Charity

by Paulette Callen

  “You have a beautiful family, Alvinia. Everyone says so.”

  “It’s time we’re getting back. Alice is home alone with Vernon and Kirstin and they can be a handful. I don’t like to leave them too long.”

  “Come again, Alvinia. You’re always welcome. Bring the baby. I’ll bet she’s getting big.”

  Alvinia promised to bring her entire brood by and was gone.

  As Lena washed the two cups and Eldon’s glass she wondered if maybe it wasn’t better if Alvinia didn’t bring the children with her, because their leaving was like a lamp being blown out. But for once she was lifted out of the mire of her own longings by worry about her friend. She said out loud, “What’s got into Gustie?”

  Gustie grabbed the pitchfork and tried to work off the anger she still felt from last night.

  As they had driven out of Charity, Gustie hated every white face she saw. She was so angry she wanted to take the horse whip that extended like a skinny flagpole from the corner of her wagon, a whip she had never used, and whip them all till their backs ran blood and were as scar ridden as Jordis’s. She hated the whiteness of her own hands gripping the reins. Her bandaged wrists throbbed with pain.

  Wasichu. What did it mean? It didn’t mean white, Jordis had said. What did it mean? More like devil... Where had she heard that?

  No one had said a word as they left Doc Moody’s clinic, as they climbed into their wagons, or during the three miles to Gustie’s house. Only the clopping of horses’ hooves intruded upon the sighing of the prairie. She wondered whose horse and wagon Dorcas and Jordis had borrowed. Jordis seemed incomplete without Moon.

  “Here we are,” Gustie said unnecessarily as she stopped her wagon in front of her house.

  Jordis took care of the horses. Gustie led Dorcas inside to start supper.

  “Your wrists hurt.” Dorcas said as she sat in the chair Gustie pulled out for her.

  “Yes, a little.”

  “Been taking care of them the way I told you?”

  Gustie felt three years old caught in a misdemeanor.

  “Come here.”

  Gustie obeyed.

  Dorcas unwound the bandage on Gustie’s left wrist. The flesh was still shocking in its appearance. It looked like butchered meat, not human flesh, where it had been gouged, but it no longer bled and was not infected. Dorcas examined it critically. “Not too bad.” Before Gustie could reply, she added, “Not good either. Where is the salve I made for you?”

  Gustie got the jar from the shelf above the sink and a bag full of strips of cloth Dorcas had told her to prepare ahead of time so she would always have fresh bandages ready. At least she had done that much.

  Dorcas reapplied salve and fresh wrappings to both of Gustie’s wrists while Gustie, arms extended, stood like an obedient, recently chastened child.

  Dorcas looked up at her when she finished and tapped her own chest as she said, “And this?”

  “I’ll do it tonight before I go to bed.”

  “Good.”

  Gustie cut up potatoes and carrots into small pieces so they would cook quickly and put them on to boil. She unwrapped a large smoked bullhead that Will had given her. He’d gotten it from a farmer, but Lena adamantly refused to eat anything that didn’t have scales on it. She said it was in the Bible—things without scales were unclean. Gustie was glad she had it now. She set the table with bread, butter, salt, and placed the sugar bowl in front of Dorcas.

  Jordis was inside by the time everything was ready and they sat down to eat.

  Dorcas looked around amiably. “You have a nice house.”

  “Thank you. It isn’t mine, really. They let me live here until a homesteader shows up to cultivate the land.”

  “Sort of like a reservation.” Dorcas laughed. So did Jordis.

  Gustie felt uncomfortable. Finally, she said, “I’m sorry about what happened back there.”

  “Not your fault.” Dorcas dismissed the incident and they fell into silence.

  Gustie wished she could read Jordis, but she could not. Jordis’s face showed nothing and she said nothing.

  When they were finished eating, Gustie washed the dishes with more bustle than usual.

