A Patchwork Family Page 5

  “We lived in a big house, too. With flower gardens, and a white plank fence around the paddocks, and servants to do the housework,” Billy said in a faraway voice. “That’s why Christine’s bein’ so hateful. She ain’t used to folks tellin’ her what to do.”

  Judd nodded. “It must’ve been hard to lose all that. I’d like to think your mother went off with a wealthy man to regain that way of life—for all of you.”

  Billy’s eyes prickled, but his agony had subsided. He felt good here. He had no further worries about food, shelter, or security, and he sensed he could be happy in this untamed land with the Monroes as long as he wanted.

  But it was different for Christine. And for Mama.

  “You may be right,” he murmured. He gazed across the vast, grassy plains, marked only by the ruts of stagecoach and wagon wheels headed west. “But Mama’s not strong—leastways, not the way Mercy is. I don’t look for her to come after us any time soon.”

  The next morning, when he was too excited about the party to sleep, Billy heard Mrs. Monroe working downstairs long before dawn. He pulled on his britches and padded outside to fetch a pail of dried buffalo chips from the pile out by the barn. Her smile made his stomach flutter as he filled the bin beside the cookstove.

  “Thank you, Billy! What a thoughtful young man you are.”

  He shrugged, basking in her compliment. “Judd showed me where things was yesterday. I s’pose you’ll be needin’ some water hauled? Or things brought in from the springhouse?”

  By the time he filled the water barrel outside the kitchen door and made his last trip from the little shed where the creek kept their butter and milk cold, wag-onloads of neighbors were arriving. Asa and Nathaniel emerged from their quarters in the barn, dressed in fresh muslin shirts and clean pants, to help the guests unhitch their horses. Billy laid the cool food on the kitchen table and hurried upstairs to change.

  “Christine! Folks’re comin’ for the party!”

  He peeked into her room, where she was still a large lump beneath the sheet. “Rise and shine!” he crowed, mimicking Beulah Mae’s morning ritual. “You’s gonna be late, missy, and yo’ mama be plumb disgusted with you!”

  She raised her head to scowl at him. “I’ll be down when I’m good and ready. Not one second sooner.”

  He knew better than to bait her. Felt too fine to waste his good mood on a sister who might rise but would never shine much before noon.

  Once he’d donned his better pants and his only clean shirt, Billy glanced out the window. His confidence wavered. These people with picnic hampers would soon find out he and Christine were staying here, after being politely turned away from some of their homes. Would they talk behind their hands? Would they stare at two kids who didn’t belong anywhere anymore?

  Billy had the urge to burrow beneath the sheets, too, but Mercy would come looking for him. Better to face the neighbors, grateful for the Monroes’ hospitality, than to cower behind the unfortunate story that brought them here. How would he defend himself against comments about Mama? Such remarks would always hurt, even though most folks meant well.

  But when he reached the kitchen, Mercy steered him toward the yard with a bright smile that made her eyes dance. Her excitement was contagious, and the slender hand on his shoulder transferred some of her strength and energy to him.

  “Good morning! Good to see you!” she hailed their guests. “Billy Bristol and his sister are staying with us, so I hope you’ll make them welcome.”

  Billy was immediately surrounded by smiling men and women who shook his hand. Names flew by him in a blur, yet he felt as if Mercy had worked some sort of magic. Just days ago these people had eyed him doubtfully, shaking their heads. Now they seemed glad for him—as though he were a prodigal come home!

  Billy blinked. He supposed this tingly feeling, as if angel dust drifted around him, might be a religious experience. He looked around to see if Christine noticed it, too, but she hadn’t come downstairs yet.

  She showed herself just as Judd was urging everyone to sit down on the wooden benches. The preacher was making his way toward the platform when she slid in beside Billy, dressed in a frilly blue dress and matching kid slippers.

  “Goodness, that man’s skinny!” she whispered. “Do you suppose that’s his big brother’s frock coat he’s wearing?”

