Turner's Rainbow 2 - The Rainbow Promise (5 page)

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Julia couldn't move her furniture without the wagon and mules. They would have to walk all the way to Willow Springs and could take only what little they could carry. The Braswells agreed to keep Julia's chickens and the milch cow and let her store most of her possessions in the shed behind their house until Julia could get a place of her own. Julia packed a small suitcase with a set of clothes for herself and each of the children. They hadn't many, so it wasn't difficult to limit the number. She looked at her children's worn, mended clothes and scuffed shoes, and shame swept her for what Sarah would think of them. But, she reminded herself, she had no choice.

By the end of the following day, the house was cleaned and empty. Julia killed one of their hens, fried it, and packed it in a small sack along with some cornbread, sweet potatoes, and half a loaf of white bread. They spent the night with the Braswells, and the next morning Mrs. Braswell fed them a solid brcakfast of biscuits, bacon, and eggs. Julia and the children set off, with Julia carrying the suitcase and Vance, the sack of food. Bonnie held the simple rag doll that Julia had made her for Christmas last year, Luke's farm was in a different county, at least thirty miles away; Julia wasn't sure exactly how to get there; and she carried only
two silver dollars in her pocket. She was scared to death, but she knew she had to do it.

They had walked less than a mile when a farmer they knew came by in a wagon and offered them a ride. He took them into Gideon and gave them directions to Willow Springs. The road out of Gideon was larger and better traveled than the first one they'd been on, and two wagons, a surrey, and three men on horseback passed them as they trudged along. One of the wagons stopped and gave them a ride for a few miles. The day grew warm, and the children were soon thirsty. Julia was thinking she would have to go up to the next farmhouse and ask for a drink from their cistern, when they came to a stream.

They knelt beside the stream and, cupping their hands, drank from it. Julia wet her handkerchief in the water and wiped the dust from their faces. Then they removed their shoes and dabbled their tired feet in the water. Julia brought out the cornbread and fried chicken, and they ate in the shade of a cottonwood tree. Afterward, Julia leaned back against the tree trunk, and Bonnie curled up with her head in Julia's lap, and all three of them napped. But Julia didn't let them sleep long. They needed to reach Luke's farm before their food ran out. Besides, Julia didn't relish the idea of spending many nights on the road.

They continued walking. The glories of spring were all around them—bright wildflowers, the green of new grass and budding trees, a gentle sun and cool breezes—but Julia didn't notice any of those things. She just concentrated on walking. The suitcase in her hand grew heavier by the minute, and she wished that she had left behind some of its contents. The children began to drag, especially little Bonnie. Finally Bonnie sat down in the road and cried. Julia picked her up and carried her, and Vance dragged the suitcase along. Julia knew she had to stop soon. They were all exhausted, and it was growing dark. But she pressed on, looking for some form of shelter.

They came upon a small, obviously abandoned shack. The floor was dirt, one wall had collapsed, and the roof had gaping holes, but at least it was dry and somewhat protected from the elements—and from the eyes of passersby. Julia built a small fire, and they roasted sweet potatoes over it.

They were so hungry they ate the potatoes as soon as they were done, even though they burned their mouths.

Julia pulled off Bonnie's shoes and stockings and found that her shoes had worn blisters on her little feet. Tearing off a strip of her own petticoat, Julia wrapped up Bonnie's feet. Tomorrow she would have to let the children go barefoot, despite the bad impression it might give Luke's wife.

Julia had the children put on their coats and she wrapped her shawl around herself. She spread out her cloak close to the coals of the fire, and they lay down together on it, huddled together for warmth with Bonnie in the middle. Though the April days were warm, the nights were still cool. Julia lay awake for a long time, cold and scared. She kept thinking about a snake sliding into the hut, seeking warmth, or a pack of wild dogs who smelled their food. Or maybe a passing stranger.

