Ribbon in the Sky

by Dorothy Garlock

  Letty crossed the room to the ticket window, her heels making a hollow sound on the board floor.

  “Where to?” The agent got up from the desk and came to the window.

  “Ah . . . Lincoln.”

  “One dollar and twenty-five cents.” Letty gave him a five-dollar bill. He gave her the change and slapped a ticket down on the counter. “Jasper!” he yelled.

  “Yessir.”

  “Put this red tag on the lady’s suitcase. Make sure it’s on good now. We don’t want it to fall off.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Train’ll be through at eleven-twenty. I leave at eleven, but I’ll put out the signal for it to stop.”

  “Thank you.”

  Letty sat down on the end of the bench that stretched across the room. It would be an hour and a half before she could get on the train. It seemed an eternity. She thought of how easy it had been to lie to the liveryman. She was sure he would mention her destination to her father when he came for the horse and buggy. Let him think she was going to Chicago. He would be glad she was going so far away. When she reached Lincoln, she would buy her ticket to Boley.

  At eleven o’clock the agent turned off the light that hung over his desk, locked the barred ticket cage, and left the station without a look in Letty’s direction. Time passed slowly. The porter moved in and out of the station, carrying out stinking spittoons and returning with clean ones. He dipped up cigar and cigarette butts from sand-filled stone urns and wiped off the benches with a wet cloth.

  “Mister?” Letty called hesitantly.

  “Yes’m.”

  “Will you mail a letter for me in the morning?”

  “Ah . . . yes’m.”

  Letty stood and pulled the letter from her pocket. She reached into her bag for a coin and held it out to him.

  “Here’s a fifty-cent piece. Buy a two-cent stamp and place it right here.” She pointed to the upper corner of the envelope. “You keep the rest for your trouble.”

  “Yes’m. I will.”

  Letty placed the coin in his palm along with the letter. Jasper’s eyes were riveted to the coin. Four bits! For that much he could stay the whole night with Tulla Sue and she’d let him do everything he wanted to do to her. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and murmured: “Thanky, Jesus, fer bringin’ that little lady here tonight.”

  The train pulled into the station a full thirty seconds before eleven-twenty. After it came to a grinding, lurching stop, the conductor climbed down carrying a small wooden box and placed it in front of the steps to the passenger car.

  “All aboard!”

  Letty went forward with her ticket in her outstretched hand.

  “Step aboard, miss. I’ll pick up your ticket later. Hey there, boy. Get that suitcase on down to the baggage car.” The conductor pulled a thick railroad watch from his pocket and flipped open the lid. “We’re pulling out in one minute.”

  A dim light lit the almost empty coach. Letty took the first vacant seat she came to and slid in next to the window. Fear of the unknown swept over her. She was on a train for the second time in her life that she remembered. This time she was alone. Seven years ago, when her father took the church at Dunlap, they had ridden the train to Huxley from a small town fifty miles south. It had seemed like a great adventure at the time. A sliver of fear ran through her and set her body to quivering. She stared at her reflection in the train window as if looking at a stranger.

  How long? Oh, how long until Mike would come for her?

  Jasper shoved Letty’s suitcase in the baggage compartment. The sliding door slammed shut and the conductor waved his lantern to signal the engineer to start the train. With steam hissing and black smoke rolling from the smokestack, the iron wheels grated against the rails, and the huge locomotive strained to pull the cars from the station.

  Letty continued to look at her reflection in the window. The day’s events had put such a strain on her that she felt faintly ill. It seemed unreal to her that she was alone on a train in the middle of the night. She tried to keep her thoughts away from the hateful things her father had said. A lump, difficult to swallow, rose up in her throat. She would not think of it, she told herself sternly. She would think of the years ahead—with Mike, and she would think about the baby and the love they would lavish upon it.

  But the hurt was too deep to brush away at will.

  Before she knew it, her thoughts were back in the room upstairs, and her father was shouting obscenities at her. A chill formed around her heart. She vowed she would never, as long as she lived, forgive her family for what they had done to her.

