The Staircase (4 page)

They were moving around the wagons of our caravan. They were hitching up the oxen and putting the packs on the mules.

Our caravan was leaving!

For a moment I could not think. Was it morning already? Who had screamed? I remembered then what Mother Magdalena had said about Santa Fe being different at night and that we shouldn't be afraid if we heard screams from the street.

Had my people made arrangements to leave before first light? That was it! They'd made arrangements after I fell asleep and had forgotten to tell me. Or would soon send the Mexican woman to wake me. I must dress!

I stood in the middle of the room in confusion and terror. Where were my traveling clothes? My hands fumbled as I lit a candle. Fd wake Elinora, but too bad. The candle gave scant light, but I could find my way around better. Where had I put my traveling dress yesterday? On that chair by the chifforobe. I turned to get it.

It was not there. Only the purple school uniform lay neatly over the back of the chair with my petticoats and shoes nearby. Very well, then I'd wear the calico Mrs. French had made for me. I whirled around, holding the candle. It, too, was nowhere in sight.

I ran again to the window. I could make out each of our party by the way they walked and held themselves. Mrs. French was holding the baby. The two Wade boys were being lifted into the family's wagon. And my daddy, tall, lanky, with one arm and that odd way he had of walking, as if to diminish his size, like an apology because he was always taller than everybody.

I ran then to the chifforobe and pulled at the door. My traveling dress would be inside. I must dress quickly. But the door would not open. I pulled and pulled at it, broke a nail, then banged. "Open, damn you!"

Elinora sat up in bed. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"They're leaving! Our caravan is leaving. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know."

"Liar! Stinking, prayer-lips liar!"

She got out of bed. "Lizzy, stop it."

"Get away from me; I've got to get dressed." I sat down and began to pull on my shoes, to button them up. I was still in my pantalets and chemise. Then I grabbed the purple school uniform from the chair and flung it over my head, grabbed my portmanteau and dragged it from the room.

"Lizzy, don't go like that. It's dark. You'll kill yourself."

"Not likely with all these damn candles in front of these saints in the walls," I sputtered as I went down the stairs. In the large foyer, I set down my portmanteau and ran to the immense grillwork door. I pulled on the handle.

It would not open. It was locked. Damn!

"Lizzy!" Elinora's frantic whisper Mowed me. "Hush, you'll wake everyone."

"I'll wake the dead if I have to." I struggled with the door, but it wouldn't budge. "Where do they keep the key?"

"I don't know."

"Stop lying to me, why don't you! I know you want me to stay here. Likely you fixed it with my father! Well, I'm not staying. Do you understand? Daddy!" I pounded on the door and pounded. "Daddy, I'm coming. I'm coming! Wait for me!"

If somebody would only stop that screaming,
I thought,
he could hear me. Who is that screaming out in the street, anyway?

And then, in the next instant, I knew. Great black wings came down as if from heaven and enveloped me. I smelled the mustiness of a nun's habit.

"Hush, you'll wake the whole house."

It had been me screaming. My throat was hoarse. I looked up into the stern face of Mother Magdalena.

"I want my father," I said. "Go outside and tell him I'm coming along directly. Please."

Her great blackbird arms held me close. She was all bosom and softness, and for a moment I thought,
Nobody has held me like this since Mama died.
And I near let her black wings carry me off. Then I caught myself and struggled. "No, no, you don't understand; they forgot to wake me. It's dark out there. My daddy thinks I'm in the wagon already. Go and tell him I'm not. Go and tell him he's forgotten me."

"He hasn't forgotten you, Lizzy. He has decided to leave you with us. He couldn't tell you himself. He thought this was the best way."

I knew it, of course. The knowing had been like a knife cutting into me for days now. I'd been bleeding for days from the knowing, and had refused to acknowledge it.

"Please, please, please," I sobbed. "Tell my daddy I have to go with him to Colorado. He needs me. Tell him I can't stay here."

"He needs you here, Lizzy," Mother Magdalena said. "He needs what's best for you."

"Please, just let me out to say good-bye then. Why didn't he even say good-bye?"

"I told you. He couldn't."

