Searching for Silverheels (23 page)

She carried her chin high and her back straight as she approached the table. Her eyes flashed defiantly at everything around her, but when her gaze met mine, I saw fear there.

I couldn't believe it. Josie—who defied everyone, who did as
she pleased, who made an effort to get herself into trouble—was afraid. And yet she had to have known when she came to Denver that it could lead to this. Had she been afraid before she had been arrested too? Had she put herself in danger, even as she feared doing so? And all the while I hadn't even been brave enough to acknowledge my friendship with her. With a pang of guilt, I saw now how unworthy of that friendship I had been.

“Well, don't sit there gawking, girl. You don't want everyone in Denver to think you are a complete hayseed, do you?” Josie said, breaking the spell of admiration as she settled her broad backside into the chair on the opposite side of the table from us. “Don't know what the two of you think you're doing here, but if you just dragged me in here so you can gawk at me, I'm going back to my cell.”

“Good to see you too,” Russell said. “Honestly, Jo. You are the most infuriating creature on God's green earth!”

Josie gave her usual donkey snort.

“We came to get you out,” I said. “We collected money back home for your bail. Everyone chipped in.”

Josie raised her eyebrows. “Everyone? Good thing your mother isn't here to hear you tell that whopper.”

“Well, a lot of people. My mother, Mrs. Abernathy, the old-timers, Mr. Orenbach . . .”

“Well, you can take their money right back to them. I'm not having you bail me out.”

“Dagnabbit, woman! For once in your life, listen to reason!” Russell's usually mild face was contorting and quickly turning red.

“I'm staying, and I'm saying my piece in court,” Josie said.

“Well, we're not leaving this town without you!” Russell said. The two of them glared at each other across the table like two rams about to butt heads. I wouldn't have been surprised if either of them had started pawing the ground.

“But, Josie,” I said, not caring if she heard the fear in my voice, “don't you want to get out of this place? You can still say your piece in court.”

“If you bail me out, they'll think they've broken me. I'm staying right where I am. I'm not going to let them forget about me for a minute.” She glared again at Russell, challenging him to try and stop her.

Russell leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Fine. Rot in jail. Maybe it'll give you time to come to your senses and see that accepting help from your friends wouldn't hurt one little bit.” He stood so suddenly his chair tipped over and clattered to the floor. “I'll be outside whenever you're ready to go, Pearl.”

When he was gone, I looked back to Josie. She was glaring after him.

“We just want to help,” I said.

“I don't need anybody's help.” She sounded like a pouting child.

“Is there anything you do need?” I asked.

She looked up at me. A little smirk curled one corner of her mouth. “You never told me what you thought of my penny dreadful, girl.”

“Penny dreadful?”

“The True Account of Silverheels. I've kept the plates. I'm thinking of sending it off to the
Denver Post
, or the
Rocky Mountain News
. Who knows, maybe the
New York Times
has room for a new serial.”

I stared, blinking. I couldn't believe she was bringing that up, of all things, when she was in jail! Besides, it didn't matter anymore. Not since I'd gotten the letter from Frank.

“Well?” she snapped. “Cat got your tongue, girl?”

I sighed, feeling trapped, even though she was the one in jail.

“We're both wrong. Frank talked to a man, Mr. Lee, who lived in Buckskin Joe and knew Silverheels. None of it is true. She was just an ordinary person.”

Josie rolled her eyes. “Tom Lee was a fool. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him.”

“You know Tom Lee?”

“Stories get around the park, you know that.”

“But he remembers her,” I said.

The guard at the prisoners' door called out that visiting time was nearly over.

“Josie, we came to help you get out of trouble. The Crawfords say—”

“Honestly, Pearl. The Crawfords? When are you going to stop bothering with those busybodies?”

“But what about your defense tomorrow? They sent evidence against you!”

Josie stood and looked down at me. “Can you disprove my version of events in Buckskin Joe or can't you, girl? If you can't, I claim the victory.”

A guard waved her into line with the other prisoners. She sneered at me over her shoulder as she was marched out.

