Walks the Fire

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  Joseph was smiling happily, and MacKenzie started to say something but was interrupted by the attentions of a young woman who fairly leaped across the kitchen into his arms, crying happily. Everyone began talking at once, asking questions and laughing irrationally.

  “This boy’s got some sense, after all,” boasted Joseph. “There’s but one dugout between here and his homestead. When the storm started, he headed straight for it. Took the horses and all straight inside and sat the four days out.”

  “And the horses about did me in too,” laughed MacKenzie. “They gnawed every piece of furniture in the place and had started on the roof when the snow finally quit. We went on to the homestead, then. Had a terrible time finding the haystacks, but we finally dug one out, and then we were fine.”

  “What did you eat, MacKenzie?” Jesse asked.

  “Rabbit—plenty of it, too. Four days of rabbit!”

  LisBeth started to speak, but MacKenzie held his hand up. “LisBeth, I’m sorry I didn’t listen better to what you wanted. But the fact is, I just can’t live in town. I had to go back to the homestead and think things through. I thought maybe I could start over there.” He shivered. “But I can’t. Call me a weak man, but there’s nothing on that place for me but memories of death and sadness. That’s no place to start a new life.”

  He turned back to LisBeth. “I love you, LisBeth King. I want to marry you. But I’m headed west as soon as the snow melts. Will you come with me?”

  LisBeth looked solemnly up at MacKenzie. “MacKenzie Baird, I promised God last night that if I ever got a second chance, there was one thing I was going to say to you. This is it:” LisBeth’s voice trembled with emotion as she paraphrased, “Wherever you go, I will go, wherever you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God.”

  From the other side of the kitchen, Jesse gave way to an uncharacteristic shout of joy, “Hallelujah!” In a burst of activity, coffee was set to boiling and biscuits were made. Joseph and MacKenzie took the horses to the stable and bedded them down with hot mash and oats, returning to the hotel to enjoy a hearty breakfast.

  Only four weeks later, Augusta read her Commonwealth with tears in her eyes:

  Miss LisBeth King and Mr. MacKenzie Baird were united in marriage today in a ceremony held at the Congregational Church. Miss King, the daughter of Mrs. Jesse King, a widow employed at The Hathaway House, has been known to us all as a hard-working and God-fearing young woman of high character. Mr. Baird, while known to the citizenry for only a short time, has proven himself to be an honest man and a great asset to the state. The couple left immediately for the West, where Mr. Baird has volunteered to serve our great army in its efforts to tame the last vestiges of the frontier. We wish them well, and Godspeed.

  Jesse quilted furiously while Augusta read. Not until the following morning did she realize that her efforts had been in vain, for the tears in her eyes had blurred the fact that she had threaded her needle with the wrong color thread.

  Thirty-two

  She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.—Proverbs 31:20

  Both Jesse and Augusta were amazed at how empty life felt without LisBeth. The women remained involved at the Congregational Church and in civic affairs, and Augusta made Jesse a partner in the hotel. Theirs was the first hotel in Lincoln to boast gas lighting, although Jesse did not quite trust it and continued to use her kerosene lamp in her room.

  LisBeth’s absence introduced her to a new kind of loneliness. Jesse had said many goodbyes in her life. Each one had brought its own kind of pain, but all the pain had been dealt with in the same way—renewed fervor in reading God’s Word and renewed prayer. This goodbye was no different, except for one wonderful thing: Jesse could continue to pray for LisBeth and MacKenzie. She could continue to share in their lives.

  Letters kept them close. LisBeth wrote often—long, detailed letters that described the countryside, the towns, and the people they encountered. Her writing often sounded like the little girl who had talked so quickly, running all her sentences together. Jesse and Augusta read them over and over before Jesse placed them in a pasteboard box in her top dresser drawer.

  It took only a few days for them both to realize that they needed to hire help.

  “Joseph is a great help, but we’re getting older, Jesse. We just can’t keep this pace up.”

  Jesse readily agreed. Doing her share of LisBeth’s work wore her out. She found herself too tired to quilt in the evenings and sank onto her bed as early as possible, ever hoping to catch up on her rest and return to her quilting “tomorrow.”

