Susannah led the way back up the hill, taking each turn of the path in one surge of effort, then resting before going on to the next. While it was meritorious of her to have had three sons before spawning a girl, she sometimes wished for the help another older daughter or two might have given. Preferably plain ones, with crooked teeth and crossed eyes, like Charity's daughter Perseverance. Maybe they'd let Perseverance stay home and be a help to her mother until they both died of old age. At least none of the elders had made an offer for her yet.
Chastity, though, well, Chastity Brome wouldn't last long. That pale yellow hair and that sweet skin, like a baby's bottom, drew men's eyes like honey drew ants. If Elder Jepson didn't make her his sixth, then Elder Demoin, over in the next valley, would make her his fourth. And meantime all the boys down in the bachelor's house would keep on hiding behind the bushes to have a look at her, every time she went down for water.
The worst thing about it, if Chastity went to Elder Jepson, likely she'd be a widow before she got much older. He was only seventy, but he was a tottery seventy. If Chastity had a baby by the time he died or soon after, they'd send her back to Susannah to live out her life, and there were worse things than that. If she hadn't been pregnant or had miscarried, though, they'd say there hadn't been any true marriage and give her to some boy just starting out who'd work her to death before she was thirty. None of the old men would take her after another had had her. It was like the older a man was, the surer he had to be that a woman couldn't compare him to anybody else.
"There's Elder Jepson," Chastity whispered from behind Susannah on the trail. "Just coming out of Papa's house."
"Take no notice," Susannah murmured. "Remember we're unclean and just keep on right into our own place." She trudged up the last few feet of the trail to the path which led to her own wife-house, its tiny, sun-grayed porch facing away from Papa Brome's house with Chastity's faded red kerchief hanging on the latch to show there was a menstruating woman in the place. They set the buckets on the splintery floor of the porch, wiped their feet on the braided rag mat, then took the buckets into the kitchen to fill the reservoir. Early that morning, Susannah had made the daily extra trip needed to bring water to Papa's house. First trip in the morning was always to Papa's house for Papa and the little boys who studied there.
A thready wail greeted them as they poured the last bucket into the wooden tank, turning into a full-fledged howl as Baby heard their voices.
"Faith?" Susannah called, then again. At her third call, an answering voice came from outside.
"Mama. Sorry. I had to go to the privy, and I thought Baby was asleep." The eight-year-old who came in had obviously been crying and her bodice was soaked and smelly.
"Honey, love. What is it?"
"Elder Jepson told me I was a slovenly slut."
"You're not. Of course you're not. Why would he say such a thing."
"Baby threw up all over me. I wouldn't have gone out where he could see me if I'd known he was there, but I didn't."
"Shh, now. Never mind. You didn't talk back, did you?"
The little girl only wept, shaking her head.
"Chastity, you help her clean herself up. I'll see to Baby." She took off her headscarf, scratched her bald scalp where the hair was beginning to sprout in an itchy silver brush after the last shaving, then moved into the room where Baby slept.
Baby had no name. If he lived to be a year old, Papa would give him a name. If he lived to be six, he would go over to Papa's house every day and attend school. Boys had to be able to read and write so they could discuss the Scriptures. They had to be able to calculate some, as well, in order to be efficient shepherds for All Father, who wouldn't tolerate lack of discipline or diligence. Until the first year was over, however, babies were only "Baby." "Sweet'ums," sometimes. "Honey child." Not when Papa could hear, of course. Baby names and displays of affection were trivial things, unworthy of All Father. Anytime during the first year, a baby could disappear, just up and vanish, with nobody knowing a thing about it. That's what had happened to the two girl babies between Faith and Baby. Most always, it happened to girls. Hardly ever to boys unless there was something wrong with them. Though, sometimes, an Elder might sell a boy baby to some other Elder desperate for sons. Not that anybody would ever let on.