Russell was waiting for me outside on the steps of the jail. He took one look at my face and grinned.

“Looks like she got to you, too.”

I nodded, still too frustrated to speak.

“Well, let's go back and see Frank. He'll cheer you up.”

Frank was waiting for us on the porch steps, tossing a baseball lazily into the air and catching it in his bare hand. He set it down and got to his feet when he saw us.

“You didn't get her out?” he asked, but I could see he wasn't a bit surprised.

I shook my head. “What do you think will happen when she goes to court tomorrow?”

“Don't worry, I suspect they'll let her off with a fine and a slap on the wrist,” Russell said.

“Come on,” Frank said. “Supper's not ready yet. Let me show you around.”

Russell said he preferred to sit out the hot afternoon on the shaded porch, but I could tell from the smile he gave us he
was letting Frank and me have some time alone.

We wandered together down the sidewalk toward the busy streets of downtown, where Frank pointed out local landmarks. I tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but I was distracted by his nearness as we walked. His skin radiated the warmth of the July day, and gave off a clean, city-boy scent. He might not be as good-looking as George Crawford, yet being near him felt so much warmer and more comfortable.

After a while we came to a patch of green grass with a shaded bench. We sat, and Frank took my hand.

“Pearl, are you angry with me?” he asked.

I turned to him in surprise. “Of course not. I'm so grateful you told us about Josie. She didn't tell anyone in town where she was going. We wouldn't have known without your telegram.”

“I don't mean about that. I mean about talking to Mr. Lee.”

“Oh.” I hoped my disappointment didn't show on my face, but it must have, because Frank lowered his eyes from mine.

“I'm sorry, Pearl. I ruined everything. I didn't want to tell you, but I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about you either.”

I squeezed his hand and smiled. “I'm glad you wrote me.”

“But what Mr. Lee said did spoil things, didn't it.”

I shrugged and looked away at the cars again. It was the only way I could make myself look like it wasn't important.
“I don't know. Josie says Mr. Lee is a fool. That he can't be trusted.”

“You told Josie about my letter?”

“Sort of . . .” I said. “She asked me for . . . She's interested, that's all.”

“She didn't seem that interested when I was up in Como. She said the story was cockamamie.”

“She just sees things differently.” I hadn't told anyone about what I had been doing with Josie, but suddenly I wanted to. I wanted to tell Frank. I took a deep breath. “Josie thinks Silverheels was a thief.”

“What?”

“She thinks Silverheels only stayed so she could claim the gold that belonged to all those dying miners. They were all so in love with her that they believed her when she promised to send it to their families. Then she only pretended to get sick and ran away with all the gold.”

Frank looked at me, his expression sour. “I think I like Mr. Lee's story better. How does Josie know that? She told me she came to Como about twenty years ago.”

“She did. She just made it up.”

“Why does she want to ruin the story?”

It was a good question—why had Josie started the competition with me? I thought back to how it began. It was the day Frank had first come to Como and I had just told them the legend the way I had always heard it.

“She doesn't like the idea that Silverheels did it all for love. That she sacrificed herself out of love.”

“What's she got against love?” Frank said. “I think love is a fine reason to take action, don't you?” He leaned in close to me, an invitation.

“I do,” I said, and taking the invitation, I kissed him.

I
t was a perfect kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and felt like sunshine on my mouth. Even after the kiss ended, the sunshine lingered, warm and glowing under every inch of my skin.

I floated on clouds all the way back to his house, my hand in his. I should have been thinking about Josie and her court date tomorrow, but all I could think about was love, and Frank's kiss, and the giddy joy of being near him.

At supper I met Frank's whole family—his mother, father, and five sisters. Annie, the oldest, was warm and friendly to me, as if we had been dear friends in Como. Here with his family she put on none of the airs I had seen when she was with Robert. I liked this Annie much better.

After supper the whole family went out onto the porch with iced tea. All the girls were knitting socks and caps for the Red Cross to send to soldiers.