I sobbed. I begged. I, who had Cheyenne and Blackfoot in me, which was the part that never cried. I, who never begged for anything. Then all of a sudden I stopped. From outside came the shouts of "gee" and "haw" and "wo ho."

They were leaving.

"Noooo!" My scream was now as piercing as the one in the street before. Mother Magdalena held me while I struggled. Finally I managed to break free, and when I did, I went at Elinora. "I hate you!" I screamed. "You pious little buffalo chip!" I smacked her right in the face.

Such howling you never did hear, then. It was better than the poor soul who'd woken me from the street.

"No, no, that is no way to solve our problems," Mother Magdalena said severely. "Violence is no solution to anything."

"It is for me."

Elinora was sobbing, like she'd been scalped by a Comanche. And the sound of it did my soul good. Nuns came running from all directions then, it seemed, and helped Elinora off to bed. But before she went she turned at the foot of the stairway and aimed her words at me like arrows. "Why? Why would you want to go with a father who sneaks off without even saying good-bye? That's what I want to know!"

I slumped to the floor. Moonlight flooded in all around me. From outside came the last of the sounds of the caravan, the jingling of harnesses and creaking of wagon wheels. Then it was silent. Except for another piercing scream. But I knew from the way my throat felt now that the scream was not from the street outside but from me.

I WANTED TO STAY
in bed the next morning, but they wouldn't allow it. As soon as I opened my eyes I saw a nun bending over me with a candle, saying something about holy mass. I pulled the covers over my head. I hurt; my throat hurt from screaming, my head hurt from not enough sleep, and my heart ached from betrayal. To think that everyone in the caravan knew my father was going to leave me! How long had they
known? And Elinora! Of course, she'd known. Likely she'd talked him into it!

I hated her so much, it throbbed in my blood. Had everyone in the convent known, too? Oh, the hurtfulness of it! I was so shamed!

They made me get up. Elinora was dressed already, prattling on about singing at mass. Were they crazy? It was still dark. I stumbled, caught myself, and sat down again on the bed. The room was freezing with the night's chill, the fire in the grate low. Somehow I dressed and combed my hair and used the chamber pot. They were waiting for me in the hall.

By candlelight the statues in the wall crevices seemed to leer at me.
This is a convent,
they seemed to say.
You are here, whether you like it or not. A convent.

I felt nauseous. My head throbbed. Weren't they even going to have breakfast? I longed for a cup of tea. I allowed Elinora to lead me to their new chapel for mass. I did not know about mass. I'd never been to one. The church was small, and I don't know why they called it a cathedral. But with these Catholics, you never knew anything.

The girls who didn't board at the school were coming in from outside. Some with parents. There seemed to be an army of them, all in purple uniforms with blankets around them. They all looked the same.

The incense gave me a headache. The mumblings of the priest sounded like Indian chanting. All they needed were some drums. On the altar there were boys in dresses, kneeling, ringing bells, and once when one turned around, I caught him winking at me. Oh, the brass of him! I turned away as if to escape, but I was in between two nuns. The mustiness of their habits filled my nostrils. They made responses to the priest in Latin.

They pulled me up and down, to stand, to kneel, to sit, to stand again. Couldn't they make up their minds? All this yanking of me was making my nausea worse.
Serve them right if I throw up on them,
I thought.

I looked for Elinora. I'd rather throw up on her. But as soon as we'd come in, she had disappeared. Now I knew why. From behind me came singing, soft at first. It was in Latin and the sound was like that which came from behind stone walls, down the centuries. Then I heard Elinora's voice, clear, piercing, reaching impossible notes. I turned. She was standing out in front of the others, her mouth making round exaggerated movements. Well, so she could sing. She was still ugly. Her nose was too big and her spectacles made it look bigger.

Who cared if she could sing, anyway?

My head hurt, and I wanted to throw up and go back to bed and run out and grab Ben and follow Daddy, all at the same time.

Ben!

Where was Ben? The thought of him left me stunned, as though I'd run into a brick wall. Last night I'd been too dazed, and this morning too sick, to ask about him.

Was he here? With me? Or had my father taken him? I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to remember what I'd seen out the window in the middle of the night. Had Ben been tethered to the back of our wagon? I couldn't remember!