Susannah unbuttoned her bodice and put Baby to the breast. She wouldn't wean him until she had to. As long as he wasn't weaned, she wouldn't get her uncleanliness, and as long as she didn't get it, she probably wouldn't get pregnant. She couldn't bear to be pregnant again right away. Maybe not ever. She'd been pregnant almost all the time since she was fourteen. She'd had eleven pregnancies and had six living children, not counting the two girls who had just disappeared. If she got pregnant again, she thought she'd kill herself. It would be easier to die than to go through it again. Let Papa get some more babies on the sister wives, Matilda and Cheerfulness and Plentitude and Rejoice. No, Rejoice was too old, but Plentitude only had one at home, almost five years old. Let her have another one. Cheerfulness only had four and she hadn't had one for three years. Let her. Let Matilda get up out of that bed she'd been in for five years and get pregnant. Having three dead babies and coughing up blood now and then wasn't any reason to escape duty. If that's all it took, maybe Susannah could manage to cough up some, too. :
Susannah's eyes filled. All these thoughts were wicked and uncharitable, and unkind, and she knew they were but she kept having them anyhow. Everything was just so... so wearisome. It got so you looked forward to your daughter being unclean just so Papa wouldn't come to the house. And Chastity had long, unclean times, too. Seven or eight days, sometimes. It meant Papa had to leave Susannah alone for a whole week at a time. She wished it was forever. Let him take some other girl, a really young one, and spend all his time and energy on her. Susannah was too old for this. She was almost thirty, much, much too old for this.
INSIDE THE FATHER HOUSE, Elder Resolution Brome sat in his comfortable chair before the window, drinking hot mint tea one of the grannies had prepared, and considering Elder Jepson's offer for Chastity. Elder Jepson had a son, Thankful, almost thirty-five now, who'd cleared himself around forty acres in the third valley over, dug him a well, built him a fairly good log house, accumulated about a hundred sheep, and was ready to enter into the community of Elders and Fathers, if he could find a woman. Women were a might sparse right now, and Elder Brome silently brought to the attention of All Father the shortsightedness of Elders who had killed off all their infant daughters twelve and thirteen years ago. There'd been a drought then, which was all the excuse anyone needed, but where did they think their sons were going to get wives twelve and fifteen years later if they put all the infant girls out on the side of the mountain for the coyotes?
Resolution considered his own foresight in keeping Chastity. Of course, he'd laid out a few infant girls himself, later, after Faith was named, but he'd had good reason. Susannah hadn't seemed to be able to produce anything but girls there for a while. She'd had Chastity, then two girls stillborn, then Faith. Resolution had decided to leave Faith alone, even though she was a sickly little thing, because a woman needed a baby in the house to keep her working right. Then Susannah had two more weakling girls born early before she finally came out with Baby. And the worst of it was, if he wanted Susannah to be around to raise Baby, he'd better leave her alone. Everybody knew when they started dropping babies before their time, it wouldn't be long before the mama dropped, too, if you didn't leave her alone. Ewe sheep and women, both of 'em worked the same. And that was a pity because Susannah was the one it was easiest to do his duty with. She wasn't the best-looking, but there was something about her body just heated him right up. Something about the way she went all stiff and shivering under him made him just want to pound away at her.
Well, he'd have to do his duty on somebody else. Cheerfulness, maybe. There would be one good thing about giving Chastity to Elder Jepson for Thankful Jepson, because Elder Jepson had a thirteen-year-old
girl named Perseverance he was willing to give in trade. Ugly little thing if you looked at her face, but Elder Jepson said he'd had a look at her through a hole in the bathhouse wall recently and she had a suitable body. Besides, if Resolution didn't want her himself, he could give her to one of his boys. Both Retribution and Vengeance were getting ready to settle down, though Retribution was oldest. Perseverance wouldn't be what Ret would pick for himself, but a man could always throw her nightgown up over her head.
Most women liked it better that way anyhow, not that you could say they liked it. Not if they were decent.
