by Vivi Holt
7
Holly kilted up her skirts, rolled up her sleeves and squatted beside the washtub, then took a shirt from the dirty laundry in the basket next to her and soaked it in the warm water. She picked up the chunk of soap from the pannikin sitting in the grass and began scrubbing.
The rhythmic work of laundry day always put her in a good mood. She hadn’t had to do laundry when she’d lived with Charles, nor with her sister. But after a childhood of soiled clothing and linens stiff with age, she enjoyed the sweet feel of the soap on her hands and the smell of sunshine in her clothes. Cleanliness was something she took great pleasure in after the darkness of her past. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, pushing a strand of hair from her eyes with a sigh.
Tripp sat by the barn, playing with something in the dust at his feet. He’d been even more sullen recently, especially since the picnic at the creek after church the week before. She hadn’t had an opening to speak with him about what was going through that bright, sensitive mind of his.
He stood, kicked the ground with a bare foot, and wandered off toward the pasture beyond. She called out to him. “Tripp!”
He swiveled slowly to face her, eyelids at half mast.
“Can you come here, please?”
He paused, glanced up at the sky as if hoping for guidance on whether or not to mind his mother, then meandered over, his brow furrowed. He stopped beside her, his arms crossed over his thin chest.
She stood and wiped her wet hands on her apron. “Tripp dear, I must know what’s wrong. You’ve been moping around the place like a bear just come out of hibernation and there’s no call for it.”
His scowl didn’t move. “I don’t want to be here. And you shouldn’t either, Ma. He’s not your husband. Pa was. And this is our family.” His lips pursed, he glared at the grass by her feet.
She put a hand under his chin and tipped it up until his eyes met hers. “Tripp Bristol, Pa will always be your father. But he’s gone. I’m not trying to replace him – that can’t ever happen. But we need a place to live, food in our stomachs, someone to care for us. If it were just you and I, I could find a job to support us. But there are six of us! I couldn’t make ends meet no matter how I tried and then I’d lose all of you.”
He huffed, tightening his grip on himself.
“Don’t huff at me, young man. I’m still your mother and what I say is final. I want you to buck up and smile. And you treat Kurt with the respect he deserves. He’s my husband now and this is his home.”
Tripp’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t …”
“You will. I’m doing the best I can, son, and I’ll make mistakes along the way. But we’re in this together and I need you to help me. Can you please do that?” She caressed his cheek with one still-damp hand.
He brushed her hand away. “I’m the man in our family. I could’ve taken care of us!”
She tipped her head to one side, her heart aching for her son and his pain. “Oh darling, I know you could. But that’s not what I want for you, not if I can help it. I want you to have the opportunity for a life of your own someday, not have you saddled with a mother and siblings to care for. One day you’ll thank me …”
“Thank you?” he snarled “No, I won’t. I hate it here!” He spun away and ran across the yard, disappearing behind the barn.
Holly’s heart lurched. He’d never spoken to her that way before, and it cut her to the quick. She took a long, slow breath, waiting for her pulse to slow back to normal. Well, she’d have to speak to him again later, perhaps when he’d calmed down. But in the meantime, she wasn’t sure what to do.
He’d seemed fine with the plan to move to Kansas when they were still in New York – though now she thought about it, she hadn’t ever asked him and she couldn’t remember him openly supporting the idea. In fact, she did recall a couple of incidents involving yelling and slammed bedroom doors when they were packing. Perhaps that had been his way of showing his displeasure at the decision.
Her eyes drifted shut and she chewed the inside of one cheek. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now – surely he could understand that. She was married and that was the end of the matter. She could hardly abandon her new husband and flee back to New York.
And she didn’t want to leave, not now that she’d finally found a little peace. At long last she didn’t feel as if she was intruding on anyone else’s life. She could see a pinprick of hope at the idea of spending her life with this man. As much as he was a stranger to her, everything he’d done and said so far seemed to make things more certain in her mind – he was a good man, a kind man, and hard-working too. And there was nothing to go back to in New York.
