by Liz Harris
‘I’m tired,’ Charity said. She stopped walking and raised her arms to Joe. ‘Carry me, Joe.’
He smiled sympathetically, leaned down, put his hands under her armpits and lifted her up. ‘I guess it’s a long way for little legs,’ he said, hoisting her on to his hip, and he continued up the narrow track that led to the top of the rocky outcrop on the opposite side of the river from the town.
‘Phew, you’re gettin’ heavy,’ he said as they neared the top. ‘Ma must be feedin’ you too much.’
She giggled.
They reached the crest of the rock, and he let her slip down to the ground. Standing side by side, they stared down at the river while he gathered his breath. Then he gently turned her by the shoulders to face the plain that lay to the left of the town, stretching back to the far horizon.
‘Look at that,’ he said, taking her hand in his.
Together they stared across an endless flatland of violet-grey stone, broken in places by sandy white patches and grey-white pebbles. Here and there, clumps of short grass, seared yellow by the summer sun, broke through the hard ground, and with the intermittent clusters of yellow and green sagebrush, brought colour to the seemingly barren desert.
‘And now look this way,’ he said, after they’d stared at the plain for a few minutes, and he turned her slightly to the right to look towards the town. ‘You can see how much bigger Carter’s gotten now, with all those new shacks the company’s put up, and the shops. It sure is lookin’ ugly. And sounding noisy. The pumps never seem to stop. It was bad enough with one mine, but now there’s gonna be another.’ He shook his head. ‘Yup, it’s an ugly place to live.’
‘Sure is, Joe,’ Charity said solemnly. Sucking her thumb, she leaned against his leg and stared towards the town.
His eyes followed the straggle of weathering miners’ houses lying on the outskirts of the town, set well back from the river.
‘That big house belongs to the mine superintendent,’ he said, pointing to the house closest to the outbuildings of the mine. He moved his hand slightly to the left. ‘And that’s our house,’ he said, pointing to one of the small wooden houses in the middle of the row.
She nodded.
He raised his gaze above the roofs of the miners’ houses and the stovepipes that jutted from them, to the backs of the wood-framed shops that lined the street that ran the length of the town until it came to a stop at the point where the narrow-gauge spur of the main railroad crossed from one side of the town to the other. A small railway depot stood on the opposite side of the track from the end of the main street. Behind the depot sprawled the mine and the outlying buildings and chimneys, from which a dense cloud of black smoke and steam arose.
He shook his head. ‘Nope, it’s not pretty.’
She nodded again.
His eyes fixed on the tapering frame that housed the twin shafts, the steam-run compressor that pumped air through a hose to the bottom of the shaft and the steel cable that hoisted the cages up and down. Then his gaze moved to the blackened chutes along which coal fell into the flat cars that were lined up beneath, waiting to be pulled by the train to the main railroad when full.
‘Whatever they say, I’m never gonna work in there,’ he repeated.
‘No, Joe,’ she echoed. Wriggling her hand free of his, she bent down and straightened her cotton dress over her black lace-up boots.
‘Like I told them today,’ he went on, his eyes still on the town, ‘I’m not stayin’ in Carter. Soon as I’m old enough, I’m leavin’. But I’ll see you’re all right, Charity,’ he added, and he smiled down at her. ‘I found you and I feel kind of responsible for you, so you’re not to worry about anythin’.’
She stopped fiddling with the hem of her petticoat and gazed up at him, her almond-shaped eyes shining with happiness. ‘Sure, Joe,’ she said.
He nodded. ‘Just so’s you know.’ He turned again to face the view.
She straightened up, slipped her hand back into his and stared towards the town, hopping from one foot to the other.
‘But I reckon some things are gonna have to change right now,’ he went on after a few minutes, his voice full of regret.
She stared up at him, her forehead wrinkling in dismay.
‘I’m gonna take that job in Mr Culpepper’s livery stable. For a while now he’s been askin’ me to do a few hours a week, but I’ve always said no ’cos of helpin’ Ma. But Ma says she can manage now. I’ll like the work and I’ll learn a heap of things I’ll need to know for when I’m a cowboy or a ranch hand. And I’ll be able to give Ma and Pa some money.’