And not that he'd decided yet. Retribution was barely thirty-five. He could wait a while longer. But if Resolution Brome himself took another wife, he'd have to fix up that old wife-house that was half falling down where Resolution himself had been born, where his own mama had lived right up until she died. He hadn't put anybody in there since his own father had died and he had taken over the farm.
He wasn't sure he wanted anybody in Mama's house. Maybe he could lay off a wife. Send one back to her mother or over to the granny house. Retribution's ma, Plentitude, was no damn good for anything, maybe he could move her over to the granny house. Not that she was quite old enough to be a granny. Close to fifty, though. One boy born to her when she was still a girl and then nothing until that other one five years ago, which was his own damn fault for takin' too much of the sacrament at the observance. If he'd been sober he'd of known which wife-house he was headed into even if it was dark, and it sure wouldn't have been Plentitude, who always smelled like sour milk and something moldy and had a duty place like wet sandpaper. But if he did move her into the granny house and put Perseverance in her place, it might give some of the other Elders ideas. Pretty soon he could move Rejoice, though. She was a granny, sure enough. Every time he saw her he thought of the smell of chicken soup. Woman always smelled like chicken soup. Hadn't been a red scarf on her doorlatch for two years now, but it wasn't usual to move a woman out of her wife-house until her youngest was gone. Rejoice still had one girl at home. Modesty, ten years old.
Then there was Matilda. Thirty-two years old, three dead babies, and her lying there coughing blood and taking up space. Nicest-lookin' woman Resolution had ever seen, even now. Matilda was a Demoin. Maybe he'd do some sheep tradin' and send her back to the Demoins. No point keepin' a wife who couldn't produce.
He counted on his fingers. Seven from Rejoice, all grown but one. Four from Cheerfulness, the oldest was only nine, and two from Plentitude. Six from Susannah, not counting the ones he'd disposed of. Nineteen, all together, fourteen of them boys. Could be that was just enough....
Damn Susannah, anyhow, he told himself. Any other wife a man could do his duty on for most of a year if he was minded to without her getting pregnant. It was like she did it just to vex him.
AT THE BACHELOR HOUSE, Retribution Brome was sharpening a scythe and preaching sedition to his brothers.
"Well, I say they're not of a mind to let us have any wives at all, no matter how many acres we get cleared. You look at the home manor, now. You've got Susannah's two girls, Chastity's thirteen and Faith's eight, and I'll bet Chastity's spoken for already. Cheerfulness has a seven-year-old who looks all right, her other girl's a baby.
"That ten-year-old of old Rejoice's has sniffles and a squint. Meantime, there's only one of us Brome sons married off, and eight of us here in the bachelor house, and five more with their mamas'. That's a total of thirteen boys left unmarried and only five girls to trade off. Now you can bet the Jepson manor is just about the same, and so is the Cavin manor, and the rest of 'em on up the valley. Every family has three or four girls and a dozen or more sons. Papa's getting on for seventy-five, and he won't last forever. And when he goes he'll leave Susannah, she's younger than me, and Cheerfulness, she's younger, and Matilda, she's younger, but they'll all of 'em be widows with kids, so nobody else can have 'em. What it amounts to is the Elders using up six or seven women apiece, some of 'em more than that, and killin' off baby girls whenever they care to, and the rest of us can go hang! There's about one girl for every four of us."
"What you goin' to do, Ret? Run off and join the devil women up north?"
"Figure I might catch one and bring her back."
"You think she'd stay? You're talkin' just plain silly."
"Figure if I break her leg, likely she'd stay." Retribution continued stroking the edge of the scythe with the stone, glaring across the room at his half brothers, Diligence and Vengeance, Rejoice's sons.
"Wouldn't be any good to you. Those are city females, Ret. Wouldn't know how to make a cheese, even."
"One thing she'd know how to do," he said darkly. "All she'd have to do about it is lie still."
"I don't know what you're in such a sweat about," Diligence observed. "Firstborn didn't get him a wife until last year and he was almost forty."
