Sarah's Quilt

by Nancy E. Turner

  Dear Mama and Papa and All,

  I know this will come as a surprise, but it is a happy one at that. One of the fellows who worked for Mr. Maldonado has been writing to me all this time. We love each other more than words can say. I know you will understand, Mama, as you have said so many times that love cannot be measured. How I long for the wedded bliss April and Morris have found, and know in my heart I am not meant for teaching, but motherhood. Polinar and I will be very happy, and though you will miss our wedding, we will visit you at the farm in a few weeks. We will build a house nearby. Poli is from Spain and has castles and horses there, which we will own when his wicked uncle dies. I love you all. Yours ever and always, Esther.

  Well, Savannah and Albert were fit to be tied. They drove right back to April’s house, but Esther and her bags were long gone. April said there’d been a fellow waiting with a buckboard at the corner of the street all morning, and he just drove right up and Esther hopped in with barely a by-your-leave. She only told April that she took the notion since April and Morris eloped and all seemed well with them, it should just naturally turn out that way for her and this Polinar fellow, too.

  “Bienvenides,” I told them. “Rudolfo had a man name of Polinar Bienvenides.” After hearing that, Albert set off to see the sheriff.

  We decided to wait one more day to leave, on the hope Esther might have a change of heart and return. Toward dark, I helped Savannah up the stairs to the nearly empty room she and Albert had shared. The night cooled, and with the windows open, it was pleasant in the room upstairs. Still, Savannah had a film of sweat on her brow. “Bring me my Esther,” she said. “Then I’ll sleep. What could have possessed her? Bring me Zack. And Ezra. Rachel and Rebeccah. Clover and Joshua, too. Bring my children. I don’t want to sleep so far from them all.”

  I was afraid she was becoming feverish, and I wished so hard for one of the children to come into the room just then that I looked toward the door. Mary Pearl stood there. She stared not at us but at the open window. Hers was the one name Savannah had not said aloud. I know with all my bones that Savannah treasured all her children. But she had left out a name, and the girl had been feeling mighty outside the fence lately, what with all the folderol at April’s. “Mary Pearl?” I said.

  The doorway was dark and empty. Savannah sat up, shaking. “Mary Pearl? Where is my daughter? Where is Mary Pearl?”

  “Probably gone to get ready for bed,” I said. “Don’t you worry.”

  “Mary Pearl’s so much like you, Sarah. I don’t worry about her nearly as much as the other girls. Sensible.”

  Though I nodded in agreement, I was more worried about Mary Pearl than the other girls. I didn’t think Mary Pearl knew at all what her mother thought. Again, I was betwixt and between her and her mother. I wanted to run to the girl, pull her to her mother’s side, and make them say the things to each other they both needed to hear. I said, “I’ll go get her for you.”

  “No, don’t wake her. Sarah, there’s a pulling in my back. Pray with me that I don’t lose this baby.”

  “Stay strong, honey,” I said. I looked toward the door, hoping to see Mary Pearl had returned. Before long, Albert would return, and then I’d fetch the wounded daughter. For now, I would stay with the burdened mother. I sat next to Savannah’s pallet and unbraided her hair while Savannah told me things about Esther. How she’d been such a quiet child. Always the one to lose a shoe-button hook. Always the first to cry over a dead rabbit or a sparrow. I let her talk wander in whatever direction she wished, wondering now and again whether or not she would start labor during the night. After a while, Savannah closed her eyes, but her lips continued to move. Maybe in prayer—I don’t know. Maybe just succumbed to sorrow.

  My mind went to a thousand places. Charlie and Gilbert. Willie. Chess. Udell. Jack. Rudolfo. Too many men. If I lose the ranch, they will have lost, too. And … April. Strange having a daughter that doesn’t seem as close as my sons. I will love her until I die, but she doesn’t need me. Nor does my losing the ranch affect her family. She has her own life, very separate from mine. All these others may not need me, but they are not separate at all. And Esther, a girl I realized I hardly knew, why had I not reached out to her?

  Albert came in after a while, but Savannah was asleep, so I held my finger to my lips. He motioned to me to follow him. We sat in the kitchen and poured some cold coffee. There’d be deputies sent in the morning, he said. But only two. And not until daybreak. My brother pulled at his hair.

