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Cynthia Hickey's Books |
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Chapter 1
“See ya later, Honey!” The old woman smiled fondly as she watched the young woman run outside, letting the screen door bang shut behind her. Felicia had called the old woman honey since she first learned to talk, mistaking the endearment the older woman called the child for the woman’s name. By the time she was old enough to know the difference, the name had stuck. Honey parted the faded blue and white checked curtains and, frowning, watched as the younger woman jumped into the honking pickup truck waiting outside. She sighed and turned away, back to the kitchen. How many times had she told Felicia that a properly brought up young lady shouldn’t be running and slamming doors, much less jumping into trucks whose drivers didn’t have the decency to come in instead of waiting outside honking. Felicia would be twenty-one tomorrow and the old woman hadn’t mentally prepared her mind, or her heart, to let go of the girl she had raised from infancy.
She glanced around the old farm kitchen, taking in the battered cabinets which were painted a brilliant white, the scuffed blue speckled linoleum on the floor, the old wooden table, stained and marred, and the four-mismatched kitchen chairs. She sighed again and thought of the life that Felicia had been born into. A life of wealth and servants. Not this poor one on a lonely dirt road off a little traveled highway. She plunged her hands into a sink of hot sudsy water and dirty dishes. Somehow the mindless repetition of washing dishes always soothed her.
How would Felicia react tomorrow to the secret the old woman had kept to herself all these years? A secret made with a promise. She looked out the kitchen window towards the woods at the rear of the house. Was she watching? The woman who had given up her child so many years ago? The woman who lived alone in a small woodcutters shack deep in the trees? Was she also thinking of the fulfillment of that long ago promise? The woman shrugged her shoulders and, the dishes done, dried her hands on the worn yellow apron she wore.
She made her way to her room at the rear of the house. She had walled the screen porch in and given the only bedroom in the house to the infant she had raised. A sacrifice she made willingly. She walked over to the dresser on which sat the usual assortment of powders and feminine necessities and opened a small jewelry box. In doing so, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She saw little resemblance of her younger self. Instead, she saw a plump sixty-year old woman with hair that had once been blond and was now faded and yellowed. The blue eyes shining back at her from the wrinkled face were the only features unchanged. They were still bright and shining with God’s love. She smiled at the reflection and shook off the melancholy mood that was threatening to overwhelm her. Tomorrow was in the Lord’s hands. She removed a small key from the jewelry box and closed the lid.
Slowly, she climbed the small flight of stairs to the second level, wanting to be finished with her search before Felicia returned home. In the short hall, she reached up and, taking hold of a rope above her head, pulled down a wooden ladder that led up into the dark attic. Laboriously, she climbed the ladder, wishing again she were younger when times called for her to make this climb. Reaching the top, she stopped to catch her breath and pulled the chain hanging above her head to turn on a small bare light bulb. The light cut dimly through the dusty darkness and she walked towards the far end of the attic where a chest lay buried beneath old books and worn winter coats. Dust flew, making her sneeze as she unburied the chest and opened the lid. One by one she lifted out mementos of Felicia’s childhood. A pink ruffled baby dress the size of a doll’s gown, an old porcelain doll with sparse hair and a chipped nose, old report cards, a wrinkled taffeta prom dress and Felicia’s first pair of shoes. She sat these carefully aside and brought out an old cigar box decorated with brightly painted macaroni noodles. Inside was a letter that had waited for Felicia to read on her twenty-first birthday. A letter that would answer the many questions that Felicia had asked while growing up. It would answer the old questions and bring up a lot of new ones. The old woman glanced at her watch, noted how quickly the time had flown by and, keeping out the cigar box, hurriedly replaced the precious items of a bygone time.
“Honey! Where are you?”
“Be right down, Felicia.” Taking the box with her, Honey made the slow climb back down the ladder.
Felicia met her at the bottom, hands on her hips. “What are you doing up there?” She demanded. “That’s too difficult of a climb for you. I would’ve gone up and gotten down anything you needed.” Felicia noticed the box in Honey’s hand and smiled. “What are you doing with that old thing?”
