No Eye Can See (20 page)

Shasta City

Mazy guessed things just changed when someone came or left—physically or emotionally. Children were not born into the same family as their brothers and sisters because the family shifted with each new arrival. A community did too, grew out in a different direction with each road carved, each building built. Even a marriage whipped itself up into newness—had to, she supposed, since its participants did. That was her marriage, all right. She'd be cautious about entering into that wilderness state again. Seth's apparent interest bothered her. She wasn't ready for that. She hated all the shifts. There were too many adjustments to make now, too many good-byes to say to be thinking of deeper hellos.

Mazy brushed at her hair, trying to get some shine that the months of alkali had stolen. Besides, Seth had a fondness for dice and racing. She'd already loved one man who failed to put her ahead of some hidden passion. She wouldn't risk that again. Seth even pointed out the
“Bear and Bull Baiting” sign at Charleys Ranch when they rode by it. “There's money to be made at events like that, money to siphon in a dozen different ways,” he'd said.

“How could you engage in that? I'd give anything to have my dairy bull back, and in California they take the few bulls they have and put them against a bear?”

Seth had sounded wounded. “They aren't dairy bulls. They're beef stock, lots of them raised right here just for the ring, just like bulls in Spain. Guess I won't be inviting you out to Charley's anytime soon.” His observation had ended the conversation but not her thoughts about the complexity of this man. So gentle and insightful and yet dense as a post at times.

Mazy rubbed the back of her neck. She'd be so glad to have her own mattress, under a roof where she could turn and twist at night without fear she would wake her mother or whoever else shared her tent. She shivered, then dressed and stepped outside.

Today they would all go in to Shasta. She looked around their encampment and saw Ruth, already up and dressed…in what? A calico dress and a shawl? Mazy waved at her and smiled when she noticed the woman's whip hanging limp at her side. She was a unique woman. Mazy knew a comfort wrapped inside Ruth's presence. She watched their patterns and habits developed over six months of joining. From having walked across a continent together, they created a basket formed of bonds that would never be broken.

Even Mazy's mother no longer seemed quite so eccentric. She supposed she should be wary of what new childish adventure Elizabeth would undertake next. First she'd tamed an antelope, then the antelope had bounded off at Deer Flat, forsaking the easy feed and comfort they promised for companionship closer to its own. She missed that old Fip. She guessed she just had a heart for animals. She missed Pig, too, even though she saw him daily. That would change too now.

Ned had sniffed a bit at Fip's departure, then in a day he became
philosophical, remembering the fun the pronghorn had brought and saying he hoped Fip wouldn't end up as someone's stew. Mazy smiled. Children had such a fresh perspective on change.

Shasta forced another. She just needed to settle into a new routine. She had an idea of just what she wanted in her own brand-new little nest. And once it was truly her place of belonging, she'd let herself feel the anger, loss, and disappointment that she'd harbored all these months and finally grieve Jeremy's betrayal. Then maybe she could remember the good times, the joys they'd shared. And she could move forward to the pleasant places God had promised in the Psalms.

She must try to find some…joy in the shifting. She could replace disappointment with… discovering the sounds of the morning wind in the trees outside her windows, or smelling sun-dried, heat-pressed linens when she slept at night. There'd be pleasure in setting the few things she'd salvaged in prominent places: the hand-painted seed gourd filled with gift seeds, shell buttons made at the Cassville factory, the novel pin with a latch so she could safely hold the buttons to her wrapper, Jeremy's reading glasses, his Ayrshire book, cuttings of lilacs and the maple tree, some daffodil bulbs. She was grateful for them, perhaps more than she ever would have been without the trials of this journey. She would remember that. It might bring her comfort in her new home.

Suzanne's heart pounded, angry now that Tipton left her. Suzanne had bumbled into the tenpin alley, backed away from the smells of whisky and smoke, got turned around, lost count of the steps back to the street. She gripped Claytons hand so hard he cried. Pig barked and yanked, and she hadn't a clue where she stood. If she could just convert this feeling of fear, she could take the next step.
Focus.
New things always carried a little fear with them. Focus, trust, step out, and do her best in this new setting. She took in a deep breath. “Pig. Forward.”

Her voice must have sounded firm because the dog walked a step, halted, walked another, in that way he had of letting her stay beside him. When he stopped, she felt with her foot, found the stair and kicked her skirt out to step up, not letting go of either Pig or Clayton. She could either start walking back to the camp or—

“Can I help you, ma'am?” A woman's voice, spoken as Suzanne scanned the width of the step with her foot. “Not that it looks like you need much.”

Suzanne turned her body toward the scent of tobacco mixed with something sweet at her right side. “I'm…looking for a land agent,” Suzanne decided right then.

“That could be most anyone in these parts,” the woman said. “Making a gold claim, are you? Buying a saloon? A house? What?”

“Just seeking a place to live,” she said. “For me and my boys.” A pistol fired in the background. Suzanne startled.

