by doreliz
Disclaimer: The characters and
situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four
Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the
author. The ideas expressed in this
story are copyrighted to the author.
I see Leah as strong and spunky enough to
raise her son with fair success. In
this Alternate story, Heath is not quite five when Tom Barkley finds out about
him by chance. Tom and Victoria travel
to Strawberry to investigate, and negotiate.
Spring
thaw in the Sierra had opened the passes.
In isolated Strawberry, people who had been cooped up all winter were
free to set out on new ventures. Newcomers
began to trickle in – not so many as in past years, but enough to add a jolt of
excitement to the mining camp. It was
soon warm enough to hold the first Saturday night dance of the season at
Mullins’ barn.
Leah Thomson danced
with energy and joy. After the last
twirl of the last square dance she collapsed on a bench with her partner, both
of them laughing and out of breath. She
reached up, trying to tidy her hair, which had fallen down around her
shoulders. “I mus’ look a sight!”
Her partner gazed at
her as if seeing her for the first time.
“Leave it be, Leah. You’re so
pretty with it down – !”
“No flirtin’,
Luke! Di’n’t ‘spect that from you, of
all people.”
“Why not? Think I’m too old and ugly to appreciate
beauty?”
“Never mind that
kind o’ talk. Y’know I don’ like
it.” She pulled her hair back into some
kind of knot, not so severe as her workaday style, and set her shabby best
dress to rights, relieved it had suffered no new damage. What would she do when it could not be
mended any more? she wondered.
“See you home?”
“Might as well,
you’re comin’ to my house anyway.”
Hannah was looking after his children, as well as Heath, tonight, since
his sister / housekeeper had gone to bed with one of her headaches. Leah went to find her shawl in the heap hung
over a partition at the far side of the floor.
Most of the men she encountered, and some of the women, were friendly
enough to her, though a few looked away when she came near, and one or two
muttered audibly about what the town was coming to.
“See you home,
Leah?” asked Joe, looming beside her.
“Thanks, Joe, not
tonight. Goin’ with Luke.” She patted his hand to take away any injury;
he was a good friend too. “Come ‘roun’
to the house tomorrow afternoon, I’ll give you a cup o’ tea.” He brightened again and went on his way.
“Keepin’ ‘em both
hangin’, are you, Leah?” asked an older woman jovially. “Better take one while you got the chance.”
“Which one, Mrs.
Callan? – Hope you folks’re all over your sickness.”
“Much better,
thanks. – Thanks for the soup, that day, and the help. Really needed it just then.”
“What’s neighbors
for? – This is yourn, ain’t it? There’s
mine. G’night.” She wrapped up and joined Luke at the door. The moon lent them enough light to find
their way up the dark road without difficulty.
There was some horseplay among the younger men as they started, and a
woman shrieked as she was roughly handled.
Luke and Leah stopped to see what was going on, but there seemed no need
for their intervention, and they went on at a pace that soon separated them
from the crowd.
“That Millie,” he
said, “always askin’ for trouble.”
“She’s had her
share.”
“You’d think
she’d’ve learned by now.”
“Don’ ask me to talk
‘gainst another woman.”
“Let’s talk about
you and me, then.”
“Me n’ you? Now, Luke – “
“Leah, my sister’s
writin’ letters to Frisco, lookin’ for a place in a school there. If she goes, she says she’ll take Mary, and
I can’t say no unless I have a mother for her.
So, that started me thinkin’ who I could marry, and I couldn’t think of
anybody I’d like better’n you. I’d be
grateful and honored if you’d agree to marry me, maybe this summer.”
“Why me, Luke?”
“’Cause
you’re so pretty with your hair down.”
“Quit foolin’! Why me?”
“Seriously,
then. I have a seriously good opinion
of you, no matter how you wear your hair.”
“Mos’ folks’d call
me a bad woman, ‘cause o’ Heath.”
“Most folks don’t
know any better. I know how kind and
honest you are, and how good.”
“Dunno ‘bout
‘good’. I’m a good cook, is all.”
“I know you’re that
– a lot better’n my sister. But that’s
not why I want to marry you.”
“Ain’t it, now? A hungry miner with three kids to raise, n’
likely to lose his housekeeper soon, wouldn’ wanna marry a good cook?” She had had offers like that before, and
refused them.
“Leah, you know I’m
real fond of you.”
“Don’ waste your
time on me, Luke. You oughta find you a
‘good’ wife. A ‘good’ mother for your
kids, when your sister goes away.”
“I think that could
be you. My kids love you already, ‘specially
Mary, and God knows you’re a good mother to Heath. Why not marry me?”
“God
knows what He knows. I know what folks’d say ‘bout it.”
“We could go
away. Someplace nobody knows all that
history. Please think on it, Leah.”
“I’ll think on it,”
she conceded. “But don’ ‘spect I’ll
change my mind. I made enough mistakes
in my life already, with men; I don’ wanna make another one, n’ I don’ wanna do
you no harm. Wouldn’ be right.”
He sighed. “You’d risk it if you loved me. If I wasn’t such an ugly fellow…. If you weren’t still thinkin’ o’ that
good-lookin’ two-timer from the Valley….”
“’S my business,
Luke. Don’ wanna hear you talk ‘bout
him.”
“All right. But you think on it. Best thing for both of us.”
By
the time they had passed through the centre of town and approached the quiet
lane on the far side where they both lived, there were no other people in
sight. He bent towards her. “Give me a kiss, Leah?”
She brushed his
cheek with her lips. “Thanks for bein’
my frien’ so long. I’ll think on it.”
At the house they
found their neighbor Rachel Caulfield visiting with Hannah, and all the
children asleep. The women roused
Luke’s two sons, Jonah and Simon, from sleep, and he took Mary up in his arms
without waking her. “Goodnight, ladies,”
he said as he departed with his children.
“G’night.” Leah closed the door and went back to be
sure Heath was covered up. She stood a
moment watching him sleep, wondering how anyone could expect her to forget her
darling’s father when the child made her think of him every day. When she returned to the kitchen she saw
Hannah was making tea. “Stay a li’l
while, Rachel?”
“Don’t mind if I
do.” Rachel settled back into her
chair. “How was the dance?”
“Fine. Mr. Mullins, he was fiddlin’ up a storm,
everybody had a good time. You ought’ve
come.”
“My dancin’ days’re
done, my feet bein’ the way they
are.” They talked a little more about
the dance, and then she asked, “Was Luke bein’ more particular than usual?”
“He asked me to
marry him, n’ I promised to think on it.”
Hannah came with the
teapot. “Be a good thing, you marry
him, Miz Leah. He take care of us,
sure.” She poured for the three of
them.
Rachel also
approved. “Well, why not? He’s a good man, if he is awful homely.”
“He is a good man,
for sure.”
“It’s near five
years since Libby died, and his sister ain’t gonna stay in a place like this
all her life, smart woman like that.
Natural he’s lookin’. He could
do a lot worse, and so could you, dearie.”
“He been talkin’ to
you?”
“Not ‘bout
this. No. It’s plain sense, is what it is.
You workin’ as hard as you do, you might as well be workin’ for your own
family.”
Leah laughed. “I am
workin’ for my own family!”
“You know what I
mean. You deserve a better life’n you
got.”
“I ain’t
complainin’. – I made my mistakes, I got myself where I am. Startin’ when I married that no-good Charlie
Sawyer.”
Rachel knew of
Charlie Sawyer only by hearsay, but she understood that Charlie had taken what
money Leah’s father had left her. “You
got a chance now, to make up for that.”
“Don’ seem right, is
all. I don’ love him the way I should,
n’ I ain’t sure he loves me ‘nough to put up with – everythin’.”
“You still thinkin’
o’ that Tom Barkley, ain’t you?”
“Thinkin’
ain’t a crime, Rachel. Hardly even a
sin. Anyway, I can’t help it
sometimes.”
“That man!” Hannah shook her head. “Don’ wanna see him ever no more.”
Rachel said, “Don’t
worry ‘bout that, Hannah. He ain’t
comin’ back.”
“I know that,” said
Leah. “But I can’t help thinkin’.”
Tom
Barkley came in to breakfast with two hours’ hard work already under his
belt. His wife Victoria was adding more
pancakes to the stack on the stove and forking the fried ham onto a plate. While he washed his hands and face at the
basin in the corner, she paused to give sixteen-months-old Eugene a spoonful of
bread and milk from his blue bowl.
“Hungry, dear?”
He did not bother to answer what was obvious. “Where’re the boys?”
She poured coffee. “Jarrod’s
setting the milk down cellar. Nick’s
bringing firewood.” She raised her
voice to call them by name.
By the time Tom sat down, their two half-grown sons had scooted into
their places. Victoria gave Eugene in
his high chair another spoonful, put the hot food on the table, and seated
herself with a little sigh of relief; she had been on her feet for most of two
hours, and pregnancy had made her legs and feet swell.
“You all right?” Tom asked between mouthfuls.
“I’ll lie down for a while later,” she promised.
Nick looked up at her. “Are you
sick, Ma?”
“No. Just a little tired. Eat up, now, dear, and get off to school.”
He made a face. “Can’t I go to
the sale with Pa?”
Tom laughed, pleased. “Not this
time, son. Not for a while yet.” He looked sharply at the older boy. “What about you, Jarrod? You’ll be big enough soon for a long ride.”
“Whenever you want me, Father,” said Jarrod dutifully. He was nearly thirteen, growing tall, but he
knew he was still far from a man’s strength.
More important, he liked school and did not want to leave it to work on
the ranch.
Victoria frowned. She knew enough
of Jarrod’s abilities and aspirations to see a time coming when he and his
father might be in conflict over his future.
Not yet, she thought, not this year – but there was that boarding school
in San Francisco to be looked into ….
The boys finished eating and charged upstairs to get ready for
school. In five minutes they charged
down again and out to saddle their horses.
Presently they were heard leaving.
Tom finished his second cup of coffee.
