Jessie's War (Civil War Steam)

by Connors, Meggan

  She had to get him back. Didn’t matter where he died. She’d dance him into the next life and then take his body and bury it proper among her family, where he belonged. She would dance for Luke and her mother and her brother, and do them the honor she had long owed them.

  Maybe her ancestors would finally smile upon her. Maybe this time, when she asked, they’d take her, too. Not leave her alone, as they had so often before.

  She dressed in her buckskin dress and trousers, and put her grandfather’s talisman around her neck. She searched through Luke’s belongings for the money clip he’d had, and found it stashed in one of the bags next to one of his black hats. It was more than enough to get her a ticket to Logan and a room for several nights, if she needed one.

  She packed a bag with just the essentials and put on her coat. Anything else she’d buy once she got there. She lifted the hat to her face.

  The scent of desert rain and leather and man filled her nostrils, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by the impression of him, of his eyes as they looked at her, of his hands when they touched her, of the smile that lit the darkest places in her heart.

  Luke.

  Jessie pulled the bag onto her shoulder and went into the sitting room to write a letter to Elizabeth and Mordecai explaining her absence.

  Just as she found the gas lamp to light it, a voice asked, “Where you going, Missus?”

  She jumped, and turned to find Parker sitting in one of the scarlet brocade chairs, swirling some amber liquid around in a glass, his expression melancholy.

  “I’m going to find my grandfather and get Luke back.” Her voice was hoarse, unused—but then, she hadn’t spoken in weeks.

  “He’s dead.”

  Anguish rose in the back of her throat, acidic and burning at the base of her tongue, threatening to steal her voice again. “I know. But he needs to come home.”

  “Your grandfather’s dead too.”

  She shook her head, but her heart wasn’t surprised. Maybe she wasn’t capable of feeling anything but grief anymore. “No, he’s not. We saw him when Luke—no. He was there.”

  Parker cleared his throat. “I can’t say what I saw. All I know is I’ve been hearing a lot about this mysterious grandfather of yours, but when I asked Mr. White, he said your grandfather died years ago. Right after that skirmish with the Union that made him famous. According to him, your whole tribe died. Some mystery illness.”

  “No, that’s not true.” Gooseflesh dotted her arms as the temperature in the room began to drop. “I would have been told. We used to visit him all the time.”

  But only while her mother was alive. Jessie had wondered why they hadn’t come when they’d buried her mother, but she’d never asked.

  When she finally had thought to look for them, after her father’s disappearance, she’d found no trace of them. Once they’d come for her, even she had to admit that the tribe was different from how she remembered.

  All this time, they’d been gone, and she hadn’t known. For almost a year after the last skirmish her tribe had had with the Union, her mother had taken Jessie and Gideon to visit them. They’d gone to the winter hunting grounds, and her tribe had been there. Different, even then, but they’d been there.

  Her mother had danced every time they’d visited, and it had been so cold.

  It simply couldn’t be true. She would have known.

  Panic rushed through her. “He married Luke and me. He came for Luke and he’s the one who took him. You saw him.”

  “What I saw…” Swirling his drink, he watched as the liquid trail down the sides of the glass. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What I saw scared the hell out of me. I can’t sleep for thinking of it.” He handed her some papers. “I did some checking. It wasn’t released to the public, but your father’s right. Your tribe is dead. As far as I can tell, you’re the last.”

  “I would have been told,” Jessie said, but her protest fell flat.

  Parker shrugged.

  “Did they look dead to you?”

  He cleared his throat again. “No. Maybe. Hell, I don’t know.” He looked away for a long time. “What happened wasn’t right.”

  “I know.”

  He threw back his head, downed his drink in a single swallow, and poured himself another. “I can’t forget it. I want to, because maybe then I could feel normal again, but I can’t. I let them take Luke. I never should have done that.” His eyes met Jessie’s. “Luke would’ve wanted you with him. I should’ve let you go. Don’t know why I didn’t. When the one told me to keep you there, I obeyed without thought, and I don’t know why.” He swallowed the remainder of his drink. “Fuck.” He closed his eyes and swiftly added, “Pardon.”

