Searching for Silverheels (21 page)

My thoughts were interrupted by George. “I think it serves them right, don't you?” he said. He was talking to me. I bit my lip and looked away.

“Of course, we all do, George dear,” said Mrs. Crawford. “That's why everyone around here is supporting the Liberty Bond fund, except that awful woman. Now, Pearl, bring George a piece of that cherry pie. And I'd like another cup of coffee.”

I did as I was told in silence. After so many months of wishing I could get rid of Josie and her campaigning, why did I feel outrage at this news? And why was it making me worry so much about Josie, when she refused to worry about herself?

F
rank's letter was waiting at the post office the next day when I checked after lunch. Relief swept through me. With the proof it contained, I would be able to stop Josie from campaigning in the café, which would be best for all of us. Of course, Josie wouldn't see it that way, but I couldn't shake the growing fear that Mrs. Crawford could do real harm. Josie needed to lie low for a few weeks, until the Liberty Bonds were all purchased. I rushed home, sat down at the first table I came to, and tore open the letter. My heart pounding, I read.

Dear Pearl,

How delighted I was to receive your letter! With the festivities for the Fourth of July and Robert shipping out for training, you must forgive my delay in responding. Robert, you will be glad to know, was a perfect gentleman and very good to Annie until he left, though I still do not trust him. Annie has not breathed a word to Mother of what happened, nor have I. After all, Robert has gone off to war now, and we all must pray every day for his safe return, along with all the other boys
who have gone to France, as Mother reminds us daily.

I wrote Mr. Lee at once after other matters were dispensed with. He is in frail health, but was eager enough to tell his story. Last Wednesday I went to his daughter's house, where she takes care of him, and he told me what he knows.

I have been trying since to think what to write you. Pearl, I am sorry to say he says the whole story as you know it is not true.

I drew in a sharp breath in shock. This was the worst possible news, but I could not stop reading now, so I plunged ahead.

Mr. Lee first came to Buckskin Joe in 1868, so he was not there during the epidemic, but he says that tales of it have been greatly exaggerated. Silverheels never had smallpox, nor did she disappear from town. She had many suitors after the epidemic, but she chose Jack Herndon, the saloon owner. Miners were leaving town after the free gold played out, and the saloon business was drying up, so they staked a homestead claim in the valley and settled into ranching. They built up the finest spread in South Park, and had a pretty little baby girl named Marian. They stayed on a few years after that, until Mr. Herndon's father passed on in Kentucky and they inherited the family farm down there. They sold their spread to Mr. Lee and haven't been back to Colorado since.

Are you very disappointed, Pearl? I hope I have done the
right thing to tell you this. It is not really a very exciting story after all the rest, but I suppose the truth of life is never quite as thrilling, is it?

Please write me back and tell me what you think. I suppose there is not much to think if Mr. Lee actually knew her. He must be right. But do write me back all the same. Has Orv recovered from his fall? How is Russell? Have you seen Mrs. Nelson again? I want to know everything that goes on there and hope every day for a letter from you or Willie. Things are dull here in Denver without you.

Sincerely, your friend,

Frank Sanford

I stared in disbelief at the letter. I was defeated! Now I saw the secret clue in Mae Nelson's photograph that I should have seen all along. The picture was taken in the 1870s, and Tom Lee was only a child. He could not have remembered the epidemic of 1861. The only way he could have known Silverheels would be if she had stayed on. And if she hadn't disappeared, chances were the rest of the story was false too. There was nothing at all to the story I had believed all my life. How could Silverheels have been just an ordinary person—a ranch wife—who had led an ordinary life? This was worse than Josie's version of the story. At least Josie had allowed her to be clever and conniving. A ranch wife? I'd never get Josie to stop campaigning now!

I was still staring at the letter, trying to decide what to do,
when the front door burst open and Mrs. Crawford came thundering through, shouting my mother's name. Mother came out of the kitchen, her eyebrows raised.

“Margaret Barnell, how dare you!” Mrs. Crawford said.