  “I’ll fix the beds.” Gustie said. “You two can have the big bed, and there is a trundle bed I’ve never had occasion to use. I’ll roll that out here—”

  Jordis interrupted her, “That is not necessary. We will sleep in the barn.”

  “What?” For the second time in just a few hours Gustie was flabbergasted.

  “Thank you for supper, Gustie,” Jordis added as she and Dorcas rose to leave.

  “If you were going to sleep in a bloody barn why not save yourself the trip out here?”

  “To have supper with you.” Dorcas grinned as they walked out the door.

  Gustie was dumbstruck and furious—at her friends, at Charity, at all people everywhere whose actions were inexplicable to her. She went into her bedroom and pulled off her clothes and threw them into a corner, not changing the bandage on her chest as she had promised Dorcas she would. Sitting on the edge of her bed in her nightgown, she hit the mattress with her fist, “Damn!” What kind of a place had she come to? In its way, it was as bad as the place she had left. Maybe she understood why her friends would not sleep in her house, but she would not accept it. Suddenly she rose and tore the bedding off her bed, wadded it into a bundle, and carried it to the barn. The lantern still burned softly. Jordis was arranging her own blanket when Gustie entered. Dorcas, wrapped snugly in her blanket already, was lying with her face to the outside wall of Biddie’s stall.

  Without a word, Gustie found a place to complete the circle of three women and stamped around on the straw to flatten it. She spread her bedding out on the straw. There were still lumpy places and she slapped them down with the flat of her hand. She roughly pulled a blanket over her and closed her eyes. Jordis blew out the lantern. Dorcas’s eyes shone in the darkness.

  When Gustie awoke, it was daylight. Dorcas and Jordis had gone without waking her. She supposed it would be of no use to follow them. She put on her working clothes, tethered Biddie outside to graze, and began work in the barn. If she was going to have to entertain out here, she thought dryly, she might as well clean it up.

  “I had to find out from Alvinia that you were back.” Lena stood in the barn door, her head cocked at a reproachful angle, her eyes moving to take in the scene before her.

  Gustie paused to pull a wisp of straw that was caught between her cap and her hair and to wipe the dust from her face with her sleeve. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  “No wonder. You’re making so much noise out here. What in Sam Hill are you doing?”

  “Enlarging Biddie’s stall.”

  “What for?”

  “I have one horse. I don’t need three little stalls.” Gustie returned to tugging at her crowbar prying loose the top slat of the second stall. “I’m tearing down these partitions so she can turn around in here.”

  “What if you get another horse?”

  “Not likely.” Gustie ripped off the board and threw it to the side with such force, Lena jumped.

  “You should have asked Will. He’d do it for you.”

  “I feel like doing it now.”

  Dust motes soaked in the afternoon sun clouded the air between them and gave the inside of the barn a kind of golden glow. Lena liked barns. There was nothing cozier than a clean barn, bright with yellow straw and smelling of new hay. Gustie kept her barn clean, that was for sure. Lena smiled at Gustie, who was attired in a man’s work shirt and overalls and her old train conductor’s cap. “Well, look at you!”

  “I wasn’t expecting company,” Gustie responded curtly and went back to her work.

  “Fiddlesticks! I’m not company. Where did you get those overalls?”

  “They were hanging
out here along with the shirt. I guess Elef Tollerude left them.” Another board crashed against the wall where Gustie threw it.

  “Can’t you wait till Will can help you?”

  “How did you get out here?”

  “Hitched a ride in Iver’s cream wagon. He’ll stop by and pick me up on his way back into town.”

  Gustie had one side of a board pulled free and began on the other side. The nails gave way with a screech, and Gustie pulled the board away from the side posts by hand. She tossed it to the side, dusted her hands off on her overalls and began on the next board. It did not want to give up its place as easily as the others. Lena stepped in to help. She pulled on the board while Gustie worked the crowbar.

  “You’ll get your dress dirty,” Gustie grunted between pulls.

  “It’ll wash,” Lena grunted back.

