A Girl Undone

by Catherine Linka

  “Darn that woman,” Vera said. “We’d best get to the market. Hazel knows I always do my shopping on Fridays, and Lord knows we don’t need to give her reason to wonder why I’m not at the Albertson’s.”

  Not when Hazel had two hundred and fifty thousand reasons that were a phone call away. Hawkins’ reward could provide her a lot of comfort in her old age.

  It was still early, but cars were parked outside the grocery store. Vera inserted her key card to release the door. A sign declared: WOMEN-ONLY SHOPPING UNTIL 3 P.M.

  A group of women Vera’s age were seated at a couple of folding tables just inside the door. They spied us, and waved us over. All six had their eyes locked on me.

  Vera sucked in a breath. I could almost see her thoughts spinning.

  My feet turned, ready to walk right out and get back in the car. You can’t. You have to stay. I unzipped my coat, but left my hat on. “Cousin Vera, why don’t you relax with your friends while I do the shopping?”

  She smiled and handed me the list. “That’s sweet of you, Tracy dear.”

  I waved at the ladies, and received their approving smiles, then grabbed a cart. Dodged that bullet.

  Rolling up the dairy aisle, I checked the ceiling, noting where the security cameras were placed, and angling my body so they wouldn’t get a good shot.

  I wanted to get through the list and get out of there, but I could hear Vera and her pals whooping it up, their laughter echoing down the aisles. I needed to draw this out a little longer.

  I passed the pet food aisle, and spied Selena. Bags of dog food overflowed her cart. I did a U-turn, and caught up with her. “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Ay, Tracy, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I cannot afford this food.”

  “Can’t the Humane Society help?”

  “No, they told me to take the perritos to the shelter in Denver. Is no-kill. But my husband, he is in Wyoming working the oil fields. I cannot do it myself.”

  The map I memorized in fourth grade flashed in my brain. Laramie was due east, the same direction as Detroit. Don’t offer to help. Harris has probably found you a ride. “Sorry, Selena. That sounds really frustrating.”

  “This is what happens when you have a big heart for perritos.”

  I slid a ten out of my pocket and pressed it into her hand. “For the food.”

  “No, I don’t want to take—”

  “Please. I want to.”

  “Okay. This time.” We smiled at each other like we knew there’d never be a next time. Looking over her shoulder, I spied Vera waving me down. “Excuse me, Vera needs me.” I pushed the cart over to her. “What’s up?”

  “Hazel’s here,” she whispered. “Let’s vamoose.”

  We headed for the only checkout with a cashier, and as we rolled up, I saw my face. Not just on People—but on every gossip magazine in the rack. And who was holding the Enquirer? Hazel McAllister.

  “Teen Terrorist” screamed the headline over my blurry pic.

  “Lord Almighty,” Vera muttered.

  My eyes darted to the exits. Don’t panic. You can’t panic.

  I heard Roik, my old bodyguard, in my head. “The best defense is a good offense. If someone’s following you, turn right around and nail them with your eyes.”

  I plastered on a smile. “Hi, Ms. McAllister!”

  “Oh, it’s Vera’s visitor from Salt Lake.”

  “Let me help you with your cart.” I pulled out some cans of fancy cat food and laid them on the checkout belt. “Are you baking a cake for tonight?”

  “No, I leave the baking to the girls. I do a lot of tasting, however.” Hazel chuckled, showing me her wide, yellow teeth.

  “Well, I always make devil’s food with marshmallow frosting for Lou. That’s his favorite.”

  Hazel laid the Enquirer on her groceries. “You like to bake?”

  “Oh, I love to bake!” I was roasting under my hat.

  I kept up the chatter while I emptied Hazel’s cart, and somehow managed to slip the Enquirer back into the magazine rack without her seeing.

  Luke and I had to get out of town ASAP, I thought as I watched her pay.

  Back in the car, I ripped off my hat and jacket. My striped shirt was soaked with sweat. “Is Hazel everywhere?”

  “No,” Vera said, “but it feels that way sometimes.”

  We dropped the groceries at the house. Luke was mixing cement in a wheelbarrow beside the church when Vera and I drove up.