“Never you mind,” the older woman told her, putting the ladder back up out of the way. “It’s for tomorrow,” she added, walking past Felicia and into her room.
“OK,” Felicia said. “I’ll humor you. Guess what I did today.”
“I’m too old for guessing games.”
“No, you’re not.” Felicia followed her into the room and flopped belly first across the bed. She ran her hand lovingly over the faded, old quilt that Honey had made. “Come on. I’m humoring you, now you can humor me.”
“Oh, all right.” Honey sat on the bed beside her. “You went into town.”
“Well, that’s obvious. You’ve got to do better than that. Where did I go when I was in town?”
Honey smiled. “Judging by the envelope sticking out of your back pocket, my guess is the post office.”
Felicia laughed and reached behind her to retrieve the envelope. “You cheated. Here, read it.”
Honey took the envelope and withdrew the letter inside. As she read, her smile widened. Felicia interrupted excitedly, talking fast. “I got accepted for the position at the children’s home I applied for. I’ll only be an assistant to start, but they’ll help me with college expenses and someday, if I want, I can have a teaching position there or go on into social services. What do you think about that?” She noticed the smile fade on the dear old woman’s face. “Why, Honey! What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy for me?”
Honey rose from the bed and walked over to the window. She parted the lace sheer curtains and sighed. “I just hate to see you leave the safety of this old house. I’ll miss my little honey girl.” She extended a hand out to Felicia, who grasped it firmly.
“I’ll miss you, too. But this is the opportunity I’ve been praying for. You can’t keep me a little girl forever. Besides, I’ll be extra careful,” she said, kissing the old woman on the cheek. She laughed. “I promise I won’t talk to strangers. I won’t even look at them.” She pulled Honey away from the window. “We’ve been through this before. I don’t understand why you’re so afraid. You’re the one who taught me I was never alone. That God is always with me. Remember?”
Honey smiled and smoothed the long hair back from the girl’s face. “I know He is. It’s just an old woman’s foolishness. Things will be clearer to you someday. Let’s go start dinner. Is Michael coming back later?”
Felicia frowned. “Unfortunately. He’s getting to be a real pest. I’m beginning to feel suffocated when he’s around.” Felicia slipped her arm through the older woman’s and they walked together to the kitchen.
“I thought you enjoyed keeping company with him.”
Felicia opened the cabinet door above the kitchen counter and removed the dishes they would need for dinner, frowning again when she counted out the third plate. “I used to. Lately he’s gotten so serious and very possessive. Saying that it’s “high time” I settled down with him so we could start our own family.” She lowered her voice to imitate a man. “Twenty-one is on the downslide as far as marriage goes. How Neanderthal!” She set the dishes on the table and began savagely ripping the lettuce for a salad. “Where does he get his ideas? He’s known since high school that I’ve wanted to teach underprivileged children. This job could be the beginning of my dream.”
Honey softly placed her hand over Felicia’s. “Don’t take it out on the poor lettuce, dear. It’s on your side. Michael is only echoing the views of ninety-nine percent of the male population in this small town. He’ll get used to the idea once your bags are packed and you’re on your way.”
Felicia placed another kiss on the wrinkled cheek. “You always know just what to say. How did you get so smart?” she teased. Her frown returned as she saw the old blue Chevy driving up the lane leading to their house. “Well, speaking of the devil. The big man is here.”
Honey laughed. “Don’t call him the devil. Go sit on the porch with him. I can handle dinner. And be nice...” she added as Felicia left the room. “Don’t want to spoil anyone’s dinner,” she muttered under her breath.
“All right.” Felicia called back over her shoulder. “We don’t want to ruin a growing boy’s appetite now, do we?” She slammed the screen door behind her and yelled back an apology. The older woman shook her head and smiled.