  Augusta placed an ad in the Commonwealth for help. When Jesse went by the office to pay for the ad, she rounded the corner of 10th and K and was nearly knocked over by a young woman running with a child in her arms. After her in hot pursuit was a buxom older woman, holding up her skirts and calling out, “Sarah! Sarah Biddle, you come back here this minute!”

  Sarah Biddle kept running up Tenth Street and out of sight. Her pursuer stopped short and stamped the ground angrily. “Well! I never! Try to help these orphans, and what do I get? Nothing but trouble!” The woman shook her parasol at Jesse, “What did I tell them at the agency? Don’t take that Sarah Biddle! She’s a bad one; no one will want her if she insists on keeping that cripple with her. Well, now I’m proven right! I’ll have the police round her up—I’m done with her. She’s going back to New York, that one. I won’t be responsible!”

  The woman spun around and was off again in the opposite direction, muttering and threatening with every step.

  Jesse readjusted her hat, finished her errand, and returned to Hathaway House.

  That evening, long after the train for the East had departed without the runaways and the police had been called from their search to settle a disturbance, Joseph Freeman prepared to close up the livery stable when a rustle overhead caught his attention. Pulling the great door closed, Joseph shot quickly up the ladder to the loft. As he reached the top, a flash of color disappeared behind a bale of hay in the corner opposite the ladder.

  Joseph brandished his pitchfork. “You might as well come out, ’cause there’s only one way outta this here loft, and I’m not leavin’ without whoever that is.”

  A pair of eyes peered at him from over the bale of hay. A defiant feminine voice retorted, “We’ll starve to death, then, ’cause we ain’t comin’ out to be sent back to New York!”

  A younger voice echoed, “Yeah, we ain’t comin’ out!”

  Joseph sat down in the hay. “There an echo in here?” Silence.

  He tried again. “Well, I was just fixin’ to head over to Hathaway House for supper. They fixin’ fried chicken tonight. Heaps of it. Mashed potatoes too. And pie. Ooo eee that Miz King, she makes good pie! Too bad you can’t come and have some.”

  Silence. Finally, another defiant comment. “Ain’t no Miz King givin’ away free meals, is they? We got no money, so we ain’t gittin’ no fried chicken. ’Sides, ‘Granny Grump’ is probably waitin’ just outside with the police to haul us off anyways.”

  Joseph used the same voice he had used all his life to calm frightened horses. It was smooth, low, and nearly expressionless. “Now, the way I heard tell it was this: Miz Ophelia Granwich left word with the police that if Miss Sarah Biddle and her brother Tom was found, they was to be returned to New York on the next train, unless somebody wanted ’em. Left train fare with the police. ’Course, I don’t think they’ll be needin’ that train fare, ’cause I know Miz King and Miz Hathaway, and they been lookin’ for someone to help them in their hotel. Way I figger it, that’s a good job for anybody.”

  Silence. Then, a still-defiant voice tinged with desperation. “Ain’t no Miz King gonna want us. My brother’s crippled. Can’t work hard. Nobody wants us both—and I ain’t leavin’ ’im! I ain’t!”

  Joseph continued to try to calm the terror in the voice. “Let’s just have a look. Can’t be that bad.” He inhaled dee
ply, “Mmm, think I smell that chicken fryin’ now.”

  Two sets of eyes appeared over the bale of hay. Slowly, blond-headed Sarah Biddle stood up. Grasping her brother’s hand, she pulled him upright, then helped him sit on the bale of hay. She swung his legs around so that he faced Joseph, then seated herself beside him and wrapped one arm tightly around his waist.

  “You holdin’ on mighty tight,” Joseph said.

  Sarah nodded. “We’re together. We’re stayin’ together. Ain’t nothin’ old Granny Grump can do about it, neither. Maybe I will go back to New York. They’s a man there already offered me a job. Said I’d get to dress up real pretty too. Said I could keep Tom too—long as he stayed in the back room while I talked to my visitors.” She thrust a finely formed chin forward. “Sounds all right to me, I guess. Don’t even know why I come on that stupid train, anyhow. Folks proddin’ and pokin’ and talkin’ about us like we was slaves at some auction.”

