True Sisters (16 page)

“England.”

“I figured as much, you being with us on the ship that left from Liverpool. Where in England?”

“Brighton.”

Jessie smiled, because she had heard that Brighton was an enchanted place, and she had hoped to visit the seaside resort one day. “It must have been a pleasure to grow up there. Did you see the queen?”

Emeline shook her head.

“What did your father do? Did he work at the Pavilion?”

“I couldn’t say.”

Jessie found it strange that the girl didn’t know her own father’s occupation, but she did not pursue it, and instead, she asked, “Do you wish to be back there?” She knew the girl must feel hard put, trading the view of the sea for one of the prairie.

Emeline did not answer at first. Then she said carefully, “I wish to be here, with Mama and Papa.”

“Of course you do. But what’s done cannot be undone.”

“I am better here than at home.”

“You must be strong in the faith.”

“I am, although I’m not knowing why God took them. He should have took me instead. They were the best people that ever lived, better ’n me. No, I’m not knowing.”

“Nor am I knowing why Ephraim’s arm was smashed.” Jessie was sorry she had spoken, because a broken arm could not compare with the death of two souls. Then she reflected on what the girl had said and thought it odd that Emeline would find herself a poorer person than her parents. Perhaps that idea came from an earlier church she had attended, one that preached that children were born in sin. Those religions were so different from this new Mormon faith.

Emeline took her hands off the back of the cart for a moment and flexed them before she began pushing again. The girl’s hands were tough, the nails broken. The blisters that had formed at the beginning of the trek had turned to calluses. The cart slowed when the girl stopped, and Jessie realized then how strong Emeline was, surprising strong for such a little thing.

“What will you do when you reach Zion? Have you thought about it?” Jessie asked, anxious to keep a conversation going, because it would take her mind off the endless miles of prairie ahead of them.

“Sister Maud says I might stay with her. She believes she’ll earn her keep by doctoring when she reaches the valley. Already, I helped her birth a baby, although I had some knowing about it, because Marianna—” She stopped and added quickly, “Sister Maud showed me how to care for Brother Ephraim’s arm, too, how to wrap it with herbs and the splint.”

“He is grateful to you. You make things easier for him.” When Emeline didn’t reply, Jessie added, “It’s not a bad thing to know—herbs.”

“Sister Maud says herbs can heal fevers and the cancer, too.”

“You would be a help to her. And it would be a good thing to have that knowing, for I think there aren’t many doctors in Zion. Still, you must long for a family—parents, brothers and sisters. I know I would if I lost my brothers. Perhaps you will find someone to take you in.”

Emeline turned and looked at Jessie curiously. “I’ve already had me a family, and look what happened. Besides, I’m near fourteen years. I’m a woman and old enough to start my own family.”

“You would marry at that age?”

“Such is the fact of it.”

Jessie turned to stare at the girl. She was nearly twice Emeline’s age and not married, nor likely to be for some time, because she intended to set up housekeeping with her brothers. It was a strange thing that someone so much younger was thinking of marriage. “Do you have a husband in mind?” she asked.

Emeline did not know that Jessie spoke in jest and she pursed her lips together while she thought. “No to that. Brother Prime would have had me just for my handcart, and he’s told me he fancies me even if I went to him as poor as a pauper.”

Now Jessie let go of the cart as she turned to stare at Emeline. “Would you have him?”

“No. He is evil.”

Jessie wondered about the girl, who was too young to understand about evil in men. “Why do you say that?”

“I know about such things. He watches me. He did before Mama and Papa died. Sometimes he tries to take my hand. There are men who like girls, like them younger than me, like them barely more than babies.”

“How do you know about that?”

Emeline did not answer, but instead, she eyed the wheel, which had bounced off a rock. But after examining it, she announced that it was sound.

Jessie knew she should not pry, but she was curious about the girl. “You are very wise for one your age. And very worldly, I should think.”

Emeline did not reply.

“Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You’ve seen wickedness.”

“Yes.”

The girl did not seem to want to talk about it, so Jessie was silent for a time. Then because she enjoyed chatting with Emeline, she asked, “How did you come to join the church?”

“Mama and Papa were already Mormons.”

“Already. What do you mean,
already
?”

“I misspoke,” Emeline said, not looking up at Jessie.

