Zilah's death had stolen her way out, her way to live without being inside someone's control. The Celestial would have followed orders, not given them, the way Adora did, telling her how to carry her child! Even Mazy's voice sometimes suggested Suzanne made less than admirable choices with her boys.
“Let me feed Clayton,” Mazy'd said just that morning. “He's barely gotten a bite of biscuit. Can you tell? I think he's awfully thin.”
The Wilson mules twitched their ears as they entered the narrow gap. Wary, Tipton thought. The walls seemed to close in on them. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears; her breath came in quick gulps. Her skin tingled. The clatter of harness and tongues, the crunch of wheels of the wagons behind them, all worked to distract her. Her arm was numb.
“Maybe I should drive. You want me to? I can drive,” her mother babbled.
Tipton shook her head. She couldn't speak. The place felt closed in, the change in temperature from hot to cool made her hands clammy. The reins jerked, strained at the rig. The mules must have smelled the dampness, knew water was nearby. She had to hold on. A scraping sound, then, of wooden hubs against rock.
“Oh, oh,” her mother wailed, the sound echoed. “We'll be stuck. We'll never get out!”
“Quiet!” Tipton ordered. The mules stopped then, backed up. She heard the “whoas” from those behind, the mooing of oxen and cows. She felt the wagon rock. “Whoa, whoa,” she said. The mules stopped long enough for her to hold the lines with one hand while she wiped her damp palm on her skirt.
“What are you waiting for? Get us out of here!” Adora wailed.
You just got to keep going, Tyrellie, her fiancé, had told her. Dont get scattered in your thinking when things get tough. You can do what you need to. Just remember, you aren't ever ahne. Someone eke can see what you cant. Just trust. She mustn't get distracted. She must never tell herself she can't. She'd stopped dipping into laudanum as a way to escape. She could stop the rising panic now.
She'd head for Seth's tall hat in front. He was nearly to the edge of the chasm, nearly to the light. Tipton took a deep breath and pressed the reins so the mules moved enough to set the wheels straight in the narrow cleft. She focused ahead then, between the ears of the two teams of mules.
“Gee!” she shouted and slapped the reins. The wagon rattled forward while Tipton ignored the pitiful mewing sounds coming from her mother.
When the mules hit the light and the opening, they spurted forward, but Tipton held them steady, her arms aching with the strain. She wanted to shout for joy at the open space. She felt a huge grin forming on her sweaty face.
“Oh, thank the Lord, amen!” her mother said, fanning a handkerchief, dabbing at her throat. Yes, indeed, thought Tipton as she headed the wagon toward a spring Seth directed her to.
She nodded to him as they rattled past. And when he swept his white hat from his head and held it at his chest saying, “Ma'am,” she took it as the highest form of praise.
The others came through the gap fine, and they rested that night at Granite Creek. Mazy said the bunch grass on the foothills stood long, and her Ayrshire milk cows feasted once again. Suzanne consented to Ruths request that she play her troubadour harp.
“Wanting music to soothe the wild breast?” Suzanne said, forcing a smile onto her face. She was trying to remember to do that, to smile if she made some kind of joke.
“Something like that. Elizabeth says we cant give Jessie much more laudanum than she's had. I dont know what else might comfort her.”
“Music can do it,” Suzanne said. “Maybe Ned'll join me too.”
Suzanne played and Ned sang, and the good camp spot along with their having come through a difficult place seemed to buoy their spirits. They always seemed to close with songs of missing what they'd left behind, Suzanne noticed, or a rendition of “Home, Sweet Home.”
Ned sidled up to her later, when she fed the baby, sitting in the shade of the wagon. He pressed his round body against hers and talked softly, aware beyond what his years might suggest, that quick movements and loud voices startled the baby. He had a lovely voice, as pure as any she'd ever heard. Back in Ohio, she had instructed a chorus of young boys for a Christmas concert one year. They'd raised money for a new organ for their church and had even traveled to neighboring towns to perform. She'd only been married to Bryce a year, and she found the adventure a filling one though it took her away from her husband and her photography.
“Can I touch his hair?” Ned asked. She agreed, grateful that he'd had the politeness to request. Like Ruth's other nieces and nephew, Ned just needed a little attention. Ruth didn't really know what children needed, not having any of her own. Jason might be the smarter child, with a quicker wit and tongue, Jessie the more demanding, and Sarah as quiet as a breath. But there was something to be said for Ned, about kindness over cleverness.
