Charity (15 page)

Alvinia stopped to breathe. “Now, do you suppose Gustie thought Mrs. Moody should have invited them to stay
in her house
? Mess up her nice linens and everything? Gustie being from the East and all wouldn’t know how things are here. Can you imagine her saying to Edna Moody, ‘I’m sure there is...’ just like that? And in front of a waiting room full of people? A kinder, better, more charitable woman than Edna Moody does not exist in Stone County.”

Lena nodded her agreement.

Alvinia continued, “I’m sure that Gustie didn’t mean to hurt Edna’s feelings or stir up a hornet’s nest.”

“No, I’ve never known her to hurt anyone’s feelings. She’s always a real tactful person.”

“Things are probably a lot different where she comes from.”

“Gustie has her own ways, that’s for sure.”

The two women shared a silent moment trying to fathom Gustie’s strange behavior.

Alvinia suddenly thought of something else. “And another thing. Gustie’s all bandaged up.”

Lena had been studying her floor. Now her attention snapped back to Alvinia. “What do you mean ‘all bandaged up’?”

“Well, Severn said...and Betty noticed it too...Gustie has bandages on both wrists and he thought she had some across her chest, too, because he saw bandages like, right around her neck, so thick she couldn’t button the top two buttons on her blouse. And when the Doc asked if she was all right and should he look at it for her, she said no, it was taken care of. Well, what do you make of it?”

“I have no idea. I guess if she’s up and around and able to drive her wagon, she’s not in too rough a shape. I don’t know.”

“Anyway, I wanted you to hear it from me, the way it was. My chicks just told me what they saw.”

“Thanks, Alvinia. You’re a brick.”

“We just got some groceries. Do you need anything? I’ve got a wagon full out here.”

“Oh, no, we’re fine.”

Eldon had wandered across the kitchen and was reaching up for the fresh-baked bread on the counter. “Eldon, leave that alone, you’re not at home now. You’d think these chickens never got fed.”

“Oh, here. He can have some bread and butter.” Lena jumped up to cut off a slice. “You want a little sugar on it?” She sprinkled the buttered bread with sugar and handed it to him. “Mmmm. That’s good isn’t it?”

Eldon looked up at her with a shy smile forming around his mouthful of bread.

“His eyes are the size of saucers. My, but you’ll be a heart-breaker one day, won’t you? Yes, you will...” Lena chucked him under the chin. The little boy giggled and ran back to his mother.

“Do you want to take some cookies with you?”

“No, thank you. No need to turn this little chicken into a pig.” Alvinia took a small square of cloth out of her pocket, stuck the end of it in her mouth and with the moistened tip, wiped sugar and butter off Eldon’s cheek. He pulled away and buried his head in her lap again.

“You have a beautiful family, Alvinia. Everyone says so.”

“It’s time we’re getting back. Alice is home alone with Vernon and Kirstin and they can be a handful. I don’t like to leave them too long.”

“Come again, Alvinia. You’re always welcome. Bring the baby. I’ll bet she’s getting big.”

Alvinia promised to bring her entire brood by and was gone.

As Lena washed the two cups and Eldon’s glass she wondered if maybe it wasn’t better if Alvinia didn’t bring the children with her, because their leaving was like a lamp being blown out. But for once she was lifted out of the mire of her own longings by worry about her friend. She said out loud, “What’s got into Gustie?”

Gustie grabbed the pitchfork and tried to work off the anger she still felt from last night.

As they had driven out of Charity, Gustie hated every white face she saw. She was so angry she wanted to take the horse whip that extended like a skinny flagpole from the corner of her wagon, a whip she had never used, and whip them all till their backs ran blood and were as scar ridden as Jordis’s. She hated the whiteness of her own hands gripping the reins. Her bandaged wrists throbbed with pain.

Wasichu
. What did it mean? It didn’t mean white, Jordis had said. What did it mean? More like devil... Where had she heard that?

No one had said a word as they left Doc Moody’s clinic, as they climbed into their wagons, or during the three miles to Gustie’s house. Only the clopping of horses’ hooves intruded upon the sighing of the prairie. She wondered whose horse and wagon Dorcas and Jordis had borrowed. Jordis seemed incomplete without Moon.

“Here we are,” Gustie said unnecessarily as she stopped her wagon in front of her house.

Jordis took care of the horses. Gustie led Dorcas inside to start supper.