Michael stood beside his truck, watching Felicia as she walked quickly towards him. He took in the long, almost black hair clipped up off her neck, the long legs encased in the faded denim jeans and the way her violet eyes sparkled in the fading evening light. She was beautiful, he told himself. Felicia’s height was the only thing that bothered him as far as her looks went. He was five foot ten inches tall and they stood eye to eye. The only other complaint he had was her stubborn independence. He was determined to straighten her out tonight. She needed someone like him to help her see where her priorities should be.
“Hello, Michael.”
He pulled her roughly into his arms. “Hello, doll.” Felicia pushed herself away from him and stepped back. “What’s wrong now?” He asked, scowling. “We’re not playing that stupid game again, are we?”
“It’s not a game. I’ve told you that you’re moving too fast. I want you to slow down.”
“Slow down! We’ve been dating since our junior year in high school. I’ve made myself content with little chaste kisses and hand holding, but gee whiz, girl! We’re twenty-one years old for Christ’s sake. Act your age! You’ve got to be the only twenty-one year old virgin in the whole state of California!”
“Don’t talk like that. You know I don’t like it.” She turned away.
“Like what?”
“You know, plus you’re yelling.” She began walking toward the porch.
“I am not yelling.” He quickened his pace to catch up with her. “Maybe you should yell once in a while. Get the blood flowing. Put some life into that cold, hard shell you call a body.”
“Why should I act my age, as you say, if it means giving up the things I believe in? Let’s use your own words, Michael. Shall we?” She turned to face him, hands on her hips. “Ok. We’ve been dating for a long time. You know how I am. Why do you stick around?”
“Because... it’s fate. You’re my destiny. Besides I kind of like having the most gorgeous girl in town hanging on my arm. I thought you would get over your Puritan ideas.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Felicia shook her head. “Fate, huh?” She slid her arm through Michael’s. “You’re parents introduced us. Let’s not fight. Dinner’s almost ready and we can talk some more afterwards, all right?”
“For a kiss.”
“Michael...”
“Just one of your little Puritan kisses.”
Felicia laughed and quickly placed a kiss on his lips and jumped back laughing. “Like that?”
“That was the worst yet.” Michael laughed with her and reached out to grab her. Felicia sprinted towards the house. Michael quickly caught up with her and they collapsed, laughing on the front porch swing.
Felicia set the swing in motion with her foot and took a deep breath. “You can’t see or hear the ocean from here, but sometimes, when the wind is just right, I can smell it.”
Michael placed his arm along the back of the swing behind her. “It’s half a mile away.”
“I know.”
Honey interrupted them with a call to dinner and the two rose to join her. Dinner was relaxed with the three making small conversation. Soon Honey rose to serve dessert.
“So, what’s up for tomorrow?” Michael asked as she reentered the room. The question was directed at Felicia but Michael’s gaze met Honey’s. The older woman’s face paled.
“Not much,” Felicia answered reaching out to take the strawberries and whipped cream from Honey. “Why?”
“It’s your birthday. Twenty-one. Should be a big celebration. A party or something.”
“Oh, Michael. You want to turn everything into a party.”
“Hey, Ms. Davis. How about I pick Felicia up tomorrow for a night on the town.” He directed his attention back to Honey. “Show her a little of the nightlife, huh? Maybe… not bring her back. Initiate her in the finer points of life.” The words were teasing but Michael’s gaze was stony as his eyes met the old woman’s.
Honey flinched and looked away. “Let’s wait and see what Felicia wants to do, shall we?”
Felicia missed the exchange between the other two as she began passing around the dessert dishes. “Michael, you shouldn’t tease Honey like that.” She smiled at the other woman. “I think I’d like to spend a quiet evening at home with Honey. How about a rain check?”
Still looking at the old woman, he answered, “Sure. After all, it’s your birthday.”
Honey rose a few minutes later and began clearing off the dishes. “Why don’t the two of you go back and sit on the porch for a while? It’s a beautiful night. I’ll finish up here and head off to bed.”
“Are you all right?” Felicia asked, concerned. “You look a little pale.”
“Of course, dear. Just feeling my age. You two go on now.”