  Billy sighed. She and Mama had prided themselves on being the best-dressed in church, so at least his sister was in a good mood now, seated like a queen among commoners. “He’s a circuit rider, Miss Priss. Can’t carry many clothes in his saddlebags, you know.”

  Mercy leaned forward on the other side of him. “Good morning, Christine. How pretty you look.”

  “Thank you.” Her demure reply was counterpointed by a sharp flick of her fan.

  Billy wondered what people thought as the scent of Mama’s favorite perfume wafted from Christine. The other women and girls wore cotton or homespun, without much trimming. The men favored light, collarless shirts and denim pants, and they removed their straw hats as they sat down. Everyone looked clean—wholesome, Mama would’ve called it—but many of them had probably given up their finery to farm out here, just as Mercy had.

  It wasn’t a time to ponder appearances, however. Reverend Larsen was flipping through a leather-bound Bible, and then he handed it to Judd, who stood beside him.

  “It’s good to greet you on this fine summer morning,” the preacher proclaimed in an accented sing-song, “and always good to gather here with the Monroes. Judd has offered to share the thirty-first chapter of Proverbs today. Let us listen to the word of God.”

  Judd paused a moment, smiled at his wife, and began reading in a voice that carried easily over the crowd. “ ‘Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her. She will do him good and not evil, all the days of her life.’ ”

  The woman on Billy’s left sat straighter, and he shared in her pleasure. He didn’t understand much about females, but this passage fit Mercy like a glove. Since he couldn’t imagine anyone dedicating these verses to Mama, he was again struck by the depth of Judd’s devotion to his wife.

  “ ‘Strength and honor are her clothing, and she shall rejoice in the time to come,’ ” he read on. “ ‘She openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not of the bread of idleness.’ ”

  Billy noticed Christine’s fan fluttering like an agitated butterfly. She studied the backs in front of them, silently judging the home-sewn clothing.

  “ ‘Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her: “Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.” Favor is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.’ ”

  Christine let out a petulant sigh, glaring straight ahead. Billy was struck by how much she resembled Mama; the red hair and fair skin had been passed along by nature, but she’d taken on that tilt of her chin by choice. She shone like a jewel among lumps of clay, and here on the Kansas plains she seemed just useless.

  Billy prayed hard for her while Reverend Larsen droned on. As the grace gave way to their picnic, he stayed beside her, because no matter how many people Mercy and Judd introduced her to, Christine didn’t want to know them. Didn’t want to belong.

  He stuffed himself with buffalo stew and beans sweetened with molasses. He sampled foods he’d never seen at home, products of the prairie and creative cooks. Then he topped it all off with a wedge of Asa’s cherry pie.

  He grinned at the colored man, raising his plate in salute. Asa winked at him. He and Nathaniel sat off to one side of the benches, the way Beulah Mae and the help at home had always done. When Billy saw how his sister dawdled over her food, he decided to leave her be. No sense in letting one of her moods ruin his whole day.

  “I’m fetchin’ some more of that pie. You want anything?”

  C
hristine shook her head listlessly.

  “I’ll be back in a bit, then.”

  “Go on and have your fun. I—I can take care of myself.”

  He wanted to smack her and tell her that acting so pathetic wouldn’t win her any favor from these people. But she didn’t want to hear that.

  So Billy walked over to the long tables and gleefully dished up the last slice of Asa’s pie. These guests had better taste than Christine gave them credit for! And now that he was out from under her cloud of self-imposed misery, he wandered among the neighbors to get to know them.

  His eyes sought Mercy out. She was talking to a stout, dark-haired woman—Nell Fergus, he recalled—as though they had a lot of catching up to do. Both women’s hands fluttered as they talked, side by side on a bench, erupting into laughter.

  Billy went warm inside: it was good to see Mercy enjoying herself. Her face radiated kindness as she listened to her friend. And when her gaze met his, she raised her eyebrow in a question.

  He gave her a little wave so she wouldn’t leave her conversation to ask after him. Judd stood over by the corrals, talking horses to a few neighbors. The Barstows, whom he remembered from the home station east of here, were bending the preacher’s ear. Around their legs, four little towheads clamored for attention, so he could understand why they had no room for him and Christine.