She turned onto her back and stared up at the stars through the hole in the roof. She hadn't lived a privileged life, but she had never had to sleep outdoors before. She had cooked on an open fire only a few times in her life, when she and Will had moved somewhere, and then Will had been there to lay the fire and to protect them. They had slept inside the wagon those times, with a tarpaulin over their heads, a mattress beneath them, and warm blankets all around. Julia shivered. She was in charge of two children, and she didn't feel adequate to the task.

Silently, almost unconsciously, she prayed:
Please let us get to Luke's safety. And, please, please, don't let Luke turn us away.

When at last Julia fell asleep, she slept fitfully, chilled and unused to sleeping on the hard ground. She awoke the next morning as soon as the sun shone in through the collapsed east wall and sat up gingerly, her muscles screaming and her body bruised and sore. She thought with longing of her feather bed. She let the children continue to sleep while she built up the fire. She unfastened her hair and did her best to brush it out and coil it tightly atop her head without the benefit of a minor. She shook and brushed at her dress to remove some of the dust of the road and floor. Julia had always hated to be untidy, and she was chagrined to think how disheveled and dirty she must appear now. Poor white trash, she thought, and felt like crying.

When the children awoke, they ate a quick, cold breakfast of cornbread and set out on the road. At first Bonnie and Vance skipped along, glad to be out of their shoes and rather enjoying the adventure. They'd never been this far away from home before or gotten to camp out like pioneers. But by noon they were beginning to droop.

When they came to a town, Julia bought beef jerky with a little of her precious supply of money and even splurged for two sticks of peppermint candy for Bonnie and Vance. They ate the last of the chicken and drank water from a stream for lunch, then doggedly plodded on throughout the afternoon. Before long Julia had to carry Bonnie. Then Vance gave out, and she had to carry the suitcase as well. By the time they stopped for the evening, Julia was dead tired.

They roasted potatoes for supper again, and Julia divided the beef jerky between the children. Bonnie and Vance needed their strength far more than she did, and she had given them most of the meat at lunch as well. Julia was unable to find an abandoned shack this night, so they slept in the open, huddled against a board fence a short distance from the road. Julia slept little, and she awakened the next morning feeling as weary as when she had lain down.

Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but their food supply was almost gone. She gave Bonnie and Vance the last of it, two squares of cornbread. She hoped they would reach Luke's soon. They were almost to Willow Springs, she thought, and surely it wasn't too far from town to the McGowan farm.

It was almost noon when the family reached the town of Willow Springs. There was a house beside the road that advertised that its owner took in boarders and served meals. Julia stopped at its back door, embarrassed to come inside because of their dusty, ragtag appearance. She bought plates of beans and bread for the children, which they ate sitting on the back porch. Julia took only a cup of strong black coffee for herself. They would reach Luke's today, and surely she could stand a little hunger until then. She didn't want to spend any more of her money than she had to. If Luke should have moved or not want her there, this bit of money was all she had between her family and starvation.

Julia asked directions to the McGowan farm from the cook, and the woman smiled. "The McGowan place? I haven't heard that in a couple of years. It's the Turner place now. Go on out the Greenville road. After three or four miles, you'll come to a yellow house—that's the Sweeney farm—and there's a road off to the right. You take it and just keep walking for, oh, another mile or so, and you'll see the Turners house. Nice white house with green shutters, real pretty,"

"Thank you." Julia was surprised to hear it called the Turner place. Despite her brother's presence there, she had assumed that the local people would still call it by Sarah's parents' name. A Turner wouldn't be important enough to call it by his name.

Bonnie and Vance liked the food and the shaded backyard and didn't want to leave the boardinghouse. They protested when Julia said it was time to go but obediently fell in behind her. They trudged through town and out the Greenville road. It seemed as though with every step they went more slowly. Vance sagged, and Bonnie began to whimper. Julia picked up the little girl and carried her. Her burden felt heavy as lead. Julia's head began to swim, and abruptly she set down both Bonnie and the suitcase. Julia sat down on the case, her head lowered, fighting her sudden dizziness.