  She watched him for a moment, and she didn’t make a move to open the papers Parker had handed to her. She didn’t need to see what they contained. It didn’t matter.

  “I’m going,” Jessie said. “Tell Mr. and Mrs. Jameson I’ll be fine, will you?”

  Parker snorted. “You’re not going. The Shoshone still work for the Rebs.”

  She squared her shoulders. “They won’t do anything to me.”

  “You can’t know that. The Confederacy is still looking for you. We should have moved you when your father left, made you go with him.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  He sliced his head to the left. “Nope. Being honest, I thought you’d kill yourself if we tried to move you. I’m surprised you didn’t try.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched into what would have been a smile if she were capable of it. “Just because I want to die doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything to hasten my death.” Jessie pushed her grief down, down into the darkness where she kept her memories. She wasn’t exactly lying to him, but she wasn’t telling the whole truth, either.

  “If this last month is any indication, Bradshaw got off damn light by dying.” Parker paused. “I promised him I’d take care of you, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “I can’t let you go.”

  “I’m not asking. I’m gonna find my tribe and get Luke back.”

  “Your tribe is dead,” Parker countered.

  “Doesn’t matter. My tribe will be there.”

  “Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “No one says you have to go,” she said.

  He stood up. “You can’t think I’m going to let Luke’s woman run off into hostile territory by herself. There are Confederates looking for you, the Shoshone are our enemies, and you want to go claim Luke’s body, which was taken by a tribe of dead people. That’s fucking wrong.” He shook his head. “Pardon. Head’s not on straight.”

  Jessie walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  He flinched.

  “You don’t have to come with me,” she told him. “I’m not asking you to.”

  He stared into the empty space behind her head for a long time. “There’s no reason for you to go, Missus.”

  “I’m getting Luke back, and I’m taking him home.”

  He motioned to some pictures on the chair. “When we got back, it was all I could think about. We don’t leave our men behind, but that’s what I forced you to do. That’s what I did. I let them take him, and I shouldn’t have. We don’t leave a brother behind.”

  They regarded one another for several seconds, and then he picked up the pictures. Taking her hand, he led her to the table where he spread the pictures out in front of her.

  “I had Duchess run some reconnaissance over the last few weeks. Look.”

  He opened a folded piece of paper, which detailed the blur of the photographs. The drawing showed hills and mountains, valleys and rivers. A small town and a farmstead or two. That was all.

  “What is this?” Jessie asked.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “I can see that. Why am I looking at it?”

  Parker moved the photographs around. “They’re gone. The Shoshone are gone. Duchess did the maps herself, and she’s the
best there is. There aren’t any shadows to show they’re there.”

  “They’re not gone.” She studied the map, then flipped through the photographs, trying to decipher something that wasn’t there in the blur.

  “No trace of them.” He pointed to the artist’s maps. “Look, there’s the mine where your father was kept. You see them?”

  As a matter of fact, she did not. She didn’t see traces of the Shoshone anywhere.

  “I had them do grid patterns for hundreds of miles,” Parker said, shaking his head. “They’re gone. I even went to Logan myself, where I heard rumors of a camp, but no one’s seen them. Talked to some men who work for Deseret—they didn’t know anything about a tribe in that location, and the other tribes in northern Utah have been in the same areas for months. They’re gone like they never even existed.”

  Parker cleared his throat noisily. “Hell, maybe they didn’t.”

  Jessie sat down heavily and rested her head in her hands. She was too tired to cry. The only reason she even got out of bed was because she was determined to get Luke back, and now the people who had him were gone.

  It was like she lost him all over again.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  Parker threw himself into the chair next to her. “Let me take you to Chicago with your father. Bradshaw has a place there—it’s yours now.” He dug into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out another set of papers and a set of keys. “We all signed papers saying you’re his wife. He wanted you to have it.”