  I couldn’t say what he was feeling. I knew what I was feeling, and that was as if the whole of Creation was working to crush me. Still, I didn’t want to say that to Albert, as worried as he was. “I reckon it’s our season of trials and tribulations,” I said. “I don’t remember a worse one. Not since Papa died.”

  “That’s the honest truth,” he said. Albert drained his cup, eyeing me over the top of it before he said, “Sarah? I’ll ask you to take the children home with you in the morning. I’ll stay here with Savannah until we hear one way or another. And Savannah, I believe, needs to be close to a doctor right now.”

  “I should stay with her. Don’t you reckon she’ll want the little ones close by?”

  “Maybe. I’m thinking they’ll be better off in your care and out of town. Get their lives back to normal, much as they can.”

  More people in the care of Sarah Elliot. And me not at all sure I’ve done well by the others. I nodded. “I’ll do that. Are you going to sit with Savannah tonight?”

  “I don’t want to disturb her. Mary Pearl’s in there with the two boys, sleeping in a chair, watching over them. I’m going to stay here in the parlor, just in case some message should come.”

  I waited a while, pondering the message that might come, and from where. Finally, I said, “I’ll stay with Savannah, then. But I’ll be ready to leave before dawn.” Well, I was ready to ask him what else I could do, when there was a very soft knocking at the side door. Both of us rushed to it, disturbing Chess, who was sleeping there on the kitchen floor. He roused behind us as Albert opened the door.

  Morris Winegold stood there, his bowler hat in hand. He had a coat and tie on, but the tie hung loosely at his throat and his collar was open. His face brightened. “You’re here,” he said. “Thank heavens. April urged me to see if by some chance you’d stayed one more day. May I come in?”

  We drew him inside and pulled chairs up to the kitchen table. Morris set his hat on his knee. Albert brightened the lamp. By the time we got done explaining what had happened, Chess decided he wanted a pot of coffee and started in lighting up the stove. Finally, we got to hear what had brought Morris driving over late at night on the barest chance we’d not left.

  Morris cleared his throat. “First, there is no word about Miss Esther. I’m sorry. Second, I have to tell you something that stretches the bounds of my ethics. Someone,” he said, “has been checking your land records. Hand-copied every legal description, date, the deed of homestead, and every new parcelpurchase agreement.” I was thinking it had to be railroaders. Maybe even Rudolfo. Morris squinted his eyes and leaned forward, whispering, “Felicity Prine’s lawyer.”

  “Lawyer?” Chess all but shouted.

  Morris went on. “The gal has gotten herself a lawyer who’s agreed to work on a contingency basis to sue you for illegally occupying that land.”

  “I reckon I don’t know what that means,” I said.

  “It’s contingent on him taking the land from you. If he wins, he’s got a whole lot of rangeland, free and clear in the settlement, and you could end up owing the court and him the cost of his fees.”

  “I never heard such nonsense,” I said.

  Morris said, “It means they’ll be stopping at nothing to swindle you out of it. Make it look like a legitimate case. You haven’t been served yet?”

  “No,” I said. I laid my hands on the table, staring at them, letting these words pummel me as if they were fists. “When will that happen?”

  “So
on,” he said. “I’d get out of town as soon as you possibly can, just to put them off. Do you have a lawyer?”

  I thought of Mr. Baramon and wondered if he’d work for me, seeing as how I probably wouldn’t be able to pay him for years to come, even if I kept the place. Albert turned and took my hands. “Sarah, you get the best lawyer you can find. Don’t you even mention that you haven’t got the cash. I’ll pay the bill. I’ll pay a retainer up front, too, if he asks it.” Then Albert said to Morris, “Don’t you have a legal man at the bank?”

  Morris nodded. “I’ve already taken the initiative to ask a couple of hypothetical questions. We have a superb young man there; two years past the bar, with an appellate court win under his belt already. Asked him in confidence if he thought there’d be any real case. He said with a proper letter and a couple of affidavits, any judge in the country would throw that baggage—well, what he said isn’t for polite company. At any rate, if you’ll allow me to hire Mr. Hanna for you—”

  “Hanna?” I said.