  Please tell me you’ve got good news, I thought, walking over to him. Tell me Harris found us a ride out of here.

  We didn’t have much time before Hazel put two and two together and came up with two hundred and fifty thousand.

  Luke was working on a broken section of the concrete walk. He stirred the cement with a shovel and jerked his elbow at the hose by his feet. “Put a little more water in that slurry, will you?”

  “Sure.” I pointed the hose so water trickled into the thick gray mud. “Any luck with Harris finding us a ride?”

  “No. He’s called over forty people. None are moving stock this time of year.”

  “Damn.”

  “That’s enough water.”

  I tossed the hose aside. The wood frame that Luke built to form the step was perfectly measured and cut, with angles that were exactly ninety degrees. He was so careful, always thinking through things.

  “So we need to come up with another way,” I said.

  “Harris offered to drive us.”

  “No. He can’t!”

  Luke looked up, as surprised as I was by my reaction. “Yeah, I told him no. We’re putting him and Vera in enough danger as it is.”

  “Hitchhiking would be too dangerous. And the police will be watching the buses.”

  “Yeah, it doesn’t look promising, does it?”

  I didn’t like asking Selena, but what choice did we have? “The woman who did my hair wants to drive to Denver, but she needs help.”

  “You saying she might offer us a ride?”

  “Maybe. She has to take a dozen dogs to a shelter. We’d be doing her a favor.”

  “Not much of a favor.”

  “I could ask. I’m pretty sure she knows who I am.”

  Luke lifted the wheelbarrow, shaking the handles so the cement slopped into the frame. “All right. Your turn,” he said, when the frame was full. “Slide that trowel around in a figure eight and even out the top.”

  I kneeled down and slid the trowel back and forth. “Yesterday, when I asked you how this guy in Laramie is supposed to help us, you didn’t answer.”

  “I can’t. I’m not sure he will.”

  “Then why the hell are we going?”

  Luke glanced at the street. “Would you keep it down?”

  “I’d be happy to if you’d give me a good reason to risk my life to get to eastern Wyoming to meet him.”

  “Because Barnabas told me to find him.”

  We stood there, letting the moment settle. How could I argue with that? “Okay, I’ll call Selena.”

  I was surprised when Selena hesitated only a moment before saying she’d drive us. “Are you sure?” I said.

  “You and Lou come over, and help me pack the RV.” She explained how she’d get her sister’s son to drive up from Denver and meet her in Laramie. Then he’d go the rest of the way with her.

  I had just put down the phone and was still marveling at our luck when Vera came up from the basement carrying a dress. She spread the midnight-blue skirt out over her desk. “I think this will fit you.”

  “Oh, Vera, it’s amazing.”

  The dress sparkled as if stars were caught in the fabric. I touched the halter. For one night, I would be a normal girl like from Before, wearing a pretty dress and going to a dance with a cute guy. Tonight might be fun.

  I held the dress up to my body, and realized that I’d called Luke cute. My cheeks turned pink. Okay, so I called him cute. So what? I’d have to be blind not to notice how good-looking Luke is.
And I’m not. So there.

  10

  Packing up the RV with the perritos’ food and gear was a circus, and I realized why Selena couldn’t do it alone. By the time Luke and I got back to Vera’s we needed showers to get off the doggie smell and slobber.

  But once I zipped the blue dress on, I was Cinderella. Light caught on the tiny sequins in the midnight-colored fabric crisscrossed over my breasts. I swished back and forth in front of the mirror, watching the full skirt float away from my body.

  I’d been primped and polished by stylists to please Hawkins, and after that, the Paternalist politicos Maggie had me entertain in Vegas, but tonight I was pretty.

  Luke knocked on the door. “You decent?”

  “Sure, come on in.”

  He stood there in a skinny tie and a pressed shirt, his mouth open.

  “That bad?” I said.

  “No, not bad at all—I mean, good—you look nice.” His gaze darted from me to the chair where his hat was perched. “Whenever you’re ready—”

  His confusion was teasing a smile out of me, but I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see it. Butterflies crashed into each other in my stomach as I reached for his hat. “I’m ready,” I said, handing it to him.