“Come on, Felicia,” Michael urged. Felicia nodded and followed him back out to the swing. They settled back into their familiar positions, each reclining against opposite ends of the swing.
“I’ve got something for you,” Michael told her. He started to reach into the pocket of his jeans.
Felicia sat up and turned away. “Let’s not, Michael. Not right now.”
“Felicia. You’re grown now. I’m a man. I have to think of our future. I have needs that need to be fulfilled and I want to marry you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “I saw the cutest little house down the road from my parents. It would be perfect for us.”
Felicia pulled away and stood up. “I’ve told you I want to work with underprivileged children. I’m not ready for marriage.”
“You can work with our kids.”
“Michael. It’s not just that. You don’t believe in the same things I do. Your dreams aren’t my dreams and you have never said one word about loving me. Just that we belong together. Sometimes, I feel like I’m your job or… something. How can you marry someone without love?”
“Dreams!” Michael exploded. “You’re basing your life on fairy tales!”
“What about the love, Michael?” Felicia walked to the end of the porch. “What… about… the… love?” She sighed and turned back to him. “I got a letter today. I applied for a position at a children’s home in Sacramento and have been accepted. I start next Monday.”
“Without discussing it with me!”
“I told you I was going to apply.”
“I didn’t think you were serious!” Michael got up and began to pace the porch. Seeing Honey peering at them from behind the front room curtains, Michael jumped off the porch and pulled Felicia with him. Putting his arms on each side of her, he pinned her against the house. “You don’t do anything without consulting me,” he told her, his face close to hers.
“It’s really none of your business,” Felicia told him.
“You are my business! You have always been my business!” He slammed a fist into the house. “I’ve given up my life on you. I grew up being told that I was to watch over you. Keep you in my sights.”
“What are you talking about? Michael, you are beginning to scare me.” Felicia tried to duck under his arms and Michael pushed her roughly back.
“You are my business,” he told her slowly.
“That’s your problem!” Felicia slapped his hands away. “Michael, I really don’t think this relationship is going to work. I hate to end it this way, but I think you need to go. I don’t think we should see each other any more.”
Michael struggled to compose himself. “All my life I’ve been told what a great match we would make. We’re perfect for each other, my parents told me. Everyone expects us to marry.” He turned roughly away. “What do I tell my parents now?”
“Tell them whatever you want. Tell them that you dumped me.” Felicia began walking back to the porch.
Michael grabbed her arm. “My parents will have me killed if I let you get away.”
“You’re exaggerating. Your parents won’t kill you. What is wrong with you? Why are you acting this way? Stop it! You’re hurting me!” She struggled to release her arm.
“I didn’t say they would kill me.” Michael let go of her arm and took hold of her hand. “I’m sorry. Tonight just didn’t go the way I planned.” He began walking back to his truck. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Felicia slowly climbed the stairs of the porch and without looking back, entered the house, closing the door quietly behind her. Michael watched her from the seat of his truck. He cursed and slammed his fist against the steering wheel several times until the pain became almost unbearable. Then, slamming his foot to the gas pedal, he sped away, flinging gravel behind him.
Honey looked up from her mending as Felicia entered the room. “I heard raised voices so I thought I’d stay up a while to see if you needed me. Is everything all right?”
Felicia nodded. “You know Michael. He can be pretty immature sometimes.”
“Oh, I think he knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Felicia leaned against the wall. “I told him tonight that I didn’t want to see him again. He’s still talking marriage and gets mad when I say I’m not ready. There’s so much I want to do before I settle down and Michael’s faith isn’t the same as mine. I’m not sure what his faith is.” Felicia sighed. “He was talking really strange tonight.”
Honey lay her mending in her lap and, removing her glasses from her nose, asked, “Do you love him, Felicia?”
She shrugged. “No... I don’t think so. At least not the way I imagine I would feel about the man I want to marry someday. He used to be such a good friend.” She sighed again and pushed away from the wall. “I’m going to bed. I’m beat. Michael said he’d call again tomorrow so I’ll need to be rested up to deal with him, I think.” She bent over and kissed Honey’s forehead. “Good night, Honey. I do know that I love you.”