  * * *

  Jasper waited until the train had been swallowed up by the night and all that was left was the click-clack of wheels against rails. He took from his pocket the letter the woman had given him. A wide smile covered his face as he tore it into small pieces and scattered the bits of paper along the cinders between the rails. When the last piece was gone, he dipped into his pocket for the half dollar. His fingers caressed the coin, loving the weight of it in his hand, thinking about the pleasure it would buy him.

  Jasper quickly scanned the platform to make sure he had done everything the boss man had told him to do, then took off running down the wooden cross-ties toward the shack along the tracks where Tulla Sue would make him feel like a king.

  * * *

  Exhausted and emotionally spent from the sleepless night and the long wait in Lincoln, Letty arrived in Boley twenty-four hours after she left Huxley. She stood on the dimly lit platform and waited with several other passengers while the luggage was taken from the baggage car. A billboard attached to the station wall advertised the Hewitt Hotel as having “lodgings in good style.” It also said “reasonably priced.”

  “Someone meeting you, dear?” An older woman, stylishly dressed and with a buxom figure, spoke to Letty.

  “Ah . . . no. I’ll stay in a hotel tonight. Tomorrow I’ll go out to my grandparents’ farm.”

  “Are you going to the Hewitt by any chance?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. I own the Hewitt. My man will be along shortly. You can ride to the hotel with me.”

  “Thank you.”

  Letty climbed into the middle seat of the three-seat conveyance when it arrived. The owner sat behind the driver and plied him with questions about the happenings in town while she was away. Letty was glad she didn’t have to make conversation. She was tired but keyed up too. She had never stayed at a hotel. Her father had said it wasn’t proper for a lady to go to one of those places. Well, proper or not, she couldn’t sit in the railway station all night, and she sure couldn’t find anyone to take her out to the Fletcher farm until morning. The price of the room was what worried her. She had already spent seven dollars of her precious money. The Lord only knew how long she had to make it last. If her grandparents didn’t take her in, she’d have to come back to town. Oh, Lord! She didn’t dare think of that.

  The business places of Boley ringed the town square. All were dark except for a billiard parlor and the lobby of the hotel on the corner. The rubber-tired vehicle, pulled by a single horse, turned off the square and stopped on the side street. The driver first helped his employer down, then Letty. She followed the woman into the lobby and stood hesitantly beside the door. Sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Deep leather chairs occupied by men in dark business suits sat in groups on thick carpet. Cigar smoke filled the air.

  “Register at the desk, dear,” the woman said gently when she turned and saw the bewildered look on Letty’s face. “Herman will take your suitcase up to your room.”

  Checking into the hotel had not been as terrifying an experience as she imagined it to be. It was going to cost her seventy-five cents to stay here tonight, but it was worth it. After Letty washed, she used the water closet down the hall, put on her nightdress, and crawled into the bed.

  Mike, I’m so scared! A picture of him standing among the willows danced before her eyes. He was smiling and hol
ding his arms out to her. Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Her last thoughts were of him before she fell into a deep sleep.

  Later, Letty was to be grateful she had met Mrs. Hewitt. She asked at the general store and at several other places in town, but no one had heard of Jacob Fletcher. Discouraged and on the verge of tears, she entered the hotel lobby and sank down in one of the deep chairs.

  “Did you find someone to take you to your grandpa’s, dear?” Mrs. Hewitt came and stood beside her chair.

  “No, ma’am. No one seems to know him. May I sit here a little while?”

  “Of course. Did you ask Mr. Caffery at the livery?”

  Letty nodded. “He doesn’t know where Grandpa Fletcher lives.”

  “Well, he hasn’t been here but a couple of years. How long has it been since you’ve seen your grandparents?”

  “Ten years or more. But I know they live near Boley. Their letters come from here.”

  “That doesn’t mean a lot. People in the country send their mail to town by anyone who happens along. Who else have you asked?”