  The voices rose and fell around him in a pleasant cadence. At gatherings like these, he enjoyed watching facial expressions, hearing scraps of gossip, and seeing the men spit streams of tobacco juice off to the side. Except for their simpler clothes, they reminded him of people who’d attended parties back home.

  This realization startled him, because he’d always heard how uncivilized Kansas was. He was trying to recall what Daddy had said, about how Indians waited for the white men to let down their guard and then attacked, on painted ponies! But a hand jostled him out of his thoughts.

  “Hey there, Billy Bristol.”

  He turned to see a girl about his own age, a little taller and heavier than he was. She smiled shyly, so he smiled back. “Hey there, yourself.”

  “You gonna stay here awhile, or you fixin’ to get on the stage tomorrow?”

  “Reckon I’ll stay. The Monroes told us we could.”

  Her straw-colored hair glinted with gold when the sunlight caught it. “They’re nice that way. I like comin’ here, seein’ their big house and walkin’ down by the creek. I’m Emma Clark. We farm the next spread to the west.”

  Billy nodded. She had the face of a fairy princess, yet her sturdy, tanned arms and bare feet told him Emma was no sissy. Indeed, as her face took on a sly smile like Wesley’s, he liked her immediately.

  “You wanna see my . . . secret place, Billy?”

  He stepped back, slack-jawed. The last time a girl asked him that, he’d gotten his bottom blistered because Jewel Mayhew had lifted her dress. They were only five at the time, but the incident had stayed with him.

  “What’re you gawkin’ at? I thought you liked me, Billy.”

  “I—I don’t know. I—”

  “Well, you can stand here lookin’ like you swallowed a frog, or you can help me find some,” she said, turning on her heel. “Just tryin’ to be neighborly. Never showed anybody else that cave down past the creek.”

  Billy let out a sheepish laugh. The women were clearing the tables and the men were choosing teams for horseshoes. He didn’t see Christine anywhere. The prospect of viewing a cave only Emma Clark knew about suddenly seemed like the best offer he’d ever heard.

  He trotted up alongside her. “I thought you was gonna try the same trick a little girl back home did. She dropped her drawers, and I got my butt beat for lookin’.”

  “Well, I should hope so!” Emma’s eyes sparkled, as blue and dewy as the hydrangeas in Mama’s garden. “Let’s you and me make a pact, Billy Bristol. We gotta promise to never take off our clothes or touch each other, ’cause it’s a sin. And I don’t intend to burn in Hell for the likes of you!”

  She stopped at the edge of the cottonwood grove along the river and solemnly extended her hands. Billy took them, and a single, hard shake sealed the bargain.

  He grinned at her. Emma Clark didn’t seem the type to lie or tattle or make a fool of him. She was his sworn friend now, and he felt better than he had in weeks.

  Behind them, he heard the clang of horseshoes hitting iron posts, but he didn’t look back. The two of them spent the afternoon watching dragonflies skim the stream, and laughing at frogs that hit the water when they approached. The trees formed a canopy over their path, shading them from the harsh summer sun. And when Emma motioned for him to hunker down and enter an opening in the hillside, Billy could hardly contain himself.

  “Outlaws like Jesse James use the caves around home for hideouts,” he announced.

  “You know Jesse James?” Emma whispered over her shoulder. “Ever met William Quantrill or Bloody Bill Anderson?”

  Her awe made him feel important, until reality sank in. “No. Frank and Jesse lived out our way, on their mama’s farm, but I can’t say I really knowed ’em. But it was a gang like theirs—the Border Ruffians—that snatched my twin brother, Wesley.”

  She nodded, and Billy thanked her silently for not asking any questions. He and Emma sat cross-legged in the cool shadows, trading stories as the time slipped by. It was nearly dusk when they emerged from the cave, and the jubilant squeal of a fiddle made them hurry along the creek bank.

  “That’s Iry Barstow playin’,” Emma said as they ran. “Let’s go listen!”