“Frank tells me he had a fine time with your family in the mountains,” his mother said to me, her knitting needles clacking steadily.

“Yes, ma'am,” I said. “At least, I hope he did. I had a fine
time with him.” As soon as I said it, I had to turn away so she wouldn't see me blush at how it sounded.

Mr. Sanford smiled. “He couldn't stop talking about that wonderful mystery of Silverheels you told him. He's been trying to figure it out since he got back.”

“Say, did you bring that picture Mae Nelson gave you?” Russell said.

“A picture?” Frank said, sitting up straighter. “Of Silverheels? You didn't tell me you brought a picture.”

“No, it's not Silverheels. It's Tom Lee's old school picture.” I retrieved the old photograph from my suitcase. Back out on the front porch I handed it to Frank. He bent close over it, examining it carefully, from the woman in the back to the blurred children in the front.

“That's Tom Lee,” I said, pointing to the boy. “And this beside him is Eliza Carlisle, Mrs. Nelson's mother.”

“Say, she lives in Denver now too, doesn't she?” Frank asked.

I nodded.

“So she must remember Silverheels too.”

“I don't think so,” I said. “Mrs. Nelson never said anything about that.”

“But Mr. Lee says that when he was growing up, Silverheels still lived in South Park on her ranch. And if they grew up together, Mrs. Carlisle must have known her too.”

“I hadn't thought about it that way,” I said, looking again at the photograph. “They are the same age.”

“We have to go talk to her, Pearl. Tomorrow, while you're still here.”

“But Josie's hearing is tomorrow.”

“Not till the afternoon. We could go see Mrs. Carlisle in the morning. It will be fun.”

I wasn't sure how fun it would be. I didn't want to hear more about how uninteresting the truth was. But I agreed, because it would mean a morning with Frank.

The meeting with Mrs. Nelson's mother was quickly and easily arranged, since Frank's family had a telephone, and so, apparently, did Mrs. Carlisle. Russell wanted to spend the morning learning all he could about Josie's hearing, so Frank and I had two hours on our own to visit her.

We took the streetcar across town to Mrs. Carlisle's neighborhood. Frank sat close to me and held my hand the whole way.

“I've been thinking about what we should ask her,” Frank said, and he began to list off the questions. I was grateful that he would do the talking. I hadn't been thinking clearly since he kissed me the day before, and now that his hand was in mine, I couldn't seem to think at all. Was this why people risked so much when they were in love? I had always thought love made them heroic, but maybe it just addled their brains. With a shock, I realized that was just what Josie would say. I jerked my hand out of Frank's. He stopped listing off the questions and looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

“What's the matter?” he asked.

“I—, I—” Blood rushed to my face. “I just had an awful thought about Josie,” I said. Not exactly the truth, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances.

He smiled. “Don't worry, Pearl, she hasn't been in trouble before. They will let her off easy. She'll be back in Como with you in no time.”

I nodded and gave him a weak smile in return. “I hope you're right. Maybe you better do the talking at Mrs. Carlisle's house,” I said. “I can't seem to keep my mind on anything this morning.”

Frank took my hand again. “Sure.”

Mrs. Carlisle lived in an older neighborhood with tiny frame houses, in the tiniest house on the block. The woman who opened the door introduced herself as Mrs. Carlisle's daughter, Miss Marjorie Carlisle. She was a tall boney woman who looked as if she'd been gritting her teeth for too much of her life.

Mrs. Carlisle came from the kitchen and greeted us. A softer-looking woman than her daughter, she put us at ease with a kind smile. We sat down together in the front parlor, and Frank got right to business.

“We're interested in the story of Silverheels and what happened in Buckskin Joe. Your daughter, Mrs. Nelson, was very kind to tell us what she knew.”

“Oh, of course,” said Marjorie, rolling her eyes. I was surprised by her tone, and I could see Frank was too. “My sister never gets enough of telling about seeing Silverheels with her
very own eyes. She told you that, right? Twice in the cemetery. No one else in town ever saw her, but Mae saw her twice. What a lucky girl she was.”