  “The man at the feed store, the drugstore, and the bank.”

  “Ask Doc Whittier. He’s been here a long time and knows everyone within fifty miles. His office is above the drugstore.”

  With hope alive once more, Letty hurried down the street and up the stairway that clung to the side of the brick building. The printing on the frosted glass in the door read: DOCTOR SAMUEL WHITTIER, GENERAL MEDICINE. COME IN.

  Letty went in. The man closing a glass-doored cabinet was short and stooped. He had thin gray hair and a gray handlebar mustache. Sharp blue eyes scrutinized her through round wire spectacles.

  “You sick?”

  “No, sir. I’m looking for my grandpa, Jacob Fletcher. Mrs. Hewitt at the hotel said you might be able to help me.”

  “What about him? What’s that old buzzard up to now?”

  “You know him?”

  “For nigh on forty years.”

  “Thank goodness. I’m his granddaughter—”

  “His granddaughter, huh? I remember when that scatter-brained Mable Fletcher ran off with a crazy preacher that came through here stirring up folks. Leaving like she did almost broke Leona’s heart.”

  “You know where they live. Oh, that’s a relief. Now I’ve got to find a way to get out there.”

  “Where you from, girl?”

  “I came in on the train from Lincoln.”

  “The Fletcher place is up near Piedmont.”

  “Oh. I was real little when I was here last. I thought they lived near Boley.”

  “Boley’s the hub for a lot of places.”

  “Oh, shoot. Do you know when the next train comes through?”

  “I’m going up to Claypool.” The doctor reached for a battered old hat and slammed it down on his head. “You can ride that far with me. I’ll find someone to give you a ride on up to the farm.” He eyed her closely. “Are you going to stay a while?”

  “I plan to.”

  “Good. Although the stubborn old coot swears he doesn’t, Jacob could use a hand with Leona.”

  “Is Grandma sick?”

  “Has been for years. I never understood why that daughter of theirs never came back to see about her. Well, there’s no understanding some folks. Go fetch your suitcase and put it in that touring car parked out front.”

  Once out of town, Doc Whittier drove the touring car as if he were trying to escape the hangman. Letty sat in the front seat beside him, holding onto her hat with one hand and the door with the other. She could count on one hand the number of times she had ridden in an automobile. The wind assaulted her, burning her eyes and stinging her cheeks. The trees seemed to whiz by as the car bounced over the rutted road. They splashed across a small rock-bottomed stream. Doc Whittier laughed with glee when they were sprayed with water. He shoved on the lever to give the automobile more gas, and the car roared up the bank on the other side. Wearing driving glasses to protect his eyes from the dust, he sat hunched over the wheel clearly enjoying himself.

  Abruptly, they turned off the road and onto what was no more than a cow path. Fresh cow manure squished beneath the rubber tires. At one time it was so thick that the back of the car fishtailed, causing Letty to gasp. The doctor let out a whoop of laughter. The homestead at the end of the track consisted of a log house with a sod roof and a barn that leaned to one side. Within an enclosure made by a single strand of barbed wire going from tree to tree, a small herd of thin cows munched on dry grass.

  The doctor drove into the yard. Chickens squawked and scattered, hogs squealed and ran toward the trees on short stubby legs. A woman with a young but tired-looking face herded children out the door and gestured for them to wait beneath an oak tree.

  The doctor got out and took his bag from behind the seat. “This’ll take a minute or two.”

  The woman followed the doctor into the house. The children stared with open-mouthed fascination at the automobile. After a while a small boy disappeared around the corner of the house, then appeared leading a piglet on a rope. He came up close to show Letty his pet. She smiled at him. Encouraged, he began to run in circles to show her how the piglet would follow. A little girl suddenly upended herself and stood on her hands, her dress falling down around her head. One of the boys swatted her on the bottom. She squealed, then began turning cartwheels. Letty clapped her hands in appreciation of the show. The child beamed.

