The Staircase (21 page)

At the end of mass the Bishop made his announcement. He told the people that his carpenter, the one he had originally hired, would recommence the stairway that very morning, right after Mrs. Lacey's funeral. Then he said he wanted no more "demonstrations of faith, fasting, starving, or argument."

For a moment he let his gaze sweep over the congregation. "I wish no one to feel that because Saint Joseph did not come to us this week as many believed he would, God has abandoned us," he said. "I owe Him a special thanks this morning for the safety of two of our girls, who were attacked in their room last evening. The attacker has been taken in hand by magistrates and, as we speak, sits in our town jail. So, even as we bury our dear friend and benefactor, Mrs. Lacey, let us turn now to thoughts of readying our hearts for Christmas."

Mrs. Lacey was buried after mass, with all the fanfare and
solemnity of the Catholic Church. We bundled up against the cold, and Mrs. Lacey's coffin was carried on a wagon through the main street of town, through the noisy clatter of the marketplace. By the time we wound up on top of the frozen hill, on the path she and I had taken so many times together, we had a trail of people behind us. People who'd known her and wanted to be part of the burial ceremony.

They put her in the ground on the hill at Fort Marcy, next to her beloved Robert, where she'd insisted on being buried.

The day was cold, and clouds hovered close. The disreputable fort building seemed to be the only thing to hold up the sky on that plateau. It looked as if it might snow any minute.

The grave had been dug and Robert's candle was lit in the lantern. Bishop Lamy himself said the final prayers, while the wind moaned its own dirge. Some of the girls from school looked around nervously at the remnants of the fort. I could tell they felt menaced, as I had the first day I'd seen it. As for me, I looked around and knew, without seeing, that we were all being watched. That after we left the place, people would come out from where they were hidden and go to the grave and smooth the dirt and grieve for Mrs. Lacey.

What people, I could not say. Real or not was not the question. They would be here, not only today but in all the days to come. And that was all that mattered.

As we started down the hill afterward, the Bishop himself came to walk beside me. "Lizzy Enders," he said, "I understand the Virgin herself came to your aid last night."

I found myself blushing. "It was the first thing I grabbed," I said.

"I'm sure she was very happy to be of assistance to you.
God helps those who help themselves, you know. And perhaps that is how we should look at José. Perhaps Saint Joseph sent him. And we need only to let him help us."

"I don't think the girls will accept that, Eminence."

"Likely not. There are miracles all around us that we never see. Every day. How is the kitten?" His eyes smiled down at me.

"She's doing middling well, Eminence."

"Good. I am sure you will give her all the love she needs. Let me thank you properly now for coming to my grandniece's aid. Your courage has shown us all a thing or two about having our hearts in the right places. I am afraid that we Catholics must admit this morning that we do not have the corner on forgiveness."

With that, he put a hand briefly on my shoulder, then quickened his pace to help Elinora maneuver her way back down the hill. As a result of last evening's attack, her forehead sported a purple-and-green lump. And her arm was in a sling. As I watched him tenderly guiding her down the path, I could see how he loved her. And I thought, maybe for the hundredth time,
I love you, Uncle William, but I'd give anything if the Bishop were my uncle.

I knew I should have told the Bishop that what I'd done was done for baby Elena, not for Elinora. But we Methodists do not have the corner on the need for praise.

BY THE TIME
we got back to school, it was near noon and there was a meal in honor of Mrs. Lacey. But it was not solemn, and we were allowed to freely talk at the table. Of a sudden, all the girls wanted to gather around me and Elinora, and we found ourselves thrust together to tell of the adventure last evening.

They wanted to hear about Ramon and the attack. And how I'd hit him with the statue of the Blessed Virgin. Elinora and I found ourselves in places of honor at the table, again thrust together, all animosities forgotten.

I was one of them once more. Forgiven for all my transgressions.

"Lizzy saved my life," Elinora said dramatically. "If not for her, I'd be lying in a coffin next to Mrs. Lacey this day." Only Elinora could deliver such a speech, with such flair, when her arm was in a sling.

Elinora was saying more nice things about me. "I owe you much," she finished.