Holly lowered herself onto her haunches again to continue the laundry, frowning at the tumble of dark thoughts in her troubled mind.
Kurt lifted the tin cup to his lips and slurped the water down. The day had been a hot one, and he’d spent most of it plowing another field for oats. Plowing was hard work. He’d borrowed the plow from Will Drake again, but while it made the work easier, there were still stumps to be pulled up and rocks to carry away. Not to mention slashing weeds, some as high as his shoulder, and the constant threat of snakes.
He’d thought he’d have plenty for winter, but he hadn’t reckoned with how five growing kids could eat. He’d need more crops, more livestock, more of everything. His head hurt thinking it all through.
He set the empty cup on the table in front of him and glanced around the house. Where was everyone? He’d spied a few of the children playing in the field, but where the rest of them were was beyond him. And he hadn’t seen his bride since lunch. Just thinking of her made his cheeks burn and his stomach churn. He bit his lower lip. He hoped she was adjusting to her new life. It was hard to say – her face didn’t betray her feelings. Holly was a book he’d have to learn how to read, though he looked forward to doing it.
He was concerned about the boy, Tripp, who glared daggers at him every chance he got and refused to join in the fun and games he had with the other children. The others were no problem at all. He smiled at the memory of Holly in her sodden dress stomping up the creek bank and scolding them. He really shouldn’t have carried her into the stream – it was too tempting for the children, and while they thought it was a hoot, he didn’t think it earned him any favor with her.
He stood with a groan and stretched his arms over his head just as Holly rushed in the back door, a pile of dry clothing slung over one arm. “Oh, there you are,” she said, her cheeks reddening.
“Yes, I am.”
“Have you had a nice day, then?” She studied his face with what seemed like curiosity.
He swallowed. “Thank you, I did. And you?”
She nodded. “I was just about to prepare supper. Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” he replied. He wondered what she’d spent her day on – he wanted to know everything about her – but he didn’t dare ask. That was something he’d learned from Pa at a young age: a man never asked his wife what she did with her day. His father had shaken his head ruefully and rubbed his bearded chin when he said it. Instead, he took a step toward her and reached out a hand.
She startled and moved out of his reach. “I’ll just put these things away.”
As she left for the bedroom, he frowned. Was she so afraid of him? Or perhaps she liked him even less than he’d realized. Was she having second thoughts about the arrangement?
He sighed deeply and left the house, donning his hat with a frown. He’d come inside early to spend time with her, but if she’d rather not be around him, he’d just as soon get the chores finished now. Badger fell into step behind him, his ears flopping as he ran.
Between Tripp’s attitude and Holly’s distaste for his company, Kurt wondered if he should ask whether she preferred to go back to New York. He wasn’t sure how it could be done, but there must be a way for them to annul the marriage and move on with their separate lives. If that’s what she wanted, he wasn’t going to sta
nd in her way.
June 1860
Morgantown, Virginia
Holly ducked behind a large barrel and watched the boy searching for her. He wouldn’t find her – she was well-practiced in the art of disappearing. She’d had to be. He looked between the barrels stacked against the outside of the store, but didn’t spot her.
The store owner came outside, his hands on his wide hips, his red-rimmed eyes narrowed. He was looking for her too, though he couldn’t maneuver between the new stock that had just arrived. Nor would he venture into the mud that caked the street after the winter deluge that’d flooded the town earlier that day. Finally he shook his fist, looking around through the spectacles perched on the tip of his nose. “You stay away, you little urchin, and don’t come back! You hear me?” The stock boy went back into the shop, scampering through the narrow door as the man clipped him behind the ear.
As soon as they were gone, Holly stood, shuddered, then smiled and shoved the apple she’d nabbed into her mouth. She checked first one skirt pocket, then the other. They were both crammed with food, and her stomach growled at the thought of a real meal for once. She could still hear the drips of rain from sodden roofs and leaking eaves as she turned and wove her way through the narrow streets of Morgantown.
