1.KATE
Labette County, Kansas
1871
WHEN WE DEPARTED the train on that January morning, all I could see was a bleak sky stretching out in every direction. It was freezing cold with not so much as a draft in the air. Dust coated everything around us, making it seem lifeless and dull.
This was a cursed land for sure.
In the bustle at the train station, I saw men with hard faces, baked and set by a scorching sun that had now sadly departed for the winter season; several of them chewed tobacco and wore wide-brimmed hats caked with dust. They were bowlegged from riding and filthy from the barn; their eyes reminded me of specks of glass set upon the skin of wrinkled old fruits. The women, too, looked haggard, all wrapped up like little presents in dresses of calico, their faces swallowed by voluptuous bonnets whose strings trailed under their chins like wattles. Children’s hands were clutching at their skirts; the toddlers’ faces were stained with grime and snot and their eyes were soft with pleading. The station smelled strongly of horseshit and smoke. A few scrawny stray dogs sniffed along the rails.
Of course, there was no one there to help us with the trunk. We had to carry it between us through the throng. Both Ma and I were huffing and puffing. Not one single gentleman stepped in to lighten our load. I looked around for a boy eager for a coin or someone from the railway company but could not see any of them either. There were only those weatherworn men, chewing their tobacco, their eyes as dead and docile as those of cows. Perhaps they spent more time with such creatures than their fellow men and had taken on some of their traits. I knew longhorns from Texas were shipped north from Kansas, so that was certainly something to look forward to as well: stray wild beasts and the occasional stampede—as if the prospect of the wolves and coyotes roaming the prairie was not horrible enough.
It was a cursed land, and no one could convince me otherwise, least of all Ma, whose judgment was entirely in question at this point.
We were both close to exhaustion by the time we had escaped the crowd and entered calmer seas. The hem of my new dress was caked with dust, and underneath the fabric I was drenched in perspiration despite the cold. I wondered when I would have the opportunity to bathe again. How could Ma ever believe that this would be our salvation?
I had been opposed to Kansas from the start, but Ma had been adamant. It was better, she said, to lie low for a while, and what better place to disappear than out on the prairie? The landscape was vast and empty, with only lonesome travelers passing through. We could keep to ourselves there, she said, as if that were a glorious, miraculous thing. Keep to ourselves until all was forgotten, and then we could emerge again, as new and fresh as lambs in spring.
She did not seem to grasp the implications: I could hardly fulfill my aspirations in hiding. The foolish plan that she and her husband had cooked up did nothing but slow me down, and I was not thrilled about it. But then, she always knew how to have her way, holding guilt above my head like a sharpened blade. It did not much matter that I was a woman grown, twenty years last spring. She would hold me enthralled until my debt was settled, and should I fail to satisfy, she would surely feed me to the wolves.
Finally, we caught sight of them. Pa and John had opted to stay with the wagon rather than come to our aid. Not even when they saw us come around the station building with our heavy load did they move into action, but remained there, watching. William, in his black hat, leaned against the weather-beaten side of the vehicle, while John sat at the reins. His shoulders were hunched and his head bowed. A stupid little smile played on his lips. His straw hat was new and made him look like a fruit farmer.
Neither of them smiled or even greeted us properly. There were no signs of relief on their drab features. Nor did Ma express any gratitude for the reunion, but set the trunk down and scurried at once to get up on the wagon’s dusty deck. A few barrels were there, and some rope, but nothing but some burlap to sit on, which had me fretting for the dress again. It was a pretty thing of silk, striped in a lovely raspberry hue and a deep, clear blue.
William had noticed my new attire. “You’re on the prairie now, Kate,” he said as he helped Ma onto the wagon. “Nothing will do but some plain calico.”
“She dresses like those whores she befriended,” Ma said, huffing as she sank down on a sack of potatoes. “It’s all so shiny on the outside with them, while on the inside there’s nothing but rot.”
I rolled my eyes at her silly statement—we were hardly ones to pass judgment—and then I climbed onto the wagon as well, needing no help, though my skirt snagged on splinters in the rough wood. I winced when I felt it happening, but I would not show it.
I was not about to prove William right.
Our journey thus far had been long and trying, and the rest of it promised to be just as bad. Ma and I had suffered hours upon hours in a cramped, hot train carriage, surrounded by gaunt and tired faces. The air had reeked of smoke, sweat, and a hint of manure, and not even the sweetness of the apples Ma had brought for us had been able to chase the foul taste of defeat from my mouth.
