Chase the Wind (21 page)

Jenny held the carved box close to her as she watched the doctor and the minister carefully place Jamie in the back of the buckboard
that would take them to St. Jo and their new life. He had been
given enough morphine to keep him unconscious for the long trip.
The marshal had packed their things, Jenny hadn’t been able to
stand the thought of going back. She still saw the dead body of her
father every time she closed her eyes. The angel box held all the things her mother had thought important, along with the wedding
ring that had been taken off her hand before she was buried. Jenny
didn’t even look up as the minister drove the wagon out of town.
All of her attention was on her brother and the look of pain that crossed his face each time the wagon went over a bump in the
road.

The minister counseled Jenny as best he could on the trip. He
quoted scriptures and talked about God’s plans. Jenny rode in si
lence. Too much had happened, she still couldn’t absorb it all. She just prayed with all her might that God would not take Jamie too.
They arrived at the mission soon enough and the minister left them
in the care of a kind nun and a rather stern-looking priest. The
nun, Sister Mary Frances, immediately took over the care of Jamie.
Father Clarence, the priest, tried to send Jenny into another part of the mission with one of the younger nuns, but Jenny flatly re
fused to leave her brother’s side.

“You will soon learn that we do not tolerate this kind of ungodly
behavior,” he said to Jenny as he peered over his glasses at her.
Jenny was sitting on the edge of Jamie’s bed, her good arm hooked
through the headboard.

“I won’t leave my brother,” she told him fiercely.

“We believe here that if you spare the rod, you spoil the child.
It is obvious that your parents neglected that part of your upbring
ing.” The priest looked at Jenny as if she were a hardened criminal. “The sooner you learn the rules here, the sooner you will fit in with
the other orphans that God has given into our care.”

Jenny locked her arm tighter around the bed frame. She saw Sister Mary Frances make the sign of the cross and take up her rosary. The priest came around the bed and grabbed Jenny’s arm
above the splint and began to squeeze. Jenny grimaced as a pain
shot down her arm, and she let go of the bed frame. “We will
forgive your indiscretion this time due to the fact that you are new
here and have yet to learn the commandments that we live by.
Tomorrow we will begin your instruction.”

His face was just inches from Jenny by this time, but she didn’t blink, she just looked up at him with her wide blue eyes, eyes that had seen too much too soon. Something the priest saw in her eyes
gave him pause, and he released her quickly. Jenny never said a
word, and she never took her eyes off the man until he had left the
room.

“Please go with Sister Abigail,” Sister Mary Frances said. “I prom
ise that you can visit your brother.”

“When?” Jenny asked in an assertive tone. The nun’s eyes widened at her voice, but as she looked at Jamie’s bandaged face, she
forgave the girl.

“We’ll let you know. Now please go before Father Clarence
comes back.”

Jenny looked at the woman, then tenderly pushed Jamie’s hair
back off his forehead. She picked up her box and followed the
sister to another wing of the mission, taking note of the way. She was led to a large room that was bare of any ornamentation, with
cots lined up in rows and a washstand at the end.

Jenny’s mind filled with images of the past as she wearily lay
down on a cot and closed her eyes. She saw her father’s grin as he came bouncing up on the porch, full of some story to tell them at
dinner. She heard her mother’s laughter ring in her head over some
foolishness of her father’s. She felt the wind blowing in her hair as
she raced across the prairie on horseback, Jamie at her side. She
remembered the good-night kisses her parents gave her and lying
in her bed at night, listening to the sound of Jamie breathing across
the room and the quiet murmurs of her parents drifting up from
below. Tears came out from under the tightly closed lids and trick
led down the side of her face.

Jamie felt as if he had been lost for an eternity. He knew he was dreaming, but that knowledge didn’t help him. He was locked
inside himself, trying to escape. He could hear his mother calling
to him, he knew his father was standing there beside her, but he
couldn’t find his way around the flames. They were everywhere.
No matter which way he turned, the flames seemed to shoot up and singe him with their heat. The flames were behind him too,
licking at his heels, driving him on, but there was no place for him
to go. He could hear Jenny crying and calling out to him, but he
couldn’t find her. He felt so tired, and he hurt, he couldn’t remem
ber what it was like when he didn’t hurt. He knew there were
bandages on his flesh, he knew someone was tenderly ministering
to his needs, he felt the cool touch of gentle hands on his body, but he couldn’t find his way through the haze of pain that consumed him. He needed an anchor, a landmark, someone to pull him back. He agonized at the loss he felt within: he felt himself crying, and he felt all the worse for it because he was too old to
cry. He was lost.

Chapter Thirteen

Jenny was awakened by the sounds of movement in the room. It took her a few moments to orient herself to her new surroundings;
then she remembered. She was in St. Jo, in a mission. Jamie...
she needed to go to Jamie. She cautiously looked around the room to find the source of the noise. She saw several small girls taking
turns at the washstand. It must be time for dinner, she thought to
herself. Her stomach certainly indicated it.

There was a nun standing in the doorway who carefully in
spected each set of hands and each face as they were presented to
her. She occasionally looked at Jenny to see if she was awake. Jenny
didn’t move, she made her breathing steady, willing the nun to
leave.