The next day, they passed springs of water that smelled hot. Seth moved them quickly along as he said the boiling water would be bad for the cattle.
“Be nice to wash clothes with water already heated,” Lura said. “I wonder if we could put this stuff in tins and keep it hot.”
“My ma's got a million ideas, don't she?” Mariah said. Suzanne couldn't decide if her voice held pride or embarrassment. “Is it all right if Clayton and I walk off to the side, Suzanne? You can hear his bells. We won't be too far away.” Suzanne nodded. The girl tried hard, that was certain.
They rested an extra day at a place called Deep Springs, then headed west. Suzanne could feel the hot sun on her face all afternoon. Seth said the land now was a large, hot, desert creek. “Not long and we'll be in the Smoke Creek Meadow,” he said. “You'll smell the clover knee high to Ned. This day'll be the worst. Good to keep your eyes on what's beyond.”
“You're very kind, to tell me things about what's here, what to expect,” she said. “My husband used to do that. He was very good at descriptions.”
“Don't know about the describing part, but I do like spending time with pretty women.”
Suzanne wondered what he saw to say that. She wondered if she blushed.
Wheels crunched on by her, and Suzanne smelled the oxen, heard a bellow or two as they began a slow descent. She walked behind then, guided by Pig, and coughed with the dust, held Pig back a bit. She wondered what it all looked like, this country. How high were the mountains? As high as the photographs she'd seen in books when she could still see? Were they all snowcapped and sharp edged? Seth said these mountains were rounded, some with timber on them. “People say they look like a pile of dough with scattered trees like raisins dropped on them.” She liked that image. A song formed on her lips, a silly song with her name in it. Others joined in and continued even when she stopped, all her concentration required to feel the tug of Pig keeping her on the trail and her younger son safely on her back.
She was grateful for something else, she decided as she listened to the voices: No matter what she'd face in this new land, she would have the memory of this—people who had become like family, if she could learn to let them. Tears came unbidden to her eyes. She'd been almost cloistered in this cluster of wagons and women, but they were also sheltered, sheltered by the loving of each other.
Seth announced a few days later that they'd need to start early for Mud Springs. “It's nine miles, not too much incline, but there are rough stones, kind of cobbled, that make it a slow go. After that, it's the Susan River we follow and, boys, we should be taking some trout when we hit that stream.”
“Just the boys?” Ruth asked.
“We'll eat whatever's caught, I expect. Best we take an early rest. Ma'am,” Seth said, tapping his fingers on his tall white hat and heading toward his horse.
“Is it still light out?” Suzanne asked Mazy.
“At least another hour,” Mazy said. “It's hard to put children to sleep when it's light, isn't it? I can help put them down,” Mazy offered. “Tell Clayton a story for you too.”
Adora piped in. “Sason's little head's
lolling, Mazy. Best you straighten that contraption. Wouldn't want him to get a stretched neck from neglect. Got to attend every detail of Suzanne's. Here, let me. Maybe you should take him out, Mazy.”
“I think he's all right,” Mazy said. “It's Clayton who—”
“Their mother is right here,” Suzanne said. “Ask her if you might tend them. In fact, I'm going to take them…for a walk.”
“You? Alone?” Adora squeaked. “But the snakes and all.
“Yes. Me. Their mother.” She felt her cheeks burn and her heart pound.
“Could you fix the board on my back, straighten Sason in it?” Mazy didn't answer, and Suzanne guessed she'd nodded.
“I'll come with you,” Mazy said.
“No!”
Suzanne didn't wait for Mazy to object. She felt Mazy center the frame on her back, the sleeves of Suzanne's wrapper dress catching a bit on the slivers of wood, but she jerked away. “He's fine,” she said, and called for Clayton. She heard his bell and Mariah puffing behind him. “Here, Clayton. Take my hand. We're going for a walk.”
“I'll come with you,” Mariah said. “Just let me catch my breath.”
“I am going alone,” Suzanne said. “Alone with my children.”
“Golly,” Mariah said, but she seemed to know Suzanne was serious because the girl didn't protest when Suzanne snatched her son's hand and with the other gripped Pig's harness. “Ahead,” she told Pig, and the four of them retreated to the desert.