She reached the Monongahela River and stopped to watch a coal barge drift toward the shore, its hull empty but blackened with the remnant of a load long since sold by its owner. Now the coal was likely heating the parlor of a wealthy family in New York or Philadelphia, powering a train as it shuttled across the country, or sending bilious smoke skyward from the chimney of a factory in Boston. She loved to watch the barges come, be piled high with coal from the mines, then set off again into the world.
She took another bite of apple, filling her cheeks to capacity. It wasn’t often her mouth was full, and she enjoyed the sensation.
Pa worked at the mine, though not as often as he should. She frowned and sighed, so soft that even she didn’t hear it. She knew he hadn’t risen in time for his shift this morning. She knew his schedule better than he seemed to, though it didn’t do her or anyone else any good. He showed up to work when he liked, and she’d heard his boss threaten more than once that his place would be filled should he miss another shift.
She headed for home, still eating the apple. He couldn’t afford to lose his job. There weren’t many around Morgantown that didn’t involve the mines or a farm, and if he upset the coal bosses, he might as well give up working entirely, since they’d make certain no one else hired him.
The alley behind the blacksmith’s was smoky and dirty. Refuse spilled from doorways set up above the muck, and her boots were swallowed by thick sucking sludge. She tugged one foot free, only to lose the other in the dark muck. With a grunt, she broke free and made her way along the edge of the alley. She hated when it stormed, since the streets became difficult to navigate and the rodents and insects emerged in force.
Finishing her apple, she tucked the core in a pocket to stuff with cloves later. She’d seen her teacher Mrs. Sullivan do that once and filed the idea in the back of her mind to do the first chance she got. Mrs. Sullivan was the most glamorous, beautiful, talented woman she’d ever laid eyes on. She’d taken Holly under her wing from her first day at school and spent hours, even after school was done for the day, teaching her how to read and write. Holly had soaked it up, even borrowing readers and other books and magazines from the kindly teacher.
Mrs. Sullivan had awakened the desire to know more, to know everything she could, about the wide world that existed beyond the muddy streets of the mean little town. She’d spent hours imagining that one day she might be just like Mrs. Sullivan and have her pick of beaus in some distant and exotic city. She’d travel the world, and men would vie for her affection.
She smiled at the thought and skipped through a doorway at the foot of a two-story raw timber building. She smoothed her hair into place and drew a deep breath. If Pa was awake and had found enough money for whiskey, she’d have to be careful how she approached him.
Holly pushed the second doorway open a touch and poked her head in. The stench of the disheveled room always made her step back whenever the door had been shut for any length of time, and she’d left it that way when she went out earlier that morning. Usually by now, Ma would have stirred and opened it, and would be smoking on the step or visiting one of the neighbors.
She crept through the doorway, listening for any sound. It was quiet – perhaps they’d both gone out. But where was Eve? Her sister rarely went with either parents, and that morning she’d had too bad a cough to leave her bed, so Holly had left her behind. She crept through the living room on tiptoe and peered into the bedroom. A form was lying on the bed and frowned. It looked like Pa. He must have drunk through his supply of whiskey already and it wasn’t even dinner time.
The room was dark, dank, and the shabby drapes that hung over the single high window hadn’t been opened. She stepped closer and peered at his face, then noticed a damp patch on his brown nightshirt. He hadn’t even dressed yet, so how had he gone out drinking? She poked him in the side, but he didn’t move. She leaned closer still. Usually she could smell the liquor on his breath from this distance, but not this time. Finally she pulled aside the drapes, letting a brilliant ray of sunshine in … and her heart dropped into her gut.
Pa’s face was pale. Too pale. She covered her mouth, reached out with her other hand and shoved him. He barely shifted beneath her touch, and didn’t awaken. She gingerly touched the damp spot on his nightshirt – and her fingers came away red with blood!