“Are you saying they were not your true parents?”

Emeline didn’t answer for a long time. She let go of the cart and arched her back to get out the kinks. Then she stood in the road, hands rubbing her lower back, as she looked at the line of handcarts before her. She watched as the Cooper handcart rolled along ahead of her, Jessie and Sutter propelling it farther and farther away. After a time, she hastened forward to help with the pushing again. “My back’s near breaking sometimes.”

“Walk awhile. I can push for both of us,” Jessie told her.

“Wouldn’t be right.” She joined Jessie behind the cart.

“The land’s dry here. We’re out of the sand. You can push later, while I walk.”

But Emeline would not be dissuaded from her duty and shook her head.

“I intruded. I ask you to forgive it,” Jessie said, anxious to mend the rift she had caused.

Emeline sighed and said, “It’s known among some of the Saints, the ones from Brighton. I told Sister Maud myself, and Brother Ephraim, too. I wouldn’t want him to hear the gossip and not know the truth. I thought they’d told you. Maybe I should have myself, so’s you know what kind of person you taken in.”

Jessie turned and looked at Emeline curiously. “Told me what?”

“The Grays aren’t my parents at all. I was a stray.”

“A foundling?”

“No.”

“An orphan?”

“You could say it.”

Jessie put her rough hand over the girl’s and said, “I’m so sorry. You’ve lost two sets of parents. How did the real ones die?”

“I couldn’t say for sure.”

“
When
did they die, then?”

Emeline shrugged.

Jessie did not want to bring the girl fresh grief by pressing her, so she asked, “How did you meet the Grays?”

“The missionary. He took me to them.”

“Then you had already been converted.”

“I heard him on the street corner. Oh, there was plenty that made fun of him, whistled and clapped and hooted when he spoke. One as said he ought to be boiled in oil for talking about the Lord the way he did, and boys threw stones at him.”

“I’ve heard of such things,” Jessie said. “Was he discouraged?”

“Not him. It didn’t bother him at all. He said the Lord would avenge him one day. I like that word,
avenge.
”

Jessie did not. She thought the Saints talked too much about vengeance, but she said nothing. “Go on,” she said, encouraging Emeline.

“The missionary invited folks to attend a meeting, and as I was free, I followed along. Only a few people went, and I sat on the floor behind a chair so’s not to be noticed. But he knew I was there, and he said, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me.’ I remember those words, although I wasn’t a little child—I’d never been a little child—and I didn’t think he meant me. He made me go to the front of the room and told everybody I had an old soul.”

“An old soul. What did he mean by that?”

Emeline shrugged. “He asked me to come back the next day, but I couldn’t. I didn’t go back for more than a week, but he remembered me, and he said God forgave all my sins, and I had a plenty of them. He told me Jesus loved me, just as He loved Mary Magdalene. He said she’s in the Bible, although I can’t say where, for I can’t read. She’s one of the saints, I expect. Are you acquainted with her?”

“Of course,” Jessie murmured, understanding now about Emeline. She looked into the girl’s eyes, thinking they were old, too.

“The missionary, he said he was about to leave Brighton that morning I first heard him, but the Lord told him to stay on because there was somebody needed to be saved.”

“And that was you,” Jessie said.

“I suppose so. I surely did need to get away, not that I knew where to go. You see, I hadn’t any folks since I was six and was sent out to work on the streets. Like I said, there’s men that likes the girls young.”

“You were on your own?”

“Oh no. I lived with Twiss. He’s the man that bought me of my folks. He’s the one sent me out to work. I had to give him what I earned, but he made sure I had something to eat and a place to sleep.”

“And then the missionary came along,” Jessie said, anxious for Emeline to continue.

“He stayed in Brighton, even when I didn’t go back for a long time. When I did, he told me again that God loved me, but I didn’t believe it, because nobody ever loved me before, not in that way.”

Jessie did not look at the girl, because she did not want Emeline to see how she pitied her. Tears formed in her eyes, and she brushed them away with her sleeve.

Emeline did not notice. She was still for a moment before continuing her story. “I started going to that meeting when I could, until finally, Twiss followed me one night and went right there in the meeting room and grabbed me and said I had to leave terrible quick, and if I ever went back, he’d beat me till I couldn’t stand up. He would have, too.”