“Stop sulking, Kate,” Ma had said when I put my fruit away. “You’ll feel better once we are settled in our new home.”
“I know what to expect,” I replied, speaking in German like her. “More toil; that is what.” I refused to be anything but honest. “More delays and regret—”
“Well, we would not be in this predicament if it hadn’t been for you.” She spoke in a cool and even voice, even as her gaze wandered restlessly around us, taking in every face. She meant to shame me by saying such things, but it never worked.
“I had nothing to do with them,” I said, thinking of the Vandles, of course. “My God, woman, I was outside in the wagon with you!”
“Oh, be quiet, Kate,” she snapped at me. She huffed and sat back in her seat, holding the basket of fruit and beer close to her chest. Her traveling hat was a tattered thing: old when bought and rarely used. The brown ribbon at the pull was unraveling, as the silken butterfly pinned there had lost a wing. “If it hadn’t been for you, we would never have met them in the first place.”
I could hardly argue with that, and neither did I care to. Instead, I leaned back on the tattered seat and continued devouring my apple, wrinkled and winter sweet, tasting faintly of the barrel.
“What is it you used to say?” I asked after a while. “We take care of our own, and the rest can fend for themselves.” I did my best impression of her, making my voice sound sharp and shrill. “I honestly don’t see why you’re so concerned with what happened to the Vandles.”
Ma sighed. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? It’s all so easy to you.”
It was my turn to sigh. “You’re hardly blameless, Ma.”
“I know,” she replied and sent me a cold look. “I raised you, for one, which has surely bought me a ticket to hell.”
The train had continued at a steady pace, swallowing the miles to Ottawa, where Pa and John were waiting for our arrival. From time to time, the whistle burst out hoarse signals, and sooty clouds of smoke passed by the windows. No one in our carriage seemed inclined to talk much. It was not first class, so they were a ragtag bunch. I saw a couple of young boys in similar hats and coats, who looked about them fearfully, and so were most likely traveling alone. There were pale-faced men with well-trimmed mustaches, vests, and pocket watches, whose financial strains still showed in the worn patches of fabric in their clothing. Their ink-stained fingers made them out as clerks. A few farmers were there as well, in sturdy but unfashionable wear; their wives, too, in colorful calico dresses and unbecoming bonnets. There was also a reverend, all dressed in black.
The carriage was built to be impressive, with green velvet upholstery and dark wood, but it had all become tired and old. Brown spittle and pieces of food marred the carpeted aisle, and someone had spilled beer there, too, leaving a sticky puddle.
I sighed deeply when I noticed how Ma, once again, squinted at the passengers with suspicion written all over her features, raising a few eyebrows among our fellow travelers.
“Stop looking around,” I scolded her. “The law is not on our heels, Ma. They have no idea where we went. Besides, I’ve sewn the holy letters into my dress like you said.” I did not feel ashamed to lie.
“You have not.” She spoke tersely and rolled her eyes. “You’re a terrible seamstress.”
“Nevertheless, I did,” I insisted, if only to ease her nerves.
“As if you’d ever take a needle to that dress you’re so proud of.” She snorted and did not even look at me; her gaze traveled from the boys to the reverend and, finally, to a tired clerk.
She did have a point, however. I had bartered the dress from a prostitute in Louisville in exchange for a cure to restore lost love, and it was at present the prettiest thing I owned.
Not for long, though. I would make sure of that. To hell with lying low! No one looked too closely if only you put on a confident facade. Ma could fret all she wanted, but I still meant to have my due: the stage and the acclaim that came with it.
It was what I was meant to do.
2.ELVIRA
THE HOUSE THE men had built was an ugly thing, erected in haste; nothing more than a wooden structure. There were windows—more than one—but that was the only good thing about it.
Inside, the single room had a stove to the left and an assembly of table and chairs in the middle. There was a brass bed, too, farther inside, next to a counter with cupboards for storing. The place was cold, though, and the floor covered in dust. It was not what I had been hoping for when they picked us up at the train station. I had been hoping for a hot stove and a meal—had foolishly been hoping for something other than disappointment.
William was mightily proud of his handiwork, though, overly so, if I was to be the judge. He kept showing us the abode’s various features like a tawdry magician trying to dazzle a crowd. I, however, had never been fooled by tricks that relied on diverting attention and was offended that my husband thought me so gullible. All while he was showing off, I bit my tongue and curbed my anger, though I knew I would not be able to keep it inside for long. William had clearly betrayed me.