  Doc Whittier came out followed by the woman. He spoke a few words to her, then put his bag behind the seat. The woman herded the children back out of the way, and they watched as he adjusted levers and cranked until the motor roared to life. Letty waved to the children as the car circled the yard, and they headed back down the track.

  “Was one of the children sick?” Letty shouted.

  “Naw,” the doctor shouted back. “The damn fool cut off his big toe with the ax. The woman did a good job on it, but he’ll be laid up for a while.” He yelled a few more phrases that Letty couldn’t understand over the roar of the motor. She was glad when he gave all of his attention to his driving. The speed at which they were traveling was frightening and she held onto the sides of the seat when they hit bends in the road.

  Claypool, when they reached it, was no more than six weather-beaten buildings stretched out along the road. The touring car roared into town in a cloud of dust. Horses hitched to buggies and farm wagons along the street shied and tugged at the reins holding them to the hitching rails. Men in overalls and women holding tightly to the hands of young children came out onto the board porches of the business places to see the automobile and its occupants.

  According to the smile on the doctor’s face, driving was clearly one of his pleasures in life. When the car rolled to a stop in front of the general store and the roar of the motor died away, men came off the porches and gathered around. They gave Letty furtive glances, but none spoke to her.

  “Howdy, Doc.”

  “How long’d it take ya this time, Doc?”

  “Didn’t make good time. Had to stop off at the Ramseys.”

  “Heard that Lyle cut off his toe. Haw! Haw! Haw!”

  “You’d not be laughing if it was your toe,” the doctor growled.

  “The radiator’s boilin’, Doc. Ya want me to fetch a bucket a water?”

  “Yeah. I’d be obliged.”

  A skinny shorthaired dog came out from under the porch, walked slowly up to the front wheel on the car, hoisted his leg, and sprayed it well.

  “Hey there!” Doc shouted, hitting the dog on the back with his hat. “Get the hell away from there. You do that every damn time I come to town. I just had those wheels varnished.”

  The men laughed. “Ole Sport thinks them tires needs coolin’ off, Doc.”

  “Ole Sport’s piss is eating the varnish off the spokes!”

  “He likes ya, Doc,”

  The doctor snorted. “Any a you fellers want to take this young lady out to Jacob Fletcher’s pla
ce?”

  There was sudden silence while all eyes turned on Letty. The doctor had given the cue that it was all right to look openly at his passenger. It was an introduction—of sorts. The women on the porches stared. The faces closer to Letty were male, mostly hard. They reflected the times as they reflected the place. Here in Nebraska times were hard. The men worked day after day, year after year, to eke a living out of the soil for themselves and their families. The hands that lifted to touch the brims of hats were large, worn, and callused.

  “She Jacob’s kin?”

  “Granddaughter,” Doc said.

  “Looks like a city girl.”

  “Reckon she is.”

  “Won’t be stayin’ long is my guess.”

  “It’d be all right with me if’n she does.” The young man who spoke had straw-colored hair springing thickly from the scalp. It was parted in the middle and combed over a receding hairline. Letty’s eyes flew to his, then quickly away. He was staring with admiration.

  “She’s going to see her grandma and it’s nobody’s business how long she stays.” Doc Whittier stood with his feet spread, his hands on his sides, and looked at each of the men.

  Letty’s face reddened. She felt as if she were on display. The men and Doc Whittier were talking as if she weren’t there.

  “It’s a fer piece out to Jacob’s.” The man who spoke leaned behind another man to spit tobacco juice on the ground.

  “I know how far it is,” Doc Whittier growled impatiently. “Every single one of you fellers owes me a bill. I’ll knock two dollars off on the one that takes her out to Jacob’s.”

  “Hell. I reckon I can take her, Doc.” A man edged toward the side of the car where Letty sat, leaned against it, and eyed her boldly. His grin showed tobacco-stained teeth. His eyes wandered over Letty until the doctor’s sharp voice brought them back to him.