“What did the Saints do when he said that?” Jessie asked.

“They were scared, but not the missionary. He said, ‘The devil goeth about like a roaring lion,’ and told Twiss he was the devil and to take his hands off me or he’d be the one to get the beating. Twiss said I’d better leave with him if I knew what was good for me, but I didn’t. I know he’d knock me around for sure when he caught me. He beat me bad, like he did Marianna when she wanted to stay in the room to care for her baby. Still, I just couldn’t leave.”

“He beat you? What a foul man!” Jessie was incensed.

Emeline pushed up her sleeve to show a scar and told Jessie, “It’s worse on my back. He wanted me to steal for him, to pick the pockets of the men I was with, but I wouldn’t. So he took a hot poker to me.”

“And your parents—your real parents—what did they do?”

“I never saw them again, not after they sold me. Twiss said my mother died of a disease and my father got drunk and drowned in a gutter, but he was a terrible liar.”

Jessie was so caught up in the story that she had forgotten to push. Now she saw that Emeline was straining behind the cart, which was stuck in a mud hole, and she put her shoulder to the back of the vehicle and pushed with all her might. When the cart was free, she asked, “Did you stay at that meeting or go?”

“I stayed. I was baptized in the church. Then the missionary took me to the Grays and told them I needed a place to live. They were as poor as me, but they took me in. They hadn’t any children, so I was to be their daughter. Even though they knew all about me, they treated me like I was a solid-gold necklace and told me to call them Mama and Papa.”

“The Lord must love you indeed to bring that missionary to you.”

“He said I was sick in body and soul, and I rightly believe he saved my life. I’d be dead in the ground by now without Brother Thales.”

“Brother Thales? He converted you? He saved you?” Jessie turned to Emeline, a puzzled look on her face. “Brother Thales Tanner?”

“The same.”

*   *   *

Being harnessed to the cart like the oxen that pull the wagons is humiliating, Anne thought as she and Joe pushed the crosspiece. The straining had brought on cramps like labor pains, and Anne wished that John had not gone off like that. At first, she had pleaded with him to stay with her that day, and he had asked if the baby was coming. But she couldn’t truthfully say it was, so John had joined the group of men in search of meat or fowl to add to their stores—an antelope, if they were lucky, or a bird. Some even said that rattlesnakes were tasty, but Anne would eat her shoe first.

Besides, John was going hunting for her sake. A cup of broth—she’d pretend it was beef tea—would help restore her strength, he’d said, and they’d all longed for something to vary their diet. So she couldn’t in good conscience hold him back, especially since John had been such an attentive husband in all other ways, saying that he and Joe, who was five now, could manage the cart so that she could walk. He even insisted that she ride on top of the vehicle when her ankles were swollen to the size of apples. John had pulled the vehicle the entire trip, but that morning, he’d asked if she and Joe could manage without him. And Joe had swelled with pride at his father’s faith in his strength, so Anne could not very well have continued to object. She had to admit, she’d felt fine that morning. The prairie path was hard, so the going would be easier than pulling through sand or mud. The cart would just roll along. Besides, John promised to return in a few hours. Even if fatigue caused her to stop, she was assured that John would find her when he returned from hunting and take the cart the rest of the way. So Anne had given in and told him to go. She’d even kissed his cheek and said she’d have a fire waiting for him, with a kettle filled with water. It did not occur to her that John would fail to find something for their supper. He always accomplished anything he set out to do.

But straining against the crosspiece as she did, Anne was sorry now that he had gone. With the scant rations that the Saints had to endure, she’d grown weak, weaker than John and Joe, since the baby inside was nourished before she was. From time to time, she stopped to rub her tortured back or to hold her distended belly. Her ankles had swollen so much that morning that she’d had to take off her shoes and put them into the cart. Now she stopped to remove a thorn from her foot, easing it out. She had gone barefoot so often that her feet were tough, and the injured foot did not bleed, a blessing of sorts, Anne thought. Perhaps the baby would come while they were at Fort Laramie. That would be good fortune, since there would be a doctor at the fort and a bed—not a very good bed, maybe a cot with a dirty blanket or an animal skin on it, but it would be a bed nonetheless and a better place to lie down than on the ground. She did so want that baby to be born safely. She couldn’t bear to lose it as she had Emma Lee.