“I better be goin’ too. It’s a
good three hours ride, and I don’t wanna miss my chance at that black bull.” He bent to kiss her. “The hands know what needs doin’; you can
depend on Saul for anything you need.
Remember to lie down.”
“I will, I promise. When I’ve
done the dishes and cleaned up Eugene.”
“You should have more help in the house.”
“Mrs. Montoya can’t come any more than she does, with her own family and
the bunkhouse to look after, and besides, none of us but Nick would want to eat
her cooking very often.”
“You should have somebody every day.
When the new baby comes, two little ones, you’ll be run off your
feet. Let me ask around.”
“If you could find someone who’d be more help than hindrance! Remember how it worked out, or didn’t work
out, with Mrs. Ahuja.”
“No more Mrs. Ahujas, I promise.
If I hire anyone, it’ll be on a week’s trial, all right?”
“You can’t ask anyone to come very far for just a week.” It was familiar ground they had been over
before. “It would be good to have some
help right now, though.”
“When we build our big house, there’ll be no doubt about it, you’ll need
live-in help. Next year, maybe.”
“Our family is getting too big for this house. The boys’ room will be crowded when we have
to put Eugene in there. – Speaking of Eugene – ,” she went to lift him out of the high chair and change his
diapers. “Off with you, Tom, and buy
the black bull if you want him so much.”
Daniel Jackson, a Valley rancher living some thirty miles from the
Barkleys, had decided after eight years to leave California and return to his
native Georgia. His ranch, stock, and
equipment were to be sold by auction on this bright March day, and his
neighbors gathered to bid, to gawk, and to visit with one another. When Tom arrived the sale had already begun,
and he applied himself to finding out as quickly as possible what was happening
and when the stock that interested him would be on the block. It turned out that he had some time to wait,
so he began to look around to see who was there, exchanging news and opinions,
catching up with old acquaintances and making new ones, while keeping an eye on
the auction proceedings.
He was hailed by Daniel Jackson.
“Tom Barkley! Haven’t seen you
in two, three years, must be. How are
things down your way?”
“Not bad at all; had a good winter. – Sorry to hear you’re leavin’,
Dan. You’ll be missed.”
“Kind o’ you to say that, Tom.
Hasn’t gone well. Water supply
on this land don’t hold up in dry weather.”
Jackson went into some detail about his misfortunes, ending, “And Lucy’s
sick of California – wants to go back home to Georgia. Her brother died there, her ma’s all alone
now. And it’ll be better for the
girls.”
“Let’s see, last I heard you had three girls, is that right?”
“Two, now. Li’l Becky died when
she was four – before all the other things happened.”
“That’s harder’n all the rest,” said Tom with sympathy. “I’ve done all right, sure enough, but if it
came to a choice between everythin’ else I’ve got and any o’ my boys – or
Victoria – there’d be no choice.”
“How many boys you got now?”
“Three. Another comin’ – well,
we’re hopin’ for a girl. That’d be nice
for Victoria – we lost two girls when they were little.”
“Mm. This is a man’s
country. If I had a son, well, I might
stay on his account, but it’s too late for that now. We’ll be shippin’ back, booked passage to Panama for week after
next.”
“Anything
I can do to help you out?”
“Bid on my stock, today.”
“That’s what I came for. Wasn’t
easy to get away -- don’t wanna leave Victoria alone too much right now – she
ain’t feelin’ too good. Needs some help
in the house, but she’s particular.”
“Mm. Might be we could help each
other. You remember our darkie boy,
Silas.”
“Yeah.” Tom’s voice remained
casual, but his attention sharpened.
“Silas was brought up in the big house, back home. Came here with us in ‘49, and got his
freedom, o’ course, under California law.
He don’t wanna go back – can’t blame him for that. But he’s no cowboy, he’s just a house
servant. Good reliable boy, good cook
and keeps house good too, and minds his own business. We’d rest easier knowin’ he’s in a good place. Maybe your wife’d like him.”
“Might work. I’ll speak to him –
let you know by next week if it suits Victoria. – You sure you wanna go back to Georgia?
Could be bad trouble there ‘fore long.”
“Nothin’ll happen. After all this
time? No, I ain’t worried ‘bout
that. Got enough to worry me….” They talked a little longer before they were
interrupted, then drifted apart in the crowd.
Jarrod came home from school with an essay assignment. “Mr. Sedley wants me to write two pages
about the quality of honor, with examples from real life. I don’t understand exactly what the word means, Mother – can you help me?”
Victoria sat down opposite him at the table, taking time from other tasks
for one of the parental duties she enjoyed most. “The word is used different ways at different times, isn’t
it? You probably can’t deal with all
the different meanings in two pages.”
“It’s not quite the same as honesty, is it?”
“Not quite…. I think the old idea
was that only upper class people have honor, ordinary people can only have
honesty. ‘Honor’ included an idea of
fame, or glory, or reputation. That
doesn’t necessarily apply in America, but even here, some have more than
others, and should be judged by a higher standard.”
“Honesty means not cheating or stealing.
Fair dealing with money or property.”
“Yes, and truth-telling. You
wouldn’t call a liar honest. But honor
calls for that and more. Loyalty and
good faith, for instance. Meeting your
obligations, keeping your promises.
Doing right, even when it isn’t easy.
Some men would use it to mean not backing down from a fight, but as a
woman I wouldn’t likely use it that way.”
“Father’s a man of honor, isn’t he?
At least by today’s meaning.”
“In general, yes.”
Jarrod looked at her, a little surprised. “In general? Did he ever
do anything you thought was dishonorable?”
She met his eyes. “No one’s
perfect…. In real life, of course, sometimes we just don’t know enough to
choose the right thing to do. But what
– what I want you to understand is, in real life, sometimes honor requires one
thing for one reason, and something else for another reason, and it isn’t
possible to do them both. Your father
and I have disagreed sometimes, in such cases, about which was the most right thing to do, or perhaps the
least wrong thing. Even then, I
wouldn’t say that he’s ever done anything indefensible. – At least, if he did,
in the heat of the moment perhaps, he did his best to make amends when he
could.”
“You don’t know everything he does, though.”
“Not the details, no. – I know there’ve been times when he found it
necessary to fight, to use violence, and people were hurt who didn’t deserve
it. That, as I said before, is
something women and men see differently. –
He wouldn’t intentionally lie or steal to make us a little richer, but
he deals as he must with men who may have fewer scruples, and sometimes he may
compromise his honor a little in those dealings. There’ve been times when he chose to keep silent and the silence
was a lie. – And I know he would do whatever he had to do, to protect his
family from danger.”
“I see. He cares about what
people think of him. He likes to say
he’s a man of his word. He likes having
a good reputation. But there’re things
he cares about more.”
“It’s not wrong to enjoy having a good reputation, if you’ve earned
it.” She wanted her sons to believe in
their father, to honor him, as she believed he deserved. But she knew that he was not always as good
as she wanted him to be.
Tom had been poor all his life until the last few years, but now as his
prosperity increased he was ambitious to live in finer style. He admired the Jacksons’ fine furniture,
solid and ornate, and was tempted to buy.
When he saw a handsome sideboard going for less than he thought it was
worth, he made a successful bid, then arranged to have it held until he could
send a man with a wagon to collect it.
Victoria would scold him, he thought ruefully, because it was too grand
for their small house, but it would look splendid in the dining room of the big
new house when they built it.
Earlier in the day Tom had bought the bull he wanted, and twenty-seven
good-looking cows to go with him. One
of his near neighbors, Frank McGarrett, had also bought cattle, so it was
sensible to join together for the drive to Stockton. McGarrett, though a neighbor, was not a close friend of the
Barkleys – malicious, they thought, and fond of thinking the worst of everyone. The two families rarely met socially, but
for one night Tom and Frank could share a campfire and take turns watching the
cattle.
“So, Tom, you’re still
ranchin’. Thought a few years ago you
was gonna give it up and go into minin’ altogether.”
“Nope. Minin’ was just a sideline
for a while.” For a few years it had
been possible to make quick fortunes, but now to make money in mining required
a great deal of work or a larger investment than the Barkleys could yet put
together.
“Well, ranchin’s a better way to live, that’s for sure. I tried it too, went up to the gold fields a
coupla years back, but you have to be damn lucky to make anything and keep it
long. Ranchin’s slow, but more
steady-like. Still, I had a notion you
made money in the mines.”
“Reckon I got out at the right time.”
Tom looked into the flames, remembering. No, he mustn’t remember, it was long gone and better forgotten.
“Whereabouts was you? Strawberry,
wasn’t it?”
“I was at Strawberry, yeah.” He
cast around for a way to change the subject, but Frank was too quick for him.
“I was there too. God-forsaken
place if I ever seen one.”
“There’s good folks everywhere.
Even in minin’ camps.” He
shouldn’t have said that. What would
Frank think? But it didn’t matter what
Frank thought, did it?
“Heard some talk ’bout you.
Reckon you had a good time up there.”
Tom might have said, truthfully, that he’d been robbed and beaten
there. “Why’d you think that?”
Frank grinned conspiratorially at him, while watching him closely. “I won’t say a word where Victoria might
hear it.”
Tom put on a puzzled expression.
“What’re you talkin’ about?” He
had to hear the answer – he didn’t want to hear it, but he had to. If there was talk ….
“Heard you left a boy up there.”
“What!”
“Lil’ yaller-haired tyke, runnin’ around in a pair o’ patched
overalls. Feller said that was Tom
Barkley’s boy, and wasn’t it a shame.
But,” Frank shrugged, as if not much interested, “I reckon you know your
own business best.”
Tom got up. “Time to look at the
cattle,” he said, and walked out of camp.
He went through the motions of checking the animals, his mind not on
what he was doing. When he returned to
the fire, his face was closed. “One
thing,” he said sternly, “you remember.
You keep your mouth off my affairs, Frank.”
Frank shrugged again. He had had
as much fun as he could expect out of his bit of gossip. “Not a word,” he said. “Promise.”