  Jessie turned the keys over in her hands. “Looks like you’ve thought of everything.”

  “Least I could do. He was my friend.” He covered her hand with his. “He wouldn’t want you to run off on a wild goose chase searching for his body. You want to place a marker here or in Virginia City for him, then do that. Mourn him however you need to. You don’t need his body. But come with me to Chicago, where you’ll be safe.” As he moved to leave the room, he pulled something else from his pocket and put it on the table. “Think about it, will you?”

  In front of her he’d placed a first-class ticket to Springfield, Illinois, the closest airship station to Chicago. It was booked for the next day.

  Her name was on that ticket.

  She stood up and paced. Went back and picked up the ticket. Looked out the window and watched the moon for a moment.

  Jessie, the voices whispered. Come.

  Mourn him however you need to, Parker’s voice rang in her ears. You don’t need his body.

  She wondered if it were true.

  What if she didn’t need Luke’s body to dance him to the other side? What if all she needed was her?

  The voices in her head became restless.

  Jessie, they whispered. Outside. Come.

  For a change, she did as she was told.

  The cold and the dark surrounded her, and gossamer clouds passed over the moon. She heard her ancestors’ voices in the wind as it rustled through the trees. She heard their hearts in the beating of distant drums. She saw their forms shifting among the shadows, and their eyes in the face of the moon.

  She had seen them and heard them for years, but for the first time, she wasn’t afraid. This time, she didn’t turn away.

  This time, Jessie embraced them.

  They didn’t ask for what she did next.

  She began to dance.

  She danced for her ancestors, the long departed dead. She danced for her mother and her brother, as she hadn’t before. She danced for her grandfather and her tribe.

  She danced for Luke.

  The gossamer clouds thickened, swirling around her as her ancestors walked with her. They took their forms in the mist, surrounding her, touching her with diaphanous hands, welcoming her to the home she had long denied. Welcoming her back among her ancestors and her people.

  As their ancient song washed over her, they danced with her, and she danced with them. She danced until her legs shook and her body started to fail. Until her heart beat so frantically she thought it would burn up and turn to ash.

  She was ready.

  Granddaughter.

  Her grandfather stood by her side. She kept dancing.

  You have built me my bridge to peace. Black eyes followed her in the beckoning dark. And now it’s time for us to go.

  Take me, she said. Her ancestors pulled her into their embrace.

  Jessie’s lungs began to burn, her heartbeat erratic, and she went down to her knees. Gentle, ephemeral hands touched her, welcomed her and called her home.

  “Take me,” Jessie begged as her grandfather knelt in front of her. She closed her eyes and readied for the inevitable end. She was prepared, and she wasn’t afraid. “Take me home to Luke.”

  Hands that felt as real as flesh touched Jessie’s face and brushed her hair from her eyes. She held her breath and waited.

  You’ve given me the gift of peace, Grandfather said. Now it’s your turn to find it.

  “Yes,” Jessie said. “I am the last. Take me.”

  You are not, her grandfather whispered. Over the sound of her own blood in her ears, she heard a new heartbeat, different from all the others. Strong and pure, and a sound so different from the grief that had raged in her ears for the last month.

  Grandfather kissed her, a whisper against her forehead. Walk in peace, Little Singer.

  Jessie’s heart seized in her chest as the darkness pulsed at the edges of her vision. “Go,” she said. “Walk in peace, Grandfather.”

  Darkness enveloped her, and she heard nothing but the stillness of death.

  Luke.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jessie spent a full two weeks in Chicago before she even made it to Luke’s house.

  She stayed with her father and Whitfield. Parker visited every day. The Jamesons had her over to visit.

  No one spoke of Luke. Jessie couldn’t.