He saw that her eyes were filling with tears, and he knelt down and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘You’re not to worry, Charity. I’ll still take you for walks when I can.’
‘I wanna be a cowboy, too,’ she said, a sob in her voice.
Laughing, he hugged her. ‘I’m sure you’d make a grand cowboy – or rather, cowgirl. But drivin’ cattle all the way up from Texas to the Kansas City railhead is a man’s job. It’s a long way to go, and it’s hard work. I know ’cos I’ve listened to the drovers talkin’ when they’re passin’ through Carter.’
She was silent for a moment, then her face suddenly brightened. ‘I work in livery stable, too.’
He laughed again, and shook his head. Her face fell. ‘Mr Culpepper wouldn’t like it. You can get hurt by horses. Nope, you’ll have to stay at home with Ma. Besides, you’re a big girl now and you’ll soon be able to help her around the house. She’ll like that, and you will, too. You’ll learn the sort of things a woman needs to know.’
‘Don’t wanna. Wanna go with you,’ she said stubbornly. She stuck her lower lip out.
‘I’m sorry, but that just ain’t possible. Tell you what, though, as soon as I get my first wages, I’ll buy you somethin’ nice. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
Pursing her lips, she stared down at her boots. Then she suddenly looked into his face, anxiety in her eyes. ‘Will you still learn me my letters before I go to school?’
‘Sure, I will. I can tell you’re real smart for a gal, Charity. I won’t be workin’ at Culpepper’s every evenin’, so I’ll start teachin’ you soon. Just like I said I would. Nothin’s gonna stop that. Okay?’
‘Okay, Joe.’
He stood up and turned to look across the plain. ‘It’s Carter for me for a few more years, but not forever. Definitely not forever. That’s the way out of Carter, Charity,’ he said, pointing towards the white pebble-strewn plain, ‘and one day I’m gonna be takin’ it.’
Chapter Four
Three years later
September, 1875
Charity tightened her hold on Joe’s hand as they went out of the back door of the house, past her bedroom and the vegetable patch, and across the stretch of dust-covered open ground that led to Second Street. In her free hand, she clutched a small tin lunch pail covered with a blue and white gingham cloth. Joe carried the bag that held her slate, slate pencil and school book.
‘You look a proper seven-year-old in your new pinafore and dress,’ Joe said, smiling down at her as they walked along. ‘You look good in green.’
Beaming, she glanced down at her dress. She slipped her hand from Joe’s, smoothed the creases from the pinafore that covered most of her skirt, and then tucked her hand back into his.
‘You’re gonna like bein’ in school,’ he went on, swinging her hand as they walked along. ‘You’ll make friends with the other children in town and play games with them.’
‘No, I won’t,’ she said, her voice taking on a sullen note. ‘They won’t wanna play with me. They never talk to me when I see them in town. I smile at them, like you said I must, but they never smile back.’
He glanced at her nervous face. ‘You’ll find them real friendly once they get to know you,’ he said reassuringly. ‘And Miss O’Brien will be pleased with you ’cos you already know your letters and numbers. Not all the kids startin’ today will know them.’
She stoppe
d walking and stared up at him, her face suddenly serious. ‘I wish you could be my teacher, Joe. The other kids don’t like me, and Miss O’Brien don’t like me. I seen the way she looks at me when I’ve been waitin’ for you outside the livery stable.’
‘She don’t know you. She’s gonna like you when she does. Everyone will like you ’cos you’re nice. They’ve probably not been friendly yet ’cos you look a bit different. Nice different,’ he added with a grin, ‘but different. When you’ve got to know them, you won’t look so different to them, and then they’ll like you and you’ll like school. So come on.’ He squeezed her hand encouragingly and they started walking again.
Glancing down at her when they reached the corner where Second Street crossed Main Street, dividing the town into two, he saw that she was still worried. ‘It’s gonna be okay, Charity; you’ll see.’ She looked up at him, her face clouded with anxiety. ‘You’ll see,’ he repeated.
‘I’m scared, Joe.’
