All Together in One Place (47 page)

“Where're the others?” Elizabeth said.

“I haven't seen them. I didn't see Clayton. I was just sitting on Jumper, shoving the mules off. They was circling like they do sometimes, and pushing, and then I heard this sound. Clayton musta walked behind us, just walked right there.”

Her description seemed to make Claytons crying more frantic.

“Give him to me,” Suzanne demanded. She'd stumbled her way behind them, the dog close at her side.

Mazy handed her the child.

“You did all right, girl,” Elizabeth told Mariah, crying herself. “The cobweb you stuffed on the cut stopped the bleeding pretty good. Head wounds always bleed a stream. He's breathing.”

“Someone, put your hand on my shoulders and move us to the wagon,” Suzanne said. “Help me, please! I'm ready to be guided.”

Naomi had preceded them into the wagon. And when Suzanne arrived with her son, Naomi's strong hands took the boy from his mother. “I put him here,” she said, pressing the boy to her silk-covered breast while Mazy helped Suzanne climb inside.

Her amber fingers dipped a soft cloth into a basin of water and dabbed at the boy's face.

“Not deep,” she said. “It bleed and dirt and grass mix not so bad.” He began to calm and take in huge gulps of air.

“We need to keep it clean,” Mazy said. “Doesn't look like it hurt his eye. Just above it, Suzanne.”

“What does he look like?” Suzanne asked. “Tell me.”

How hard to not know, Mazy thought, to never know, to never see, to sometimes touch their faces, to hear only rustles in a room, to smell only sweetness of fragrances.

Naomi pulled the web free, pressing it back when the bleeding began again.

“He looks fine but for the dirty face,” Elizabeth said gently “And Naomis a whiz with plants and such.”

“I find Mei-Ling,” Naomi said. “Back soon, Missy Sue.” She turned to leave, but Deborah stepped up to the canvas opening and handed a jar to Naomi. Immediately, Naomi pressed her fingers inside and then spread the clear substance onto Claytons wound.

“I smell honey,” Suzanne said.

“Not honey, Missy Sue,” Naomi assured her. “Same like. Bees make at home. Heal good. Make better smell. Help bone, too.”

“What if he's¨? Is it safe?”

“So safe, Missy Sue. New things not always bad.”

“We need a plan,” Mazy said over supper. People turned to her but kept chewing.

“For what?” Betha asked Her face looked scrubbed pink—the butter supply had been depleted, used to remove the resin and tallow from her and Luras hair. Lura had thrown her apron away; Betha planned on a major cleaning once they reach Laramie.

“For making sure that someone watches Clayton every day”

“Its my fault,” Sarah said. “I got to writing my letters in the sand with a stick and forgot about him.”

“No ones fault but mine,” Mariah said.

“No sense in blaming,” Mazy said. “We need to ask what to do next time, to prevent the problem Tipton, perhaps you—”

“I'm not good with children,” Tipton said.

“You were wanting your own bad enough,” her mother said to Tiptons scowl.

“I should have watched the mules closer,” Mariah said.

“They were just being mules,” Adora said. “They dont like little things much, like children and dogs.”

“Its no ones fault but mine,” Suzanne said. “I just can't watch him. Can't
watch
anything.”

“There has to be a way,” Mazy said. “Our losses should weave us together, not tear us apart.”

Koda shied as Ruth rode him past the sagebrush once they got underway. “What is it?” Ruth asked, then noticed the white kite. “Get it,” she said, and the gelding shook his head, jangling the steel bit. He arched his long neck and with his lips tugged at the paper. “Good boy!” Ruth told him, patting his neck as she leaned to take the kite from his mouth. She unfolded the parchment and read.

While others commented on the fascinating rock formations that marked their way, the glow of the sunsets, the occasional glimpse of the patches of white that belonged to wagons on the south side of the Platte, Suzanne lived on in darkness. She could not take away the bleakness that Clayton's accident brought back. Her blackness, a reminder of her incompetence.

“I've an idea,” Mazy said.

“About Clayton's care?” Betha asked.

Mazy shook her head. “No. Something to lighten our days and evenings, which my mother says is so critical. A game, sort of.”

“Oh, good,” Elizabeth said. “I was hoping you'd come through.”

“Each of us should think of a truth and a fiction,” Mazy said. “Something no one would know of us just by looking at us or our having said it before. In our evening circle, one of us will tell the two things and the rest will guess which is the true thing.”

“Make up lies?” Sister Esther said stiffly.

“Just for a game,” Elizabeth said.

“I like it,” Mariah said.

“A lie. We get to tell a lie?” Jason said.

“You have to tell something truthful, too,” Betha said. She stood, thinking. “So here's my lie I left four pairs of shoes back home that I never wore ” She paused “No, that's true.” She thought again. “This'U be something to consider. It's hard to say what I'm not.”

“Somewhat…exposing,” Ruth said “Or could be.”

“Good then. We'll start tomorrow after our necessary circle.”

Suzanne listened to the muffled voices of women readying for bed. She fought back tears. She had a truth and a lie she could share. Truth— she was unable to care adequately for her child. Lie—anyone would offer to help. Truth—she would surely fail her other child on its way. Lie—she couldn't give away either child

“I so sorry, Missy Esther, so sorry.” Deborah's face pinched in humiliation as Esther shook the parchment at her like a shaming finger.

“You simply cannot be trusted with something so important. I will take responsibility for it now as I should have before. It goes inside my writing desk,” she said, showing the shivering girl, whose fingers pressed against white lips.

“You take better care, Miss,” Deborah said.

“We will lay it between linens and hope the creases will ease out so the plans can be read. You owe your future to Ruth,” she said.

“A new debt,” Deborah said as tears pooled in her eyes.

They made Fort Laramie on July the first. They'd crossed the North Platte, using the rickety public ferry found in working order, though requiring exorbitant prices. At least that's what Sister Esther thought.
Still, it was either stay on the north side, bypass the fort, and roust a soldier to operate the ferry, or, as Ruth suggested, run it themselves. The women decided to pool their resources, though Adora and Tipton were busily looking for something in their wagon when the dollar demanded was paid.

“Koda's foot isn't good,” Ruth said. “He'll need a bar shoe. Can you take him, Tipton?”

“Dont you want to go?” Mariah asked.

“No!” Then with less force she said, “Someone needs to stay with the stock. Tipton? You've been around farriers. Could you do it?”

“I stay help with oxen,” Naomi said, an offer Ruth accepted.

“Make a list of what we need,” Betha said “I want to check the register to see when the boys went through.”

“And maybe Charles,” Adora said, her face brightening.

“Thanks, Tipton,” Ruth said as the women moved out. And to Betha she whispered, “Don't register. I don't want to give Zane any help”

“You think he's following, Ruthie? There've been no signs.”

“Trust me, Betha. It's the one thing I'm certain of.”