In the Face of Danger (2 page)

M
EGAN
E
ILEEN
K
ELLY
sat on the high wagon seat, wedged between Emma and Benjamin Browder, and tried to keep her mind on the many things Emma was telling her. The past few hours in St. Joseph were like a nightmare that wouldn’t go away. She had been chosen by the Browders from among all the others who had come west on the orphan train, but the memory of facing all those strangers—wondering if any of them would want her—and of being parted from her brothers and sisters kept surging into her thoughts, making her want to cry out in agony. Her spine as stiff as a broom handle, Megan clenched her fingers together tightly and forced herself to listen.

“You’ll like your new home,” Emma told her. She turned to Megan and smiled, her brown eyes sparkling under the deep curve of her sunbonnet. “It’s prairie country. There’s high grass as far as you can see, and the wind whispers through the grass like soft music.”

Megan gave a little nod that was supposed to show polite interest and tried unsuccessfully to smile.
Oh
,
Frances
, she thought,
you have Petey with you, and Danny and Peg are together. Mike can make his way anywhere. But I’m alone, without a brother or sister nearby to comfort or cling to, and I’m so terribly afraid
.

Ben, who was stocky and broad-shouldered, lightly held the horses’ reins with hands that were brown and callused. “Someday you’ll see miles of wheat and corn on the land instead of grass,” he said. “We’re helping the country grow.”

There was a pause. Megan knew she was supposed to answer, but her throat was tight with the tears she was holding back, and words wouldn’t come.

Emma chattered on. “In spite of the dry years, we’ve kept up a good-size vegetable garden in back of the house. Have you ever seen vegetables growing?”

Mutely Megan shook her head.

“It’s a wonderful feeling to make something good grow from seed. In the early spring you can help plant. What vegetables do you like? Peas? Lettuce? Cabbage?”

Cabbage—boiling in the pot with potatoes. How often have I cooked cabbage and potatoes for the family?
Megan wondered. They’d gathered around the table in the one room that had been home for as long as she could remember. Ma would dish the food onto their plates and bend her head as she said the blessing, her hair shining red-gold in the lamplight.
Oh, Ma!
Megan struggled to keep from crying out.
I miss you so much I can’t bear it!

Emma was waiting for her to speak. Megan took a deep breath, concentrated on watching the wide, dark brown rumps of Jimbo and Jay, the horses pulling the wagon, and managed to murmur, “I know how to cook cabbages.”

She caught the pleased glance Emma and Ben exchanged.
Ben was like a solid block of wood, Emma rounded like a soft pillow. To Megan they seemed so healthy, so vibrant with energy.
I wonder if Ma and Da were like that when they left Ireland and planned their new life in the United States
, Megan thought.
Could Da have been just as strong and tanned as Ben? Could our family have stayed together?
She shuddered as she remembered the gypsy’s words.
“Bad luck to you and yours all the days of your life.”
What chance had any of them with a bad penny in the family?

Emma was speaking again, her voice bubbling with delight. “Our dog, Lady, is going to have puppies soon. We’ll find homes for all the puppies except one. One of them will be yours. And you can choose.”

Megan blinked and looked up, astonished. “A puppy?” she blurted. “For me?”

“Only for you. Have you ever had a dog?”

Megan shook her head.

“Then you have a treat in store for you. A dog can be your best friend.”

Best friend?
Megan sighed.
Frances has always been my best friend, and she always will be, even though I may never see her again
.

As the wagon rolled steadily on, the road began to rise through low, rolling hills covered with golden grasses rippling and shivering in the afternoon breeze. Megan became aware that Emma had stopped chattering about Lady and the puppies she’d have. To fill the silence, Megan said the first thing that came into her mind. “I can share the puppy with your baby.”

Ben’s eyebrows rose, and Emma’s hands went to her rounded stomach. She blushed and murmured, “Why, thank you, Megan.”