“Good night dear. I love you, too.” Honey watched Felicia disappear up the stairs to her room and allowed a tear to course its way down her weathered cheek. She lifted her heart in prayer for tomorrow as she folded her mending to be put away. She carried the basket of mending with her to the kitchen and peered into the darkness before closing the curtains against the night. Was she watching? The woman from the woods. Was she ready for tomorrow?
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Chapter 1
Lizzie had reached bottom. There was nowhere else for her to go. She looked across the small table at the faces of her younger brother and sister. She then glanced down at her father’s Bible which she held in her right hand, then at the guide book in her left. In the center of the table, between Lizzie and the two children, rested a small, plain wooden box. The box was made of simple pine with no carvings or paintings to distinguish it from any other wooden box, except that it held all the money that the three of them had to their name. Which was very little, considering how hard Lizzie and her brother had worked for it.
“Well, I’ve done it,” she told them. “I’ve quit my job at the Whitmore’s.”
“Did old man Whitmore try messing with you again, Lizzie?” Zeke, her younger brother of twelve, sat up straighter in his chair, his young chin set firmly in determination. “I’m the man of the house now that Pa’s gone, and I’ve got to take care of you and Abby. Well, Lizzie, did he?”
She smiled sadly, and nodded. “This time Mrs. Whitmore caught him, and I was asked to resign--with no references of course.” She sighed and looked towards the wooden box. “All we have to our name is in that little box there and the trunk under our bed.” She looked around the small one-room shack they called home. During the day, sunlight showed through the cracks in the boards and, during the winter, the cold wind whistled through. “I wanted to ask you two whether or not you want to stay and try scratching out a living here in New York, or if you want to follow Pa’s dream west. I found his Bible and guidebook the other day, and I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it. In the guidebook was his itemized list of expenses. It tells us everything we need to know. Everything we need to purchase and he has even listed several of the landmarks along the trail.” She had, in fact, spent many nights lying awake, weighing the pros and cons of such an undertaking. It was daunting, but to her young heart, it was accomplishable.
“How much money is in that box, Lizzie?” Zeke, the practical one, asked. “I’ve heard lots of people down at the paper talking and it takes money. Lots of it. We don’t have a wagon, or oxen. Heck, Lizzie, you don’t even know how to drive a wagon. Plus, we have to take a train to Missouri. That alone will cost more than what is in that box, won’t it?”
“We’ve got enough, I think. If we’re frugal. We’ll do it together. We can do this, Zeke. I know we can.”
“Well, Abby can’t help. She’s only eight.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life hawking papers while Abby tries selling flowers on the street corner? Look at her, Zeke. Someone will pick her up and we’ll never see her again. You’ve heard the stories. She’ll disappear. She’ll be sold to someone who will use her for evil. We can’t let that happen. Ma and Pa would roll over in their graves.”
Zeke looked over at his little sister. Abby stared back at him with her large blue eyes. Pale hair, the color of corn silk, was tied back from her face with a red ribbon. Abby was small for her age, and Lizzie and Zeke had always been overly protective of her since their parents’ death three years ago.
“I can too help,” Abby stated, folding her small arms across her chest in imitation of her brother. “I can be the cook. I do most of the cooking now anyway.”
“That’s right, Abby. You’re a fine cook.” Lizzie dumped the money on the table and opened their father’s guidebook. “Pa has everything written out right here, Zeke. He’s written down everything we need, down to how much flour and salt. We’ll need even less than he figured, since it’s just the three of us. I’ve been saving every penny possible since I’ve been working, and Ma and Pa did leave us with something. We’ve got enough to get us to Missouri and get outfitted. Between the two of us, we’ll manage. If we have to hire you out, we will. I can work, too, if I have to. We’ve got very little. No furniture that we need to take. Just our provisions and the few clothes and blankets we have. We’ll only need two oxen and a small wagon. We’ll make do.” The more she spoke, the more convinced she became that they could do it.
