Still House Pond (32 page)

Sitting down, she bawled like a baby. She cried until she got the hiccups and she couldn't catch her breath. Carefully, so as not to plunge out the door into the black-hearted night, she stood and pulled it shut. “I'm sorry, Steady. We'll need to wait until first light. It's too dangerous right now.” She took the puppy from the valise and carried him back to the pallet.

The beagle stayed by the door, waiting.

32

Copper was drinking strong black coffee and studying Manda's cryptic note for the hundredth time when the children woke up. Much as she had been sure it would, the note hadn't shed any light.

Mazy ran right up to her, climbing the chair rungs and hugging her neck. “Mama, where you at?”

“I've been on a trip, Mazy-bug. Did you miss me?”

“I cry.”

“You did? I'm sorry.” Copper brushed wisps of hair from Mazy's eyes. “Go get a brush and I'll fix your hair.”

Jack got right down to business while leaning against her knees. “What did you bring me? It better be good.”

“I've been on a train. I brought you a blue bandanna like the engineers wear.”

Jack took the bandanna and studied it. He looked skeptical. “This looks like a handkerchief.”

Copper felt tears welling up. The tart sweetness of her children was almost too much to bear, like the first bite of a green apple or the smell of wild roses in bloom. “This is a special handkerchief. Let me show you.” She tied the blue napkin around his neck. “Now you're a conductor on a train,” she said before pulling it up to cover his nose and mouth. “Now you're Jesse James.”

Jack cocked his fingers like a gun. “Stick 'em up.”

She held her arms in a position of surrender. “Please, Mr. James. Please don't take my money.”

“I won't,” he said. “Robbers don't steal from their mamas.”

Another gem to share with John—if they ever shared again. Ever since the train ride home, she'd felt herself slipping away from him. If all they found was Lilly's body, or if—heaven forbid—they never found her, Copper wasn't sure she'd ever care again. She felt an overwhelming need to be alone with her grief. But of course she didn't have that option. Her other children needed her, and she needed them.

Molly hung on Cara's dress tail while Cara stirred a pot of oatmeal. She cast shy looks Copper's way and sucked her thumb. Mazy brought the brush, and Copper fixed her hair and then Merky's. She tied a bright red ribbon around each sweet head so the girls would think she'd also brought them something.

Merky preened for Cara.

“Don't you look like a pretty redbird,” Cara said. “Would you take Mazy out to the porch while I finish your breakfast?”

Cara lifted Molly to her hip and with a last stir of the oatmeal set the pot on the warming shelf. “Let's go see your mama.”

Molly tucked her head in the curve of Cara's shoulder.

Cara flashed Copper a grin. “She's making you pay.”

“What will I do with this red ribbon?” Copper asked.

“I'll take it,” Cara said. “I'd like to look like a pretty redbird like Merky and Mazy.”

Molly's thumb popped out and her head popped up. “No, mine.”

Cara deposited her in Copper's lap.

“Who's my baby girl?” Copper asked, wielding the brush.

“My a baby bird.”

“Then I'm a mama bird.” She nuzzled Molly's neck. It smelled like talcum powder.

Merky opened the screen door. “Come out, Molly. Come on, Jack. We're playing nest.”

Cara filled four small bowls with oatmeal. She stirred in cream and a bit of brown sugar. “I'm feeding the birds on the porch. There won't be so much to clean up.”

Copper smiled. No wonder the kids loved Cara.

She saw John coming across the yard. He and Dimmert had left early to continue the search while she was doing the milking. She didn't know if he'd slept at all last night. She had rested some on the cot in the sickroom. Her body was so relieved to be home that it had forced her into sleep.

She put some bacon in the skillet and took a pan of biscuits from the oven.

John burst in, and the screen door slammed behind him. “We found something.”

With a fork, she turned the bacon over, even though it hadn't started to brown. Wiping her hands on her apron, she turned. “What?”

He held Lilly's hat in his hands. “Is this hers?”

