The Wives of Henry Oades (32 page)

T
HEY ARRIVED
in Berkeley just before dark. John saw them stepping off the ferry and came running.

“Father’s been arrested again,” he said. “They took him off to jail.”

For a frantic half moment Nancy couldn’t recall Henry’s face, and then he suddenly stood illuminated in her mind, his every pore and whisker vividly defined. This is what it meant to truly go crazy, she thought.

“Take us to him,” she said.

Something Demonic

M
ARGARET COULD NOT HELP
but recoil at the stench emanating from the walls of the jail, a horrible combination of mold and feces. Henry rose from his cot. “I instructed you to take them straight home,” he said to John.

Nancy tucked Gerty’s toy duck beneath her arm. “Don’t blame John. I insisted he bring us. I was not going to take no for an answer.”

On the opposite cot a man lay dead or sleeping. Both he and Henry wore gloves, hats, and overcoats. A fire blazed in the potbellied stove, toasting the deputy at his desk, and no one else.

Margaret met Henry’s eyes as Nancy approached the bars. She’d never seen him so haggard and defeated. “Titus is keeping an eye on the girls,” he said. Margaret nodded, trusting Josephine to manage without Titus. Henry and Nancy kissed briefly. Margaret lowered her gaze, stepping back, endeavoring to make herself invisible. John stood quietly in the shadows, hat in hand, his head bowed. The deputy was the only one overtly watching, having made a show of turning his chair toward the cell. He’d yet to say the first civil word, rudely pointing when they came in, expectorating into the fire.

“Now tell us exactly what happened, Henry,” said Nancy. “And to whom do I pay the bail? This officer here?” She began a frantic riffle through her bag.

“Don’t,” Henry whispered, looking toward the deputy, a charmless cur, the sort to feed on others’ misery.

Nancy went on rummaging through her bag, fretting to herself, dropping Gerty’s duck in the process. It fell to the floor with a sharp crack. Margaret snatched it up by the broken beak and hid it behind her skirts. The deputy snickered, striking a match and putting it to his pipe. He sucked and coughed, drawing harder. Let him draw the pipe stem straight down his gullet. Margaret wouldn’t be the one to the rescue.

Henry pleaded with Nancy. “Go on home now. Do as I say, dear girl.”

Nancy’s forehead glistened with perspiration, despite the cold. “Certainly,
dear man.
We’ll go right home, won’t we, Margaret? We’ll have a nice supper, tidy up, have a hand of cards if it’s not too late, say our prayers, and go to bed. We’ll sleep sound as can be, not a care in the world.”

Henry looked at Margaret. “Meg. Please.”

Nancy clamped on to Margaret’s forearm and held firm. “Now tell us what happened,” she said. “We demand to know.”

Henry kept his voice low, though Margaret was certain the deputy could hear every word. He’d been down on the east slope with Titus, he said. He’d known they might come today.

Nancy interrupted. “Who are
they
? Is this why you allowed us to go into the city today of all days? Just how did you know
they’d
come?”

“The case went before the grand jury a week ago,” said Henry. “I should have told you before. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think—”

Nancy broke in. “What case?”

Henry pressed against the bars, his chafed lips barely inches from Nancy’s. Margaret felt a sad rousing, trapped appendage that she was. She stood close enough to touch and comfort him.

“They claim to have a true case for bigamy,” he whispered. He had orange on his breath. Beneath his cot, next to a tray of uneaten food, lay a curl of desiccated peel. “They don’t,” he said. “Believe me, Nan, they haven’t a leg to stand on. Please go on home now. Consider your condition. Meg, please. Please take her home.”

Righteous tears stood in Nancy’s eyes. “We’ll go home when we’re good and ready. This isn’t right, Henry. There is something demonic going on. A person can’t be tried over and over. Why didn’t you tell us about the grand jury?”

“I would have worried you needlessly had the prosecutor not made his case.”

The other prisoner called out for Susan and began whimpering in his sleep. Margaret freed herself from Nancy’s grip. “Let’s do as he says.” Henry’s unconcealed gratitude settled upon Margaret, allying her completely. Nancy was unpredictable these days, teary and raging one moment, euphoric the next. He couldn’t be blamed for not wanting to set her off. On the other hand, he might have confided in
her
, Margaret. Margaret wished he knew that he still could.