Perhaps she should have eaten something, after all. She was so tired. She wondered how they'd ever make it. Julia squinted down the road. Was that the yellow house where they should turn? She couldn't make herself get up yet.

The children were glad for a rest and plopped down beside her on the edge of the road. A man on horseback trotted past, tipping his hat to them. Julia told herself she must get up. The momentary weak spell was gone. But she couldn't make herself rise.

A large man came around the curve, walking in the opposite direction from them. He wore denim coveralls and a plaid flannel shirt, and a large felt hat drooped down over his face. His skin was black, with a coppery tint. His nose was flat, his mouth straight, and his eyes were shadowed by the wide brim of the hat. A chill of unease ran through Julia. She was unused to black people, and this man was a little scary. He was big, and there was something bold about the way he carried himself.

"Ma'am," he said as he drew near, and tipped his hat to her.

Julia swallowed and gave him a brief nod. She stood and picked up her suitcase, the prick of fear giving her fresh impetus. She took Bonnie by the hand and started toward the distant house, moving briskly. Suddenly, the house wavered in her vision. Julia became sickeningly unsure of her footing. She dropped the suitcase, one hand going to her head. "Vance..."

"Mama?" Bonnie looked up at her questioningly.

Black spots danced before Julia's eyes. The horizon tilted and turned dark.

"Mama!" Vance turned and lunged toward Julia, grabbing her arm. But he wasn't strong enough to hold her up, and Julia crumpled into a heap on the road.

"Mama! Mama!" Bonnie set up a high-pitched shriek.

Vance fell onto his knees beside his mother. Her eyes were closed. She looked as if she were asleep. His father had looked the same way when he died. "Mama!" He shook her arm. "Mama!"

Vance glanced around him frantically. The large man who had passed them had stopped and was looking back at them. Vance jumped to his feet, waving frantically. "Mister! Mister!"

The man loped toward them, his sack bouncing on his back. He dropped the sack and knelt beside Julia, feeling for her pulse. "What happened?"

"I don't know!" Tears gathered in Vance's eyes. Bonnie was sobbing unrestrainedly. "Is she dead?"

The man shook his head. "No. She ain't dead. She jus' pass out. Where your home? Where you headed?"

For a moment Vance couldn't think. He stared at the man.

"Boy? You all right?"

"I—uh. Uncle Luke's house. We're going to Luke, uh. Turner's house."

"I don't know him. I ain't from around here."

"It's down there." Vance pointed. "The lady said, turn right at the yellow house, and it's a couple of miles down the road."

The man nodded. "I jus' pick your mama up and carry her there."

"All right." Vance grabbed his sister's hand and the handle of the suitcase, and they set out.

The big black man walked easily, even carrying Julia like a baby in his arms, and Vance was hard-pressed to keep up. As they walked, Julia's eyelids fluttered open, then widened, and she gasped, staring at the strange dark face above hers.

"There now. You awake. You all right, ma'am?"

"I—yes. What h-happened? What are you doing?"

"I be carrying you to the house your boy told me about. You done fainted in the road."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He smiled faintly. "Nothing to be sorry about. You feelin' sickly?"

"No." Julia shook her head. "I'm healthy as a horse. I— you can put me down now. I'm all right."

"I don't know 'bout that. But I set you down."

He put her on her feet. Julia wavered and had to grab the man's arm to keep from stumbling.

"Mama!" Still crying, Bonnie launched herself at her mother and wrapped her arms around Julia's legs.

"Mama? You all right?" Vance came to stand beside her, his small face worried.

"Yes. I'm fine now. Really. I was just a little weak. I'm tired, and I didn't have lunch."

Vance reached out and took her hand. He didn't want to act like a scared little boy, but he had to touch her, just to make sure the world was back in its normal place. "I didn't—know what to do. The man came and helped. He said you wasn't dead, and he picked you up and carried you. He carried you a long way."