River People

by Margaret Lukas

  Effie eased her hands from the gun. It was a bad time; she didn’t want to face anyone—the shame of lying with two men; hiding herself. But for Bridget, it was a good time; she needed Cora’s brightness. “You can visit without bringing a cake or pie.”

  “Mother, God rest her soul, wouldn’t agree.”

  “How did you know I was back?”

  “Pete came to the store, and I asked about you.”

  Back at the sink, Bridget’s pan slipped from her hands, clattered in the sink. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cora said. “I didn’t know all summer of course. Then I didn’t know what was right. Effie, I didn’t know if you were staying in Bleaksville.”

  Doves cooed outside, the sound thick as their feathers. Then flew, the sharp clap of wings tearing the air. “Pete’s talking?” Effie asked. All the more reason to leave. Even if Jackdaw never returned, she still wasn’t raising a child amongst rumors. The town already considered her river people. Not a girl of eighteen, so scared of herself and full of guilt for a murder she didn’t commit that she wasn’t able to bear her own company.

  Effie widened her hands across her stomach, smoothing her dress to draw attention to her swelling. She blessed Cora for not gasping in horror or pulling a look. “We’re leaving. Bridget said you bought boxes.” She didn’t wait for a response. “If we build more and you sell them, we can buy train tickets.”

  Cora frowned at the tabletop of unfinished work. “I can’t promise to sell that many.”

  “Maybe he won’t ever come back,” Bridget said. Her eyes were wide, pleading.

  “If there’s talk, he’ll find out. And if he finds out I’m carrying another man’s child, he’ll kill me.”

  “You aren’t safe here.” Cora said. “But selling enough boxes? Let me buy the tickets.”

  Effie crossed her arms, held her opposite elbows. “I need to stand on my own feet. If I can’t get myself home without charity, how can I survive there without it?”

  “Stop being so proud! Take care of yourself.”

  “Mr. Graf won’t let you buy the tickets for us.”

  “I’ve felt wretched since Mae’s death, knowing I didn’t do enough for her. She died without a woman present. I know my husband has been unkind,” Cora went on. “He wrestles with himself for it. In his mind, he’s still fighting in the war between the states. He spent months at Andersonville. Came out a skeleton. He has nightmares still, even if it’s been over half his life ago. When he’s weighing his beans and skimping on the scales, he’s still living that starvation.” She paused, her eyes asking Effie, then Bridget, to understand. “He enlisted, risked his life believing all men deserved their freedom. Negros, too. There are worse war injuries than losing a leg or arm.”

  Like Pa, Effie thought. Or Granny. Some things couldn’t be put down.

  “Chief was in the war too,” Bridget said. “He buried dead boys.”

  The remark surprised Effie, but before she could ask, Cora spoke again.

  “My friendship with you scares Mr. Graf. He’s afraid I feel kindred to you and regret marrying an older man. I can see through his gruffness to his hurting, but looking into Rev. Jackdaw scares me. I can’t see a heart there. Only a stone.”

  “Rev. Jackdaw,” Bridget started, “is sad because—”

  “You’re coming with me,” Effie snapped. “You’re not staying here. I don’t care what’s happened to that man. He’s ruined.” A thought chilled her. “Suppose I’m not legally married. He did it himself in the kitchen. If I’m not . . .” She couldn’t finish. I have no legal claim on Bridget. In which case, taking Bridget was kidnapping. She didn’t care.

  “Listen to me.” Cora planted her hands on her hips. “A name on a paper or not, the Bible says, ‘When need be, a lady must pick up her skirts and run.’”

  Effie hated the look of confusion on Bridget’s face, fear too. Bridget ought to be full of confidence, feel that going was the best thing for her.

  “That’s what it says,” Cora continued, “lest some fool man over the last ten thousand years of male rewrites has struck it out with his goose pen.” She looked back and forth between them. Her hands dropped from her hips, gripped the basket. “Did Bridget tell you about her parents? They’re, unfortunately, gone.”

  Effie’s breath caught, then eased out slowly. If Bridget no longer had any hope of finding her parents, she ought to feel better about leaving.

  “Wait.” Cora’s hands lifted. “I almost forgot.” She reached in her basket and drew out a pack of letters. “From your family.”