Nancy whirled on the deputy. “How much is the bail?”

The little ferret coughed up a laugh and banged his pipe on the edge of the desk. He deserved a swift kick straight to the bollocks.

Henry sighed. “No bail was granted, Nan.”

“I’ll stand as surety then,” said Nancy, advancing on the deputy. “Will that do, sir? My aunt and uncle were pillars in this community.”

The deputy cracked another filthy laugh. “Lizzie Borden herself enjoys a better reputation than you do, miss.”

Henry fisted the bars hard, making no sound. “Sir!” Nancy held up, returning to Henry, bright as a crackpot in need of medicine. “Heads are going to roll,” she declared, beginning to name the steps she would take. The deputy chuckled, mocking her every fevered word. Nancy paid him no mind. She would wire the Governor’s office first thing, she said, and start up a petition while she was at it. Don’t think she didn’t still have an influential name or two up her sleeve. She would bring Henry a clean shirt and collar, and soup. “Would you like that, dear?”

“Please don’t bother,” said Henry.

Nancy seemed not to hear him. “Do you need reading material, Henry? Wait. The newspapers!” She fanned herself, laughing a bit. “Why didn’t you remind me, Margaret? The
Call
, the
Examiner
, the
Chronicle
! We bought all three. They’re in the buggy. John, run out and bring them in, please. I left them on the floor, beneath a long box tied with twine, not ribbon, you’ll see it. Deputy, will you bring my husband a lamp to read by?”

A derisive snort was the answer.

“Please, Nan,” said Henry.

In the end, Henry convinced Nancy to do none of it. She capitulated finally, nodding as he spoke softly, the fight in her spent. “All right, Henry.”

They agreed to go straight home. Yes, they would stay inside and keep the doors and windows locked. Nancy hung her head. “Yes, yes. We promise.”

“See to it, will you, Meg?” He looked so helpless in that cage, so utterly knocked off his pins. You must bear it, she’d say if he asked. Margaret knew firsthand. You must do as they say and bear it. Try not to go insane for the children’s sake. It’s all you can do.

On the way home Nancy complained that the baby was restless. “Kicking up a storm,” she said.

“They’ll do that,” said Margaret, adjusting Nancy’s blanket. “A hot bath will help.”

Nancy began to weep, rubbing her belly as she did. “I just want to lie down. I just want to lie down and cry it all away.”

Margaret moved closer. They rode huddled for miles, not speaking in the shivery, juddering dark. From behind, John’s shoulders appeared so broad. Yet another reminder. She could not get used to the man he nearly was.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, glancing around. Even his voice seemed octaves lower tonight.

At home, Nancy wanted to take the toy duck upstairs, and leave it next to Gerty’s crib so that she would see it first thing. “That’s the last straw!” Nancy cried, seeing it broken. “That’s the last damn straw!” She refused offers of bath and tea, and stomped up to her room. Margaret went to check on Josephine and Martha. They were awake, roused by Nancy’s tirade. “Go back to sleep,” Margaret whispered. “It’s all over now. Everything’s fine.”

“We saw the men take our dad,” said Martha.

“We saw from the window,” said Josephine.

“Oh, dear,” said Margaret, wearily. She undressed without lighting a lamp and slipped in beside them. “I was going to wait and tell you in the morning. What little there is to tell.”

“Tell us now,” said Josephine. “And don’t make up a story.”

“No sass, please, Pheeny. Not tonight.” Margaret closed her heavy eyes. Sleep, lovely oblivion, was close. “There are certain laws,” she began, “that simply make no sense whatsoever. They’re beyond our normal comprehension. That is why we entrust barristers to untangle the mess. Your father’s man is excellent, one of the best in the land. Mr. Grimes will sort things out for us, you’ll see.” Margaret drifted off. Josephine woke her a moment later.

“And after that, Mum?”

“After it’s over we shall leave this place for good. We’ll be off to San Francisco, all of us. Mrs. Oades and I were there today. We passed a school and saw dozens of girls your age in the yard.”

