out to them and headed to the henhouse to collect the eggs for breakfast.

As she checked each nest her mind drifted off to Ben. Her best friend and the farm’s handy man would be returning soon from his trip into town. She decided to splurge a bit and cook a full breakfast, something she hadn’t done in a while. Having a man around to fuss over was one of the small things she had missed since Brad had left them. Brad, her husband, had ridden off months before swearing to come back with a herd of cows. That was the last she had heard from him. Her man had not even had the gumption of a rooster, she thought to herself, but he sure had strutted around like one. Even a rooster took better care of his own than Brad Walker had. It was a shame, but it was true. He had tried to stick it out, she knew, but he was a small minded man. 

When the telegram had arrived from back east informing Jolene that she was the sole beneficiary of a relative’s will, Jolene had hoped that things would even out and that Brad would settle down. The relative had been a wealthy banker, and had left Jolene a tidy sum of money. She had been ecstatic; they could have done so much around the place, really fixed things up. Unfortunately, the money only stirred up contention and strife. She had wanted to stick the money away and think on it a while before spending it, while Brad was all about a good time, and showing off the money to the townsfolk. His bragging only served to set their friends against them. They regarded the way he spent his money as an ignorant waste. 

Then Brad had begun to stay in town overnight, drunk and in bed with a saloon girl every time. Before long, the nights had turned into days, during which time he would not even bother to ride out and check on his woman or his land. Jolene knew their money was trickling away. Between the rounds of whiskey, upping the ante at every poker game he sat down to, and the women, Brad was draining the well dry.

When he did come stumbling home, Jolene would try and reason with him. But his temper just got hotter and their situation just got worse. So, although it killed her to stand back watching him pull more money out of the old coffee can on the shelf and then ride off again, she felt powerless to stop him.

After weeks of squandering money in town, Brad had come home with the talk of getting into the cattle business. Word had it that the price of beef was up and ranchers up North were scrambling to rustle up as many head from down South as they could drive back to their spreads. Money hungry, Brad decided to join in with neighboring ranchers and spend the last of their money on a herd of his own. Jolene had tried to discourage the idea. Everyone had. What Brad Walker knew about cattle ranching could be stuffed inside a thimble. Still, he had taken the rest of their money and just left, promising to be back with a herd in a few weeks. 

After he had left, Jolene discovered her stash was gone too. The bit that she had managed to put aside, hidden in her mother’s teapot. Money she had been planning to keep back for hard times. Money he had no right to. She had waited, hopeful at first that she was wrong about him, hoping that he would come riding up to the house and swing off his horse and take her in his arms. God, she missed that man. As low down and no good as she knew he was, she still missed him. She missed the way he would come riding up in the yard, shirt tight against his chest and arms, all man, and at one time all hers. For months she had dreamed of nothing but his return. She had been sure he would return. He always had. 

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A loud squawk brought her back to her chores. She turned back to gathering the eggs. A couple of biddies held their ground refusing to move, so she carefully slipped her hands under them reaching for the eggs they were intent on keeping. 

Sorry ladies, she smiled in spite of herself at their indignation. Once the eggs had been gathered she made her way to the barn where she could hear the cows bellowing out to her impatiently, waiting to be milked.

Jolene noticed her favorite one, Old Bess, who hadn’t been at the trough the night before with all the others, was still missing. She was close to calving and Jolene figured she was bedded down in some bushes somewhere.

I’ve got to remember to get Ben to go out and look for her after breakfast. She must have got herself hung up somewhere, Jolene said to herself as she tied the first cow up and threw her some hay. 

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As she sat down on the milking stool to begin her milking she let her thoughts drift back to Brad. She had been expecting a new start. A new start, which would show up everyone who had ever said they were never going to make it. She knew now that it was not going to happen, he had been gone too long. He was a weak man given