"And what did he get? Humility Gavin, from over the hill. She was half bald."
"She had to have her head shaved when she got married anyhow, Ret. What the hell difference did it make?"
"Big difference between a woman with her hair shaved off and a woman without any. Like she'll probably have half-bald kids, and Firstborn'll be walkin' around with his head down and these skin-headed kids trailin' after him."
"Way I hear it," Vengeance observed, "Elder Jepson's wants Chastity for Thankful, so he's goin' to trade Perseverance, and likely you'll get her."
"Perseverance, shit. Her eyes are so crossed you think she's lookin' past both sides of you!"
"What'll you care in the dark?"
"Same's I'd care about a bald wife. Makes it harder to do your duty, and besides, she'll have ugly kids. And if you've looked around some lately, you'll notice how many ugly kids there are. You notice that? You take a look at all the grannies and the old men. Not bad-lookin', most of 'em. A few ugly ones, but not many. Then you look at folks the age of Plentitude and Rejoice and younger, down to about our age. There's more ugly ones. Then you look at the young ones, the age of Chastity, and you'll see what I mean. Lots of babies bein' put away because they've got split lips or their feet are wrong, somehow. Lots of crossed eyes and crazy teeth and funny, squinty-up faces. Like something went wrong somewhere."
Vengeance got a peculiar look on his face, but he didn't say anything. What he was thinking was that Papa had married first when he was twenty-five years old. And Grandpapa had been less than that. Now here Firstborn was, almost forty, and Retribution was thirty-five, Vengeance himself was thirty-four, and the only females around were seven or eight years old!
"Not much point in you goin' off and catchin' one of those Women's Country females," he said with a deep and abiding anger. "Likely Papa would only take her away from you if you did."
AT THE WIFE-HOUSE of Rejoice Brome, Firstborn Brome, forty years of age, sat in the half dark of the kitchen talking with his fifty-five-year-old mother. His brothers, Vengeance, Diligence, Determination, and Preserved by the Lord were all down at the bachelor house. His sister, ten-year-old Modesty was carding wool in the shed out back. His other sister, Gratitude Brome, now thirty-two, had been married off at age fourteen to Elder Gavin, over the mountain, and her mother had not seen her for several years, though Firstborn had. He had ostensibly come, as was considered reasonable, to bring his mother what news there was about her daughter.
"She just had her twelfth," he told his mother. "Eight of 'em livin'. She said to tell you somethin' broke this time, but she's not too miserable over it. Said you'd know what she meant."
Rejoice nodded, making no comment. She thought she knew what Gratitude was trying to say. "Next time you see her," she murmured, "you might suggest she ask for your Aunt Susannah. Susannah's mama or grandma, I forget which it was, was caught out there in the outside and brought into the Holyland. She knew quite a bit about female kinds of things, and she taught Susannah."
"I didn't know that," Firstborn said in a tone of wonder. "Who caught her? Susannah's mama or grandma, I mea
n."
"I think it was Elder Demoin, when he was just a young man livin' in the bachelor house. Anyhow, it could be Elder Brome would let Susannah go do some nursin', if Elder Gavin would allow it. Only other woman I heard of with any healin' skill is clear over four valleys. She's a Simpson, I think. She'd be real old now."
"I'll tell Sister," he said, staring at the floor between his feet. "Mama... ?"
"Yes, Firstborn?"
"What I really did was I come to ask you about somethin'."
"I'm sure Papa could answer anythin' you want to know."
The middle-aged man flushed, red showing darkly at the edge of his beard. "Don' want to ask Papa. Want to ask you!"
"All right, son. Just so long's you remember I'm only a woman and don't know much about things." Rejoice kept her face calm and quiet, just as she always did. It was easiest just not to show anything, not to seem to want anything. Then, pretty soon, if you lived long enough, you got to be a granny and life got to be pretty good for a little while before it ended.
The Gate to Women's Country Page 23