“That happens often. Nothing to worry over. You're not alone, are you? A woman like you shouldn't—”

“Can you direct me or not?”

A hesitation, then, “Sure. I think George King has a place to let. He owns the bookstore. But there's a land office on, well, you take a right at the end of—oh, never mind. Ill just walk you that way… if you don't mind.”

“I don't mind,” Suzanne said, her voice softened. “Thank you.”

“My name's Estella,” the woman said, patting Suzanne's hand at Pig's halter. “Friends call me Esty. There's a nice cabin. A doctor left it and headed home. If no one's taken it, you and your children would fit. If there's no mister.”

“No mister. I'm Suzanne Cullver,” she said. “These are my boys, Clayton and Sason. The dogs name is Pig.”

“Clunky kind of dog, isn't he?” Esty said, but her voice was gentle and low. Suzanne felt Pig's wagging tail move his whole body, and she imagined Esty patting his head.

For a moment, Suzanne wondered if she should try to find Tipton. No, she could do this on her own with a newly found acquaintance. Isn't that what happened in a new place? Find a new home. Make friends. Learn to do things differently. Stretch a bit? She could surely do that on her own.

9

Shasta City

Esty opened the door to the land agent's office. “Good,” she said. “You're here early. Got a new acquaintance for you. Mrs. Cullver.”

“Esty, not—”

“She's seeking housing. Nothing else.”

The man's demeanor changed. “Then we can be of service.”

“I'll leave you now,” Esty said. “You'll be all right.”

“Thank you.” Suzanne reached her hand out to touch the woman, felt the ruffle at her sleeve. She had smooth hands, so someone else must have done her laundry, Suzanne thought. “I hope you'll come visit me when I have my home.”

“Yeah…sure,” Esty said.

“How will I find you? Your last name—?”

“The agent here can put us in touch. If you decide you want to be. Nice meeting you,” she said, then the sweet smell disappeared.

So much of what people meant wasn't said in words, but in the look of their eyes, the placement of their hands, how they stood or lifted their chins. Suzanne wondered what she'd missed in this encounter. The photographer's eye had once captured all in the flash of the powder. Now she had only words and cadence and an occasional scent to tell her what was really being said.

“What did you and your husband have in mind…Mrs. Cullver, was it?”

“Its just me and my children,” she said, turning to his voice. “I want a home. It doesn't need to be large, but it must have an area that's fenced, or can be. If it has some furnishings, that would be good too. I don't have much. Just came across on Noble's Cutoff.”

“Without a husband? My dear woman—”

She held her hand up as though to stop him.

“Well…there's one that might work. It's up the street, kind of a steep little path to it. But the view is stupendous.”

“I'm not much taken with scenery,” Suzanne said.

He cleared his throat. “It's the fence I thought of. It has ironwork all around it. Built by a doctor in ‘fifty. Only stayed a year there. His wife passed on and he left. Buried her right on the spot. I hope that won't distress you, a grave on the site. Now we have cemeteries set aside. Several.” Suzanne shook her head. “Good. Seems she'd always wanted a large family, and they'd planned to fence it when the children came, to make a play place for them. They never had a one. He had the fence made anyway. Offered some healing for him, I suppose. Shortly after the gate was placed, he headed back to Massachusetts.”

“Someone who grieved owned the house? I suspect it'll suit us just fine.”

They looked like a bouquet of flowers, Seth decided. He might just miss their daily fragrances. Especially as they stood now, all decked out in their Sunday best for this foray into town. Even Ruth had donned a dress. Must have troubled her some to do that. She still stood off to the side, talking with her horses more than the women.

He'd picked a good spot for them to camp. He thought they called the place Poverty Flat, though he wasn't sure why. Looked to him to be
an abundant place, creek water and grass here was tall as a tiger's tummy. Grass looked fed from some underground source of water. Beyond rolled out the Sacramento River, making a big bend east before it headed south. Low hills surrounded this bowl, and he noticed a couple of pack strings had come in already this morning, with forty or fifty head of mules mingling now and small campfires dotting the edges of the meadow. It was where Nobles first train had camped, then headed on in to Shasta City, some five miles down the trail.

He turned back to the women's camp. Everyone present and accounted for, except for Tipton and Suzanne. Funny. A later start than he'd planned for them, but they'd taken longer at their morning toilets. And it showed, all the colorful clothes he hadn't seen any wear before.

“Truth be known, I don't think we should just leave our wagons here, untended.” Adora marched up beside him, talked as though she was sure when she did that everyone would listen.

Adora wore a bonnet with an ostrich feather held up by the stiff brim. Portions of the plume draped down. “I see others have come around and camped. We should post a guard, now that we're back in civilization.”

Seth tipped his tall hat to her. “Figured I'd do just that myself, ma'am.”

“Won't we need someone telling us about the town? I'm sure Tipton was hoping to walk on your arm this fine day. The Celestials might like to stay back.”