A Home in Drayton Valley (4 page)

“Joss Brubacher, you came close to scaring the life out of me. Why've you come?” A second bout of fear—this one much more intense—gripped her. She grabbed his shirtfront and dragged him through the doorway, her heart pounding.

The other girls paused in their stitching, curious gazes aimed at Tarsie and their unexpected visitor. Joss swept from his head the little plaid hat he always wore and flicked a glance at the circle of seamstresses. Apparently intimidated by his unsmiling countenance, they bent back over their work. But their usual chatter ceased, and Tarsie sensed their ears tuned to her conversation with Joss.

“Is it Mary? Should I fetch my medicinal herbs?” Thank goodness she'd finished that skirt early. She'd be free to go with Joss if need be. She turned toward the sleeping room, ready to retrieve the leather pouch of cures.

Joss held out his hand, sealing her in place. “Mary's fine. Least, as fine as she ever is.” His brow crunched—in worry or
consternation? Mary claimed Joss cared beneath his bluster, but Tarsie wasn't so sure. He was a difficult man to read. “But we're leaving come Monday. For Kansas.”

Tarsie clasped her hands beneath her chin and gasped. “Oh, praise be!”

“So we're needing the money . . . for tickets and such.”

Joy exploded through Tarsie's middle. A miracle! She was witnessing a miracle! She waved both hands at Joss, encouraging him to wait. “I'll be gettin' it for you. Stay right here.”

She dashed to the sleeping room, aware of six pairs of eyes staring after her. Dropping to her knees beside her cot, she lifted the lumpy mattress and pulled out a woolen stocking containing the carefully hoarded bounty of nearly eight years' labor. Bouncing to her feet, she darted to Joss and jammed the sock at him. “There you are. Thank you for agreein'.” She'd never have imagined Joss Brubacher accepting her help. His willingness to do so—to set aside his fierce pride—softened her toward him. He did care for Mary. He
did
.

He gave her a puzzled look, but he took the stocking and shoved the wad into his jacket pocket. She expected him to take his leave, but instead he twiddled the hat in his hand and stared off to the side. From the circle of girls, a nervous titter sounded. It seemed to bring Joss to life. He jerked his face around to scowl down at Tarsie.

“As I said, we're leaving come Monday. I'm hoping to get us tickets on the eight o'clock train to Chicago. So be packed and at the station early. Only take what you can't do without. One trunk—that's it. Won't be space for frippery.” He snorted. “Won't hardly be space for the
people
I need to take, but Mary says she won't go without you. So . . .” He slapped the hat onto his head. “Be there.” He turned and stomped off, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway.

 4 

J
oss lifted Emmy onto the step leading to the passenger car, then reached for Nathaniel. He gazed up and down the Grand Central Depot's boarding platform, searching the crowd for any of Lanker's henchmen. If the gambler got wind that Joss had collected his pay a week early, he'd be on the prowl. What with Mary giving away all but their most important belongings to anyone in need, word was out that they were leaving. It was only a matter of time before Lanker came to demand his money.

Granted, the pay envelope held precious little compared to what Mary had squirreled away. How had she managed to accumulate such a sum? The things he could've done with that money if he'd known about it! But now, if Lanker's men caught him, they'd take every penny, whether he owed it to Lanker or not. Nobody bested that former riverboat rat.

Someone in the jostling crowd bumped him, and Joss jerked around, his heart in his throat. But to his relief, it was only a hunchbacked old man, who waved a gnarled hand in silent apology. Joss's shoulders sagged. He was far too jumpy. They needed to get out of here—and quick.

Mary touched his arm. “Have you spotted Tarsie?”

“Not yet.” To be honest, he hadn't been looking for Mary's friend. “Don't worry. She'll be here.” He'd seen where she
lived. He'd always thought the tenement he and Mary occupied was sad, but it seemed a palace compared to the one Tarsie shared with so many others. Kansas probably sounded like the promised land to the girl. “Come on—let's get you on board.”