Kate must have seen it on my face, as she looked at me and chuckled while rolling her pretty eyes. “Won’t this be a lovely home, Ma,” she teased. “Just as good as the one we left behind—”
“Oh, quiet, Kate, please,” I snapped. I had enough concerns without her gloating. We would not have been in Kansas in the first place if it had not been for her, and she’d better remember that fact. Kate, though, only laughed at my anger.
My stepson, John, made up the rear of our little group. He, for one, looked stung by her words. He had probably put both sweat and blood into the house’s erection, and maybe a little bit of tears as well.
“Here’s the cellar for storage.” William lifted the trapdoor in the floor by a leather strap with such flair that one might think he was revealing God’s eighth wonder. “And look, here’s a back door. It will be very useful when we have vegetables growing out there, and to empty out the night pot.” He spoke of the barn, too, which was at the time little more than scaffolding. “We were thinking it should be able to hold at least six horses,” he said.
“We only have the two,” I remarked in a very curt voice.
“Oh, maybe we’ll get more,” he said in a puzzling way that made me believe that he was holding something back. I looked around me again, at the plain walls, and the Osage Trail, which snaked by right outside the window. It was impossible to think that William had not been aware that he was making a terrible mistake.
“It is very close to the road.” I gave him a pointed look. “How are we supposed to hide when we are dwelling in plain view? Were there no other claims to be had?” I did not even mention how it was situated disturbingly close to the town of Cherryvale.
William’s face paled a little beneath the froth of gray beard. His gaze landed on the floor and stayed there as he stood before me like an abashed schoolboy. “I’ve been thinking we should take in travelers.” He all but stumbled on his words, so eager was he to get them off his chest. “Nothing fancy! We could just offer them a meal and a safe place to sleep indoors. It seems stupid not to, with the road running so close by.” When he finally lifted his gaze and saw my expression, he hastened to add, “They will be stopping here anyway, asking for directions. It seems foolish not to make some money off it—and your stew is so good that it would be a shame not to share it with others—”
“You foolish, foolish man!” I bellowed. “How is that to lie low? You planned this from the start, didn’t you? That is why you built so close to the road! You have fooled me, William!” Spittle flew from my lips and landed on his hands, which he held up as if in surrender.
“Elvira! Please, listen to me—no one will look for us here! They wouldn’t even recognize us if they did! I have grown out my beard and John has a new mustache, and we go by the name of Bender now!”
“Oh, you and your greed!” I cried, more angry than I remembered being in a while. “It will be the undoing of us all! We came here to hide, not to line our pockets, but you always were a weak man! So very, very weak!”
“No, no, Elvira, no.” He still held his hands in the air. “There could be a good living in this! Mr. Brockman at the trading station asked if I’d take some of his stock on commission. We could build a store counter over here.” He gestured to one side of the room, next to the iron stove. “We could put up shelving on the wall, and we would never run out of coffee,” he said, feebly trying for a joke.
I would not have it, though. “It’s not what we agreed on, William!” My breathing had become labored. “Why would we invite strangers into our home? It is a foolish plan! Stews and groceries . . .” I shook my head. “I think you must have lost your mind! Have you forgotten what we’re running from?”
“No!” He looked much like a dancer as he stood there, wriggling his hands in the air. “Don’t you see that we are different people now? The past is all forgotten, Elvira! This is a new life for us—a prosperous one!”
“The past doesn’t go away just because you want it to!” I jutted an angry finger in the air, sliced it between us like a blade. “There is no ‘new beginning’ for us—not yet! We have to hide and keep our heads down. That is what we agreed on . . . It’s what we said before you left. Why did you change your mind all of a sudden?”
“He finds it tiresome to farm.” Kate’s voice sounded slow and lazy. “He does not much care to break the ground.”
“No!” he cried, trying to defend himself, but it was far too late by then. My faith in him had vanished. I grabbed the nearest chair by the back and swung it hard and fast. It made impact atop William’s thighs. He bellowed. I screamed and swung the chair again. It felt so good—so glorious—to let my anger out in that way. To hurt him just like he had hurt me. To punish him for fooling me. The next blow hit his back as he fled. Then the chair went high, high up in the air, before coming crashing down again, hitting his back once more.
I could have kept at it all day.