  Emotion flopped through Effie’s stomach. She grabbed herself, wanting the letters so badly it was close to pain, but there were none for Bridget. Wouldn’t ever be.

  Cora set the letters on the table and pushed them slowly past the cake and into Effie’s reach. “Normally Mr. Graf goes to the post office. The awful man behind the counter thinks mail is spelled m-a-l-e and women have no business in his establishment. When I went in, he took his time finishing up his sorting, letting me stand there waiting. I saw him reach a letter with your name printed on the front and flip it beneath the counter into a box. Easy, as though he’d done it many times. Had been told to do so.”

  “Rev. Jackdaw?” Effie’s voice squeaked. “He told the man to keep my letters? Even though I came asking?”

  “I was lucky enough to step in there when I did. Look at the dates.” Cora rounded the corner of the table, tapped on the top letter. “They’re all since he hurt you. He’s not been back since then.”

  Effie’s heart banged inside her ribs.

  “You know what that means?” Cora asked. “There’re likely a lot more earlier ones with him in Omaha.”

  Effie hugged the letters, carried them to the rocker. It didn’t matter how many Rev. Jackdaw had kept from her. She had letters now.

  “Slower,” Effie said.

  Bridget read slower. And when she’d finished with all seven letters, Effie insisted they be read again. Finally, as the sun set, Effie rose to stand staring out the door in the waning light and up to the ridge. Bridget went slowly back to the sink. Effie had letters, but Cora hadn’t brought one from Grandma Teegan. Had Grandma Teegan even gotten her letter?

  The train sounded on its way to Bleaksville, the noise distant but clear through the open doors. No more than a quart of plums were in Bridget’s pan, but she picked at them. Was Grandma Teegan back in Ireland and safe?

  “We’ll go in the morning.” Effie said. She turned quick to look around the lodge. The letters still fisted. “I need to bathe tonight, mend a dress. Cora’s right, it’s too dangerous to stay longer. Rev. Jackdaw’s coming; I can feel it. He’s been praying on it. He’s coming.”

  The ripest plums ought to be separated from the green ones, but Bridget only stared at the fruit. In the three days since Effie’s return, she’d thought many times of Chief and how he’d lied to her with his silence. He’d acted like her best friend, all the while knowing Effie was at Thayer’s. It wasn’t just anger over his knowing; she felt shame, too. Effie being right up the road but not caring enough to come home. Since Effie’s return, which Chief knew about, he hadn’t come. Hadn’t come to say, “Bridget, how are you? Are you okay?” Now, they were leaving and she didn’t want to go, but she needed to ask him to pasture Jake.

  “I want my business finished here,” Effie said. “Thanking Chief is part of that. Tie Jake up. I don’t want him following, then running off and you leaving me in the dark to chase him.”

  What if Chief was working on the ark? “We should go see him tomorrow.”

  “We’re taking the early train, and there won’t be time.”

  “You don’t like him.”

  “He helped save my life. And he’s been looking after you.”

  “And you don’t like your pa. So why are you going home?”

  She took the rope from the wall and held it out. “Tie Jake to the rail. I’ll carry the cake.”

  Bridget sli
pped the rope around Jake’s neck and tied the other end to the railing. She couldn’t tell him she was breaking her promise and leaving. And she couldn’t promise him he’d like living at Chief ’s, even if Chief did say yes. Because maybe the bull in Chief ’s pasture would be mean to him. She led Effie onto the path.

  “Pa was fourteen when his family was killed,” Effie said. They’d walked nearly to Old Mag, darkness gathering and neither of them speaking until now.

  Nera, Nera. I don’t want to go. Bridget walked slow, letting her feet drag.

  “Him hardly older than you,” Effie said. “He isn’t an awful man. All he’s been through, other men would have saddled a horse and rode off. Or thrown a rope over a barn rafter.”

  Bridget paid little attention. Through the tree tops, a star close to the moon was already visible. In minutes the Big Dipper would be out. What if they were coming too late and Chief was already building on the ark? Effie couldn’t see the ark, couldn’t know the secret.