"You don't owe me anything," I said. "I hate that man. He wants baby Elena. I did it for her."

I caught a glimpse of recognition and appreciation in Elinora's eyes for my lie. "Well, on your way to defending baby Elena, you saved my life. So, please accept my thanks, and let's start over again with our friendship."

We've never had a friendship,
I thought. But what could I do? I said yes, and everybody clapped.

MOTHER MAGDALENA CAME
into the dining room before we finished our meal, to make an announcement. "Girls," she said, "as much as I dislike doing this, after conferring with the Bishop, we have decided it best, after last night's attack, to find a home for little Elena. We must find a place outside Santa Fe, away from the father who is a criminal. The Bishop does not wish to endanger you all by risking another attack."

"But, Mother," Elinora said, "Ramon Baca is in prison."

"Such men have influence. The man will not long languish in prison," Mother Magdalena said. "So if any of you know of
a good family outside Santa Fe, please come to see me in my office. Even if the family is willing to take Elena only for a while, until we can find a permanent home for her."

A pall settled over the table when she left.

After breakfast Elinora came up to me in the hall. "Lizzy, you must learn to accept a compliment," she said. "You are as bristly as a porcupine."

"I haven't had too many friends around here to accept them from," I told her. "In case you haven't noticed."

"I know. We haven't gotten on. I've been beastly to you, haven't I?"

"You blinded my cat."

She stared at me. "I
never,
though I suffered a switching for it. And never did I see my uncle so angry. Not even when he found out about the note from Abeyta. That man gives no quarter to anyone he even suspects of mistreating God's creatures."

"You did, Elinora. Don't deny it."

"Something must have happened to her eyes in the street. Anyway, your cat isn't blind, Lizzy. Didn't you see how she was chasing after the curtains in the room last night?"

"No. How could she see the curtains to chase them?"

"She was," Elinora insisted. "And if you will come with me now, I'll prove to you that she isn't blind."

She was up to something, but I followed her upstairs to our room. Cleo was still nestled in my bed, sleeping. Elinora went to her side of the room, opened a drawer, and pulled out a ball of yarn. "Watch this," she said. Then she unwound the yarn and waved it over Cleo's face.

At once Cleo raised a delicate paw and aimed for the end
of the yarn. Not only that, she followed its progress back and forth with her eyes, which seemed bright and alert again.

"I don't believe it! "I gasped.

"What made you think she was blind?" Elinora asked innocently.

"Blood ran from her eyes that day."

"Lizzy, I admit what I did—throwing her out the window—was mean. But don't forget, you'd just run to Mother Magdalena with a note meant for me. I had to do something."

I picked up Cleo and hugged her. "Take it out on me, then, not on an innocent cat. Anyway, Sister Roberta said she was blind."

"Well, she isn't right about everything." Elinora sat on the bed, next to me. "You must let me make up to you all the bad things I've done, Lizzy. Please, think of something. When my uncle finds out the cat isn't really blind, he'll feel terrible for switching me. And right now he's so happy I wasn't killed last night, he's forgiven me for everything, anyway. Now is the time to ask for anything you want. I can get it for you."

I stared at her. "Elinora, you shouldn't use people so," I said.

She tossed back her hair and gave me a knowing glance. "Oh, but grown-ups do it all the time. It's the way of things, Lizzy. You're still such an innocent. It's time you grew up, isn't it?"

I did not wish to grow up if it meant being like that. But I just shrugged and nodded yes. "Look at this room. It's a mess. We should get to cleaning it," I said, to give the conversation a new turn.

In truth, I was so happy about Cleo that I no longer felt
any anger toward Elinora. So we set ourselves to the task. "Are you still running away with Abeyta?" I asked her while we were cleaning up.

"I want to." She sighed. "I know it seems to you as if I'm frivolous, Lizzy, but Abeyta does love me. And I never wanted to be in this place to begin with. You complain about your father, but do you know why mine sent me here?"

"Because your uncle is the Bishop."

"No. To get shut of me. Because he wants to marry a young woman back in St. Louis, and she doesn't want me around. He hasn't written to me since I've been here. Likely he's married to her already."