Tom thought about making him tell where he had heard it. But that would only confirm – whatever there
was to confirm. And it didn’t
matter. If he went back to Strawberry,
to find out, he knew where to go. He
knew how old the boy would be – nearly five – and he had a fair idea what sort
of home he would have.
He had already agreed to take the first watch. While Frank snored in his bedroll, Tom stood in the darkness,
remembering and thinking.
He had awakened groggily, with a sore head and acute pain in his
shoulder, and seen a lovely young woman bending over him. She had told him in a soft southern voice
that he must lie quiet and get well, and for days, fevered and confused, he had
been content to do no more. She said
her name was Leah, and he told her his was Tom. She was a widow, living alone with her old nurse, Hannah, in a
little cabin in this mining town, among the tough and desperate characters who
inhabited such places. Not quite alone,
she said; she had a brother who was searching for gold as hard as anyone, but
he didn’t seem to be in camp very often.
She cooked and waited on tables at one of the saloons, though she said
she didn’t “work upstairs.” Sometimes
she did other jobs, nursing or caring for children, and Hannah took in washing.
He hadn’t mentioned that he had a wife and children – the subject had not
come up, he had not exactly lied to her, but he had certainly misled her. It was only after they had sinned together
that he had told her the truth.
“Leah, I’m so sorry. I was
wrong. Can you ever forgive me?” How many times had he repeated that, while
she crouched in the darkness of the bedroom, rejecting his touch? Had she been crying? He couldn’t be sure now – but she must have
cried. She must have hoped for
marriage.
She had been willing. Of that he
was sure – he had not taken her against her will. But she had been deceived, and that was just as bad – just as
wicked.
She had crept away then. In the
morning she had told him to go home and not come back. “Not ‘less you come lookin’ to stay.”
“Leah – ” Looking back, he knew
he had not been thinking very clearly when he tried to plead with her.
“I won’ come atween husband n’ wife, I won’ be your kept woman. What else is there to do?”
He had had no answer. In the end
he had given her the promise she asked.
Now he knew that she had had a child – his child. Well, he knew it on the strength of Frank
McGarrett’s gossip, which was less than proof.
He would have to go himself, to find out. Breaking his promise to Leah – he would not be looking to
stay. But some things were more
important than promises: children were.
Promises. His dealings with Leah
had already broken one of his promises – his sacred promises – to
Victoria. What would she feel when she
heard of it? Would it even be right to
tell her? especially now? If she could
not find it in her heart to forgive him, what would they do? How much might their children suffer, if he
tried to make up the wrong to the other one?
In imagination he saw them already, Victoria angry and hurt, Jarrod
puzzled and disapproving, Nick – no, he would never be able to make Nick
understand.
He
ended with no more of a decision than to think before he acted. Tomorrow he must take these cattle home, and
do what had to be done with them. And
he would tell Victoria about the sideboard, and consult her about the matter of
Silas. If she agreed, he would write to
Daniel Jackson – the wagon could bring Silas when it picked up the
sideboard. He wouldn’t do anything
about the other business before Silas was installed in the house and Victoria
was satisfied. To ride to Strawberry
and back would mean being away three or four nights at least …. And what could he say, to account for his
absence?
Victoria
remembered Silas quite well when Tom spoke of him. “Yes, a soft-spoken, gentle young man, good with children. I thought Lucy Jackson was so lucky to have
someone like that to help her, but she took him for granted and wasn’t always
considerate. If he would like to come
to us, I’d be happy to have him – does he have a choice in the matter?”
“He’s
free, in law. He don’t wanna go back to
Georgia. I spoke to him, he’s willin’
to try. If it don’t work out here,
there’s rich folks in San Francisco might be glad to hire him. But I reckon it’ll have to be more’n the
week’s trial we talked about.”
“Yes,
if you’re to send a wagon all that way for him. Why don’t we say two months? – Of course once he meets Nick, he
may not want to stay!”
Tom
smiled at that. “The wagon’ll have to
pick up somethin’ else too.” He told
her about the sideboard.
“Oh,
Tom! Where are we going to put it?”
“I reckon
it’ll fit along that wall over there, and we can move that cupboard into the
summer kitchen.”
She
considered. “I suppose so. I hope it fits. Well, if Silas comes I can put him to work right away, moving
everything out of the cupboard ….
Where’s he going to sleep? I
don’t want to put him in the bunkhouse – they
seem to be happy with Mrs. Montoya’s cooking – but we can’t manage without a
spare room for guests, not for long.”
“We
can put another lean-to on the kitchen ….”
That
had to be discussed too. There were
enough details to fill up the time they had to talk, to keep away the shadow of
the other matter for now.
Out on
the range, the next day, he saw two other horsemen a way off, and as men did in
the vast Valley, they drew close enough together to see who each other were,
and then close enough to meet. Another
of his neighbors, Wally Miles, a friend of long standing, and one of his
hands. It was close to noon; the cowboy
built a fire and made coffee from the creek for all of them. Tom had sandwiches, and Wally had pork and
beans. They exchanged news. Wally had not gone to the sale; too far, he
said, and Jenny wasn’t feeling well.
Tom
knew Jenny was pregnant, and that she had already lost several babies; she was
taller and bigger-boned than Victoria, but did not have her wiry strength. “Hope everythin’ turns out well,” he
said. “Let us know if you need
anythin’.”
“Victoria
doin’ all right?”
“Well
enough. Tired, lately. We’re tryin’ to get her some help in the
house.”
“We’ve
got Mrs. Ahuja. Jenny likes her. But we can’t really afford her.” Wally hadn’t much to spare this year. “Another reason I didn’t go to the sale:
haven’t got the cash to go buyin’ fancy bulls.
How many cows you get?”
“Twenty-seven. Nice bunch, now I’ve got ‘em home.”
“Drive
‘em all the way by yourself?”
“Joined
up with Frank McGarrett; he bought a bunch too.”
“Frank,
eh? That must have been a happy trip.”
Tom
grunted, and went on talking about cattle, while he wondered what Wally meant
by that. Had Frank said anything to
Wally? Had he spread his gossip all
over the Valley? Back home they always
said the person concerned was the last to hear. No question, he would have to tell Victoria before long. She would be quicker to forgive him for his
adultery than to forgive him for letting her hear of it first from someone else
– she hated to be kept in the dark.
Before
they parted he went back to the point where he had veered off. “You’re right about Frank. What a foul mouth he has! – If you ever hear
him spreadin’ dirt about me, Wally ….”
“Sure,
Tom. You’d do the same for me.”
That
would have to do, though he wasn’t sure afterwards whether Wally had understood
he wanted a report, or that he wanted him to put a fist in Frank’s mouth. Or both.
Jorge
Montoya and the wagon returned after a two-day trip, heavily loaded with a
piece of furniture that looked much bigger now than it had at the sale. Silas sat beside Jorge, a little nervous
about meeting his new employers. He was
not quite as young as Victoria had expected, and he looked small beside Jorge
or Tom, but he smiled pleasantly and agreed to everything they suggested,
except he would not sleep in the spare room for even one night. “I jus’ lays my bedroll down by the fire,
and I be fine,” he insisted.
“We’ll
build something for you as soon as we can,” Tom promised.
“When
you can, Mr. Barkley. When you
can.” Silas turned to Victoria. “You wan’ show me where you keeps things,
Miz Barkley?” She took her time over
that, introducing him to her ways, and delighted by his willingness and
dexterity.
“Did
you have a room to yourself at the Jacksons’ place?” she asked after a while.
“No,
Miz Barkley. Had a spot in the kitchen,
though, to spread my bedroll. That good
enough for me.”
“I
don’t think so, Silas. You deserve a
room and a bed, and a seat at the table.”
“Oh,
Miz Barkley, I don’ eat with the family!
Colored folks don’t, never. ‘Sides, how I do my job servin’ if I
sittin’?”
She
tried to persuade him, out of her own belief in the brotherhood of mankind, but
he resisted, and she saw she was making him uncomfortable. “All right,” she conceded at last. “Do as you like best. But we’ll make things better for you, I
promise. – You ask for so little!”
“Don’
ask for much, I don’ be disappointed.
That the best way.”
“For
you, maybe. It’s not my way, or my
husband’s – and not my sons’ either, you’ll find. I don’t want you to let them
order you around, or take advantage of you – I won’t be pleased if I find
they don’t respect you.”
Silas
had already made friends with Eugene and done a deft job of diapering him. “How old your other sons?”
“Jarrod
will be thirteen next week, and Nick is just turned nine. Jarrod likes to read and study, but Nick
would rather be out with the horses.”
“Hope
we gets along. I’s not used to boys –
Miz Jackson, she jus’ has gals.”
“You
were fond of the Jackson girls, weren’t you?”
“Raise
‘em from babies, I did. Mr. Jackson, I
play with him when we li’l fellas. Now
I never see them no more in this world.”
He winked back tears.
“You
were right not to go back to Georgia, Silas.
Now you can help me raise my children, and you’ll love them too, I
hope.”
Thinking
about what she had learned, she realized that Silas had been a slave – a
relatively privileged house slave, but still a slave – all his youth, he had
come to a new country by his owners’ choice, and when freedom was unexpectedly
bestowed on him by the constitution of the new State, he had remained with the
same family for another seven years, out of habit or affection, and probably
been treated much the same as before.
Not going back to Georgia might have been the first independent decision
of his life; coming to the Barkleys was not so much a decision as accepting arrangements
made by those who had always made decisions for him. It would be part of her duty toward him to let him learn to be
free.
They
were clearing out the old cupboard when the boys came home from school. Jarrod accepted the newcomer politely and went
off to start his chores. Nick hung
around asking questions until Victoria gave him an apple and sent him outside.
Feeling hopeful that it would work out and Silas might be with them for a long
time, she sat down to her sewing with a clear conscience, watching him work and
adding a word of guidance now and then.
Tom
came before supper with Jorge and their lead hand Saul Peters, to manhandle the
sideboard into the place he had chosen.