When Jenny heard the procession of girls going down the hall,
she went to the door, peering around die frame to see if anyone was about. She didn’t know the workings of the mission yet, but
she hoped everyone was at dinner. She quietly made her way back
to the infirmary and found Jamie, still as death in his bed. She curled up next to the side of his body that wasn’t burned and put her arm around him. He turned his face towards her.

“Jamie, Jamie, can you hear me?” she whispered, afraid that
someone might hear. His mouth moved; he was trying to talk.
Jenny sat up to see him better. “Jamie?” she asked, louder. She bent
her head down to his mouth to catch the words he was trying to
form.

“Hurts,” he barely whispered.

“I know,” Jenny pushed the ragged ends of his hair off his fore
head. “Can you open your eyes? You need to wake up.” She watched the struggle on his face as he tried to fight his way back
to the living. “Jamie, wake up, please, I need you.”

“Jenny?” he whispered, a bit stronger now. His eyelids began to
flutter, die one on the left minus some lashes from the heat of the
flames.

“Come on, Jamie, open your eyes,” Jenny implored him. His blue
eyes appeared beneath a crack in the lids. When his eyes swam out
of focus, she lowered her face to his and caught his gaze with her own. “Hey,” she said, smiling tenderly at her brother.

“Hey,” he barely managed to get out. “What happened?”

Jenny squeezed back the tears that were threatening to spill out and shook her head against the onslaught of grief that welled up inside her. He didn’t know, she realized. He had been unconscious
since it happened.

“You got burned,” was all she said. Jamie weakly lifted his bandaged arm and held his hand to his face for inspection. It was whole,
with just a few scabbed places on the back of the palm. He lightly touched the bandages on his face, then trailed his hands down his
neck and chest.

“How bad?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“I don’t know; we won’t until they take the bandages off.”

“Where’s Momma?” he asked. His eyes were totally focused now
and were searching the room. “Dad?” he asked, his voice cracking
on the word. Jenny squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head
again. “Jenny, where are they?”

“They died—they were murdered.”

“What?” His eyes went wide, full of disbelief. Jenny sobbed.
“They’re dead?” he asked, not believing her.

“Yes,” she cried, “Yes.” She lowered her head to her chest and
tried to wipe the tears away. Jamie looked up at the ceiling and ran
his good hand through his hair. He reached out his arm to Jenny and pulled her down to him. He turned his face into her hair. He
couldn’t stop the tears that were coming; he hadn’t even felt them
come. They were just there, running down his face.

“Where are we?” he finally asked when he felt Jenny’s shuddering
sobs subside.

“They sent us to an orphanage in St. Jo where you could be
cared for.”

“Who sent us?”

“The town.”

“I don’t understand, Jenny. What happened?” Jamie’s voice was weak and wavering as he struggled to make sense of their situation.
Jenny raised herself from his chest and pushed his hair back off his forehead. His dark-lashed eyes were enormous in his gaunt,
pale face.

“I don’t understand it either,” she said soothingly. “When you
feel better, we’ll talk about it.”

Jamie wearily closed his eyes and nodded his consent. The morphine was still in his system and he wasn’t strong enough to fight it. Jenny stayed by his side, smoothing the ragged ends of his hair
until she felt the steady breathing that meant he was asleep.

Jenny knew that she was being watched long before Jamie returned to the sleep he so desperately needed. When she was sure that he was sleeping soundly, she turned to find Sister Mary
Frances standing in the doorway.

The woman shared a smile with Jenny and motioned for her to
come nearer. Jenny checked on Jamie one more time and went
over to the woman.

“Would you walk with me for a bit?” she asked Jenny, who
nodded and followed the nun outside.

The mission was located a few miles outside of town, in the
middle of a rolling field. The place was totally self-sufficient with
a huge garden and a barn full of livestock. Jenny listened quietly as they walked around the grounds and the nun explained life at the mission. When they came to a small orchard of apple trees, Sister Mary Frances asked Jenny to take a seat on a bench under one of the bloom-filled branches. Jenny sat and patiently waited
while the nun prepared herself.

“You and your brother have been through a great ordeal in the
past week. I know you didn’t ask to be sent here, but here you are, and here is where you will stay until you are adopted or of an age
to leave.” She hadn’t yet said anything that Jenny didn’t know al
ready. “I have seen a great bond between you and Jamie.”

“Yes,” Jenny replied when the sister seemed to be waiting for an
answer.

“I have seen his wounds. He will have scars, bad scars, and it
will be a great struggle for him to adjust.”

“I will help him,” Jenny said firmly.

“I’m sure you will.” The sister smiled at her determination. “But
what about
your
scars?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Some scars are on the inside. You are scarred because of what
you have seen.”

“You don’t know what I saw.” Jenny raised her chin a notch. She
didn’t know this nun, and she knew that she wasn’t ready to share
her feelings with her.

“I know you saw your parents murdered, and your brother severely burned. I know that is more than any child of your age
should see.”

“I don’t feel much like a child anymore.” Jenny stood up. “I haven’t eaten all day. Would it be possible for me to get some
supper?” The nun carefully looked at the set of her shoulders and
the grim lines on her face.