I said nothing for a moment. For the first time since I knew her, I felt as if she was telling the truth.

"At least your father has written to you," she said.

"I may go and live with him in Texas," I told her. I couldn't help it. For once I knew I had something she didn't have, and I just could not help it. I told her about the ranch.

"I'd give an arm to live on such a place," she said wistfully.

"My father already has," I told her.

"Oh, forgive me, Lizzy, do. Oh, you must think me terrible."

"Yes. But not for that," I told her. And then we both sat down on the floor and laughed, Cleo between us.

In the silence that followed, she picked up a piece of the Virgin Mary from the floor and held it in her hands. "I was thinking of asking Abeyta's family for help in finding a home for Elena," she said. "They have much influence in this whole territory. What do you think?"

When what I thought came to me, I could scarce speak.
But then I did. "Elinora, I think that if you wish to make up to me for my cat and for other things, I have thought of something," I said.

"
A BABY IS NOT
a kitten." The Bishop frowned at us severely, standing behind his desk. I was sorry already that Elinora had allowed me to be dragged into this. I did not have the mettle to go up against that frown, the sternness in those eyes. But apparently Elinora did.

"Uncle," she said sweetly, "before we discuss the baby, there is something else we must tell you."

"There is no discussion. You are both dismissed." He sat down and turned his attention to the work on his desk.

I curtsied and started to leave, but Elinora grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. "Lizzy has something to tell you about the kitten." And she dug her nails into my arm until I thought it might well be bleeding, even through my long-sleeved blouse.

He did not look up. "I said you are both dismissed. Don't bring me to anger, Elinora."

The nails dug into my arm harder.

"Eminence," I said. "We have discovered that the kitten is not blind after all. She sees things. She chases them. We thought you'd wish to know."

He looked up. His eyes focused on me in a most disconcerting way.
If you are lying,
they said.
Just let me find out you are lying.

"Uncle, if you will just permit Lizzy to fetch her from our room, we can prove it. You will see."

He nodded curtly at me. "We will see," he said.

I ran as quickly as I could, and when I returned, breathless, with Cleo in my hands, Elinora was still standing in front of his desk and he was ignoring her, tending to his work. She had removed a ribbon from her thick yellow hair. "Watch, Uncle," she said.

He stood up and came around from his desk as I set Cleo down on the Persian carpet. Then Elinora dangled the ribbon in front of her. Immediately Cleo reached up a delicate paw and tried for it.

"You see, Uncle? I told you."

The Bishop knelt down to pick up Cleo. He held her in his hands and peered into her eyes, then scratched around her ears and set her down. The mother cat had come from her corner to greet her. The Bishop stood up, scratched his chin, and watched Cleo follow her mother across the room. "You are right," he said.

"We just had to tell you," Elinora said sweetly, "because I know how badly you felt because you thought I had blinded her."

He caught himself, frowned again, and went back to sit down. "You mistreated her anyway, Elinora. Only God can forgive that."

"Yes, Uncle," she said sweetly, "but I was punished."

He closed his eyes for a minute, as if praying for strength. Then he sighed. "Very well, Elinora," he said. "You have five minutes."

She plunged right in. "Lizzy's father is getting a job as foreman on one of the biggest ranches in the Southwest. In Texas. Lizzy will someday soon, with your permission, go and live with him. He has asked her. If she could bring the baby there, the child would grow up in an atmosphere of health and
love. If she's left anywhere here in New Mexico, Ramon Baca will find her."

He looked at me. "What ranch is this, Lizzy?"

"Santa Gertrudis Ranch, Eminence. The last he wrote, he was likely to get the job running it, like he ran his plantation before the war."

He nodded. "I know Mr. King, who owns the ranch. I was a guest there once."

At Elinora's exclamation of joy, he held up a hand. "This child is under my jurisdiction," he cautioned us. "I will not even consider the matter until I write to Mr. King and to your father, Lizzy, and find out if this plan is agreeable to them. Do you understand?"

We both said yes. Meekly.

"But letters take so long with the mail service," Elinora said. "Perhaps, Uncle, my friend Abeyta can use his father's influence to get a letter immediately to the ranch."