It did just fit into the space, but it looked huge there.
“It’ll
look better in the big house,” he said determinedly.
“It’s
a handsome piece,” she concurred. “You
have a good eye, Tom; you chose well.”
He
grinned at her. “Don’t I always?” – an
old joke between them. Then the grin
faded swiftly into an expression of pain, or perhaps shame, replaced as quickly
by a smile she did not believe in. The
incident stuck in her mind along with other indications in the past few days
that he had something on his mind that he was not telling her. But it was time to eat Silas’s first supper.
“Isn’t
Silas gonna sit down with us?” asked Nick loudly. He had pulled up an extra chair, and was surprised to find it
empty.
“That’s
for him to decide,” said Victoria.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to eat with a bunch of noisy children.” It was not a good answer, she felt, but she
did not know what else to say.
“Silas,
come and sit by me!”
Silas
shook his head gravely. “No, Master
Nick. I likes to eat by myself, after
you folks is done.”
Nick
stared. Tom said, “Silas works for us,
like the cowhands. Saul and Jorge and
Buck don’t eat with us, do they? Only
the family and their guests eat at the table together, in good society.”
Nick
had more to say, while Victoria noticed Jarrod noticing that his parents were
disagreeing. She had grown up in a
family where the household staff of two ate in their own room, and Tom in a
family where the hired man joined the rest of them at the table. Early in their acquaintance they had argued
the point; now each of them had come around to the other’s custom without
realizing it. She smiled down the table
at him, wondering if he was thinking the same thing. But he had that absent look again….
When
the table was cleared and Silas had everything in hand, and the boys had gone
to their own pursuits, Victoria reached out to her husband. “Come for a walk – it’s a brilliant sunset.”
He
glanced at the window to judge how much light was left, and lifted Eugene out
of his high chair. “Let’s take the
little fellow with us.” She could not
argue, she thought sometimes that he did not spare enough time for the
youngest, but it was not the walk she had wanted. Only when the stars were coming out and Eugene was asleep on his
father’s shoulder, as they turned back toward the house with its yellow window,
could she speak of what was troubling her.
“Tom,
is something wrong?”
“Wrong?”
“There’s
something you’re not telling me.”
“There’s
lots I’m not tellin’ you. You don’t
want to know.”
“I
don’t mean details. Something important.”
He
took his time answering. Finally,
keeping his voice under control with an effort, he said, “There is
somethin’. It’s not for sure – part of
it isn’t, anyway – and I wanted to be sure before I tell you. I was goin’ to go away, maybe next week, to
find out.”
“Is it
so bad? Tom, it’s worse to be
wondering, I’d rather know. Is it
business? Are we going to lose
property?”
“No,
no, nothin’ like that.”
“Is it
about one of our friends?” she persisted.
“No. Yes.
A friend of mine, not of yours.
Nobody you know.”
The
words should have been reassuring, but she grew more alarmed nevertheless. Her voice sharpened. “What friend?”
“Ssh! Don’t wake him!”
She
moderated her voice. “What friend,
Tom?”
“Victoria
– .” He seemed at a loss for a moment, then went on with seeming irrelevance,
“Victoria, I love you more’n anyone in the world. Remember that, whatever happens.”
“I
have never doubted it – not for fourteen years. Is there a reason why I should?”
“You’ll
be so angry – .”
She
exclaimed impatiently, and then her mind put the clues together. “Tom, is your friend a woman?” She stopped walking and turned to look at
him. It was too dark to see his face
clearly.
“Yeah.” He sounded guilty and ashamed. He held the sleeping child like a shield.
She
did not know how long they stood there, looking at each other’s dimly seen
forms. At last she said, quite
steadily, “Tell me.”
“Remember
the time I was in the gold fields, six years ago come summer? In Strawberry? I was hurt, I came home with my shoulder still weak.”
“Yes. You were beaten and robbed – that’s what you
told me.”
“I
never told you ‘bout the woman who found me.
Took me to her home, somehow, and took care of me till I was fit to
travel. Likely saved my life.”
“And –
?”
“She
was a widow. She – I didn’t tell her I
was married. I dunno why not – it was
wrong. She was in love with me.”
“A
widow. Old? Young?”
“Young
– a few years younger’n you. Twenty,
then, I think she said.”
“Pretty?”
“Yeah. Sweet and soft. Strong, too – like you.”
“Did
you tell her before you left?”
“Yeah. But – too late.”
“Tom,
how could you?” She could have screamed
it, but she remembered the sleeping baby and spoke softly, dangerously.
“I’m
so sorry. Darlin’, I’m sorry.”
She
turned and walked away from him, until her foot caught in some obstruction and
she almost fell. He started towards
her, but she waved him back. She tried
to think. Finally she found another
question and went back close to him.
“Why
now? What has happened lately?”
“Frank
McGarrett. He was in Strawberry, he
heard somethin’. You know how he
talks.”
“So
you thought I should hear it from you.”
“He
heard – he said there was a boy there.
My son.”
“Oh,
Tom!”
Eugene
stirred at her outcry, and they fell back on thirteen years’ experience as
parents to put off their talking until he was sound asleep again. In the distance, they heard Nick and the
Montoya boy laughing.
“That’s
what you want to find out. If it’s
true.”
“Yeah. I – I can’t leave it like that.”
“No.” If there was a child in question, it could
not be left hanging; they would agree on that.
“What do you want to do, if – ?”
“Be
sure they’re all right, at least. She
didn’t have much; she might be in need.”
“Would
she be a good mother?”
“Reckon
she would. She’d do her best, but it’d
be hard….”
Of
course he would say that, whatever the woman was like. “What’s her name?”
“Leah. Leah Sawyer, but some called her Leah
Thomson, her maiden name.”
“How
would you know if the child is yours?”
“If
she said ‘twas so, I’d believe her.”
“You
trust her?”
“More’n
she has any reason to trust me.”
She
let herself think about that. She hated
it, that he should have failed the other woman’s trust. And her own, that too. The act of infidelity, compounded by not
telling her until now. Who could say
how many times, in his thoughts?
“Did
you make her promises, Tom? Did you
tell her you loved her?”
“I
never used those words,” he said, with some uncertainty in his voice. “As for promises – afterwards, I promised
not to go back unless I was lookin’ to stay – that’s what she asked for.”
“Not
to go back unless you were looking to stay.”
She tasted the words. “If
something had happened to me – ”
“Victoria!”
he protested.
“If
you go back to find out, you’ll be breaking that promise.”
“I
know. I thought about that.”
It was
quite dark now. They heard the house
door slam, and then Jarrod’s voice calling, “Mother? Father? Where are you?”
“We’d
better go in,” she said dully. “We’ll
talk more, tomorrow. Not when the boys
can hear us.”
Tom
raised his voice. “We’re comin!” Softly, to her, “I love you forever. Never doubt that.” She did not answer.
Inside,
in the lamplight, she looked at him while she was taking the child into her own
arms, but he would not meet her eyes.
Nick was clamoring for his attention, Silas was finishing up in the
summer kitchen, and Jarrod reading at the dining table. Victoria picked up the lamp that had been in
the window, and took Eugene upstairs to bed.
He woke up, and she soothed him back to sleep, stroking and kissing
him. And thought of the other woman,
Leah, with a child who might be as sweet and as much loved, in circumstances
perhaps far more difficult.
She
went down again to give Silas some instructions for the morning and to send the
boys to bed, and then back up to bed herself.
Tom followed after a while, undressing in the dark and getting in beside
her carefully, as he often did, hoping not to wake her. They lay side by side, not touching, each
pretending to be asleep. Some time
later she realized he was in fact asleep.
Of
course, he had been living with this knowledge for over a week – with part of
it for years. He had now got past the
confession he must have dreaded. He
could sleep, even though he was still unsure of her forgiveness.
Was
she going to be able to forgive him?
Sometime
towards dawn, Victoria fell into an exhausted sleep, and woke alone in
daylight, barely in time for breakfast.
“Silas, you are a blessing,” she said with feeling as he poured her coffee.
“I’se
here to look after you, Miz Barkley.”
He was concerned; perhaps he had picked up on the tension between her
and Tom.
“Father’s
gone to check the south pasture,” Jarrod reported. “He’ll be back before dinner if he doesn’t find any problems.”
“All
right. Are you ready for school? Nick, did you wash behind your ears? Off with you, then. Give me a kiss.”
Nick
did; Jarrod did not, but he put his hand on her shoulder. He was almost as tall as she. “Take care of
yourself, Mother,” he said. “You look
tired.”
“I
didn’t sleep well – one of those nights.
Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.
Goodbye, darlings.”
Whatever
she did, she would have to consider all her children, including the one still
in her womb. They would suffer, if
their parents were not together.
As the
other child would suffer.
She
spent the morning between Silas and Eugene, and when Tom came in talking of
stray cattle and broken fences she was able to respond sensibly. After they ate, she asked for a few minutes
of his time, though she could see he was anxious to be back to the cattle.
They
went out to the bench he had made her under a shade tree. He looked apprehensive.
“Tom,
I want to go to Strawberry with you.”
“With
me!”
“That
way, she will know, and I will know, where we both stand. We can make decisions together. And you won’t be breaking your promise, not
so clearly at least, if I’m with you.”
“I
s’pose not. But it’s a long trip,
Victoria. You said yourself, you can’t
sit in the saddle all day, and the wagon, it’d be a week at least, there and
back. Campin’ out. Are you up to it?”
“I may
not enjoy it, but I will get there and back.
I’ll think about whether to leave Eugene with Silas, or take him with
us. Can you leave the cattle with Saul
and Jorge and Buck?”
“Reckon
so. They’re reliable enough, they just
don’t always think ahead. I’ll see if I
can get another man now, ‘stead of next month like I planned.”
“We
could take the boys out of school for a week, give Jarrod some more
responsibility.”
“Not a
lot of help. Jarrod’d be busy just
keepin’ Nick out of trouble.”