  Harris and Vera loaned us their car and Luke and I drove to the high school, barely talking except to read the street signs or Vera’s directions. The parking lot was almost full by the time we got there, and Luke pointed out two squad cars by the doors to the gym, their blue lights slowly revolving.

  My toes turned to ice in my silver slingbacks. “Maybe Hazel McAllister tipped off the police.”

  “I doubt it,” Luke answered. “Hazel seems more like someone who’d call 1-800-AVE-LINE to claim the reward.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Sorry.”

  We parked and walked toward the building. I wobbled in my heels over the icy ground. A dozen women, men, and teenage boys milled near the front door, waving signs. AUCTIONS ARE FOR COWS, NOT WOMEN. LOVE YOUR DAUGHTERS, DON’T SELL THEM.

  “I don’t like this,” I said.

  “Yeah, but we gotta show our faces.” Luke twined his fingers into mine. “Hazel’s waiting.”

  We’d almost reached the door when a sinewy woman in a rancher jacket and jeans pushed out of the crowd. “Shame on you for taking your sister in there!” she snapped at Luke.

  She glared at him, her eyes granite hard, and I tightened my grip on his hand. Let’s go.

  Luke didn’t even blink. “I promised my wife I’d take her to the dance.”

  “How much did you pay for her?” the woman demanded.

  “Nothing!” I shoved my ring in her face. “We married for love. He saved two years to buy me this ring.”

  She stepped back but her expression didn’t change. “You go in there and you’re supporting the subjugation of young women.”

  “With all due respect, ma’am, I’m here to support Search and Rescue. Good night.” Luke tipped his hat, and we left her openmouthed as Luke steered me toward the door.

  We passed under a banner hanging over the gymnasium doors: WELCOME TO THE POCATELLO PRINCESS WINTER DANCE. A half-dozen state troopers formed a line by the entry.

  “Easy does it,” Luke whispered. I squeezed his hand tighter.

  Luke went to guide me past them, when one stepped forward. “Your gun.”

  We froze. I held my breath, knowing a pat-down was next and then arrest.

  “Mister,” the officer said quietly, but firmly. “No guns or alcohol are allowed inside. You need to check your firearm here.”

  “I left my weapon at the house, sir,” Luke said.

  The officer stepped aside. “Thank you and enjoy the dance.”

  We both drew in a breath, and Luke handed our tickets to the man at the door.

  Silver garlands and giant glittery snowflakes hung from the gym ceiling. A fiddler, guitarist, and bass cranked out a country-western tune on the stage up front.

  “Well, this doesn’t look too bad,” Luke said. A smile opened up his face. “Heck, we might even have a little fun tonight.”

  “I hope so,” I said, trying to make my smile match his. I felt my toes wanting to tap to the beat as if my body craved a few hours of cutting loose. A row of booths decorated with crepe paper like at a school carnival were lined up along the basketball court, but no one was manning them yet.

  Men of all ages sat on the bleachers on the far side of the room. Some had wives with them, and I realized many of the women were Mom’s age or the age she’d be if she was alive. It was the most women I’d seen her age outside of Salvation.

  “What are you staring at?” Luke said.

  “Those women. How did they survive?” I forced myself to look away.

  “Maybe they’re ranchers who raised their own cattle.”

  Luke was probably right. They were cancer-free, because they’d never eaten beef tainted with Scarpanol. If only everyone had known.

  “Hey, how about some cake?” Luke said.

  “Mmm. Okay.”

  Twenty girls who looked like freshmen clustered behind long tables of frosted and decorated cakes. A blonde in a white dress with yellow roses at the neck spied Luke, and practically threw herself across the table, waving him over. “Hey, come see my cake. It’s applesauce with caramel frosting.”

  Her girlfriend in hot pink muscled her out of the way with a good-natured shove. “Nah, you don’t want that. You want my coconut cake!”

  I linked my arm protectively through Luke’s. Maybe these girls were only fifteen, but Luke had never seen girls like them in Salvation.

  “You mean we bid on these cakes?” he said.

