No Eye Can See (6 page)

“Is what she got…contagious?” Lura Schmidtke asked. “I been letting Mariah spend a lot of time around that woman and your boy there, Suzanne.”

“Got to wait and see,” Elizabeth said. “Best we get her buried. All right with you, Sister Esther?”

Suzanne heard Sister Esther tell the other Celestials how to lift Zilah, and with Seth's help they carried her back toward the camp. They wrapped the still body in one of Suzanne's quilts, one she'd had the privilege of making when she could see, when her husband provided a housekeeper so she had the luxury to sit and sew. Such a long time ago that was. A much safer time.

Suzanne heard a scraping as a hole was being dug in the roadbed. Mazy said they laid Zilah in it, covered it with dirt and tiny purple rocks, then ran the wagons across the grave so no one taking this trail— and no scrounging animals—would scruff up Zilah's remains.

She was at rest, Suzanne thought, her turmoil ended.

Suzanne's heart thudded in her ears. Her troubles had just begun.

Already Ruth Martin regretted her decision—not that regret was anything new. But she thought she'd learned on this journey west about making a firm plan and then staying with it, without always dancing back and forth like a circus bear with his leg chained in place. Seth Forrester just rubbed her the wrong way, she guessed, had all week long.

It was not in her nature to trust people first. She preferred to believe in them “when” they performed as they said they would, not like Elizabeth, who trusted everyone “until” she had good reason not to. And Elizabeth always found a way to forgive them even then.

“You need to keep your horses off to the side instead of riding in the back,” Seth told Ruth just moments before, and it galled her, his telling her what to do.

“Why?”

“Save you some dust in your face and so you can see what's happening easier too. Seems your kids're climbing in and out, and it might be better if they waited ‘til we stopped. Save on the stock if they'd walk and not ride. Good way to get hurt, jumping off a moving wagon.”

“Are you suggesting I can't keep a good eye on the children?”

“We've got one less adult around to watch them now,” he said. “Just thought it might be a way of your accommodating.”

“I accommodate plenty,” she snapped back. “And I'll take care of my children just fine.”

He'd turned his horse and rode back to the front of the three wagons, his horse's tail flicking at flies.

What really irked her was that she knew he was right, about the dust at least. There was no reason to ride behind all the wagons. The desert was flat and wide, and she wasn't required to be last as she had been those months before when she was the only woman with a wagon of her own. She hadn't thought about the children getting into trouble. They were entertaining themselves was how she saw it, no different than rolling stones with sticks or playing with the few cloth dolls they had. Seth suggested she was being irresponsible—that was what stuck in her craw. Maybe it was Zilah's quick dying that had her on edge. She was tired of the dying, of starting to care about someone and then having them leave.

From behind, the wagons leaned liked stiff old men not able to bend at the waist, the wheels rolling up on a rock then dropping, hard. Another gully approached. They rattled awkwardly down into it, across the white sand, and then Ruth pressed her knees against Koda. His muscles tensed, responding immediately as he always did. She guessed that responsiveness without argument was what made spending time with horses so gratifying. That and knowing they wouldn't betray her the way people could.

In the distance, she could see Mei-Ling kneeling, her tiny hands resting on the back boards of the seat. That little Celestial had made the entire trip on her knees. Her thoughts looked far away. But she waved her small hand when Ruth lifted her floppy hat and arced it through the still air. As she did, horse flies clustered at the big gelding's neck lifted. Mei-Ling twisted around then and disappeared into the darkness of the wagon. Ruth imagined that she tended her bees who by now must have
been as tired inside those white boxes as the rest of them, seeking a place they could at last call their own.

Ruth had her own worries to consider. She knew she'd have to find a good home for the children, locate someone to care for them. Then make contact with a solicitor back east. Once she had time to go through her brother's leather bundle of papers, she'd discover what estate was left for the children. Surely he'd made provision for them in the event of his death—he was, after all, a lawyer. With those arrangements secured and the children settled with good keepers, she could move north to locate her brood mares. She wondered if she ought to take Jessie with her. Maybe it would be a time to tell the girl the truth.

Ruth brushed at the dust on her woolen pants. Better would be Mazy agreeing to take the children on. Mazy and her mother would likely end up together, and the older woman for certain handled children well. She even played like one, always talking about tree houses and such. She even tried to convince the rest of them that they should lift their skirts and laugh out loud more often.

Ruth had danced a little jig the night they encountered Seth and made the decision to go by way of the Noble's Cutoff. Seth had told them their brass tacks would bring them cash in California. That seemed too good to be true. “Something to celebrate, I'll ponder,” Elizabeth said.

Yet Ruth found little to laugh about in life. Living was serious business with serious consequences if she failed to pay attention.

“We may have voted for our own death warrant when we agreed to trust Seth to lead us through this,” Ruth said, riding up to where Elizabeth walked beside Suzanne.

Elizabeth turned to her, surprise on her face. “Why, Ruthie, I think he's being just dandy, considering all.”

Ruth could see the wagon where the children were performing their circus acts, bare round hills in the distance. “Hey!” she shouted. “You kids need to be watching Clayton, not jumping up and down.” She
could see Clayton with Mariah walking off to the side. “Claytons fine, by the way,” she told Suzanne. “Now get off of there,” she shouted at them.

“Aw, Auntie.” Ned stuck his head out the back of the wagon that the Celestial named Mei-Ling rode in.