“Can we take Boomer and Buster?” Abby asked. “I won’t go without them. They’ll protect us from the Indians. I’ve heard scary stories about the wild Indians.”
“Of course, we’ll take them,” Zeke told her. “We need those two mongrels. I’ll dig out Pa’s gun tonight and clean it. When are we leaving, Lizzie? It’s already the end of February, and we’ll have to move fast to get to Missouri. The wagons like to head out in April--May at the latest, to avoid hitting snow in the mountains. A lot of people heading west have already left for Missouri.”
“Two days at the most, Zeke. We’ll leave in two days.” Two days and they would leave the miserable life they knew behind them.
“You two go on to bed, now. I’ve got to run out tonight.”
“Where are you going, Lizzie?”
“I’m going out to sell a few more of our things. I can take them to the second-hand store. Go on to bed. I’ll be back before you wake up.” Zeke watched her seriously for a minute before nodding, and then led Abby to the single bed in the room that the three of them shared.
Lizzie sat back in her chair, holding their father’s Bible and thought back to the time when they had been a happy family. Only three years ago, they still had their parents and had just left the country so their father could try making enough money working in the city to enable them to go west and begin a new life. A life of owning their own land. In the blink of an eye, they were left orphaned. Their parents had never made it home one night from the factory where they worked. On their way home, they had been run down by an out of control carriage.
Most of their finances had gone to pay off debts, although Lizzie had managed to stash a little away, and she had found herself forced to seek employment as an upstairs maid with one of the elite and prominent families of New York. At the tender age of sixteen, she had begun back-breaking work and fighting off advances from dirty old men. She looked over at Zeke and Abby. It was all right for her, but they were too young for such a life. She held the Bible tighter to her bosom. Pa had dreamed of a better life for them in Oregon. They could follow his dream and make it a reality. She just knew they could.
Grandma Esther had sent them some vegetable seeds from her own garden last year before she died, and Lizzie had carefully stored them away in an empty gourd. They would be able to start right away with a vegetable garden. Zeke was strong. They would make it. She blew out the candle on the table and listened to the breathing of her brother and sister.
It was getting dark outside. She had better hurry with what she wanted to accomplish tonight. It was getting late. She rose and put the Bible back on the small table and then parted the curtain that hid the alcove where she hung their clothes. She pulled out of few of their nicer things. Outfits their mother had made them for church and special occasions. They wouldn’t need them on the trail. On a shelf overhead sat a couple of tattered carpet bags. She pulled these down and set them on the floor. Beneath the bed where Zeke and Abby were sleeping, was a small steamer trunk. She dragged it out into the center of the room and lifted the lid. A strong smell of cedar wafted upwards, causing her to sneeze.
The few precious, material possessions they had left were stored in this box. A few books that their father had taught them to read on and some fabric pieces from a quilt that their mother had never had time to finish. The quilt pieces waited for someone to take them up again and complete them. The quilts that their mother had managed to finish were being used on their bed now. The china that their mother had once cherished had been sold long ago. The trunk also included a silver-plated mirror and hair brush set and a small box of their mother’s jewelry. The small box was what Lizzie was searching for. She put the box inside the pocket of her skirt, gathered up the dress clothes she had pulled from the closet, and glancing over to where her siblings still lay sleeping, she quietly pulled the door shut behind her as she left.
Lizzie kept to the shadows as she entered the alley behind their home. She knew the old woman who bought second-hand clothes would open up for her, no matter what time of the night it was. It was the man at the pawn shop who worried her. He was a grouchy old man, not given to politeness or to helping others. She needed to sell the things tonight in order for them to pack and catch the train on schedule. She didn’t want the train to Missouri to be sold out of tickets and thus cause them to live longer in the city without employment or other means of earning money.