The nun jerked me to my feet. I stood as if in a trance, the candles and their reflections in the large gold cross on the altar blinding my eyes.
I must get out of here. I must find Ben.
If he wasn't here, I would die!

What kind of a person was I that I hadn't even given a thought to Ben until now? Suppose he needed me?

I started to move, but I was blocked in by nuns. "I'm going to be sick," I said.

The nun on my right took me out into the aisle then, stood with me next to her and knelt on one knee. They were always kneeling on one knee.
Genuflecting,
they called it. Then she turned and brought me out the side door and into the vestibule, where she turned me over to a servant. "Ramona, show her the privy."

The woman led me outside. Light was just streaking the east, and I could scarce see the outline of the outbuildings, like a child's charcoal drawing. "Where's the barn?" I asked.

She shrugged.

"I need to find my horse. Horse," I said again. And I neighed.

"Ah." She nodded. "
Caballo.
"

"Yes.
Caballo.
"

She pointed to the largest building, patted me, and said, "
Bonita, muchachita.
" And I ran.

Servants were cleaning out the stalls, feeding the horses. There were several, and I ran through the center of the barn, dodging piles of manure and hay.

"Ben, Ben!" I called.

Oh, if he wasn't here I would die! I wouldn't stay another minute! But he was. I heard him neigh before I saw him. He was in the last stall, and I flung my arms around his neck and hung on for dear life. "Oh, Ben, Ben, I am so happy to see you! Ben, I'm sorry I didn't see you to bed last night. I didn't even think of you until just before! Oh, Ben, I don't deserve you. But if you weren't here I would just wither away."

I hugged him. I drank in the familiar scent of him, the smell of horse and all it meant to me. Rides at home in the
fields outside the town limits of Independence. Rides with Uncle William when he was home. Rides with Daddy. And all the time I spent with Ben on the Trail. All the special treats Mama had given him. How she taught me to weave ribbons into his mane.

I wept, holding him. I wept for my past, which was all gone, irretrievable. And Ben understood. He nuzzled me, comforted me.
I'll still be with you.
I know that's what he was saying.
Maybe everybody else abandoned you, but I am here.

"I'll feed you," I said. And I found some oats and held the bag while he nibbled away. Then I gave him some water. All the time, a plan was forming in my mind. While he was drinking I looked around and saw his blanket, saddle, and bridle. When he was finished I dressed him for a ride.

He got anxious with just the touch of the blanket on his flanks, knowing we were going to be off. In no time at all we were ready, and I led him out of the barn as if it was the most natural thing in the world, smiling at the Mexican servants.

Outside, there was still a morning star in the sky when I mounted him. I knew where the gate was to the street and saw that it was open. A delivery wagon was just leaving. I could still hear singing from the cathedral as I walked him through the garden, past the fountain, and down the path to the gate. Then a figure came out of the shadows, and I prepared to make a run for it. But it was Ramona.

"Is it right to the Santa Fe Trail?" I asked.

"
El camino,
" she said. And she pointed left.

Funny, I thought it was right. Well, I was confused last night.

She was holding something out to me. "
Pan de man.
"

I knew what that meant—corn bread—because I smelled it. Still warm from the oven. And what else? She held out a
small canteen. Coffee! Oh, the fragrance. I slipped off Ben and thanked her, hugged her. "Ramona, you're my friend," I said.

She nodded. Then she became agitated. "
Una madre,
" she said.

Madre?
I knew that meant "mother." Was she saying she was sorry about my mother? No, she was pointing left, up to the hill at the end of town. "
Una madre,
" she said again. Then she clasped her hands together and cast her eyes to heaven as if begging. "
Una madre
" She was entreating me to do something. Pointing me in the direction. Someone she knew was in danger. I nodded, mounted Ben, and patted her arm.

It wasn't enough. She stood in front of Ben, took his bridle gently, and led us through the gate, then pointed again up the street. I looked past row upon row of low adobe houses, with candles just now flickering in the windows, up to the mountains at the end of the street to what looked like a crumbling barricade. She wanted me to go there and fetch someone.