  “He and Ma lost all three children in one day,” Effie said. “Not just Baby Sally, but Skeet and me. Maybe Johnny too, him being born directly into all that mourning.”

  Passing Old Mag, Bridget ran her hand along the trunk. She’d never told Effie who Old Mag was, and she still couldn’t. The secrets she took with her to New Ulm would be all she had of her time in the trees.

  Crossing the pasture, Bridget was relieved to see Chief ’s barns were dark.

  “I’m telling this baby,” Effie said, “‘Your papa is dead and your grandma’s name was Mae. She loved a real pretty dress.’ Rev. Jackdaw’s always preaching about just desserts, and this baby—him having no claim to it—is his just desserts. Everyone back home knows I married, so carrying a child is just fine. That boy I liked, he doesn’t matter. He feels like someone from another life.”

  They walked around the house to the kitchen. Light came from the window and through the screen. The wooden door behind it left open to the cooler night air. Bridget’s breath came faster. Chief probably thought she’d quit visiting him because with Effie home he no longer mattered. And when he saw them walking into his yard after dark, he’d think she’d told Effie about the ark and brought her to see it. How could she promise him she hadn’t said one word with Effie standing right there?

  “Pa will have no cause to be ashamed of me,” Effie said, “when I tell him Rev. Jackdaw’s dead.”

  “Shh. His dog is going to hear us.”

  “Isn’t that fine? My whole body’s celebrating. Hearing you read those letters, I can’t hardly stand waiting until I’m on that train. Rev. Jackdaw won’t come after us. His crippled back can’t take the ride, Nell can’t make the walk, and he’s too full of hate and poverty to take the train. Then there’s the burn on my neck and my hand.” She shifted the cake and placed her scarred hand over her belly. “Truth is, he wants scat of me. His heart’ll quit soon enough. Couple years, maybe less, he’ll be rotting in a box. I don’t even need to hear he’s passed.”

  Wire barked at the screen door.

  “He heard us.” Bridget’s knees wanted to fold up and drop her. “Now Chief knows we’re here.”

  Chief stepped into view behind Wire. Seeing them, he let Wire out and crossed the porch behind him. His face was hard to read in the growing darkness. Was he glad to see her, or angry that they’d come so late? Maybe angry that they’d come at all. He held a dishtowel, his braids hung over his chest, and after a summer working in the sun cutting hay, farming corn, and riding Smoke, his skin was dark as chestnuts.

  He gave Effie a how-do nod, then his attention settled on Bridget. “You’re all right then?”

  She wasn’t. She was sorry.

  “We brought you a cake.” Effie held it out. “That dog can jump.”

  “She wanted to come,” Bridget said. She took a step, moving in front of Effie. I didn’t tell her, she mouthed the words.

  Chief held the cake, but his eyes hadn’t left Bridget. “You lost interest in working here?”

  That’s not what she’d said.

  Effie moved up beside her. “I didn’t know you were working here. Thank you, Mr. Chief, but Bridget is white. She can’t work for you.” She hesitated. “Anyway, we come to tell you we are moving back east.”

  “East?”

  Bridget watched his eyes change though his body remained still. She clamped her teeth hard. She’d miss building with him, eating supper together, and especially the long stories he told the way Grandma Teegan had told hers: holy.

  “Cora made the cake,” Effie said. “I don’t have nice flour and sugar and such.”

  Chief wasn’t saying he’d miss Bridget or that he didn’t want her to go. His silence was saying, I ain’t and I can’t ever be that man. You’ll be moving on faster ’an rabbits breed rabbits.

  “We’re moving on,” Bridget said.

  “Tomorrow.” Effie wiped her hands down the sides of her skirt.

  “East,” Chief said again, nodding this time.

  Bridget hoped he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes or hear her sniffling to keep snot from appearing beneath her nose. If they were alone, she could explain everything: how Rev. Jackdaw would kill Effie next time. Effie had to go, and she too, or she’d be the one made to wash his drawers, and he’d put her in the buggy and take her to another place where he’d try to build another church. Traveling east with Effie or being taken off with Rev. Jackdaw—either way she’d have to leave Jake behind. And Chief. She’d already lost them both.

  Chief still nodded over the word east. Bridget counted four, five, six nods before he spoke. “Good. Time you scrammed.”