  Even though she’d decided to live, she still wasn’t sure how she’d go on without him, but she knew she would. Her body refused to break, even once she discovered she wouldn’t bear Luke’s child.

  She added that loss to the losses she already mourned.

  Her new family—Whitfield and Parker and Elizabeth and Jameson, as well as her father—took care of her. They visited frequently. It took her a long time to realize one of them was always with her. Whitfield would come home and regale her stories while her father worked at night. Her father would join her for meals and conversation, something that hadn’t happened since before Gideon died. Elizabeth would come over on some pretense, or insist Jessie come to visit her. Parker visited every evening and took her out for a turn around the park, and each day brought new life.

  The chill of winter had yielded to birth of spring.

  She looked forward to those walks, as she and Parker came to understand one another.

  On the rare occasions when they allowed her some time alone, she would go out for a walk, exploring her new city, watching the busy boulevards, crowded with steam-powered carriages and horses and people, who all had someplace to go and something to do. They moved as if they had purpose and meaning, while Jessie spent her time trying to make some sense out of her new life as a native without a tribe, a bride without a husband, and a mother without a child.

  She was empty and shiftless and her life carried no meaning. She couldn’t even pick up gears and build something, which was what she’d done before when her heart had been broken.

  But it had never suffered before as it suffered now. Her heart beat, but only barely. It was enough to sustain her life, but not enough for her to feel anything. She hadn’t given up hope that Luke would speak to her, but he didn’t. She’d heard her ancestors and her grandfather and her mother, but never him. She hadn’t heard Gideon either. She hoped that meant they were together, somewhere on the other side.

  She missed Luke with every beat of her heat.

  One clear afternoon, Jessie found herself staring at a two-story brick row house in a fashionable part of town
, not far from where she stayed with her father. She’d avoided coming down this street for weeks, and Parker had been careful to steer her away whenever he’d taken her out for walks.

  She touched the stoop and closed her eyes. Behind her lids, a man in a dark suit and a black slouch hat trudged wearily up these stone steps. His back was strong and proud, but there was a sort of sadness in the way he carried himself.

  Luke.

  Jessie must have stood there a long time, because suddenly she felt a hand on her elbow.

  “I saw you standing here. You know that boy?” an elderly woman asked, nodding up at Luke’s empty house.

  “I’m his wife.”

  The older woman smiled. “Figured. He described you once, and the minute I saw you standing here, I knew it was you. He said he hoped he’d be bringing you around soon. I’m the housekeeper.” She looked behind her, but she didn’t ask, and Jessie wouldn’t have answered.

  All these weeks later and she still couldn’t bring herself to voice that Luke was dead, as if saying the words out loud was an admission he wasn’t coming back.

  Her logical mind knew he wasn’t, but that didn’t stop her heart from hoping.

  “I hope we’ll be seeing more of him, now that you’re here. Would you like me to show you around the house? I’d be happy to.” She paused for a moment.

  “I--No. Thank you.”

  “Would you like me to make you some tea?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Are you unwell, dear?”

  “I’m fine.” Jessie gave herself a little shake and trudged up the few stairs to his door. “I think I’d like to be alone for a while,” she said over her shoulder, her voice dull and quiet.

  Because that’s what she’d become.

  She let herself in to Luke’s house, and instantly, the impression of him overwhelmed her. She felt him in this house. Not as she’d known him in that last week of his life, when they’d been together, but as he’d been that first day when he’d walked back into her life: hard and dangerous, self-reliant and confident.

  Lonely.

  She heard the memory of his voice in her ears. It’s always been you. Her fragile heart fractured just a little.

  Jessie wandered through his house, now hers. He had few belongings, though she supposed a bachelor who traveled frequently didn’t really need much. But the place was big and open, and for a moment, she entertained the image of this place filled with the laughter of children. Pain spiraled through her. Luke wouldn’t see his child born or hear his child’s laughter. He wouldn’t play with him or laugh with him. He wouldn’t see his own image reflected in his child’s eyes.