She
looked at him and almost laughed. “You
may be right about that.” She had so
many reasons to love this man …. She
recovered her composure and spoke severely.
“Tom, I have to know one thing, and I want you to look at me
straight. Was that the only time?”
He met
her eyes. “Before God, Victoria, that
was the only time. It always will be.”
She
believed him, and relaxed a little.
“Why did she never let you know?”
“You’d
have to ask her that. Maybe she was too
angry. Maybe she didn’t want to
complicate my life. Maybe she thought
I’d try to take the child from her.”
“If
she’s a good mother, that is not in question,” Victoria said firmly.
“Course
not,” he agreed without conviction.
“I
don’t believe in taking any child
from its mother, if she’s fit to care for it, even if it is the law.”
“I
know, you’ve said that before. And the
law wouldn’t be on my side in this case.
But – ”
“But
you’d want to see him sometimes.”
“Yeah.
Be sure he’s all right.”
“Be
part of his life. Don’t let him grow up
hating you.”
He
said nothing, only nodded. She saw
tears forming in his eyes, and took pity on him. “It’s to be seen, how to arrange that. One other thing for now.
Can you tell me exactly what
Frank McGarrett said? And what you told
him?”
He
looked past her. “He said, wasn’t I in
Strawberry at one time, and he’d been there too, since. He heard talk about me there. I asked what he meant, and he said he
wouldn’t say a word where you could hear it.”
“Much
obliged to him!”
“You
know Frank! – Then he said he heard I’d left a boy up there. I remember his words – ‘Little yellow-haired
tyke runnin’ around in patched overalls.
Somebody said that’s Tom Barkley’s boy, and ain’t it a shame.’ I told him not to talk about my affairs, and
he said he wouldn’t say a word.”
“So
you didn’t say whether you already knew about it, or not.”
“Wouldn’t
give Frank the satisfaction. But he
could likely tell.”
“Yellow-haired? Is she?”
“Not
yellow. More light brown.”
“Fair-haired
children often grow up with light brown hair.
Didn’t you have yellow hair when you were little?”
“Reckon
I did.”
“As
for the patched overalls, Jarrod and Nick have had their share of patches
too. It doesn’t mean much, except they were patched and not left ragged. – I
wonder if it’s common knowledge in Strawberry.”
“Some
folks’d know. So everybody might.”
“Then
it’s just as well that we know now.”
“Victoria,
you are the best wife in the world.”
“Don’t
say that yet. I’m still thinking.” But she leaned her head against his shoulder
and let him put an arm around her. They
were at least still allies, in a world where trustworthy allies were hard to
find.
She
had one more thought. “You said she was
soft. She’s had nearly six years to
grow hard. In a mining camp. – Or to
find another man.”
“True
enough. I hope she has found
someone.” He saw Buck waiting for
him. “Gotta go.” He kissed her dark hair that was already
showing strands of silver. “I love you
best.”
Matt
Simmons carried a teetering stack of empty cups into the kitchen and deposited
them next to the dishpan where his sister was already hard at work on the
plates. “That’s the lot,” he said, and
started clearing the kitchen table where the three of them had just finished
their own hasty and interrupted supper.
“’S
the mos’ yet this year, ain’t it? Good
business.” Leah paused to wipe her
forehead with the back of her arm.
“Pickin’
up,” confirmed Matt’s wife Martha, wiping plates. “Sixteen, tonight. Eight
dollars.”
“Some
folks come for the dance,” said Matt.
“You goin’ dancin’ tonight, Leah?”
“Plannin’
on it. You?”
“Wouldn’t
miss it,” declared Martha. “Only fun
there is in this town. – Put them plates away, Matt. Sooner we’re done, sooner we can go. – Leah, you goin’ with Luke
Pritchard again?”
“Promised
Joe to go with him tonight.”
“Had
an idea you and Luke were gettin’ pretty regular. He backin’ off?”
“That
ain’t your affair, Martha.”
“It is my affair, if you go and get married
and quit cookin’ here.” Martha herself
was an indifferent cook; whenever she had to take Leah’s place for any reason,
she became angry and frustrated, and the customers complained. She knew it was Leah’s cooking that
attracted them – and Leah made it look so easy!
“If I
do, I’ll give you fair warnin’. Won’
leave you in the lurch.”
Matt
asked, “He ask you to marry him, Leah?”
“Mm-hm. I’m thinkin’ on it.”
“You
wouldn’t be independent like you are now,” Martha argued. “You’d have to do what he wanted, and ask
him for money.”
“I
know that.”
“That
snooty sister of his, she wouldn’t be too happy. You wanna live with her?”
“I’m
thinkin’ on that too.”
“And
raise those three children of his, besides your own, and any more you might
have. Think you can raise that puny little Mary the way her aunt wants?” Martha spoke with distaste; she did not like
children.
“That ain’t a problem.”
“He’s
not much to look at, that’s sure.
Thought I heard your taste was for handsome men.”
“Was
younger then.”
Matt
said, “Leah’ll do as she thinks bes’, Martha.
You n’ I won’ stand in her way.”
When
they had finished with the dishes, and the kitchen shone, Martha brought out of
her pocket a clatter of coins and a few crumpled bills. “All right, Leah, let’s settle up for the
week. Seven dollars for cookin’, and
fifty cents for bakin’ bread. Three
dollars for Hannah for the washing.
Sixty cents for early greens from your garden. Thirty-eight cents for eggs.
Anything else?”
“Extra
washin’ Tuesday, that’s twenty cents.
Three cents for Heath for sproutin’ taters.”
“I
didn’t know about that.”
“I
did,” said Matt. “You wanna sprout
taters, Martha?”
“Well,
so long’s you hang up a lantern where he can’t reach it. I won’t have a child in my cellar with a
candle. Five cents, then.”
“Reminds me, Matt, pile o’
taters down cellar’s getting’ low – won’t last till the new crop, at this
rate. Better buy some more, if you
can.”
“I’ll see ‘bout it nex’
week,” Matt promised. Whether he would
remember or not, Leah thought, Martha would.
Martha
put the remaining money back in her pocket, and then, as if making up her mind,
held out a silver coin. “Oh, Leah,
here’s another dollar for you. One of
the gents that left yesterday said to
give it to the cook, he liked his meals so much.”
Leah
was delighted. “One more like that, I
can buy me a dress length.”
“Nothin’
lef’ for you to take home tonight, though, not with that crowd,” Matt
apologized. “Well, see you at the
dance. I’m gonna have a drink afore I
go.”
Joe
Smith offered Leah his arm as they left her house, and felt hopeful when she
took it. He talked of the weather and
the mines and the news of the town as they walked to Mullins’ barn, and treated
her with all the courtesy he could once they were there. Because he was a large man, and sometimes
clumsy, he took great care never to hurt her even by accident; he thought of
her as far more delicate and tender than she really was.
He
knew, of course, that there were people in Strawberry who looked down on her
because she had an illegitimate child.
The child had been a cause of grief to him too, in the early days when
he had hoped for her love. How could
she have given herself to the faithless stranger with the handsome face, instead
of to him who loved her so much? He had
known jealousy and rage. He had offered
to go in pursuit of the lover who deserted her, and punish him as he deserved,
or even bring him back at whatever cost.
But he could not do it against her wishes, he could not hurt her even
for her own good.
All
that was in the past now. He had
sometimes hoped again. If she would
have loved him, he would have been the best father to Heath that he could
possibly be – he loved the boy for his own sake as well as for hers. But she would not love him, and he could
only comfort himself that he had her friendship and gratitude.
He
took note that Luke Pritchard was not at the dance. Luke’s prissy sister did not approve of dancing, at least not
here at Mullins’ barn, and most Saturday nights he stayed home to keep her
company. In Joe’s view, any man who
would sit reading with Miss Pritchard when he could be dancing with Leah did
not deserve Leah’s friendship.
After
the dance they walked slowly home through streets lit only by the stars and
lamplight from a few windows. He could
not stop himself then, from saying, “Folks’re sayin’, Luke asked you to marry
him.”
“Folks
would!” she answered. “’Tis true
enough, he did ask me. I’m thinkin’ on
it.”
“Leah,
you know I’d marry you any time you say.”
“I
know that, Joe. You been my good
frien’, ever since the day we met. But
I never felt right ‘bout it, n’ I still don’.
I’m sorry.”
“You
feel right ‘bout him?”
“I
dunno. Maybe I can. I’m thinkin’ on it.”
“You
still thinkin’ o’ that – ”
“Joe,
I can’t help it. I can’t help it.”
Tom
went to town the next week, and brought back another ranchhand, Miguel, who had
worked for them other summers but always went fishing in the winter. Tom was driving a pair of chestnut horses
Victoria had never seen before, harnessed to what he called a gift for
her. It was a carriage, well-sprung and
well-upholstered, a comfortable seat for two in front and a bench behind that
would hold the children. “I been
thinkin’ for a while,” he said, “we need somethin’ better when we go travellin’
than the old wagon. So I had a talk
with Abe Hodges back in the winter, and here it is – all done but the lamps,
they’re comin’ from the East – was goin’ to wait for them, but changed my
mind. Bought the horses from Sam
Bradford this mornin’.”
Victoria
said sharply, “You might at least have consulted me about this. I don’t like you
having secrets from me.” Nevertheless
she was relieved. The prospect of a
long journey jolting in the wagon, in her sixth month, would have been disagreeable even if the
occasion had been happy. She was
determined to go, however, for several reasons, not all of which she had
mentioned to Tom. Now she could go in
much greater comfort.
“I
think we can take Eugene,” she decided, after he had apologized. “I won’t get tired of holding him, in that
seat, or if I do, we can fasten him in behind for a while.”
They
took the carriage to church on Sunday, to try it out and show it off. Nick thought it rather tame, but Jarrod was
enthusiastic and wanted to hold the reins.
Tom put him off. “Someday when
you and I are on our own I’ll let you drive.