He gave her a warm smile. ‘Don’t be; I won’t be far away. Look, that’s where I’ll be when you’re in school.’ He pointed to the stable on the corner to his left. ‘Now I’m not in school any more, I’m gonna work at Culpepper’s every day till I’m old enough to leave Carter. I’ll walk you all the way to school today as it’s your first day, but in future I’ll leave you here and you must go the rest of the way by yourself. It’s not far – you can almost see the schoolhouse from here. That’ll be okay, won’t it?’
She moved closer to him, but didn’t answer.
He looked anxiously down at her. ‘That’s all right, isn’t it?’ he repeated.
Her eyes on the boardwalk, she kicked the thick layer of charcoal-grey dust that coated the weathered planks. It swirled in a dense cloud around her legs, and then settled slowly on to her black leather boots and on the cover protecting her lunch pail. ‘I don’t like bein’ in town on my own,’ she said.
He smiled at the top of her head. ‘You don’t know that ’cos you’ve you never been in town on your own. You and me, we’re always together. But you’re a big girl now, and you’ll soon get used to bein’ here by yourself. And when you make friends, you’ll wanna talk to them without me bein’ around. And if there’s somethin’ you simply just gotta tell me, you can stop by at the stable on your way home. Unless I’m busy, that is.’
‘Whatever you say, people won’t like me,’ she said, her eyes on her boots as she tried to wipe the dust from the toe of one boot with the heel of the other.
He frowned slightly. ‘Like I said, they don’t know you yet so they’ve not got feelin’s about you.’
‘Sam knows me and he don’t like me.’
He gave an awkward laugh. ‘You’re not talkin’ sense, gal. Why would you think that?’
She looked up at him. ‘He don’t like me, and you know he don’t.’
He released her hand, knelt down, put his arms around her and hugged her. Then he stood up again. ‘It’s not you he doesn’t like – it’s what he’s afear’d about. He looks at you and he sees the things that are worryin’ him.’
‘What’s worryin’ him?’ She put her thumb in her mouth and stared up at him.
‘You’re still real young, Charity. Too young to understand minin’ things. But it’s about what happened earlier this year.’
‘What happened?’
He gave a sigh, glanced towards the school, and then looked back at her face. ‘You remember Pa telling us that Union Pacific had cut the price of coal and were payin’ the miners a dollar a ton, not a dollar twenty-five, don’t you? And he and Sam were angry ’cos it meant they’d be bringin’ home less money?’
She nodded.
‘And then the men stopped workin’, didn’t they, and no one dug up any coal? They went on strike – that’s what it’s called. Well, a coupla weeks after that, the company brought in some Chinamen to break the strike, and the mines opened again. The Carter miners didn’t wanna lose their jobs, so they went back to work, even though it meant takin’ home less. D’you remember that?’
Sucking her thumb, she nodded again.
‘Well, you’ve seen that more Chinamen have come to Carter since then, and ’cos they’ll work for whatever the company pays, the price of coal is still droppin’, and the white miners are takin’ home less. It’s not you that Sam doesn’t like: it’s Chinese people ’cos of what the Chinamen are doin’ to the price of coal. D’you understand that, Charity?’
She bit her lip.
‘And the Chinamen aren’t just down the mines now – they’re everywhere. They’re workin’ on the railroad, they’re openin’ shops …’ He pointed towards the right-hand side of Main Street. ‘It’s more Chinese down there than white now. At first it was just the laundry and the barber’s, but look at all the other Chinese stores that’ve started up. The latest is the general mercantile, but I wager it won’t be the last. People aren’t happy about havin’ so many Chinese here.’
‘I don’t wanna go to school, Joe.’
He looked back at her. ‘Now, you hear me good, Charity. After what you said about Miss O’Brien, I figured you should understand why some people think like they do. But it’s nothin’ to do with the school. If you give school a chance, you’ll like bein’ there and you’ll make friends. You need to make friends with other gals your age.’
‘But you’ve not got friends your age, Joe,’ she said, her face stubborn.
He hesitated. ‘That’s ’cos I was too busy lookin’ after you. And if I’m honest, although I sometimes played with the other boys in town in the days before I found you, I’m not like Sam and I didn’t really like bein’ in town and was keener on findin’ gold, so I didn’t make any real good friends. But Mr Culpepper’s a sort of friend now. I know he’s old, but he’s okay. And the Marshal that’s just come to Carter seems nice, too.’