  Bridget shoved her hands in her pockets. “You knew Effie was at Thayer’s.”

  “I heard.”

  She felt slapped and tried to swallow back the sting. “You didn’t tell me.”

  He took his time answering. “That wasn’t my business.”

  I thought I was your business.

  The sound of two horses charging down the lane made them turn. Cora leaned over her saddle, her horse’s head stretched out. Pete rode just as hard beside her.

  “Effie!” Cora cried when they reached the porch, their horses still edgy, like their muscles still ran inside their bodies. Many of Cora’s pins had come out, and her knot of hair hung low and loose in the back. She panted trying to catch her breath. “You weren’t home. We went there first.” She looked at Pete. “He came and told me Jackdaw was wild acting. Thank God we found you.”

  Bridget’s stomach, sinking since they’d left the lodge, dropped farther. She had to run with Effie now, without even giving Chief a proper good-bye or being able to swear to him that she hadn’t told anyone about his ark. It’s a good ark, she wanted to say.

  “I didn’t know if you were still around town,” Pete said to Effie. “I figured if you were, you wouldn’t listen to me, but I know you trust Cora.” His gaze slid over Bridget, just as it did over Chief, and his attention swung back to Effie. “He’s loco. Wearing a dress.”

  Effie slapped both hands over her stomach. “Where is he?”

  “I was coming back from hunting.” He patted a shotgun hanging off his saddle. “I heard a row of swearing. His buggy was hung up on the tracks and him whipping and yelling at his horse.”

  “Nell,” Bridget managed.

  “I helped lift the wheel out,” Pete said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. He started swearing he’s come to kill you.”

  “Someone told him I was back,” Effie nearly screamed. She glared at Pete and then at Chief.

  “Chief di-didn’t!” Bridget objected so fast, she choked and the word came out broken.

  “Likely our dear sheriff,” Cora said. “Or that fool postman. He probably sent a telegram. We need to go. Hopefully you can still catch tonight’s train. You’ll never see Jackdaw again.”

  Effie hesitated. “Looking like this. Granny’s quilt, Johnny’s marbles. Tickets?”

  Pete tapped his back pocket before Cora could speak. “I’ll buy your
tickets. I’m happy to get you back home.”

  “He’s wearing his sister’s dress?” Effie’s voice trembled. “For everyone to see? He’s lost his mind. We need the sheriff.”

  “You’re not listening,” Chief said. “He’ll hand you over.”

  Bridget frowned as Pete reached down for Effie’s hand. “You best ride with me.”

  “I can’t leave Bridget. We must both go!”

  Bridget felt close to sobbing. The whole world was shutting her out. “What about Jake?” She took a step back. “I’ll bring him here. You’ll hide him. You will, Chief, won’t you?”

  “I’ll go find him come morning, pasture him.” His eyes were coal dark in the scant light coming through the door. “But if Jackdaw comes with the sheriff, I got no claim.”

  “Bridget.” Effie reached out. “I’m not leaving you again. We need to go. Forget about that ox.”

  “I’ll run fast.” She backed farther away, stepping out of the circle of light that held the rest of them close as a family. “I’ll bring Jake here and meet you at the depot. I’ll bring the quilt and Johnny’s marbles.”

  Effie let her reaching arms drop. “Hurry.”

  “No,” Cora said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Effie!” Pete’s voice was deep and louder than Cora’s. A man’s voice. “Climb up. Don’t worry about her. If she misses the train, she can take tomorrow’s. I’ll shoot Jackdaw if need be to get you on the train, but I don’t want to swing because you can’t make up your mind.”

  Chief nearly dropped the cake, setting it down and paying no attention to Wire’s sniffing it. He strode off the porch and grabbed Effie around her waist, hoisting her up behind Pete. “Go on,” he growled. “You’re asking for trouble you ain’t up to.”

  Pete was already yanking the reins, turning his horse’s head and kicking it in the sides. Effie’s arms wrapped around him, hugging.

  Bridget had once sat behind Pete, her arms around him, but her tears weren’t over Pete. She was losing the trees and Jake. She was losing Chief too, without even the chance to say she loved him. But he didn’t care about that.