“You are mad, woman! Mad!” William bellowed before slipping out the front door with John in tow. Gnashing my teeth, I saw him leave, and then I dropped the chair to the floor. My breathing came fast and shallow. Tears burned in my eyes. Kate silently picked up the chair at my feet, dusted it off, and placed it at the table.
“It doesn’t seem to be broken.” She tested its mettle by sitting down and moving around a little on the seat.
“A roadside inn?” I groaned, still standing. “It’ll be our very undoing!” I shuffled to the table, suddenly feeling both worn and weary. “I suppose you are pleased, though. You won’t be rotting in hiding after all.” I slumped down in an empty chair.
“I don’t think we are very well suited for hiding,” my daughter mused with her elbows planted on the table. She looked, if anything, calmly amused. “You know I won’t thrive here, Ma. How could I? None of us will get what we want if you insist on keeping me out of view.” Her mouth twisted up with annoyance.
I gave her a dark look across the table. “We have been over this how many times, Kate? None of us would have been here if it hadn’t been for you—all I try to do is protect your precious neck, and all you ever give me in return is this endless disdain.” I spoke fast and angry and concluded with a sigh.
“You could have left me behind in Louisville, Ma, but you didn’t, and the only reason why is because you want to settle scores. You know I’m the only one who can give you back what you lost. William will never be able to.” She sent the closed door a cold smirk. “You mean to hold me captive by your side until I pay up, and that has nothing to do with protecting me.”
I did not reply at first. I did not want to go there again. We had done little more than argue ever since the men left us in order to purchase the claim, and nothing good had come of it. She distrusted me as I distrusted her, and the Vandles were just as dead.
She was not entirely wrong, though.
“You know how you are, Kate,” I said at last. “It is not your fault—merely a quirk of nature; a lick of the devil, perhaps—”
“Say you?” Kate laughed. Her pretty face lit up with mirth. “You just chased your husband out the door with a chair!” She pointed a long, straight finger in said door’s direction. “Maybe it’s not I who’s touched by the devil.”
“Well,” I said, straightening up on the seat. “It’s not my hands that are red.”
Kate pursed her lips and tossed her head. “I won’t regret what I did, Ma, no matter what you say.”
“Be as that might.” I shrugged. “But the truth of it is that you would’ve hanged if we hadn’t fled, and I assure you this piss-poor piece of land is better than the noose by far.”
She pretended not to hear me. “Pa seems to have had a change of heart and won’t hide at all. Why else would he build so close to the road?” Her chin tilted upward in a challenging manner.
“Well, Pa is a fool,” said I. “He always will be, too. You, of all, know very well how easily he’s blinded by dreams of prosperity—”
“It was an accident, Ma,” she snapped, “with the Vandles.”
I did not reply. We both knew well that it was a lie.
—
WILLIAM CAME SLINKING back before nightfall, like a dog with its tail between its legs. John, too, came shuffling in from the unfinished barn. The young man wore his guilt upon his face and kept his gaze glued to the ground. He knew they had done wrong. I did not blame him, though. He would be hard-pressed to oppose his pa.
“I should like to have my back tended to,” William complained as he sat down at the table. Kate and I had spent the rest of the day making the hovel habitable and had fried up some eggs and made hot, sweet tea. The men both relished the meal.
Kate had retired to the bed, where she lay upon the blankets, reading one of her spiritualist pamphlets. Next to her lay her best friend, the whiskey bottle, a quarter empty already. She was as shameless with the liquor as with everything else, and I shuddered just to see it.
I shoved more food onto the men’s empty plates. “Do you think you deserve treatment for your back?” I asked William.
“You cannot be angry forever, Elvira,” he mewled. “The house is built—it’s done.”
“It was not what we agreed on,” I muttered.
“No,” he admitted with a sly look on his face, “but it’s what you got.”
“I should give you a taste of the frying pan next.” I was so angry inside that I shook.
“No one will look for us,” he said, though he had been nervous enough himself before they left. It had to be the prairie getting to him, the endless plains and the vast blue sky. It gave him a false sense of freedom.
“You betrayed me, William.” I stated the fact.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m merely saving you from wasting your time on useless worries. We have left Pennsylvania behind, and Indiana, too. This time it’ll be different—you’ll see.” He scooped some eggs onto his fork.
I glanced at my daughter upon the bed, eagerly turning the page. “You cannot outrun the devil, William.”
The best you could hope for was to make her pay.
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