But there ain’t room up here for three, and you ain’t puttin’ your
mother out of her seat – and I ain’t lettin’ you handle a strange team without
me by to get you out of trouble if need be.”
Victoria
reflected that Tom was a good father.
He liked all children, and loved his own – and that was what was driving
him to go to Strawberry – concern not for the woman, but for the child. She, too, would choose to protect the child
if it depended on her alone, no doubt of that.
But her reasons for going to Strawberry had more to do with the woman,
and with Tom himself. He would have to
do right by the child, if child there was, or never live at peace with
himself. He might be torn apart between
irreconcilable duties – but she would protect him from that, if she could.
Did he
deserve to be protected? It would not
hurt to punish him a little first, she decided. This would not be a happy trip for him. But in the long run, if only because he was her husband and the
father of her children, she would protect him from self-destruction.
On
their way home Tom said to the boys, “You two reckon you’ll be all right with
Silas and the ranchhands, if your mother and me and Eugene go for a little
trip? Reckon we’ll leave about
Wednesday and be gone a week, maybe more.”
“Where
you goin’?” Nick wanted to know.
“Up in
the hills. Got some business there.”
“We’ll
be fine, I’m sure,” said Jarrod. “But
won’t you tell us where to look for you if anything should happen?”
“Fair
enough. We’re headin’ for Strawberry. –
But I don’t want you tellin’ folks where we went. It’s Barkley business, and nobody else’s.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Is it
a secret?” Nick asked.
“Dependin’
what we find,” said Tom seriously, “I might tell you about it when we get back,
or I might not. Until then, it’s a
secret.”
Victoria
said, “Nick, you are to do as Jarrod tells you, or Silas or Saul, and behave
yourself. I don’t want to have to worry
about you while I’m gone.”
“Do I
have to obey Jarrod?”
There
was a small scuffle in the back seat.
Tom
and Victoria packed everything they needed into the carriage and set out in
good time Wednesday morning, in a flurry of last-minute instructions to those
who stayed behind. Once on the road,
Eugene bounced around a good deal, excited by the novelty. After a while Tom said, “How ‘bout I hold on
to him for a while and you drive?”
“All
right.” They made the switch smoothly,
without slowing the horses. She had not
driven the chestnuts before; she found them as easy to manage as she could have
wished. “A good team,” she
pronounced. “You chose well.”
“Don’t
I always?” Then he sighed. “Not always.”
“We
all make mistakes sometimes.”
Later
in the day, when the child was asleep among the bedrolls, and they were walking
the horses, he said, “Victoria, when we talked before, about this, I didn’t ask
you to forgive me. Is it too late to
ask you?”
“It’s
never too late to ask for forgiveness.
Isn’t that what we’re taught in church?
Have you asked God, Tom?”
“Back
then, I did. And since. God don’t always answer plain. But now I’m askin’ you.”
She
watched the horses for a minute. “I
still love you,” she said at last. “And
we are a good team. We have too much
together, to think of not going on. I
think I can forgive you for your sin against me, if you want me to say
that. In time, I think I’ll forgive you
altogether, but I’m still hurting, Tom,
I’m not healed yet.”
“My
darling!” He put his hand over hers,
but she pulled it away.
“I
haven’t finished. – You need more than my forgiveness. You need hers, and you will need the boy’s,
when he’s old enough to understand.
Your sin was chiefly against them.”
He
watched the horses. “I know,” he said
after a little while. “If Leah can
forgive me, after all this time, all she may’ve suffered – it’s more’n I
deserve.”
His
use of the woman’s name seemed to shift something in Victoria’s mind. She became interested for the first time in
the personality of the young fair-haired widow who had loved her husband. “Tell me more about her,” she said gently,
and when he hesitated, found a place to start.
“Where did she come from?”
“From
the South. Border state, maybe – she
spoke of a town, but it meant nothin’ to me, I forget the name. Her voice made me think Tennessee, Kentucky,
somewhere thereabouts. She had an old
colored nurse living with her, Hannah.”
“Oh,
she wasn’t entirely alone?”
“No. And she spoke about a brother lookin’ for
gold, but I never saw him. I didn’t get
the idea he was much help.”
“So
she came to California with her brother and her old nurse.”
“And
her father. She said her father was
buried there, in the churchyard.”
“Did
she go to church? What church?”
He
shook his head. “Don’t remember if she
went. There was one o’ them camp
churches, dependin’ on what sort of preacher might happen along. Might not’ve been any, even, just then. – I
remember Leah had a Bible, and read it sometimes.”
“She’d
been to school, then.”
“Not
as much as you, or even me, but some, yeah.
She’d read other books. She’s
not stupid, don’t think that.”
“Was
she working – earning her living?”
“Cookin’,
waitin’ on tables, lookin’ after folks – she had all the work she wanted. Hannah did washin’ and cleanin’,
besides. They didn’t have much, but
they were all right. – She wasn’t a whore, Victoria, if that’s what you’re
wonderin’.” He chewed on his lip. “If she’s been driven to that since, I –
well, I should be the last one to blame her, but I’d feel real bad.”
“We
are not going there to blame her – neither of us. But to find out, and help her if we can.”
He did
not answer, and presently Eugene woke up and made himself the centre of
attention.
At the
town of Sonora they stopped only to ask about the best road to Strawberry. A couple of hours later they camped by a
creek that was still cold from the snows of the sierra. “Another day like this, we should be there,”
Tom judged. “Team’s holdin’ up well.”
The
next day, however, turned out to be more difficult. The road was bad and mostly uphill, the team was no longer fresh,
and Eugene was no longer happy about travelling. In the early afternoon one of the horses went lame. They went on slowly to the next little
mining camp, where Tom managed to hire another animal and leave the injured one
to rest; however, the replacement was not a well-trained driver and gave them
some trouble. Victoria, too, was
growing weary of the carriage, even though she had walked part of the time to
relieve her cramped muscles. She did
not complain; she had known what she was getting into when she asked to come.
Two or
three hours short of Strawberry, with night coming on, they found a good spot
to camp, and were chagrined when three miners came along a little later asking
to join them. The men were polite
enough, but Victoria retreated from the fire and busied herself with the child
while they ate and talked to Tom. Next
morning the men rode a short distance
ahead of them, staying in touch.
“Safer
this way,” said Tom.
“No
doubt.”
He
looked at her. “Tired?”
“A
little.”
“Won’t
be long now.” He pulled out his watch
and showed her half past nine. “Maybe
another hour. – You wanna go to the hotel first?”
“Do
you think I could get a bath?”
“Why
not? – I’ll find out if she’s still in the same house. Then when we’re ready, we can walk over.”
“We
should have dinner first. She’s not
expecting us.”
“Bound
to be a bit awkward.”
“Yes. We’ll survive that.”
Strawberry
was larger and livelier than some of the camps they had passed, but otherwise
much the same. They chose the
best-looking hotel on Main Street, the largest building in town but in need of
paint and minor repairs. Tom tied the
horses and followed Victoria and Eugene inside, carrying their bundles.
A
handsome blonde woman in her twenties was behind the counter in the lobby. Victoria wondered for an instant if this
could possibly be Leah. She read hardness
in the eyes, and no hint of recognition.
Tom
said, “Howdy, ma’am. We want the best
room you’ve got.”
The
woman selected a key from the rack.
“Number three’s at the back, quieter for the lady. One night’ll be four dollars. If you’ll just sign here. How long will you be staying?”
“Might
be till Monday or so,” said Tom, signing his name. The woman read it, and looked at him with sudden interest.
“Mr.
Barkley.” Her eyes traveled to
Victoria. “And Mrs. Barkley – and your
little boy?”
“I
would like a hot bath, if that can be arranged,” said Victoria, while
concluding privately that news of their arrival was likely to travel fast to
interested parties.
“I’m
sorry, I can’t arrange for a tub bath at such short notice – maybe this
evening. I can bring you a jug of hot
water for a sponge bath, if that will do….
In a few minutes? Dinner’s at
noon sharp, fifty cents each, no charge for the little one.”
“That
will be all right, then. Perhaps I’ll
put off the tub bath until tomorrow morning.
Thank you, Mrs – ?”
“Simmons. I’ll show you to your room.”
The
room was decently furnished and spotlessly clean. Victoria put down Eugene with a sigh of relief, while Tom stowed
the bundles. Mrs. Simmons waited by the
door; when he moved to go back to the horses, she was somehow in his way. “What brings you to Strawberry, Mr.
Barkley?”
“Lookin’
for somebody,” he answered. “Maybe you
can help me, ma’am. Do you know Leah
Sawyer, or Leah Thomson?”
“I
know Leah very well.”
“Where
could I find her?”
“Right
now, in this very hotel. She’s our
cook.”
Tom
and Victoria looked at each other.
Victoria said, “She must be busy right now, getting dinner ready. I suppose she’ll have some free time in the
afternoon?”
“Soon
after one o’clock, I should think. You
want I should tell her you’re here?”
“As
you wish.” Victoria had no doubt that
Mrs. Simmons knew about Tom’s previous connection with Leah, and meant to know
all about their mission now. She would
have preferred a less interested messenger, but this one was here offering her
services – and asking her not to pass on the news would not stop her.
Tom
said, “I gotta see to the horses,” and made his escape. Mrs. Simmons remained.
“You’re
a brave woman, Mrs. Barkley, to travel so far with a small child, and in your
condition too.”
“He
was very good,” said Victoria, meaning Eugene, “but now I’m afraid he needs to
be changed and lie down for a nap.” She
extracted a clean diaper from the bag.
“Is there a laundry in town that will wash diapers?”
“You
can ask Leah to arrange that.”
“Perhaps
I will.” She got on with her job, and
Mrs. Simmons departed, wrinkling her nose.
Martha
went down the back stairs to the hot kitchen.
“Lady in number three wants a jug o’ hot water. How’s the supply?”
Leah
looked up from slicing apples. “Gettin’
low. Better fill it after you take this
out. Fire’s good, though.” Perspiration beaded on her flushed face.