  “Yes, ma’am. Aubrey David Hanna, Esquire.”

  “Aubrey Hanna is a lawyer? Why, he’s just a boy.”

  Morris looked at me, sort of stunned. “Mother Elliot, he’s older than I am.”

  “Lands sakes,” I said. “Yes, yes. Hire him. Albert, that is, if—”

  “Call it done,” my brother said.

  “I’ll pay you back,” I told him.

  Albert allowed himself a small, exhausted smile. He said, “I’ll arm-wrestle you for it.”

  Morris smiled, but his look was quickly replaced with one of concern. “There’s one more thing. The county books were easy to find. Sitting right on top. When I watched that fellow copying the deeds, I acted as if I was interested in what he was doing. Asked him what he charged and all. They’re supposed to be kept in dated order. All your deeds and agreements were right on top of thirty years of land records. Even had paper markers at the pages he needed. He figured someone had looked them up recently. I asked about that, too. He got fishy-acting, shooting his eyes around and talking low. He said the books were taken out a month ago and not put back. He said he was told to keep them on top for a while and now was glad, since they’d come to be such popular volumes.”

  I said, “A month?” Morris just nodded.

  Chess said, “That’d be Maldonado or the train company.”

  “Couldn’t say. Leastways, he wouldn’t say,” Morris said.

  The coffee was finally ready, but Morris was fixing to leave. He sipped just a little to be polite; then Albert and Chess and I were left alone to ponder this news. We spent another hour locking the house up, even padlocked the front door, which I’d never done, even when no one lived here. Chess went back to his bed in the kitchen, and Albert took the shotgun, setting it on his lap as he sat in the rocking chair in the parlor.

  Upstairs, Savannah slept. I sat on an old rush chair I’d pulled up against the far wall, turned the lamp down, then blew across its chimney to put out the flame. I wondered if somehow all the things that had come our way that summer were not real, but some terrible long nightmare that I’d soon waken from, feeling rattled, but all would be right again. Or was it instead all part and parcel of some plan by the Almighty to wear me to the bone, or see if I’d either give up or dig in? I’ve had ups and downs, tribulation of one sort or another, just like any woman. I’ve buried two children and two husbands. This time I’ve been given a stony cliff to climb. Nothing but destruction behind and a precipice ahead. I feel as if I’m being attacked on all sides, same as in the old days, fighting Indians on one hand and outlaws on the other, with the desert heat and cold to the north, black widow spiders and pestilence to the south.

  If Willie isn’t lynched by some posse he could just as easily be shot in the back by one of the renegades he’s running with, providing Charlie and Gil don’t catch up to him. Cowboy. That’s what Willie wanted to be. Reckon he’d gotten his wish at that. I wanted a lot more for that boy than what was in store for him. Then there were Charlie and Gil, gone hunting him. And Granny clear up in Chicago, where she could misstep on the train stairs, teeter and fall, and be gone.

  At last, I unfastened my shoe buttons and pulled off my shoes. There was a new crack in one of the toes, and my stocking was full of the same sand we’d dug out from the wheels of the surrey. The sand scattered to the floor. I’d sweep it in the morning. It made me think again of Willie. Telling him to sweep up his own mess.

  Was there anything I could have done or said to make Willie settle down, and not go crazy and wild? How I would have loved to see him walking up the road to the house. He’d say how sorry he was for doing wrong. He’d let me hug him and fuss at him, and I’d make him build me a rock fence while I went to the kitchen to make all the boys a pie or something. If he hadn’t really gotten so sideways, maybe he’d tell Felicity himself to make some tracks in any direction but here.

  I rose and walked barefoot to the window and pushed it open. There was a faint glow in the sky, but here in town, it wasn’t from the moon. It was the gas streetlight, which they didn’t put out until eleven o’clock. I pretended it was the moon, though, and thought, Lord, beg your pardon, Sir, but we are in a fix. I’m about wrung out from all this, and it’s getting so I can barely tell which way is up. I’ve got kin scattered from Chicago to Mexico, less than half a herd of near-dead cattle, a vagabond abusing my niece, destroying Albert’s family, and barely two bits in my pocket. I’m fresh out of backbone, Lord. And near out of fight. Near out.