  The nails gave and Lena almost fell backwards. She grabbed Gustie’s arm to right herself. Gustie winced. Lena saw the white rim of bandages just visible beneath the cuffs of Elef Tollerude’s old shirt. Lena took the opportunity to ask, “What did you do to yourself?”

  Gustie pulled the cuff back down so the bandages were no longer visible. “I tripped getting out of my wagon and scruffed myself on the way down.”

  “Doc Moody should take a look at it.”

  “I’m fine. Lena, you’re not dressed for this kind of work. Please go over there and sit down.”

  “I’ve done plenty of barn work in my day,” Lena retorted.

  “I’m sure you have. But this is not your day. Not in a white dress. Anyway, I need to stop a minute. I’ve been at this for awhile.”

  Gustie went to a bucket hanging on the wall. She lifted out the dipper and took a drink. She filled the dipper again with water and handed it to Lena.

  “Thanks.” Lena drank.

  Gustie said, “I hear Will is out on bail.”

  “Yes, it’s a blessing.” Lena passed the dipper back to Gustie. “Surprised me though.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t go to the funeral.”

  “Well, you missed a fracas at the open house afterwards.” Lena looked around for a place to sit and found a three-legged milking stool. She brought it out to the middle of the barn where she could continue her conversation with Gustie. “Those Kaisers can’t behave themselves even for a little while. Not even for death and damnation can they mind their manners.”

  “What happened?”

  Lena enjoyed telling a story. Even an unpleasant one. “Ma hauled off and popped Walter one for bringing whiskey to the open house. He sure had that coming!” Gustie resumed her work, and Lena had to raise her voice to be heard over the sounds of ripping boards and pounding hammer. “Then Oscar kicked Julia’s cat and got her in such a tizzy. She was crying and carrying on over that cat...she had to go home and no one has seen her since. Except Frederick I guess. He brings her groceries and looks in on her. It’s the least he can do. He’s got nothing else to do.”

  “Why did Oscar kick the cat?”

  Lena shook her head. “Who knows? Just his meanness. He thinks the cat is a nuisance. Though why he should care one way or the other I don’t know. Pa Kaiser gave her that cat a few years ago. It was nice of him I thought. She sits over in that house alone most of the time. A cat is good company. He was killing a litter and he saved one in his pocket and brought it home to her.”

  “How is the cat?”

  “He’s all right.”

  “I would have come to see you yesterday, but something came up while I was in town.”

  “Mm hmm. Alvinia told me.”

  “Told you what?”

  “About taking those squaws home with you.”

  Gustie stopped tugging on the crowbar. “I’m not fond of that word, Lena.”

  “What word?”

  “Squaw.”

  “Well, that’s what they are. What should I call them?”

  “Women.” Gustie pulled hard against a rail. “They’re women.” It fell off at her feet.

  “Hm. Well out here, we call them squaws.”

  Gustie hurled another board at the wall. It landed with a crash.

  “What are you so mad about?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not in the mood for company, Lena.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, too, but I’m stuck here till Iver shows up because I sure don’t feel like walking.” Undaunted, Lena continued. “So, anyway, Alvinia came to see me yesterday.”

  “How is Alvinia?”

  “She’s fine. She brought Eldon. He’s her third to the youngest, I think...I can’t keep track...such a beautiful little boy. He sure liked my sugar cookies. She said that Betty and Severn told her about what happened at Olna’s and Doc Moody’s.”

  Gustie threw Lena a sharp look.

  “She didn’t mean any harm in telling me. Alvinia just wanted me to know before the gossip train started running.”

  “What’s there to talk about? I just tried to give them a decent place to stay the night.”

  Lena sniffed at Gustie’s emphasis on the word ‘decent.’ “Now I know you were just doing a good deed—not knowing it didn’t need doing.”

  For once, Lena was right. “I guess not. They chose to sleep in the barn out here too.”

  “See? That’s what they’re used to.”

  “Sleeping in barns?”