He lifted Mary the same way he had the children, surprised by how little effort it took. She'd never been a robust woman, but when had she grown so slight? She grimaced as his hands cupped her rib cage, her pale cheeks turning an ashen gray. He set her down gently, concerned. Readying the family for the journey must have worn her out even more than he'd realized. But their four days on a train—one to Chicago, then three more to reach Des Moines, Iowa—would give her time to rest.

Joss waited until she took hold of the children's hands. Then he pressed their tickets into her skirt pocket. “Find us seats. I'll keep a watch out for your friend.”

She gave a weary nod and guided the children inside the car. Joss paced, his head low, his eyes flicking this way and that. He'd always been proud of his stature. By the time he was sixteen, he'd stood an inch taller than Pa. The man had never laid a hand on him once he had to look up at him—a huge improvement over the previous years of his life. Standing tall made others think twice about challenging him in a fight. But now, with his head a good two inches higher than any other man on the busy walkway, he'd be easily spotted by Lanker or his cronies. Would that Irish girl hurry already?

A blue-suited conductor walked from the caboose toward the engine, swinging a brass bell. Its clang competed with the blast of steam from the engine. As he neared Joss, his steps slowed. “Got a ticket, mister?”

Joss nodded.

“Best get aboard, then. Pulling out in less'n five minutes.” He headed on, the bell clanging out its warning.

Mary's worried face appeared in the window above Joss's head. He shrugged at her. If Tarsie didn't hurry, they'd have to go without her. They could all catch a train tomorrow—trains left for Chicago every day now, thanks to Cornelius Vanderbilt's ingenuity—but he couldn't give Lanker a chance to catch up with him. He had to go
now
.

Another cloud of hissing steam, accompanied by a shrill whistle blast, chased Joss to the passenger car's step. Mary'd be crushed, and Joss wasn't thrilled he'd squandered money on a ticket that wouldn't be used, but they couldn't wait for Tarsie. He'd told her eight o'clock. Wasn't his fault she couldn't follow directions. With a resigned huff, he heaved himself into the car.

Tarsie collided with a wall of steam. Temporarily blinded, she ceased her headlong dash. Agnes's tattered carpetbag, which she'd traded for Tarsie's good pair of shoes and the quilt off her bed—an uneven trade, to be sure—bounced against Tarsie's knees, throwing her off balance. She staggered two steps to the side, coughed, then squinted and plowed on through the steam. Just ahead, a conductor waved a tarnished brass bell by its wooden handle. She dashed to his side.

“Excuse me, sir, I'm not in possession of a ticket, but—”

The man gave her an imperious look. “If you don't have a ticket, you can't board.”

Panic seized Tarsie's breast. “But I must be boarding, sir! My friends and me, we're going to Kansas!”

“Not without a ticket you ain't.” He took hold of her arm and steered her toward the depot.

A
tap-tap-tap
captured their attention. The conductor halted and looked upward, as did Tarsie. To Tarsie's great relief, Mary peered at them through a passenger-car window. She gestured with both hands, her meaning clear:
Stay put!
The conductor growled under his breath, but he hesitated long enough for Joss to burst from the car's doorway.

Joss held a square of paper in his hand. “I've got her ticket. Let her come aboard.”

The conductor looked Joss up and down. Seemingly deciding he'd rather not tangle with the big man, he abruptly released Tarsie's arm. Without a word of apology, he gave his bell a swing and plodded on.

“What kept you?” Joss grabbed Tarsie's bag and herded her toward the step. “You worried Mary half sick.”

Tarsie lifted her skirts out of the way and struggled to mount the high step. She'd donned two dresses beneath her black cloak, and she felt thick and bulky. Joss let out a huff and caught her elbow, giving a push that launched her onto the little platform. She gasped in surprise and skittered out of his way as he leaped up behind her, his motions as lithe as a cat's.

Still panting from her wild dash to the station, Tarsie leaned against the doorframe. But Joss didn't give her time to rest. Once again grasping her elbow, he propelled her through the narrow aisle to a tall wooden booth where Mary, Emmy, and Nathaniel crowded together on a green-velvet-cushioned seat. The children smiled greetings, and Mary reached both hands toward Tarsie. “Oh, Tarsie, thank the good Lord you made it.”