She peered into the gloom of the alley and listened to the snores of the people who were either sleeping or had passed out from too much liquor. She carefully skirted around the fallen drunks. She knew that the women who lounged in the alley doorways weren’t going to bother her. Most of the people from this grungy corner of the city where they lived, watched out for her and the two children, and many of them had taken her, Zeke, and Abby under their wing when they were left orphaned, showing them how to survive in the unfriendly city. The ones who wanted to abuse them were kept in control by the other vagrants.
A couple of men reached out to grab at her skirt as she passed, but they were too drunk to be of much danger. She aimed a half-hearted kick in their direction and kept walking. Light poured from several of the open doorways, and tinny piano music serenaded the night of the alley. Lizzie wrinkled her nose and hitched up her skirts as a tenant tossed out a slop bucket, barely missing showering Lizzie with the filth. The tired old woman muttered a reluctant apology and slammed the door closed on the ramshackle shack she called home. Lizzie could see the back of the second-hand store she was headed to, and quickened her pace.
Lizzie pounded on the door in front of her for several minutes before she caught a glimpse of a candle’s gleam. The door opened an inch. Just enough for an eye to peer out. “Who is it?”
“It’s Lizzie, ma’am. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I was wondering if you could look at a few things I’ve brought and maybe buy some of them from me.”
“Tonight? Now?” The old woman cracked the door open a little wider and scowled out at her.
“Please. We’d like to catch the train in a couple of days, and I’ve got to purchase the tickets first thing in the morning.”
“All right, girl. But only because it’s you.” She opened the door and motioned for Lizzie to enter.
They were in a room at the back of the store. A small, dark room with only a slit for a window. The room held a small cot, one three-legged stool next to a rickety table, and a small fireplace. Lizzie tossed the clothes on the bed.
“My mother made these clothes,” she informed the shopkeeper. Lizzie fingered them gently. “They’re of very fine fabric. Could you look at them now, please? I’d like to get over to the pawn shop tonight, too.”
“What do you want to go over there for, girl? That old man will only rob you blind. He doesn’t have an honest bone in his skinny body.” She pawed through the clothes, occasionally holding something up for a better look. Lizzie watched her, sadly. It was painful to see the last of their mother’s things be sold. “Let me see what else you got.”
Lizzie pulled the jewelry from her pocket. “It’s only a bit of jewelry.”
The old woman wiggled her fingers at her, motioning for Lizzie to hand her the box. “Let me see.” She opened the box and rifled through the rings and necklaces. “What did you say you needed the money for?”
“We’re heading west. I need this for the train tickets to get us to Missouri.”
“West, huh? A fool’s dream.” The woman sniffed in derision.
“It was my parents’ dream,” Lizzie replied defensively.
“Didn’t mean any harm. An old woman is entitled to her own opinion, isn’t she?” She put the box into the pocket of the tattered robe she wore. “I’ll take the lot from you. I can guarantee it’ll be more than that old fool down the street.”
“How much can you give me?” Lizzie asked. “I’d also like to look through the store, if I may. There are a few things we’ll need that we don’t have, and I’d rather buy them used if I can. I need to save money wherever I can.”
“You’re going to keep me up all night, girl. But--go ahead. I’m sure we can work out enough for the tickets and the what-not you’ll be needing. Pick out what you need and we’ll discuss the cost then.”
Lizzie walked through the curtain separating the living quarters from the store, and stood still until the shop lady lit a lantern. She let her eyes adjust and slowly began walking the aisles, mentally running down the list of items her father had listed in the back of his book.
“Let me know what you’ll be needing and we’ll set it aside.”
“I’ll be needing the lantern you’re holding.”
“What? This one? There’s another over there.”
“I know that one works.” She picked up a pink sun bonnet. Abby would like this, she thought. And she’ll need it for the sun. She spied a blue one in a larger size and picked it up also. “We’ll take these--and this man’s floppy hat. We need a tin kettle, a cook stove, if you have one. Make it a small one. We have to conserve space. Oh, and a butter churn. I’m hoping to buy a milk cow in Missouri. A milk pail—no, not that one. It’s too dented. I want three rain slickers, one in small. And some sturdy shoes. Do you have those?”