  Joseph nodded. “Guess I know what that feels like. Still, they’s worse places to live than Lincoln.”

  “Guess we’ll never find out.” Sarah stood up impulsively and hauled her rotund brother up beside her. “We’ll be headin’ back, I guess. You can show us the police station.”

  “Not so fast, now, young lady,” Joseph replied. “They’s plenty of time fer that. Train don’t come back till tomorrow anyway. Why don’t you two just come and eat with us?”

  “Can’t. I told ya. We got no money.”

  “Don’t need no money.”

  Sarah looked at him suspiciously. “How’m I gonna pay if I got no money?” She clutched her brother tighter.

  “You ain’t gonna pay. Lincoln has this rule. The first night in town, every visitor is entitled to a free meal at Hathaway House. City pays for it. It’s a way to get folks to stay on and try us out.”

  “That the truth?”

  “Swear on my freedom papers.”

  Sarah considered. Tom settled the issue. “Want chitchen! Sarah, want chitchen. I’m hungry!”

  “All right, then, Mister. We’ll take the free meal.”

  Joseph stood up. “Just you hand me your brother, and we’ll go down.”

  “No!” She stepped away from Joseph, frightened eyes wide open. “Don’t nobody touch Tom but me. You just stay back!”

  Joseph held up his hands to calm her. “All right, miss. All right. I’ll back down the ladder here. You need any help, you just holler.”

  Joseph descended the ladder and watched in amazement as the tiny girl wrestled her brother down the ladder, one step at a time. When his left foot hit the first rail, Joseph saw the problem. One leg was at least two inches shorter than the other. A deep scar ran from the ankle up out of sight inside his dress. Joseph decided not to notice. The trio went out and around the back of Hathaway House.

  Entering the kitchen, Joseph headed off Augusta’s questions. “Miz Hathaway, this here is Sarah Biddle and her brother, Tom. They’s just visitin’ Lincoln, and I told ’em about the free meal we offer every newcomer. I remembered to tell ’em it’s only one free meal. They thought they’d come tonight, if that’s all right”

  Augusta winked at Jesse and entered into the play. “Why, of course, Joseph. That’ll be just fine.” Turning to Sarah, Augusta said politely, “Would you two like to wash up before supper?” Sarah shook her head, and Jesse took up a role.

  “Please come this way, Miss Biddle. We’ve a room in the back here just for newcomers. It used to be my daughter LisBeth’s room, but now we use it for newcomers.” Sarah followed Jesse to LisBeth’s room. Her eyes widened as she surveyed the comfortable room, the four-poster bed with its clean, crisp pillow covers. A small washstand stood by the bed with linen towels over the bar. Jesse poured fresh water from the pitcher in her hand. She thoughtfully poured two glasses full of water. Sarah plopped Tom on the bed and Jesse left. “Supper’s ready whenever you are, Miss Biddle. Just come out to the kitchen.”

  After Jesse left, Tom bounced on the bed. “Sarah… it’s so soft!” he exclaimed. “I like it here!”

  Sarah scrubbed her face and hands and turned to wash Tom’s, careful to remove as much grime as possible. She wet her hands and tried to push his stubborn hair into place. There was a dresser opposite the washstand, and on the top of the dresser lay a lovely dresser set. Sarah inspected it carefully, turning the mirror over to look at herself. She picked up the brush and, looking over her shoulder at the open door, quickly brushed her hair.

  “Well,” she said at last, “I guess we can go eat now.”

  “We stayin’ here, Sarah?” Tom asked.

  “Don’t think so. Just eatin’ the free meal. Then we’ll sleep in the loft ’til the train comes tomorrow.”

  “But I want to stay here!”

  “Can’t stay here,” she said miserably. Then, she snapped at him to avoid any more questions. “Quit yer’ whinin’, Tom. We’re gettin’ a decent meal, ain’t we? That’s enough! Now let’s go eat!”

  Sarah and Tom reappeared in the kitchen and ate massive amounts of food. Life had taught them to eat heartily when there was plenty, for tomorrow there might be nothing.