The conductor bustled up the aisle with a wide-legged gait, the bell sticking out of his pocket. “Sit, sit! We're leaving the station.”

Joss tossed Tarsie's bag onto the floor, then plopped onto the bench opposite his family. He filled the half near the window. Tarsie looked uncertainly at the open space beside him. Was she to share a seat with Joss?

Mary released a soft laugh. “Here. You sit with the children.” As stiff as an elderly woman, she eased out of her bench and slipped in beside her husband.

A high-pitched whine sounded, followed by a
chug-chug,
and the train lurched. Tarsie, turning toward the bench, was thrown smartly onto her bottom in the spot Mary had abandoned. Emmy and Nathaniel hunched their shoulders and tittered. Tarsie flashed a grin at the pair. The train picked up speed, and both children clambered onto their knees to peer out the window and wave at people standing on the platform. Joss sunk low in the seat and tugged his hat over his brows, his furtive gaze aimed at the passing crowd. Tarsie had no one to bid farewell, so she looked across the narrow gap to Mary.

Mary smiled, her lips white in an equally colorless face. “Did you find it difficult to leave your employ?” Sympathy tinged Mary's voice.

Tarsie considered Mr. Garvey's fury—ear-singeing expletives followed by a wheedling series of threats—when she'd told him she'd be leaving. When those tactics failed to sway her, he'd set her roommates to condemning her for leaving them holding her share of the rent. Then he'd insisted she honor her responsibility to clients who'd commissioned articles of clothing. By putting off sleep, she'd managed to complete the lace-bedecked shirtwaist and sweeping multilayered skirt for one of Mr. Garvey's most particular patrons. The past days had been her most trying since her arrival in New York with her great-aunt a dozen years ago. But she gave Mary a warm smile. “Not at all.”

“Good.” Mary yawned, wriggling into the corner of the bench. Even before the view outside the window indicated they'd left the city behind, she was sound asleep.

Tarsie watched Mary, noting her white, firmly set lips. She'd crossed her arms over her middle and her thin hands gripped folds of her loose dress. Her brow remained puckered, as if unpleasant dreams held her captive. Even in sleep, Mary didn't relax.

Tarsie's stomach twisted in worry. She faced an arduous
task, nursing Mary back to health, but her herb packets were tucked safely in the carpetbag at her feet. Now she'd be with Mary every day, not just once a week, giving her better opportunity to minister to her friend. During their journey, she'd ply Mary with slippery elm or perhaps cardamom to increase her appetite, ginger and garlic to improve her constitution, and goldenseal to prevent further illnesses from taking hold.

The train rocked, an occasional whistle blast drifting through the crack in the window. Tarsie settled more comfortably in the seat, her plans lifting the burden of worry. By the time they reached Kansas, Mary would be hale and hearty. She'd see to it.

Mary leaned over the spittoon provided by the conductor and retched until what little she'd eaten for supper found its way up again. Even if Joss begged, she would refuse food until they'd left the train. Hunger would be far easier to bear than the nausea the train's rocking created in her belly. Completely spent, she collapsed into the seat.

Tarsie pressed a handkerchief into Emmy's hands. “Go dip this in the water bucket, darlin', and bring it back for your mama.” Emmy scampered up the aisle, and Tarsie leaned in close to Mary, touching her forehead with the backs of her fingers.

Even through her watery gaze, Mary read the deep concern on her friend's face. She forced herself to smile. “You needn't look so guilty. My sickness isn't due to your cooking.”

Tarsie didn't laugh. “The sandwiches we've purchased from the conductor haven't been the freshest, but they've not made the rest of us sick.” She shook her head, her brow furrowing. “My ginger tea should be settling your stomach, but you've not kept down a bite since we left New York. Three days of heaving!” She leaned closer, her gaze briefly flicking toward
Joss, who leaned toward the opposite corner of the bench as if afraid of contracting whatever illness plagued his wife. “Could you be with child?”