  “Every dollar we raise goes to equipment for the Bannock County Search and Rescue,” Blondie said.

  “Opening bid’s thirty-five dollars!” her friend added. “But you can buy a slice for ten.”

  “What’s your favorite type of cake?” Blondie purred at Luke.

  I spotted Hazel McAllister making a beeline for us. “Why hey, Ms. McAllister!”

  The girls pulled apart like they’d been caught doing something wrong. Hazel loomed over their shoulders. “I’m glad you came,” she said. “Are you enjoying the dance?”

  I gripped Luke tighter. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He turned his chestnut-brown eyes at her, and I saw Hazel McAllister soak up Luke’s smile like a cat soaking up sunshine. My teeth hurt, I was smiling so hard, hoping Luke’s charm would protect us from Hazel’s suspicions.

  We escaped after a few minutes of small talk and crossed the dance floor. The band went quiet as the master of ceremonies took the stage. Single men came down from the bleachers and left the cake table to gather in front of him.

  “Welcome, everyone, to the Third Annual Pocatello Princess Winter Ball,” the MC said. “Before I bring out the princesses, I want to remind you that all the money we raise tonight goes to buy new equipment for Search and Rescue. Each princess will dance ten dances with winning bidders, so open your wallets, boys!”

  The men clapped and the band struck up a song that sounded like it came from a Disney movie. “Our first princess is Melodie Goshawk.”

  Melodie stepped on the stage with a man who held her arm so proudly, I knew it had to be her dad. She glided along in her long red dress and rhinestone tiara, while her father was country formal in his polished boots, jacket, string tie, and Stetson.

  “Melodie has just completed her 4H steer project,” the MC said. “She loves trout fishing, and working her hunting dog. She prefers her pizza with pepperoni and sausage.”

  The clapping continued as Melodie paraded down the center of the gym, beaming like the queen in the Rose Parade. Then she walked to the line of decorated booths and stepped into the first one. Over her head hung a silver-spangled sign that read MELODIE.

  My stomach tensed, seeing Melodie in that booth. Stop being so sensitive, I told myself. They’re selling dances to raise money for a good cause, that’s all.

  After four more girls we
re introduced, the MC waved his program. “Men, if you’re looking to get married, the parents of each Pocatello Princess are here tonight to talk Contract terms, and Mr. Tellerman from the bank has a table set up to help with the financing. And be sure to bid on some dances, because this is your chance to get to know these girls.”

  I turned my back on the stage, and saw the banker sitting at a table with a sign reading TURN YOUR HOUSE INTO A HOME. ASK ME ABOUT A BRIDE MORTGAGE! A line of men waited to talk to him.

  I muttered a string of swear words under my breath. No matter where we went it was the same, men buying and selling girls’ lives, their happiness.

  Luke squeezed my hand. “What’s got you so upset?”

  “These girls are going to be sold off like 4H projects. Some of their moms are right up there in the bleachers. How can they sit there and let this happen?”

  “Tracy, honey, you’re drawing attention to yourself, glaring at everybody like that.”

  I tried to force myself to smile, but I couldn’t quite do it.

  “How about we get some punch?” Luke said.

  “Fine.”

  Luke guided me over to the punch table, where I sipped my drink and I made myself clap for the princesses as each made her debut. Across the room, men lined up at the booths to bid on a dance.

  I kept glancing at the women on the bleachers, especially the one who couldn’t take her eyes off Charlene, the princess in booth five, and who had to be Charlene’s mom. I nudged Luke. “Look at that woman in the green dress. How can she let her husband sell their daughter? My mom would have fought my dad to the death before she’d let that happen.”

  “Well, maybe somebody should do something about Contracts,” Luke said.

  “You think I’m that somebody, don’t you?”

  Luke shrugged. His faith in me was greater than it should be. How was I supposed to stop Jouvert when I wasn’t even sure I could save myself?

  Luke eased my empty cup from my hand. “Let me throw this away.”

  While he did, I watched Charlene. She greeted each bidder with a camera-ready smile, no matter if he was a sunken-eyed grandpa or a beer-bellied cowboy. My heart fell, seeing only two young men about her age in line. Did they even have a chance?