“You heard me,” Ruth shouted back. “You'll be bothering Mei-Ling's dowry. Dont want to upset the bees.” She watched Ned make a leap from the wagon box, careful to jump out far and avoid the heavy wheels. Then Jason jumped, then Sarah, holding the skirt of her jumper with one hand. Ruth was surprised at the girls willingness to risk the way the boys did. Jessie would be last, Ruth could bet on that.

“Why are you so critical of Seth?” Suzanne asked.

“We really don't know much about him except that he's a white-collared gambling man. Where's Jessie?” she yelled at Ned, who pointed toward the wagon box. “And Zilah was perfectly fine before Seth joined us.”

“You're not blaming Seth for Zilah's death,” Elizabeth said. “That girl just plain died of hydrophobia. The look of a wild dog foaming on her face. Thank goodness Mazy grabbed her before she took a chunk out of Clayton's foot. She must have gotten bitten herself somehow, sometime. Maybe when they chased a skunk for oil. She had a scar on her hand. Or maybe some mad dog no one remembers.”

“Sister Esther doesn't know when she was bitten? Or the Celestials?” Suzanne asked.

“Not that she recalls.”

“Maybe it was a bat,” Suzanne said. “Zilah used to talk about bats being good things.” She shivered.

“So much of this country looks alike,” Ruth said, back on her subject. “I hope Seth remembers where all the watering holes are.”

“It's his thirst to quench too, Ruthie,” Elizabeth said. “I expect Seth'll see us through. That Rabbit Hole springs was the best these parched lips have tasted since forever. And the bunch grass fed up
Mazy's cows until I feared they'd bloat—which they didn't, Suzanne. Just to let you know.”

“It feels hot,” Suzanne said. “Is anything growing around here?”

“Nothing,” Ruth said. “Feel the sand? This place is Hades’ parlor. I'm heading on up to see what's keeping Jessie.”

“Maybe she's showing good sense and waiting until the wagon stops,” Suzanne offered.

“Not my Jessie,” Ruth said.

Ruth sat astride the smooth leather saddle where her brother would have ridden had he lived. She adjusted her felt hat—Zane's old hat— and squeezed Koda's side, urging him into a trot. It was probably the gnawing thought of how and when and whether she should tell Jessie the truth that bothered her more than anything, made her defensive about her responsibilities as a parent. The child was only five. Too young to know the bitter truths, and yet it might relieve Jessie to know that her mother still lived, even if it was a mother who'd never raised her, a woman she knew as “auntie”—which she was to the other kids. Mazy knew the story now. Ruth had finally told her. She'd been surprised that the woman had not held judgment in her voice. In fact, Mazy seemed to understand the ambivalence Ruth felt about Zane, a husband whom she still had feelings for, despite the truth of his having killed their son.

Ruth shivered. Those two thoughts in the same sentence sickened her.
What kind of woman was she?
she wondered as she approached the forward wagon.

Jessie:

“Watch this, Auntie,” the girl said springing up from where she'd hidden in the wagon box.

Faster than Ruth could imagine a five-year-old could be, Jessie leapt up onto the seat, turned with her back to Ruth, spread her arms out to the wind and jumped backward—just as Ruth shouted, “No!”

What happened next came quickly. Ruth heard the thump of Jessie's
body and the crack of bone as the heavy wagon lumbered over her left leg. She watched the shattered leg sink into sand.

“You shoulda let me ride Koda. You shoulda!” Jessie screamed at Ruth as she bent over the child, Jessies face twisted in pain.

“We'll need to set it,” Elizabeth said. “And it'll be a long way to Shasta City for you, little one, riding the rest of the way in the wagon. Wish we had some skunk oil.”

Jessie was alert but shaking. Soon, wails began that increased to shrieks as Mazy broke a bed slat and Elizabeth laid it on either side of her leg to get it ready to bind. “Wish we had a stovepipe to spare,” she said.

“I know, I know,” Ruth said. She stroked the girls face. “I wasn't thinking when I told you to go off and play. The wheels are dangerous. I should have made you stay away. Get Esther to stop the wagon to let you down.” She was so poor at this mothering.

“Let's get her some laudanum, let her rest,” Seth said. He'd ridden back at the first sound of the wail. “Set the bone at the next spring. Then rest the night.”

“I think we ought to do it now,” Ruth said. “It'll make her traveling easier.”

“She's going to be miserable either way,” Seth said. He'd remounted, his hands now crossed over the pommel of the saddle, his fingers relaxed as they held the reins.

Ruth stared at him. Tipton offered, “We have some laudanum.”

“You have some left?” Lura said. “Best you save it for later, when we set the bone.”

“Do it now,” Suzanne said, the dog having led her beside Elizabeth. “It's best to get difficult things over with as soon as you can. The jostling could injure it more.”

Seth continued to stare at Ruth, then nodded. “I'll check the hitching while you get her settled, give the laudanum a chance to work before we do it.” He gazed around. “No crotch of a tree or nothing to yank it with to pull it into place. Few more days and well be in timber.”

“We just need to get it set,” Ruth snapped, “not imagine a dozen ways to do it.”

It strained them all, this little one's wound. Jessie's eyes flashed terror even though Ruth held the girls head in her lap and pressed her wet hair back from her eyes. Jessie wailed with each touch and arched her back, which hurt her leg more. Sometimes she screamed when Elizabeth merely moved the air over the broken bone with her hand.

“She's not hurting you,” Ruth said, trying to keep the frustration from her voice.

“You don't know!” Jessie cried.

“Don't like giving a little tyke so much of this stuff,” Elizabeth said, putting another three drops of laudanum on Jessie's tongue. “But she's got herself worked up inside like a coyote chasing its tail. She never will settle down. Sure wish I had thought to save some skunk oil.”