Martha
filled a pitcher from the hot-water reservoir, and filled the reservoir from
the rain barrel. She carried the
pitcher upstairs and gave it to Mrs. Barkley.
Then she returned to the lobby and looked again at the name in the
register. There could be no doubt, it
was the same Tom Barkley she had heard of, who had come to Strawberry six years
before and left Leah with Heath. What
had brought him back after so long, with a wife and another child? What could be made of it?
She
decided not to be in a hurry to tell Leah about her visitors. Her sister-in-law sometimes took odd
notions, and couldn’t be relied on to put her own interests first – she might
take fright and run away, or refuse to see him. Any sensible woman would have gone after Tom Barkley years ago
and demanded he support Heath, but not Leah!
Martha had thought of writing to the man herself, but the thought of
Leah’s anger had deterred her – in spite of everything, she was sometimes
afraid of Matt’s little sister. – Besides, she thought, she’d better get dinner
over with before she did anything to upset the cook. – In fact, she concluded, she didn’t want anything to come of this
visit that might take Leah away from her kitchen.
Tom
Barkley came back through the front door.
An attractive man, she thought, no doubt about it. Tall, powerfully built, carrying himself
with confidence. Blue eyes startling
against his deep tan. A neatly trimmed
beard, fair with a good deal of grey in it, and his face much weatherbeaten,
but she thought he could not be much past forty. Rather dirty: he’d been
on the road and hadn’t yet had a chance to clean up, but when he did, he would
be as handsome a man as she had ever seen.
A man a woman might lose her head over – even Leah.
Martha’s
experienced eyes had already assessed his wife. Though Mrs. Barkley’s hair was greying, and her body thickened by
pregnancy, she was a woman of striking beauty and determined character – surely
a woman able to hold onto her man. No
wonder Tom Barkley had forgotten poor Leah!
When
Tom had gone upstairs, she beckoned her husband out of the bar and told him in
a whisper about the new guests. He
whistled. “What did Leah say?”
“I
didn’t tell her yet, and don’t you. Let
her get dinner out of the way first.”
“Maybe
that’s best.” Matt was easy to manage,
most of the time, though he could sometimes be stubborn where his sister was
concerned. Half-sister, really, six
years between them in age, but they were fond of each other. “Wonder why the wife is here.”
“To
keep an eye on him, maybe. She knows,
she must know.”
“Don’
look like a happy endin’ for Leah.”
“Who
believes in happy endings?”
Tom
turned the doorknob of number three and found it locked. He heard his wife’s voice from inside. “Who is it?”
“Victoria,
it’s me.”
“Just
a minute.” When she opened, she had a
towel wrapped around her body. She
locked the door again when he was inside.
“I don’t quite trust Mrs. Simmons not to walk in on us.”
“Nosy,
isn’t she? – I need a wash too,” he said apologetically.
“I
left some warm water for you.” She
indicated the pitcher. While he
undressed in his turn and washed himself with the small amount of tepid water
that remained, she put on clean underclothes and lay down on the bed. Eugene was already asleep beside her, his
chubby fist pressed against his chin.
Once
Tom was in clean clothes he sat down on the chair by the window and looked out
at the hotel’s dusty back yard. He
closed his eyes, trying to pray, because it seemed like the right thing to do
in this situation, but he could not compose his mind. He was all on edge, not knowing what to expect or how to
behave. Victoria was taking charge, as
she was so well able to do, and Victoria would do what was right – but he could
not leave it like that, either. What he
had shared with Leah had happened, and besides, she had probably saved his
life. He owed her too much to repay
with what was merely right.
The
sound of children’s voices from outside made him look out again. There were three or four of them, with a
couple of dogs in company, coming through a gap between buildings. Tom made out a tiny girl of three or four
with black wispy hair, a dark-skinned boy of six or seven, a fair-haired girl
about the same age, leaning on a crutch – none of those could be his. The last one to come into the open was a
blond boy, red-cheeked and sturdy, about five years old – he could be the one –
yes, he waved at the back of the hotel before he followed the others out of
sight. A fine boy – a splendid boy!
How
could it be a sin to make a boy like that?
Victoria
had not expected to sleep, but the comfort of the bed seduced her into
drowsiness. She was awakened by Tom’s
hand on her shoulder.
“Almost
dinner time.”
She
did not feel hungry, but she knew she should eat. Leah’s cooking. – There was a hint of roast beef in the air from
the window, that roused her appetite.
Before she had finished dressing, a bell rang downstairs.
They
went down to the dining room a little late, Tom carrying Eugene. There was one long table, more than half
full of men, with no other women in sight.
Tom pulled out a chair for her and took the one next to it, keeping the
child on his knee and under control. A
tall lean man brought in steaming bowls of potatoes and vegetables, a pitcher
of gravy, a platter of fragrant roast beef.
Good plain cooking, Victoria noted, mashing some of the vegetables and
spooning them into Eugene’s mouth.
The
man brought coffee. He did not speak to
the newcomers, though he looked at them curiously, as if he knew quite well who
they were but did not want to commit himself.
Victoria gathered from the other diners that his name was Matt Simmons,
no doubt Mrs. Simmons’ husband.
The
meal ended with delectable apple pie.
Once every crumb was gone, the diners scattered. Mrs. Simmons appeared, with her husband
hovering in the background.
“I
didn’t tell Leah you’re here,” she said, “but I’ll send her up to your room
when she’s through with the dishes. Or
she can come in here now if you’d rather.”
“Our
room, if you please,” said Victoria.
Number three offered no assurance of privacy, but it was better than
this public room.
“As
you like.”
Matt
Simmons intercepted them at the door.
“Leah’s my sister,” he said gruffly.
“I wa’n’t in town when you was here afore, Tom Barkley, but I’m here
now.”
Victoria
spoke before Tom could find words. “I wasn’t here then, either, Mr. Simmons,
but I’m here now. Our business is with
your sister.” She swept past him and
upstairs. Tom paused for a moment,
hoping for a man-to-man talk, but Mrs. Simmons’ presence made him give up on
the idea and follow his wife, carrying Eugene.
In the
room, Victoria sat down on the bed and looked around. It was not much of a place for even a calm discussion among three
people; there was only one chair besides the bench that held their bundles. “Can you move that into the closet?”
Tom
did so, and sat on the bench. “I never
thought much about her brother. Didn’t
expect to find him here. And I don’t
like that wife of his.”
“I
wouldn’t be surprised if she eavesdrops.”
“She
might, at that. – He don’t seem like much of a man.”
Victoria
thought of what Tom would have done if some stranger had left one of his own
younger sisters with an illegitimate child.
“Just as well, perhaps.”
He
smiled grimly. “Yeah.” He looked down at Eugene, who was tugging at
his pants. “What do you want, son?”
“Up!”
Tom lifted him, took him to
look out the window, played with him.
Victoria lay back on the pillow and watched.
After
some time there was a tap on the door.
Victoria sat up. “Come in,” she
called. Tom hoisted Eugene to his
shoulder and faced the door.
It was
opened by a young woman in a faded and much-mended blue dress with the sleeves
rolled above the elbows, her fair hair pulled back and knotted on top of her
head. She looked hot and tired, but she
spoke cheerfully. “Howdy, ma’am. Martha says you need some di – ” At that point she saw Tom, and stopped
open-mouthed, her flush fading pale.
“Hello,
Leah.”
“Tom,”
she said faintly. Her eyes went from
one to the other of them. She had a smudge
of flour on one cheek.
“Leah,
this is my wife, Victoria.”
Victoria
stood up, finding Leah to be about her own height, though somewhat
fuller-figured. “How do you do.” She realized that she was still not sure
which surname to use.
Tom
said, “Leah, we need to talk.”
Leah
collected herself with a visible effort.
“You gather up them diapers n’ come along to my place,” she said. “You been travellin’ with that baby, you
need a laundry, no mistake.”
Tom
grinned sheepishly. “You’re right about
that.”
Victoria
took the smelly bundle from the closet, and found Leah reaching for it. “Lemme carry that for you, Mrs. Barkley.”
“Thank
you.”
“Mind
goin’ out the back way? ’S closer – n’
I gotta get my hat. Watch your step.”
She
plunged down the steep back stairs ahead of them and into the kitchen. By the time they were waiting at the bottom
she was back, tying the strings of a battered straw hat. The smudge and most of the perspiration were
gone, which told Victoria she had had time to look in a mirror.
Without
speaking, she led them across the hotel yard and through a lane of rickety
houses. Almost at the edge of town she
stopped in front of a small house, better built than the nearby shanties and
well cared for, with a white picket fence around the yard, and a view of the
mountains from the front porch. Flowers
grew by the porch steps.
At the
side of the house a middle-aged black woman was hanging sheets on a line. When she saw that Leah had company she
stopped work and stared. Her hand came
up to cover her mouth in a gesture of dismay as she evidently recognized Tom.
Leah
said, “Tom, you ‘member Hannah. Hannah,
this here’s Mrs. Barkley.”
“Nice
to see you again, Hannah,” said Tom courteously, though Victoria could tell he
was uncomfortable before the accusation in her eyes.
“What
you wan’ here, Tom Barkley?”
“I
came to talk with Leah.”
“Can’t
talk over there,” Leah explained.
“Martha’d listen, sure. ’Sides,
they got a job for you. Travellin’ with
a baby.” She set down the bundle of
diapers on the grass by the clothesline.
The two of them hung up the last couple of sheets, while carrying on a whispered exchange
Victoria could not follow.
Hannah’s
eyes fastened on Eugene. “Who’s that
baby?”
“He’s
mine,” said Victoria. “His name’s Eugene.”
“He’s
a pretty boy,” said Leah. She smiled up
at him where he rode on Tom’s shoulder.
For the first time Victoria saw her as beautiful.
Hannah
took the diapers and went around to the back of the house, registering
suspicion and disapproval. Leah came
back to her visitors. “’S hot in the
house – there’s bread bakin’ in the oven.