Josephine whispered across sleeping Martha. “It would be better if just the five of us went.”

“And leave Mrs. Oades and Gerty behind?”

“I wouldn’t mind too much.”

The grand life that she’d drawn for them coming over from New Zealand, her
made-up
story, wasn’t going to happen. It was high time to cobble a new story. If she only knew where to begin. “Try and grow a bigger heart, Josephine. I know you’ve got it in you. Let us sleep now.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, just after nine, three men arrived, two on horseback, another driving an empty wagon. Margaret was washing the front windows and called out to Nancy, who rushed in from the kitchen. She took one look out the window and flew upstairs. While she was gone two others rode up and dismounted. The five converged in a blur, tying up horses and wagon. In a perspiring panic, Margaret seized the letter opener from Henry’s desk and put the marble paperweight into her pocket. Either could kill a man put to the right spot. She rounded up Josephine and Martha and sent them upstairs. “Mind Gerty. Stay put. Don’t move.” Nancy came back down and headed for the door, a long-barreled pistol in her hand.

“No, Nancy. Don’t go out. Stay inside and be quiet.”

“
You
stay inside,” she said, storming onto the porch. “I’m through taking orders.” Margaret ran out behind her, straining, unable to make out the individual faces. Nancy took a warring stance, spreading her feet, aiming the gun at their center.

“This is private property,” she hollered. “Kindly remove yourselves and your wagon this instant or I’ll shoot.”

There was laughter among them. Three men stalked off toward the pasture. Another man started up the front walk. Margaret scanned the horizon for John, putting her hand inside her pocket, testing again the cold heft. It would need to be fast and hard, to the bridge of the nose, directly between the eyes.

The man coming toward them was grubbily dressed in shabby trousers and scuffed boots. A silver badge with illegible markings was pinned to his stained shirt. “Put the gun down, missus.”

“Who are you here for?” said Margaret, Mim rearing in her thoughts. She held the letter opener behind her skirts, not completely defenseless this time.

“We’re not after anyone,” he said. “Unless you’re looking for extra trouble, in which case we’ll be happy to oblige.” Margaret’s battering heart slowed. The man scowled at Nancy. “I
said
, put the gun down, missus.”

“Do as he says, Nancy.”

Nancy lowered the gun.

The three men were about to disappear over the foggy rise. The fifth leaned against the wagon, smoking, Margaret could smell it. “What are you doing here?”

“Official business,” he said. His handlebar mustache jutted, the tips pasted to sharp points. “Now get inside, and put that gun away before you hurt someone.”

“This is our property,” said Nancy, glaring. “We’ll stand right here until the cows come home if we please.”

The man hacked a wet laugh and spat, swiping at his mouth. “That’s a comical choice of words, ma’am.”

Margaret spoke up. “What sort of official business?”

He squinted up at her, sucking his false teeth. None was better than that dreadful set of dentures. He thrust an unshaved chin toward the front window. “The little ones are in need of you.”

Margaret and Nancy turned to see the girls peering out, Gerty in Josephine’s arms, slack-jawed Martha, confused little waif, beside them. Margaret flapped a hand, shooing them off. “Go on in now,” the man said, starting back down the walk.

Nancy wasn’t finished with him. “You can’t tell us what to do or where to go, mister.”

Moments later, John came running over the rise, yelling something unintelligible. Behind him came the three men, herding six cows. Margaret and Nancy watched them load the bellowing animals onto the wagon.

“They’re taking Rose and her calf,” cried Nancy. “What are we going to tell Henry?”

The men used the butts of their rifles, pushing and slapping the cows, swearing in their ears. There was a great mooing, defecating frenzy and then they were off, the wagon driver shouting. “The well ones will be returned.”

Inside, Margaret returned the opener and paperweight to Henry’s desk, stunned to know that she had been prepared to kill a man. She supposed that made her capable of anything now.

That night after supper Nancy said, “Pray heaven he will not go to prison, but we must prepare for the worst.” They were at the sink cleaning up. “You and I cannot manage this farm on our own.”

“No, indeed.”

Nancy glanced sideways with a worried look. “You wouldn’t pack up and leave, would you, Margaret? If Henry were sent away for a long time?”