With a shriek, Holly stumbled back, wiping her fingertips against her skirts furiously. She tripped over something and landed on her rear, smacking the back of her head against the wall with a loud thud. When she reached up to rub her head, she felt blood there as well. Her stomach roiled and she closed her eyes tight. Then she shifted her skirts aside to see what she’d fallen over.
That’s when she screamed, but the noise was dampened by a fog that covered her mind and made her vision shrink to pinholes. Ma!
She scrambled to her feet and stared down at her mother with round eyes. Her throat had been slit. Her skirts were pulled up around her waist, her pale legs sticking out like two bare sticks. Her fist was clenched around something. Holly bent down and forced Ma’s fingers open. A gold coin fell from the stiffened claw and rolled in a circle on the dirt floor, before landing on its side with a dull clink. She scooped it up and stuck it in her pocket, still staring at Ma’s cold, stiff body.
Blinking rapidly, she backed away, then turned and ran into the other bedroom, where she barreled right into Eve. Eve had her thumb in her mouth, and her eyes looked glazed. Holly caught her with both hands before she could fall to the ground from the impact, and looked her in the eye. “Eve! Eve, what happened? What’s going on?” Her voice was calm, but to her it sounded a long way away.
Eve just stared blankly, sucking her thumb.
“Eve, wake up, girl! What happened to Pa and Ma?”
Eve blinked once, then her gaze met Holly’s. “Three men came.” That was all she’d say, though Holly drilled her for more. It was no use. Eve was only nine, after all. A nine-year-old couldn’t be brave like Holly could at thirteen. Everyone knew that.
After a few minutes passed, the fog began to lift from Holly’s mind, the panic subsided and her thoughts slowed until she was able to catch them. They couldn’t stay there – what if the men came back? They’d discover that gold coin was missing and they’d return for it, wouldn’t they? She couldn’t be sure, but she wasn’t about to wait around to find out. Eve was her responsibility now, and she knew she had to take her sister and get as far away from there as they could.
She scurried back to the bedroom, keeping her eyes averted from her mother’s body. A small chifferobe leaned against the far wall, and inside she found a ragged carpetbag. She grabbed as many of her and Eve’s things as she could find and the few valuables she knew her paren
ts kept hidden, and shoved them into the bag. She carried it to the kitchen and added some bread in a cloth, a couple of cans of beans and some cheese.
Eve just stood there with her thumb in her mouth, not moving or making a sound. Holly frowned. When did Eve start sucking her thumb again? She was far too old for that. Ma never let her do it. She’d had her hide tanned more than once by Pa when he caught her at it, and she had to wear one of Pa’s old socks on her hand to sleep. But Holly didn’t have the heart to punish her now. “Let’s go,” she said, grabbing Eve by the sleeve of her soiled dress.
The thumb shifted from Eve’s mouth and her eyebrows arched. “Go where?”
“I don’t know yet. But we have to get …”
A man came through the door quietly and stood with his hands on his hips, regarding them with black eyes that shone in his broad face. His nose was crooked and his forehead flat, making his features resemble a tin plate. He tipped his hat back and grinned, revealing gaps where teeth should’ve been. “Wot have we here?”
Eve’s lower lip quivered, but otherwise she froze. Holly’s mind raced. He’d come back for something, but what? The gold coin? Something else? “What do you want?” she said coldly, even as her heart hammered against her ribs.
He stepped closer. “Yer Pa took sumpin’ from me, ‘n I wannit back. Didja see a box? ‘Bout yea high …” He held his hands ten inches apart.
She shook her head. “No. I ain’t seen it.”
He snarled. “I bet ye ‘ave.” He lunged for her, but she leaped adeptly to one side, pulling Eve with her. They sidestepped the brute, his long arms closing on air, and ran down the alley. Holly, the carpetbag bouncing on her shoulder where she’d slung it, was grateful Eve had responded quickly. She turned her head to check on Eve running beside her …