‘Maybe the children in school have got folks like Sam and your pa. Maybe they don’t like Chinamen, either, and that’s why they don’t smile at me.’
‘You didn’t know what happened in the mines till I just told you. And there’s no reason why the other kids will know about minin’ problems. I only told you ’cos of the colour of your skin.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, you’re not Chinese. Sure you look a bit different with your eyes and your skin, and you’ve got black braids like a Chinaman’s got – well, you’ve got two and they’ve only got one – but you’re American like me. You talk like me, wear the sort of clothes American girls wear, and you think like me. Yup, you’re American, Charity.’
Her face broke into a smile. ‘Am I, Joe?’
He knelt down and hugged her tightly again. ‘You sure are,’ he said. ‘And everyone’s gonna think you’re a swell gal like I do. Now, let’s go to school.’ He stood up and held out his hand to her. ‘You don’t wanna be late the first day, do you?’
They continued slowly down the short path leading to the red-painted schoolhouse with a pine flagpole above the entrance, the sound of the chattering children inside the wooden building becoming louder and louder as they got closer.
Just before they reached the door, Joe stopped and turned to Charity. ‘I’d better leave you here,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’ll see you tonight. Just this once, you can come by the stable on your way home and tell me what you learnt.’
Her face pale, she nodded.
They stood back to let a couple of older girls walk past them, arm in arm as they talked and laughed. The girls glanced back at Charity. Their steps slowed and they stared pointedly at her. Then they turned again to each other, giggled, opened the door to the schoolhouse, went inside and shut the door firmly behind them.
Charity clutched Joe’s leg.
As he stared at the closed door, he heard a sudden outbreak of squealing inside the schoolroom. He turned to Charity. ‘You gotta go in, Charity,’ he said quietly. ‘You got some learnin’ to do.’
She didn’t move.
He bent down to her. ‘Now you listen to me,’ he said, his face serious. ‘You’re a
smart gal, and you’ll enjoy learnin’ the things Miss O’Brien can teach you. I’m hopin’ you’ll make friends, too, and maybe you will; maybe you won’t. But it doesn’t really matter if you don’t – you’re in school for the learnin’, not for the friend-makin’. You gotta remember, you’re as good as anyone else in the room. Promise me you’re gonna learn real well, even if other things ain’t right.’
She stared into the clear blue eyes that gazed at her, encouraging her. ‘I promise, Joe,’ she said, her face solemn.
The door opened again and Miss O’Brien came out, holding a hand bell in one hand and tucking her crisp white blouse more firmly into her ankle-length grey skirt with the other. She glanced at Charity, hesitated, then raised the bell and rang it. Then she went back into the schoolhouse, leaving the door slightly ajar.
‘School’s startin’,’ Joe said. He handed her the schoolbag he’d been carrying and gave her a slight push forward. ‘See you tonight.’ He gave her a reassuring smile, thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans and turned away.
As he looked ahead of him, the smile left his face and a lump came into his throat.
His head down, he walked briskly up the path, trying to erase from his mind the look in Miss O’Brien’s eyes when she’d stared at Charity, who’d looked so small and so helpless, and struggling to blank from his memory the cruel note in the two girls’ laughter.
Charity looked at the schoolhouse door, and hesitated. Then she walked slowly forward, pushed the door open wider and took a few steps into the schoolroom. Hovering in front of the water pail that stood on a low bench just inside the door, she looked nervously around.
The talking abruptly stopped. All eyes turned towards her.
She stared anxiously back at the other pupils, each of whom was sitting at an individual dark wood bench made of hand-planed boards, the boys on one side of the room and the girls on the other.
The benches stood in rows that spanned the room, one row behind the other, with a wide gap down the middle of the room and a narrower gap between the end of each row and the wall. Every bench had a back to it, and a shelf sticking out from the back, which made a table for the pupil sitting behind. A potbelly stove stood in one of the corners at the back of the room, and a hickory switch and a brush made of broom corn in the other.