Mind sittin’ out here?” She
arranged the chairs on the shady porch.
“Mrs. Barkley, maybe you’d like to sit in the rocker? There’s a footstool, if you wan’ it.”
“Thank
you, I would. – What should I call you?”
“Everybody
calls me Leah.” She offered Tom a
straight chair. “You can let him run
aroun’ in the yard. ’S long’s he don’t
go outside the fence, he’s safe enough, n’ Hannah’ll see him if he goes aroun’
back.”
Tom
put Eugene down, admonishing him not to go far, and sat down with his hat on
his knee. The chair was not quite big
enough for his large frame – Hannah’s chair, most likely. Leah sat on the bench by the door, which put
Tom in the middle between the two women.
“What
brings you here, Tom? I wa’n’t
‘spectin’ to see you.”
“I
know, I promised not to come back. – Leah, Victoria knows about what happened
between us.”
“Oh,”
said Leah in a small shocked voice, dropping her eyes.
Victoria
realized that after the first surprise, Leah had not said or done anything that
would have given it away. Had she been
hoping that there was some other explanation for their presence? or had she not
thought Tom would speak so openly?
Tom
went on, looking from one of them to the other and then back at Eugene, “I told
her, not long ago, after I heard something.
I heard you had a child. My
child.” He looked at her again. “Is that true, Leah?”
Leah
looked scared. “Why you wanna
know?”
“Because
I care.”
Victoria
said, “We don’t want to take your child away from you. That wouldn’t be right. But Tom – but neither of us can leave it
there. We want to help you, if we
can. Tom wants to know his child.”
Tom
said, very gently and humbly for him, “Don’t he have a right to know his
father?”
Again
Leah collected herself. “I reckon he
does,” she admitted. “I jus’ never
hoped it’d happen.”
“You
should’ve written to me.”
“Seemed
to me, better you di’n’t know.”
“Because
of me?” Victoria leaned forward to
emphasize her words. “I wish I had
known back then – when Tom came back to me – but, well, if I ever suspected
anything, I didn’t ask. I wish I had.”
“Ain’t
you angry, Mrs. Barkley?”
“With
Tom – more than with you. He treated
you badly.”
“That’s
true, I did. I deceived you. Can you forgive me, Leah?”
“Forgive
you, Tom? Oh, yes! If you – if we – I wouldn’t’ve had
Heath. N’ he’s the joy of my life.”
“Heath? That his name?” Tom blinked back tears.
“Leah, I can’t tell you what it meant to me – comin’ here lookin’ for my
son, not knowin’ his name or how he looks, or even if he was real at all – !”
Leah
wiped away her own tears. “I
un’erstan’. I do. O’ course you had to come.”
Victoria looked away to check on Eugene. He was happily playing, getting dirty, no
doubt, but that was only normal. When
she looked back both Tom and Leah seemed calmer. She asked, “What surname does Heath go by?”
“Surname? Is that like family name? Not much of any yet. I go by Thomson, so I s’pose he’ll do the
same when he needs one.”
“Not
Sawyer, then.”
“No. That – marryin’ Charlie was a mistake. He wa’n’t no good. In fac’,” Leah declared, “that was the wors’ mistake o’ my life.”
“But
he’s dead now, isn’t he?”
“Dunno
for sure. He rode away, n’ we heard he
was drownded, but nobody I know never seen his body. Drowndin’ was too good for him.”
Victoria
chose not to inquire into the misdeeds of the late – or not so late – Charlie
Sawyer. Instead she asked, “Where is Heath?”
“Playin’
with his frien’s, I reckon. He’ll come
home when he gets hungry.”
Tom
said, “I thought I saw him – I saw a boy from the hotel window, I thought could
be him. One o’ the other children had a
crutch.”
“Becky
has a crutch, sure ‘nough. Was it a bit
before dinner? I seen ‘em go through
the yard there, n’ Heath waved to me.”
“Yeah,
he waved.” He looked at Victoria. “You were sleepin’. – Fine lookin’ boy.”
“Do
you work at the hotel most of the day, Leah?”
“Depends. Breakfas’, I get there ‘bout half pas’ six,
come back ‘bout eight. Dinner, I start
‘bout ten mos’ days – depends what’s needed, n’ you saw when I get off. Supper, I gotta get back there ‘bout five
today, but some days it’s sooner. Get
home ‘bout seven at night.”
“The
dinner today was very good.”
Tom
said, “Hope they pay you what you’re worth.”
“Can’t
complain.”
“When’d
your brother buy the hotel?”
“Three
years back, come summer. He sol’ his
claim for a good sum, n’ he married Martha.
The hotel was her doin’, mostly.
She’s good at it, she keeps the books n’ looks after the rooms. Matt looks after the bar n’ the servin’, n’
I cook. Martha don’ cook much.”
“You
get along all right with her?”
“Oh,
mos’ly. We have words now n’ then. She – well, never mind. We don’ agree ‘bout some things.”
Victoria
said, “I thought she was too curious about us.
She would have liked to hear what we had to say to you.”
“Why
d’you think I brung you over here?
‘Tain’ fancy, but it’s private.”
“I’m
glad you did.”
“Would
you like a cup o’ tea, Mrs. Barkley?”
“That
would be nice, thank you. – Leah, please, call me Victoria.”
“Oh!” Leah smiled again as she got up. “That’s an honor. A queen’s name.”
“The
queen was only a little princess when I was named. My great-grandfather’s name was Victor; I was named for him – at
least, that’s what they told me. – Was Heath named for someone?”
“No –
‘twas a name I heard someplace, n’ I liked.”
“It’s
an unusual name, but a nice one.”
“Speakin’
of angels – ” Leah looked across the
yard, and the others followed her gaze.
The red-cheeked boy Tom had seen before was climbing over a fence across
the road, intent on the task. When he
came through the gate in the picket fence, he noticed Eugene and trotted toward
him. Leah called, “Heath, c’mere,
honey!” He changed direction and ran
into her welcoming arms.
“Mama,
who’s ‘at baby?”
“His
name’s Eugene.” She turned him to face
Tom. “This here, Heath, this is your
pa.”
Heath
looked at Tom doubtfully. Tom leaned
toward him. “Hello, Heath. Son.”
“You
really my pa?”
“Yep. You bet I am.”
The
boy looked up at his mother, saw a reassuring smile, and took a few steps
across the porch to stand just out of Tom’s reach. “’Bout time you come,” he said boldly. Behind him, Leah opened her mouth as if to chide him, and closed
it again without a sound.
“I
know. I should’ve come before – I’m
sorry I didn’t.”
“You
gonna stay fowever?”
“I’m
afraid not, son. I’d like to stay with
you, but there’s things I gotta do – folks I gotta look after – down in the
Valley.”
Leah
said, “’S all right, honey. ‘S all
right for him to go back there.”
“But
I’ll come back for a visit sometimes.
When I can. If that’s all right
with you and your mama.”
Heath
considered that and decided to let it pass.
“That your baby?”
“Eugene? Yes, he’s my baby.”
“N’
who’s ‘at lady?” He looked at
Victoria. She saw that he had Tom’s
bright blue eyes.
“I’m
Eugene’s mama,” she said, keeping it simple, not sure whether he would work out
the problem or not.
“He’s
jus’ li’l. Can’t even talk, can he?”
“Only
a few words.”
Leah
said, “You hungry, honey? Come inside,
I’ll get you somethin’.”
He was
diverted. “Can I have jam?” They disappeared inside the house. Tom looked at Victoria, and away again, lost
in his own thoughts. They could not
talk about what was on their minds, not here.
Victoria
got up to retrieve Eugene, who had found his way into the road, and saw that
Hannah had come back with her basket full of washed diapers and was hanging
them on the line. “They look wonderful,” said Victoria. “You do good work, Hannah.”
“Where
Miz Leah?”
“Inside. Giving Heath his dinner.”
Hannah
snorted. When she had finished with the
diapers she went inside too, without a word to Tom. Presently Heath came out again, with a roll of bread and cold meat – no jam -- in one small
hand and a mug of milk in the other. He
sat on the step and ate, with his back turned to Tom, who nevertheless made some unsuccessful attempts to get him
to talk. From inside, Leah’s voice
could be heard, saying, “No, Hannah, you jus’ leave it to me. Don’ you go interferin’.”
Victoria
returned to the rocking chair carrying Eugene.
“He’s ready to sleep,” she said, and settled herself with the child in
her arms.
Leah
reappeared with teapot and cups.
“Tired, is he? Dear li’l
fella.” She poured Victoria a cup and
handed it to her. “I can give him some
milk, if you like.”
“He
ate a good dinner, he should be all right.”
Leah
gave Tom tea, carefully not touching him, and sat down again herself. “How many chillun you got now, Victoria?”
“Three
– besides the one that’s on the way.
Jarrod’s thirteen and Nicholas nine.
We lost two girls – Muriel would have been six now, and Emily
three.” She saw Tom look at her in
surprise; she rarely spoke of the dead children. But it seemed right that Leah should know. Victoria thought of the bad time after
Muriel died, when she and Tom had blamed each other for trivial faults and
their marriage had been at its worst.
That was just before Tom had come to Strawberry….
“I’m sorry your babies died,” said Leah with
sincere sympathy. “Tha’s the wors’
thing can happen to a mother.”
“And
to a father,” said Tom softly.
Victoria
noticed that Heath, for all his assumed indifference, was listening
closely. How much did he
understand?
“Jarrod
and Nick go to school in Stockton,” she said.
“Is there a school here for Heath to go to when he’s old enough?”
“Yeah. Reckon he’ll go winter after nex’.”
“And
is there a Sunday school at your church?”
“No –
no, there ain’ nothin’ like that. We
don’ go to church regular. Don’ like
the preacher much.”
Victoria
knew that many preachers would make life more difficult for a woman with an
illegitimate child, however good a Christian she might be. As would so many other people who prided
themselves on their virtue….
Continued…