  When they entered the yard, the music beckoned them from in front of the house. Rhythmic clapping accompanied the catchy tune, and lanterns lit the area where the wiry fiddler played, along with Nathaniel, who strummed a guitar. Emma spotted her parents, and Billy followed her to where they stood.

  He grinned up at them, tapping his foot as the music sped up to a breathtaking pace. Mr. Barstow’s fiddling inspired big smiles all around, and Billy laughed as he tried to outclap Emma. He looked around, expecting to see Judd and Mercy enjoying the music, too.

  But the big man stood near the front door, scanning the crowd.

  Billy frowned. It wasn’t like him to look so deadly serious, unless something was wrong.

  When Mercy appeared in the doorway, her pale face made Billy shove through the crowd. As he ran closer, his worst fears were confirmed.

  “She’s gone, Judd! Said she felt peaked, and went upstairs a while ago,” Mercy said in a stricken whisper. “When I checked on her, I found a sideboard drawer open and a napkin on the floor. She must’ve wrapped food in some of them, but—but she took the supply money that was in there, too! Nearly forty dollars!”

  Chapter Five

  The blood drained from Billy’s face. He ducked into the shadow of the house, too mortified to face the Monroes. Not only had Christine run off without letting on to him, but she was a thief, as well!

  “She can’t have gotten far,” Judd speculated in a worried voice. “Couldn’t have left until everyone was on this side of the house, after the music started. I’ll get a few men together and look for her.”

  Billy desperately wanted to go with him, but his feet seemed rooted to the ground. Would Mercy and Judd hate him now? Figure he was part of Christine’s plot and send him on his way? He sucked on a grubby knuckle, wondering what to do next.

  As though Judd could hear his thudding heart, the big man turned in mid-stride to address him. “Help us saddle some horses, son. Then I want you to help these folks hitch up when they’re ready to leave. I’m taking Asa and Nathaniel, because they know the lay of the land.”

  “Yessir. I—” He stepped away from the rough log wall, into the light of Judd’s lantern. “She went after Mama, I just know it! Spent all night readin’ her diary. Told me how that Wyndham fellow’d come over to see Mama when we was recitin’ our lessons.”

  “Any idea which way she went?”

  Billy shook his head, wishing he’d pre
ssed Christine for more details last night. “She said—she said it was our Christian duty to find Mama, ’fore she wandered off the path of righteousness. You just gotta find Christine, Mr. Monroe! I—I heard wolves howlin’ last night.”

  Judd smiled at him. “Chances are she’ll come right back, Billy. It’s dark out on the road, and those animal cries will scare some sense into her.”

  Billy hoped he was right. Christine had never been the adventurous sort.

  But a few minutes later, when the lanterns that Judd, the two hands, and the preacher carried had bobbed out of sight, he began to worry. They’d discovered that his sister had taken off on Reverend Larsen’s horse, so she could have covered more distance than they’d originally thought.

  “Good night, now. Thanks for coming.” Mercy’s voice carried over the yard as guests headed to their wagons. She tried to sound confident, thanking the friends who promised to keep an eye out for Christine as they traveled the dark road home.

  But Billy heard the same tightness in her throat that he felt in his own. Folks were being especially kind as they said good night to him, but no amount of encouragement could raise his sinking spirits. It was after nine o’clock, and his sister was out there alone, on a prairie as dark and fathomless as death itself.

  Emma lingered beside him while her parents loaded their hampers into the wagon. “I sure hope your sis ain’t run into trouble, Billy.”

  “My sister is trouble,” he muttered. But he immediately regretted it.

  “See ya again sometime.” She clambered up onto the wagon’s wheel and then over the side. Her hair shone like a halo in the lantern light when she turned for a last look at him. “I’m glad you was here tonight, Billy.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  He watched the Clarks pull out of the yard, feeling swallowed up by the night now that the last guests had gone. As soon as everyone had heard Christine was missing, the party broke up, as though folks knew that Mercy felt embarrassed about it. The horizon on all sides of him showed no sign of the search lights. A mournful howl broke the silence, and although it was off in the distance, Billy shivered and shuffled toward the house.