Hadn’t they realized she’d know what Emma’s roundness
meant? She was twelve years old, no longer a child. A bird skittered up from the grasses and sailed out of sight, its cry like the wail in Megan’s heart. “I’m very good at helping with babies,” she said. “I have two younger—had two—” Her voice trailed off, sucked down into the hard lump that nearly closed her throat.
Why, oh why, had Ma given all her children away?

“You’ll have a better life than I can give you,” Ma had told them. Megan hadn’t really understood. How could life be better without Ma there to comfort and hug and laugh with them? All of them had begged to stay with her, but she had given them no choice.

Emma’s left arm, warm shawl and all, enfolded Megan’s shoulders. “We’ll stop with friends for the night,” she said, “but their house is still a long drive away. Why don’t you just snuggle against me and take a little nap? You’ve been through a great deal today. I know you must be very tired.”

Shyly Megan rested her head against Emma’s shoulder. Emma tenderly smoothed back her hair, but Megan’s spine and shoulders refused to relax. If she let go even for a minute, she would drown in the misery the gypsy had brought upon her and everyone she loved.
It isn’t fair to the Browders
, Megan thought drowsily.
Should I warn them about the bad luck I carry with me? Should I tell them to send me back? But if they did, where would I go? What would happen to me?

Hands gripped together tightly in her lap, Megan fell into the blurry world of half-sleep. Ben’s and Emma’s voices murmured over her like a blanket, and the wagon swayed and jounced with a comforting rhythm that shook away any dreams that might have come to taunt her.

Megan opened her eyes, shifting and stretching, to
discover that the sun was low in the orange-streaked sky, and the wagon was bumping along a deeply rutted lane that wound upward. At the top of the low hill, drenched in the golden light, was a small cabin. Megan rubbed her eyes and stared. There was grass growing on the roof and a small goat nibbling at the grass!

A slender woman burst from the cabin and ran toward them. Two young towheaded children streaked after her, shouting and laughing. A man strode quickly from a barn beyond the cabin to join the others.

“Nelda!” Emma Browder cried. As soon as Ben reined Jimbo and Jay to a stop, Emma leapt down from the wagon and hugged her friend. “And this is Megan, who has come to be a part of our family!” Emma said.

Megan took Emma’s hand and carefully climbed over the wagon wheel to jump to the ground. The woman, who was dressed in faded brown cotton, her pale hair twisted into a knot on top of her head, was studying Megan, and the two children were openly staring. Megan could feel herself blushing, but Emma gave her a reassuring hug and said, “Megan, this is my good friend, Mrs. Parson, and the children are Teddie and Dorothea Parson.”

The little girl took her thumb from her mouth and announced, “Papa and Mama call me Thea.” Megan’s heart gave a lurch as she remembered Peg at that age.

Will Parson and Ben, deep in conversation, led the team to the barn. Megan could hear snatches of conversation: “The election—it’s all anyone talks about. River traffic? You heard about the explosion on the side-wheeler
Lillyanne
. Lost all cargo and—”

Mrs. Parson smiled broadly and reached for Megan’s hand. “Come into the house,” she said. “The men will bring your things from the wagon.” Over her shoulder
she said to Emma, “The meal will be a simple one, but filling. I know you’re hungry.”

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Emma helped Megan off with her coat. “I brought you a length of cloth—turkey red, as you wanted,” she said to her friend, and Mrs. Parson clapped her hands in delight.

The children continued to stare at Megan as she looked around the cabin. It was only one room, and in a way that was comforting, because it was like their home with Ma in New York City. This room was much larger than her family’s room in New York City and the walls were of logs with clay stuffed in all the chinks and hollows. There were two windows, one facing the front and one the back. A huge iron stove stood next to a large open fireplace at the center of the front wall. Cooking tools hung on hooks near the stove, and a large wooden cupboard, a table, and a number of wooden chairs were placed nearby. At the opposite end of the room, there were two wide beds, bright with multicolored quilts and something intricate in a frame hung on the wall. Megan walked over to see what it was. She recognized the alphabet and numbers embroidered in cross-stitch. There were words, too, but Megan couldn’t read them.