Copper's breath caught in her throat. She was afraid she'd have another spell like the one she had at the train station. She nodded as she took the straw skimmer with the blue and brown bias trim from him. “Where did you find it?”

“Dimmert spotted it. We were riding on the road up past the churchyard. It was lying in a patch of weeds.”

The bacon sizzled on the stove. “Was there anything else?”

“I don't know. Dimmert's still there. I'm going right back, but I thought seeing this would make you feel better.”

“Better? Why would seeing this make me feel better?” She jerked the hat away from him. The crown was smashed flat. The ribbon trim was torn and dirty. Something had gnawed on the brim. Her voice rose in anguish. “This is not my daughter! You ran home with this when you could have stayed and looked for her.”

“Copper, don't you see this is a good sign?” he placated while trying to take her in his arms.

The bacon smoked in the skillet. The screen door cracked open. Cara slipped in. Averting her eyes, she took the skillet off the burner. They could see her hustling the children off the porch. The girls had oatmeal faces, and Jack had his bandanna over his nose.

“Let's go to the creek and play,” Cara said. “Won't that be fun?”

Copper tried to get ahold of her emotions.

“Sweetheart,” John said, “I wish you wouldn't take on so.”

She clutched the battered hat to her heart and wailed. Her cries seemed to come from her seared innermost being. Was this how it felt when you lost your mind?

John came up behind her and wrapped her in a bear hug. “Stop. Stop this.”

It was as if he had punctured her. The feelings flowed out like water circling a drain, leaving her cold and empty. She struggled to keep from screaming.

He sat her down and stood over her with a glass of water. “You'll drink this now. Slow and easy.”

She did as she was told.

John poured himself a cup of coffee and pulled a chair up in front of her. He put his hand on her knee. “Don't you see what this hat means? She's out there. If she lost her hat, it means she was walking up the road past the church for some reason. I think she missed the coach and was going to see if Kate and her mother missed it also—maybe she thought it didn't come. Maybe she thought the time was wrong, or maybe she thought they'd catch it later.”

She didn't answer, but as she listened, a little spark of hope ignited.

“I know in my gut Lilly is all right. I don't know why she's missing, but she'll be back.” He patted her knee, then rose and pushed in his chair. “Men are gathering at the churchyard to help. We'll find her. Don't you worry.”

She felt like her bones had dissolved. But she went to the stove and split the biscuits, laying a blackened piece of bacon between each one. She tied them up in a cloth for John to take with him. It was better than nothing. “You and Dimmert need to eat.”

She had some time for prayer before the children came back. And she badly needed it. She had once again allowed her fear to replace her faith. A bit of Scripture came to her: “O ye of little faith.” She walked around her kitchen, touching things and talking to the Lord. She felt as if she were in the shadow of His wings. It was a sure and steady comfort.

On a peg behind the door, where they kept outdoor jackets and indoor sweaters and aprons and bonnets, she found a length of Lilly's white ribbon.
Protect Lilly, Lord,
she prayed while running the grosgrain through her fingers.
I know she's Your child before she's mine, but I beg of You, please let me keep her for a while. And please let me mean it when I say, “Your will be done.” I know I'm not much of an example to others right now, and I'm sorry.

When she finished, she felt calmer and for the moment stronger. God understood her mother's heart. He would forgive her momentary lapses; she was sure of it. She'd often felt that a mother's fierce and all-forgiving love was the closest thing on earth to the heavenly Father's love.

She poured a glass of milk fresh from the cow and began to sip it slowly. Cupping her belly with one hand, she made a promise. “I'll start taking better care of you, my little one, my tiny, secret baby. I've been selfish and I know it, but I'm better now.” She would have to tell John soon. He wouldn't be happy about being kept in the dark.

She stepped out on the porch and gathered the children's dishes. The remains of oatmeal had stuck like glue. She wondered if Remy had eaten before she went to the little house. Copper had insisted she go for a lie-down even if she felt she couldn't sleep. Remy looked so exhausted and she wasn't strong to start with.

Back in the kitchen she put the dishes to soak before scraping the last of the oatmeal from the pot and stirring in some cream. She'd leave it on the warming shelf, covered with a linen towel, for Remy.