  Jesse and Augusta left the children to Joseph’s attentions, busying themselves with serving the boarders in the dining room. Sarah and Tom watched them come and go with great interest. Between gargantuan bites of chicken, Tom asked, “Them two ladies own this hotel? Are they nice? How come those people out there don’t eat all their food? You folks eat like this every night? When’s the train come tomorrow?” Joseph patiently answered each question. Sarah let him talk freely, until he asked his last question. When Tom said, “Can we stay here? You folks eat good!” Sarah elbowed him in the ribs and hissed “Shh!”

  The two children sat motionless and drowsy after they had gorged on supper. When Jesse and Augusta finished their chores, Augusta settled comfortably into her chair and picked up the Commonwealth. Jesse said to Sarah, “Miss Biddle, you’re welcome to stay in the room you saw—just for tonight, of course.”

  “Can’t stay,” came the short reply. “Got no money. Kin we sleep in the loft?” This was directed at Joseph, who nodded yes, imploring Jesse with his eyes.

  “Well, now, Miss Biddle, I appreciate the problem of no money. I’ve been without money lots of times myself. Would you be able to do a little work in return for your use of the room tonight?”

  Sarah looked suspicious again. “What kind of work you need done?”

  Jesse looked at Joseph. “Well, I’m sure Mr. Freeman could use help feeding the horses tonight. And he usually brings in firewood for the stove. Perhaps you could help him do that.”

  Sarah hopped down energetically. “Be glad to. I like horses!”

  Sarah reached for Tom.

  “Oh, it’s all right, Miss Biddle. Tom can stay here with us.”

  Sarah clutched Tom’s sleeve. “No! Tom stays with me!”

  Tom started awake and rubbed his eyes. “Tired, Sarah. Tom’s tired. Wanna go bed.”

  Jesse laid her hand on the tousled hair and gently stroked. “How about if we put him to bed? Then you can go help Joseph with the chores.”

  Sarah considered. “You mean in there?” she pointed to LisBeth’s room.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I put ’im to bed?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you won’t take him nowhere while I’m gone?”

  “Sarah, I would never, never take a brother away from his sister. Families are important. Families should stay together.”

  She knelt down by Sarah and Tom. “You’re a very good sister to care so much for Tom. Come on, let’s put him to bed.”

  Sarah felt something inside let go. Something that was wound tight inside her. It wasn’t enough to let her cry all the tears she’d been storing up for the last fourteen years, but it was enough for her to feel that perhaps—just perhaps—there were people in the world you could trust, after all.

  She picked Tom up and carried him into LisBeth’s bed, where he fe
ll instantly asleep, cuddled up to the down pillow. Sighing happily, he didn’t even know that Sarah left to do her chores—or that she returned to slip into the nightgown Jesse loaned her and to slide in beside him. When Jesse looked in to check on them before turning in, Sarah lay on her side, the hem of Tom’s shirt clutched tightly in one hand.

  Sarah sat bolt upright in bed at the sound of the train whistle. Shaking Tom vigorously, she shouted, “Tom! Tom! Wake up! Train’s comin’!”

  Jesse and Augusta heard the commotion and hurried into the room. “We have several trains come through Lincoln every day. The train to New York won’t be back until this afternoon. It’s all right—calm down!”

  Tom snuggled happily down under the coverlet again. But Sarah pulled the covers back. “Don’t matter, Tom. Morning’s come. We gotta be outta here. Where’s my clothes?” Sarah demanded.

  Jesse answered, “Out in the kitchen by the stove. We washed them after you went to sleep. We didn’t think you’d mind.” As Jesse explained, Augusta handed over the clean clothes she had retrieved from the drying rack by the stove.

  Augusta interrupted. “Sarah—Miss Biddle—we’d like to ask you something. Please come out to the kitchen after you’re dressed.”

  Sarah entered the kitchen where Jesse and Augusta sat drinking coffee, looking relaxed. Sarah was wary. “You wanted somethin?”

  Jesse had been elected to speak. “You’re gentler than I am, Jesse,” Augusta had said. “I’m too prickly. Takes a while to warm up to me. You can say it better—you talk.” Augusta dabbed at her eyes. “Those children must never go back to New York! After I heard what Joseph said they were headed for…”