“Slow down. I’m not as young as you. I’ve got lots of shoes. Some in better shape than others.” She tossed a black hat in Lizzie’s direction.
“This is quite tattered, isn’t it?”
“Can’t be too picky young lady. I’m practically giving you the stuff as it is. Let’s see--” she browsed through the clothing racks. “Yes, I’ve got the slickers. Might not be small enough, but it’s better than nothing. Over here is where we’ll find the stove and kettle. Very good, here’s a butter churn! Are you sure this is it? Got your bedding, needles, thread? Got any tonic? Taking two children into the wilderness won’t be easy! There’s all kinds of sickness to be had out there.”
“No, I don’t have any tonic. The apothecary shop will be closed now, and tomorrow is Sunday.” Lizzie looked worried. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Probably a lot you haven’t thought of. I’ve got a new bottle of tonic and one of cod-liver oil, too. I can get more. Here, take this, too. Cholera runs rampant out there, I’ve heard.” She added a bottle of bismuth to the pile. “My own sister went out to Californee five years ago. Kept a diary, she did. Here’s a tip she wrote me about. Sew pockets on the inside of your skirts. Keep your valuables in there. Savages will rob you blind, if you let them. Some women even take to wearing men’s britches on the trail. Imagine that! Buy some tobaccee when you hit Missouri. They love that, the savages do, and you can trade with it, too. Grab a handful of those cheap baubles over there. Savages love baubles. Got a gun? Good. Your brother know how to use it?” The old woman walked and grabbed things as she talked. Lizzie watched with dismay as the pile on the counter grew.
“Wait. This is too much. How will I ever get it shipped out? I don’t think I have enough money.” She counted through the change the woman gave her.
“Nonsense. You’ve got plenty. I told you I would help you out with what’s left from your tickets, and I will. Run on over to the station, he’ll still sell to you at this hour. He’s a money hungry old fool and I’ll have you all finished when you get back. Pack it up in a box for you, too.”
“Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you.” She gave the woman a big hug.
“You can repay me by surviving, girl. That’s all. I still think you’re headed off on a fool’s dream.” The shopkeeper hugged her back, awkwardly patting her shoulder.
It was still dark when Lizzie made her way back to the little shack. She was pleased with the weight of the coins hanging heavy in her pocket. She slid under the blankets next to Abby and fell asleep smiling.
“Lizzie!” Zeke shook her shoulder. “Lizzie, wake up.”
“What?” She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Where’s Ma’s things, Lizzie? Tell me you didn’t sell the last of her things!” Angry tears were welling in his eyes. “It’s all we had left of her, Lizzie!”
Abby sat up in bed, confused and half asleep. “What’s wrong, Zeke? Why are you yelling?” She turned, wide-eyed, to Lizzie. “Lizzie?”
“I had to sell them, Zeke. Please try to understand.” Lizzie swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I kept a couple of her rings, and her hairbrush set, and I sold the rest. I sold the last of our nice clothes, too. We need sturdier things to take us out west, and you said yourself it was going to take a lot of money.”
“But Ma’s things?” A sob caught in his throat. “Tell me we still have Pa’s gun.”
“Yes, we still have that.” She stood up. “Today, we pack up what’s left. Tomorrow, we dress in the last nice outfit we have and begin our journey. I bought us train tickets to Independence, Missouri, this morning.”
“A train ride!” Abby bounced up and down in her excitement. “It’ll be grand, Zeke. You’ll see.” She scampered from the bed. “I’ll fix us some eggs for breakfast--right now. That way, you two can start packing right away.”
Lizzie smiled over at her. “It will be an adventure, won’t it? Zeke?”
“All right.” He conceded. The excitement over the upcoming train ride overshadowed his disappointment of his sister selling the last of their mother’s things. “We’ll make it the best adventure ever.”
Lizzie drew the two children close to her and wrapped them in a hug. “It’ll be the adventure of a lifetime.”
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