For now she should walk down to the creek and relieve Cara, who probably needed to go home for a while. She had her own house to tend to. She'd just started across the yard when she saw a horse and buggy. The man from the telegraph office was bringing someone with him. She shaded her eyes. It was Manda.

She went out to meet the buggy and thanked the man.

“You're ever so welcome,” he said. “Miss Whitt here said she read about the wreck in the paper. She traveled purt near all night. I hope you don't mind, but I told her about your daughter. Say, I hear there's a search party out looking. I'd be much obliged if you all would let me help.”

Amazed at how fast news of all types traveled, Copper thanked him again for his help and for bringing Manda home. She told him where to leave the horse until he came back and showed him the stall where his own was stabled.

Manda hung around outside. She hadn't said a word, and she didn't come in the barn. She seemed unusually reticent.

Coming up from the creek, the children swarmed around Manda like busy bees. Cara had washed their faces and hands in the creek. Manda greeted them shyly with few words. Copper supposed she was too hurt about Lilly to know what to say.

As outspoken as ever, Jack looked up at her and said, “What happened to your face?”

Manda touched her cheek. “I fell against the rail the other morning while I was slopping the hog.”

Copper and Cara exchanged looks.

“I was wondering, Copper. Would you mind if I take all the kids to my house for the rest of the day? We've been wanting to have a tea party.”

Copper hugged her neck. “Thank you, dear friend,” she whispered in Cara's ear.

Cara hugged her back. “You stay strong.”

“You mean me too?” Jack asked. “I get to have a tea party?”

Cara herded the children like so many sheep toward the long path that led to her house. “Of course. I've heard Jesse James loved tea.”

33

The teasing sounds of children arguing woke Lilly early in the morning. Before she opened her eyes, she thought she was at home. She lay on the scratchy pallet for the longest time pretending she heard Mama going to milk and Manda opening the oven door. She sniffed, sure she could smell rich coffee brewing and remembered her first cup the morning she went along to the stable. She wondered how the cats were and if they missed her.

She swallowed. Her throat was as prickly as the pallet of woolen clothing, and she felt chilled. “I don't feel so good,” she said, waiting for Mama's cool hand on her forehead. The prickly didn't go away, however, and neither did the chill of her skin or the children's strident voices.

She heard the door screech on its hinges as it opened and closed, but she didn't open her eyes. She didn't want to play this game anymore. For the moment she wasn't sure if last evening was a dream, watching the Stills gather their things in the buckboard, or maybe this was the dream.

“I want to go home,” she said.

The dog rattled her water dish on the floor.

Opening one eye, Lilly looked at the dish. Empty. Regardless of how she felt, she had to get up. She emptied yesterday's water jug into Steady's bowl, then went to the door to retrieve another and a small bag that held a few pieces of ham, some corn bread, and an apple. She carried them back to the bed and gave a piece of ham and a wedge of bread to Steady. This was becoming a routine.

“I sure would like a bath,” she said. She washed her hands before eating half the apple. It didn't feel good going down, but it looked better than the salty ham or the dry bread. “I forgot to say grace.” She bowed her head. “Thank You, Father, for my daily corn bread. Steady thanks You more than me. Amen.”

She climbed on the boxes to look out. Forevermore, the Stills were back. There went her plans for escape. She counted heads and saw everyone but Mr. Still and Tern. The old lady sat on the stoop with the baby. The boys ran wild in the yard. She couldn't imagine what had happened.

Getting off the boxes, she went back to her bed and lay down. She was through with this day already.

* * *

Midmorning, Copper sat across from Manda at the kitchen table.

Manda fidgeted with her bonnet but didn't take it off. “I don't understand why they're looking for Lilly here. I thought she was on the train.”

“We did too.” Copper took Manda's hand. “Did you see Lilly get on the coach? Mrs. Jasper said Lilly didn't.”

Remy huffed in. She had a small bundle under her arm. She looked at Manda sharply before she poured a cup of coffee and pulled out a chair.