“Believe in English it'd be spelled m-a-y-l-i-n-g? Elizabeth said. They stood beside the Wilson wagon where an alphabet of brass tacks covered the sideboard. Once they reached Shasta City Seth had told them, the tacks would be worth their weight in gold since things like tacks were luxuries in the northern mining towns. Everything had to be hauled in by mules from as far away as Sacramento City
“I see name write down,” Mei-Ling told Elizabeth. “Long time ago.” She was practicing being insistent. Other women asked things. She could too.
She held her first finger up to the wind the way Sister Esther did when making a point. “Same like how I put in sand.”
“You girls still dont get it, do you?” Adora Wilson told her, stepping in. Elizabeth and Mei-Ling both turned to her. “You've got to put aside those old ways, do things like they do in the States. You should keep the names the Sister gave you, the way Naomi decided. Help you fit in.”
“I fit same like you,” Mei-Ling told her, standing as tall as she could.
“Nothing about us is the same, if truth be known,” Adora told her, brushing corn pone crumbs from her ample bosom. “You and Naomi are from a foreign land. I, on the other hand, am American born.”
“You eat the same food nowadays,” Elizabeth reminded her. “Liking those herbs and such, from what I hear.”
“My sense of smell is coming back,” Adora said, and then she began to chatter about herself and her daughter Tipton.
Elizabeth let the words drift into the hot desert air. When Adora stopped, Elizabeth said to Mei-Ling, “So you want the letters e and i instead of a and y?”
The Asian girl nodded once, certain.
“All right. That's how we'll spell your name from now on.”
“What does your intended think your name is?” Adora asked. “Or have you told him something totally different?”
Mei-Ling's brows frowned over her almond eyes. She swallowed then, and her eyes blinked.
“That husband of yours may be waiting for an American girl,” Adora said. “Did you think of that? Got to think of these things.” She crossed her arms over her breast. “Might not take to a foreigner as his wife.”
“We're all foreign in this place,” Elizabeth reminded her. “I ain't never seen sand like this before or been surrounded by globs of rocks that look like hazelnuts rolled into cookie dough. Have you?”
“No. But neither do I have promises to keep when I reach California.”
“Your loss,” Elizabeth said. Then to Mei-Ling she said, “Dont you worry none, child. Your name means ‘beautiful,’ you said. So it's apt. Can't imagine a man not being happy with what you have to bring. Now all you got to do is tell the bees the new name you'll be using.”
“Bees know. I tell them first,” she said and walked proudly away.
Suzanne's heart beat in her throat, and she felt a throbbing at her temples. It wasn't fear, exactly, something else. Fury at their hovering over her, mixed with what? Her heart raced and her mouth got dry the way they did when she was asked to perform before an audience. There was no audience here—except herself. Her children and herself. She counted paces. Three hundred fifty-one, three hundred fifty-two. She fingered the cuts she'd had Mazy make on Pig's harness, each slice indicating one hundred feet. She wouldnt go farther than five marks before turning back. She'd be calm by then.
“Mommy?”
“Mommy can see you walking, Clayton. You're such a good walker.”
“Mommy?” the boy said.
“You're pulling on my hand making Mommy walk really fast. Can you see the baby on my back? Is he smiling?”
“Baby?” Clayton said.
He should have been saying yes and no and two or three words together for his age, she was sure of that. She remembered being told that she carried on conversations with her mother when she was two, and he was nearly three. “Yes, the baby's there. On my back.” She mustn't let her mind wander. Count. Talk. Walk. Calm.
“Back?” She felt Clayton tug on her hand.
“No, we dont have to go back yet.” She could hear the women in the distance, a horse snort and the oxen chomp as they ripped at grass. Seth said tomorrow they'd see clover, red top, blue joint, bunch grass, all kinds of feed. And they'd have fish for dinner. Her mouth watered. She swallowed just as Clayton broke free.
“Clayton, come to Mommy,” she said not loudly, not wanting to alert the women.
“I'll get him for you,” Mariah shouted. She heard horse's hooves behind her then. Would she never be left ahne!