Mother calmly wiped her hands on her apron. “How dare I what, Phoebe?”

“Don't pretend you don't know! I was just down in Fairplay, where I ran into Mr. Merino from the mercantile.”

“Oh?”

“He tells me that he has sold all of his Liberty Bonds. He's collected over one hundred dollars. And some folks are well on their way to fulfilling their subscriptions. Well, of course I wondered how he had managed that feat so quickly, and you know what he told me? He told me that the butcher's wife from up in Como came down with thirty-five dollars. Not only did she buy her bond, but she contributed to the subscriptions of some of her friends in Fairplay!”

Mother smiled. “Well, that's fine news. I'm glad to hear that so much has been raised for the war effort.”

“Don't pretend innocence with me,” Mrs. Crawford spat back. “I know you talked her into selling her frankfurters at the picnic, after I expressly forbid it! And as if that wasn't bad enough, you told her to take the money down to Merino's store. You are both traitors to this town.”

“It seems to me, Phoebe, that you said you wouldn't take Mrs. Schmidt's money. Besides, what difference does it make where we buy our Liberty Bonds? They all support the same
war effort, don't they? Aren't we supposed to be thinking first of our boys over there?”

Mrs. Crawford's eyes narrowed. “I am writing the governor, letting the authorities know you conspire with the Germans and with the National Women's Party. Mark my words, Maggie Barnell. There are two sides to this war, and you'll be sorry you picked the wrong one!” With that, she turned and marched out the still-open door.

Mother watched her go. Then she sighed and turned back to the kitchen.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, following.

“Start supper,” she said.

“No, I mean about Mrs. Crawford. She thinks we are traitors!”

Mother looked me in the eyes. “Are we traitors, Pearl?”

“Of course not!”

“Then we have nothing to worry about.”

“But she's writing to the governor! And she has evidence. Everyone knows you told Josie she could campaign in here at lunchtime. And now you are helping the Schmidts?”

“Mrs. Gilbert,” she corrected. “And if I wasn't standing by the Schmidts, I really would be a traitor.”

“But—”

Mother held up a hand to stop me. “Pearl, listen to me. These are hard and confusing times. The best I can do is to be true to what I know is right. It's the best any of us can do.” She touched me over my heart. “What's right in here is more
important than what someone like Mrs. Crawford tells you is right. Try to remember that.”

I understood what she meant, but I knew that it wasn't practical advice. After all, the suffragists at the White House were doing what they believed in their hearts was right, and they had ended up in jail. I couldn't let that happen to my mother, so I slipped out the back door and went looking for George.

I found him relaxing on the front steps of the mercantile, and I asked him to take a walk with me. He agreed, taking my hand in his as we set off toward the creek. When we were out of sight from town, he pulled me to him and kissed me on the lips. I let him, reminding myself it was what I'd always wanted, even if his lips felt like they were smothering me and his breath smelled like onions.

To my relief, George pulled back for air and I was able to speak before he could trap my mouth again. I told him what had happened in the café that afternoon. He wasn't a bit surprised.

“Can you talk to your mother?” I asked him, after I had told him of her threat. “Ask her not to write to the governor about my mother?”

“But Pearl, you know it's all true. Your mother has invited Josie to spread sedition in the café, and she did conspire with Mrs. Schmidt.”

I remembered the day my mother went to talk to Mrs. Schmidt about the picnic, and I knew he was right. “But that was all harmless.”

“That's for the governor to decide.” He brought his lips close to mine for another kiss. “Don't worry, Pearl. I don't blame you.”

I pulled back. “Don't worry? How can I not worry when your mother is trying to get my mother arrested?”

He stared at me for a moment with a small smile at the corner of his mouth. Then he slid his hands around my waist and pulled me close, imprisoning me in his strong arms. “Maybe they will let your mother off easy, since your father wasn't here. She hasn't had much guidance this summer. And you're so sweet and naive, no one will blame you.”