She heard Mrs. Parson’s voice from behind her. “Our daughter, Alice, made that sampler when she was ten. She was always so careful with her work. I’ve never seen cross-stitch done any better.”

Megan glanced around. “Where is Alice?”

For just an instant shadows darkened Mrs. Parson’s eyes as she answered, “It was a bad winter last year, and many of the children nearabouts were ill. We lost Alice.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Megan stammered. She hadn’t meant to hurt Mrs. Parson. Too embarrassed to know what to say
or do, Megan blindly, frantically bolted out the door and around to the back of the house, taking refuge in the privy, where she leaned her head against the rough plank wall. She couldn’t cry. She mustn’t cry. All the sorrow had to be locked away, where it couldn’t hurt.

As soon as she had composed herself, she came out of the privy. At the side of the house was a bench with a basin of cold water. Megan splashed water onto her face and dried it with the coarse towel made from rough cotton sacking that hung on the nail over the bench.

Ben, coming from the barn with Will Parson, gave her a friendly wave. Megan waved back and hurried toward the door to the house, leaving the men to splash and sputter noisily as they washed with the chilled water.

Neither Emma nor Mrs. Parson remarked on Megan’s absence, but Megan could tell they’d been talking about her. Of course Mrs. Parson would be curious.

The table was already set. After everyone had gathered and a blessing had been said, the two women carried heaping plates to the table. Megan recognized the sausages, but there was an unfamiliar dark green, soft, leafy vegetable and a platter of something that Emma told her was fried patties made from cornmeal mush, served with cane syrup to pour over them. Each of the children was given a tin cup filled with milk. Megan gulped hers down greedily, and the cup was immediately refilled.

After supper, a full stomach, the fire crackling in the fireplace, and the easy chatter of both families comforted Megan. In spite of the nap she’d had in the wagon and the strange surroundings, Megan found it difficult to keep her eyes open.

Teddie yawned widely and noisily. Megan was grateful
when his mother said, “My goodness’ sakes! It’s time to tuck these children into bed.”

Pallets were laid on the floor for the three of them; the adults would have the two beds. Megan snuggled under her quilt, tugging it around her ears, shutting out the murmur of voices and the occasional snap of breaking wood in the embers of the fire. Her eyelids were too heavy to keep open, so for the first time since the day before, on the train, Megan allowed herself to relax. She fell asleep immediately.

In her dreams she found herself at home in New York City, with the familiar, well-worn door to their room ahead of her. She reached out to grasp the knob.

“Don’t open it!” she heard Frances saying.

“I have to open it,” Megan answered. Trembling with dread, she turned the knob and opened the door.

Standing before her was the gnarled old gypsy woman.

Megan was unable to move as the woman came closer and closer, a finger pointed at Megan’s face. “Bad penny, bad penny,” the gypsy cackled.

Megan’s feet were firmly fixed to the floor. She tried to cover her ears, but her arms wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t even turn her head. Her eyes fixed on the old woman, Megan watched her hobble into the room. The long bony finger set off whirlwinds everywhere it pointed, and one by one Megan saw her brothers and sisters disappear. Ma rushed toward the gypsy, but the whirlwind captured Ma, too, and there was no one left in the room but the old woman and Megan.

“Bad penny,” the gypsy repeated. “Look what’s happened to your family!”

Now Megan found herself able to move. She grabbed for the gypsy, screaming over and over, “Give them back! Frances! Ma! Where are you?”

Strong arms enfolded her, and she fought against them, sobbing, “Help me, Ma! Come back and help me!”

“Megan! Megan! It’s all right. You had a bad dream, dear. It’s all right.”

Megan knew the voice. She’d heard it before. It was a kind, soothing voice. Emma’s voice. She opened her eyes.