“I'm fine.” Suzanne turned toward the sound of the hooves, making sure she stood square. “You'll just make Clayton run faster. Stop, Mariah!” Suzanne heard the horse trot past her on Pig's side. She turned around and heard Clayton squeal. She felt her face flush with frustration. Then Mariah gasped. A grunt. A screech of hooves. Thumps. Then silence. She heard the sound of a horse trotting toward her.
“Mariah?” No answer. “Clayton?”
She'd have to let go of Pig in order to stop the big horse. Could she? Should she? Where was Clayton? She released Pig's harness and plunged her arm into the unknown.
“Whoa, now,” she said. She imagined the animal, tried to remember where to grab. The horse bumped close, and she reached for whatever her hand could grasp. She held a clump of mane. She felt herself pulled along, her slippers skipping at the dirt. Pig barked. She hoped Sason stayed in the contraption. Dust billowed up to her nose. Dragged along, she pulled on the mane, yelled, “Whoa!” The horse stopped, so abruptly Suzanne's head jammed into its side. Sason hiccuped. “It's all right, baby. It is.” She patted the horse then, found the reins hanging from the bridle. She held them. “Mariah? Pig?”
Silence. No bell sound. Her heart began to pound.
She should call for help. But she so wanted to tend things herself.
She heard a moan. “I hurt my ankle,” Mariah wailed. “Got the wind knocked out.”
“Can you see Clayton?”
“He's right here, patting my head,” she said. “I'm all right.” She started to cry then.
Sason made sounds in his cradle, and Suzanne felt her own shoulders sag with relief. “We'll be right there,” she said and soon was. “Pig, stay,” she directed, feeling in the air for Mariah. With her other hand, she held the reins of Jumper. When she touched Mariahs head, she said, “I'm going to help you stand and hold my hand so you can step up into my cupped palms, like a stirrup. Can you do that?”
“I think so. Oh, it hurts.”
“Does
it look broken?” Mariah must've shook her head. “Use words,” Suzanne insisted.
“No. Oh, it's so sore. I think Clayton startled him. He shied away!”
“Last time, Jumper startled Clayton. Here. Take my hand. Ready? Up? Reach up now and take the reins. That's right.” She felt Pig at her side.
Suzanne heard the girl's labored breathing, then her plop onto the horses bare back. “Good work! Clayton. Take Mommy's hand now.”
“If you can lift him to me, he could sit in front. And you could lead us back.”
“So I could. Clayton.” She lifted the boy at his ribs, pressed his right leg up and over the horse's withers. “Got him?”
. “Yes ma'am.” They started walking back toward the camp sounds. “Thank you, ma'am. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I didn't think you should be out here without help.” She sniffed, her words thickened. “I'm the one who needed it.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, asking for help, Mariah,” Suzanne said. “Here.” She stopped, dug in the sleeve of her wrapper for a handkerchief. She heard Mariah blow her nose. “All ready?”
She imagined the girl nodded as she stepped back away from the horse. “You re only thirteen, Mariah. You 11 need lots of help yet to get you grown. Isn't that right, Pig?”
Suzanne shuffled along the desert floor, smelled smoke from a fading fire. “Clayton,” she said. “I can see you riding.”
“Mommy?”
A smile grew at the corner of her mouth, not one she put there consciously, but one that arrived of its own will. She kicked her skirts out a little higher.
5
Mazy and her mother walked up the twisting trail through tall timber. In his mouth, Pig, the dog that once belonged to her, carried an old sock he bumped at Mazy's knee. Absently, she tugged on it, barely hearing the dogs slobbery sounds. Ned called to him, and the dog bounded off. Mazy's hands smelled like fish when she brushed at a tickle of dog hair on her nose. They'd had trout for dinner and breakfast more than once in the past three weeks. Yesterday, Tipton surprised them all by catching the biggest and the most—so far. They'd marveled at the honey-colored lake and seen a majestic, white-topped mountain Seth called Lassens Peak. Their tired eyes had gazed into valleys and ravines pocked with granite boulders larger than a stack of wagons. And while they'd puffed in the higher altitudes, the terrain had not challenged them as it had those months before. This was a gentle route to California. The only complaint Mazy had heard about the landscape lately had involved the water frozen in the wash basin that morning. Even Mariahs ankle didn't bother her. Elizabeth said it must have been Lura's skunk oil she rubbed all over that joint. Elizabeth dropped back then, to ask if she could put some of it on her own hip that evening, leaving Mazy alone with her thoughts.