  In the morning, I hugged Savannah to my shoulder, and she clung to me, just frightened as a kitten. Then I pushed her away. Daylight was upon us. “I need to go,” I said. “You have to be strong, and trust Albert to take care of you the best he can.”

  September 4, 1906

  Chess, the little fellows, Mary Pearl, and I, on horseback, made better time than we could have with the surrey, even counting Zack and Ezra doubled up on Big Boy. Only one time on the long ride did we lay eyes on another soul. A man in Mexican getup was heading north toward Morenci, and he didn’t stop or even look in our direction. Hopefully, Mary Pearl’s disguise made us look more like five men than an old man, two women, and two little boys.

  Well, I never thought home could look so fine as it did that afternoon. We stopped at Albert’s farm to let the three children sort their clothes and pack more to take to my place. When Chess and I crossed Cienega Creek, my happiness was dampened by the low trickle between the banks. I stopped in the yard, getting a sense of something being different.

  “Mrs. Elliot? Is that you?” a man hollered. Coming from the barn, mopping his brow, his sleeves rolled up, was Udell Hanna. “I’ve been looking for you the past few days. It’s a real pleasure to see you.”

  “Mr. Hanna!” I said. “Good to see you, too.”

  He began to tell me then, as he led my horse to the barn, about this and that, the many things he’d done. We went to see the horses, and marveled at little Hunter and how he’d grown. “Oh,” he said, his eyes suddenly growing wider, “wait until you see who’s showed up.” He smiled in a way that made me feel his anticipation.

  “Who?” I said. “Willie?”

  “No. You’ll be happy to see this fellow. Come here and take a look.” He led the way to a new little shed standing in the shadow of the barn. He knelt on the ground and called very softly, “Here, fella. Here, boy. Come on out, boy.”

  I knelt beside Udell. Something dark and furry moved in the shed. I drew up a breath. Nip. Alive and home. Chess said, “Well, I’ll be.”

  My throat caught up tight and I nearly choked. I said, “Oh, Nip. Good dog. Come on here, boy.” I reached carefully toward the dog. Even a good dog can be edgy when it’s hurt. Nip stood on wobbly legs and limped toward me. One leg was misshapen and bandaged. A huge wound, still open but not infected, ran across his head and down nearly to his nose. I could see by the way he walked that he’d likely never be any good again. I was so happy to see him alive, though, I didn’
t care if he spent the next ten years on the porch. “Where did you find him?” I asked. Nip sniffed my fingers and then licked my hand. I scruffled him very, very gently behind the ears. Nip whined. By that time, Mary Pearl, Zack, and Ezra had crowded around to see, too.

  “All beat-up, near that rock outcrop north of the bend. Just about starved to death, too. I think he’ll live, but I can’t say he’ll be a working dog anymore. I’ll put him down for you if you want, but I didn’t want to make that decision for you. He’s gone through a lot to keep on living.”

  “No, no,” I said. “Long as he’s not just lingering, suffering. If he’s on the mend, I want him to live.” As I said that, the dog nuzzled my hands. “Good old Nip. Good old Nip,” I cooed to him. “You boys stay away from this dog until he’s good and well. I don’t want you bothering him. If he’s hurting, he could be snappy.” I could see the wounds closer. Nip’s hide had been sewn up in many places, doctored just like a person’s would be. He smelled of Mercurochrome and his fur was clean. The bandage was new, not dirty, except for where he’d lain in the sand. Udell had taken care of this dog as if he’d been a person. I turned to the man and fought the urge to hug his neck. Instead, I squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” I said. One small creature saved. If Nip could be saved, maybe others could be, too. Esther. This ranch. Willie. “Thank you so very much,” I said again.

  Udell looked at the ground and nodded. Then he glanced at the little boys and Mary Pearl. He said, “Sarah? Since you’re home, it’ll just take me a minute to clear my things out of the house. I’ve been spending most of my time out here in the barn, watching over the horses and old Nipper here.”

  My house was good and familiar, cooler by some than outside, and yet a little odd. Udell had moved my rocker close by the kitchen table, were where a lamp and a book lay waiting. He’d washed up the dishes, too, as there was nothing waiting on the sideboard but a clean plate turned upside down under a cloth.