“I'm not a child, George!” I said, annoyed.

He smiled a mischievous smile. “I know,” he said and pressed his lips to mine again. I jerked away, breaking his grasp and stepping out of his reach.

“What? Isn't this why you brought me here, out of sight from town?”

“I brought you here to talk, George! Your mother is trying to cause us trouble when my mother hasn't done anything wrong, and you know it! How can you think of kissing at a time like this!”

I ran back to town and into the café. I didn't look back to see if he followed, and he didn't try to stop me. I hoped he would see reason and come make up with me that evening, but he didn't. In fact, virtually no one came in for supper. I was certain Mrs. Crawford's threats were keeping everyone away. The next morning, however, the usual group of
old-timers was there, minus Josie. She didn't come in for lunch, either. A tiny spark of hope kindled in me. Perhaps Josie had heard of Mrs. Crawford's anger and had decided to go easy on us until things smoothed over. Mother suggested we take her breakfast when she didn't come the next day, but the old-timers insisted she was in a snit, and it was better to leave her alone.

When she still hadn't surfaced for breakfast for the third day in a row, it could no longer be ignored.

“It's not like Josie to stay away so long,” Russell said. “I reckon it's time we checked in on her.”

“Maybe Pearl could go over after we eat,” Mother said, coming out of the kitchen with our breakfast.

“I'll go with you,” Russell said.

I loafed over my breakfast, in no rush to visit Josie in broad daylight, but at last we had to go. Her house was closed up tight as always. Her boots sat outside the back door, but there was no sign of life from within.

“Her boots are here, so she must be home. Unless she's gone out barefoot,” Russell observed. He rapped gently on the door, but there was no answer.

“Russell, look,” I said, pointing to the boots. A spider had built a web across the opening of one of them, as if it had been sitting there undisturbed for a while. All the lines of Russell's face tightened and hardened with worry. He raised his hand, and this time when he rapped on the door, each knock was loud and crisp.

“Jo, are you in there?” he called. There was no answer.

“Josie?”

No answer.

Impatiently, he called louder. “Josephine Gilbert! Open this door!”

Still, there was no answer.

Russell took the doorknob and jerked the door open. Together we rushed inside.

The house was neat and tidy—the bed made, the dishes all washed and put away, the table wiped clean. Even the old printing press in the corner, which had been cluttered by stacks of leaflets when I had last been here, was tidy. The papers themselves were gone, and so too, apparently, was Josie. Just like the Silverheels of legend, she had disappeared without a trace, leaving only her tidy cabin and her shoes behind.

T
he news that Josie was gone did not really cause much of a stir back at the café. Perhaps if it had been winter and the weather posed a danger, or if there had been signs of feeblemindedness it would have been different. As it was, they all figured Josie could come and go as she pleased, which of course was true. And most of them really preferred the idea of her going to the idea of her coming, so there was no fuss there. The problem was, she had never gone before, not like this.

Mother, Russell, and I were the only ones who felt that we should look for her. We inquired with Mr. Orenbach, but he hadn't sold her a train ticket or seen her board a train. We inquired with Mr. Johnson at the livery, but Josie had not been there either. She had apparently left town on foot without the boots she always wore, but no one had seen her, or if they had, they'd paid no attention.

While no one else cared to look for her, everyone arrived at the café that evening to gossip and speculate about where she might have gone. Even the Crawfords came, all three of them looking smug. Mr. Crawford had the newspaper under
his arm, but for once he didn't bury himself in it. He seemed more interested in watching the festivities along with his wife. George hadn't spoken to me since I had left him by the creek. I feared everything was over between us, so I was surprised when he turned his radiant smile on me. Angry as I was, that smile still made my heart give a little hiccup.

“Maybe a dashing young gambler swept her off her feet and they ran away together,” Orv suggested, to a wave of approving laughter.

“Maybe she's gone off to enlist,” suggested Harry.

“There is the nurses' corps,” Russell said in all seriousness. “They do need women to sign on as nurses.”