  Lena bobbed her head around between a nod and a shake. “Well...barns...you know...their little shacks...tipis...”

  “They’re used to sleeping in white people’s barns, perhaps.”

  Lena took umbrage. “You don’t know these people. After all everybody tries to do for them, they always end up back in the same place...a tipi...or living like they’re in a tipi whether or not they’re actually in one. And they’re all beggars! Nyla’s mother had a nice quilt. It was cold and she had it with her in the wagon once on a trip to Wheat Lake, and I don’t know exactly how it happened but she saw this family of Indians in town there asking for things, the way they do, and she felt sorry for the little children, I guess. She didn’t have anything else so she gave them the quilt. She found out later from Joe Gruba, when he had to go out there to that Indian’s place for something, that he went in, and there was that quilt on the floor just like it was some old rag. They don’t appreciate nice things. And then there was Mercy Krieger. Poor Mercy. She went to teacher’s college in Argus and met this Indian—he was also in school—and, oh, she thought he was the best thing, and she married him. They lived for a while in a house in Wheat Lake, but it wasn’t long before she had a little half-Indian baby. He wasn’t working any more, and, don’t you know, they were all three of them back living with his mother in some shack on the reservation. The poor little baby died. He run off, and Mercy had to move back with her own folks. You know, now no one else will have her. Even Nemil Glasrud won’t look at her. That’s what happens. It doesn’t matter how far they come—they’ll always end up right back in a tipi.”

  “You came all the way out here to tell me your Indian stories?” Gustie asked with a weariness that had nothing to do with her present labor.

  “You don’t know how things are here.”

  “I’m finding out. Actually, things are not so different here than anywhere else.”

  “I just don’t want people to think...”

  “I can’t help what people think, Lena. What I do is nobody’s business.”

  “Well, there’s where you’re wrong. Everything is everybody’s business out here. Especially for a school teacher. I just wanted you to know what people will be saying, that’s all.”

  Lena silently stared at her hands. Gustie ceased her battering of the old wood and leaned against the side of the stall, her head down, her back to Lena.

  Lena spoke so quietly, Gustie almost missed her next words. “I think the world of you, Gustie. I don’t like to see...I mean,
I know how it feels...”

  Gustie felt as if the ground had shifted and they were in a new country, with a new atmosphere, new ways, new latitudes for speaking. She turned. Lena seemed so very small, hunched over to keep her balance on the little three-legged milking stool.

  “I know what people say about Will, and his drinking and worse... I know how they talk about us. How they talk about me. They snicker one time and feel so sorry the next. But they’re always nice as pie to my face.”

  Lena was still looking down, speaking quietly. “People collect things about each other out here. And they don’t forget a thing. People don’t forget, they just die. Don’t ruin your reputation, Gustie. Once your reputation is shot, there’s no getting it back.”

  Finally, Lena returned Gustie’s gaze with eyes full of terrible sadness. “There’s nothing I can do about what they say about Will and me. We can never get back what’s been lost. I don’t want to see you in the same kettle of fish, that’s all.”

  “I will try not to bring any more shame into your life, Lena,” Gustie said, and Lena’s eyes filled.

  But the ground shifted again; Lena swallowed her tears, and they found themselves back in the more familiar landscape as if the other place had never been. Lena said, “Say, I wanted to tell you...me and Will are going to the fairgrounds for the shenanigans on the Fourth of July. It’s going to be lots of fun. You come with us.”

  “You sure you want to be seen with me?”

  “Oh, now don’t be like that. We’ll show everybody there’s nothing for them to talk about. Come with us.”

  Gustie nodded.

  They heard a noise outside, and Lena jumped up. The stool fell over and she carried it back to prop against the wall where she found it. “There’s Iver. I’ve got to go.” She smoothed down her dress. “I promised I wouldn’t hold him up. I’m glad you’re back, Gus.”

  Lena waved and was gone in the rattle of wagon, cream cans, and horse traces.