“Your wrists hurt.” Dorcas said as she sat in the chair Gustie pulled out for her.

“Yes, a little.”

“Been taking care of them the way I told you?”

Gustie felt three years old caught in a misdemeanor.

“Come here.”

Gustie obeyed.

Dorcas unwound the bandage on Gustie’s left wrist. The flesh was still shocking in its appearance. It looked like butchered meat, not human flesh, where it had been gouged, but it no longer bled and was not infected. Dorcas examined it critically. “Not too bad.” Before Gustie could reply, she added, “Not good either. Where is the salve I made for you?”

Gustie got the jar from the shelf above the sink and a bag full of strips of cloth Dorcas had told her to prepare ahead of time so she would always have fresh bandages ready. At least she had done that much.

Dorcas reapplied salve and fresh wrappings to both of Gustie’s wrists while Gustie, arms extended, stood like an obedient, recently chastened child.

Dorcas looked up at her when she finished and tapped her own chest as she said, “And this?”

“I’ll do it tonight before I go to bed.”

“Good.”

Gustie cut up potatoes and carrots into small pieces so they would cook quickly and put them on to boil. She unwrapped a large smoked bullhead that Will had given her. He’d gotten it from a farmer, but Lena adamantly refused to eat anything that didn’t have scales on it. She said it was in the Bible—things without scales were unclean. Gustie was glad she had it now. She set the table with bread, butter, salt, and placed the sugar bowl in front of Dorcas.

Jordis was inside by the time everything was ready and they sat down to eat.

Dorcas looked around amiably. “You have a nice house.”

“Thank you. It isn’t mine, really. They let me live here until a homesteader shows up to cultivate the land.”

“Sort of like a reservation.” Dorcas laughed. So did Jordis.

Gustie felt uncomfortable. Finally, she said, “I’m sorry about what happened back there.”

“Not your fault.” Dorcas dismissed the incident and they fell into silence.

Gustie wished she could read Jordis, but she could not. Jordis’s face showed nothing and she said nothing.

When they were finished eating, Gustie washed the dishes with more bustle than usual.

“I’ll fix the beds.” Gustie said. “You two can have the big bed, and there is a trundle bed I’ve never had occasion to use. I’ll roll that out here—”

Jordis interrupted her, “That is not necessary. We will sleep in the barn.”

“What?” For the second time in just a few hours Gustie was flabbergasted.

“Thank you for supper, Gustie,” Jordis added as she and Dorcas rose to leave.

“If you were going to sleep in a bloody barn why not save yourself the trip out here?”

“To have supper with you.” Dorcas grinned as they walked out the door.

Gustie was dumbstruck and furious—at her friends, at Charity, at all people everywhere whose actions were inexplicable to her. She went into her bedroom and pulled off her clothes and threw them into a corner, not changing the bandage on her chest as she had promised Dorcas she would. Sitting on the edge of her bed in her nightgown, she hit the mattress with her fist, “Damn!” What kind of a place had she come to? In its way, it was as bad as the place she had left. Maybe she understood why her friends would not sleep in her house, but she would not accept it. Suddenly she rose and tore the bedding off her bed, wadded it into a bundle, and carried it to the barn. The lantern still burned softly. Jordis was arranging her own blanket when Gustie entered. Dorcas, wrapped snugly in her blanket already, was lying with her face to the outside wall of Biddie’s stall.

Without a word, Gustie found a place to complete the circle of three women and stamped around on the straw to flatten it. She spread her bedding out on the straw. There were still lumpy places and she slapped them down with the flat of her hand. She roughly pulled a blanket over her and closed her eyes. Jordis blew out the lantern. Dorcas’s eyes shone in the darkness.

When Gustie awoke, it was daylight. Dorcas and Jordis had gone without waking her. She supposed it would be of no use to follow them. She put on her working clothes, tethered Biddie outside to graze, and began work in the barn. If she was going to have to entertain out here, she thought dryly, she might as well clean it up.

“I had to find out from Alvinia that you were back.” Lena stood in the barn door, her head cocked at a reproachful angle, her eyes moving to take in the scene before her.

Gustie paused to pull a wisp of straw that was caught between her cap and her hair and to wipe the dust from her face with her sleeve. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“No wonder. You’re making so much noise out here. What in Sam Hill are you doing?”

“Enlarging Biddie’s stall.”

“What for?”

“I have one horse. I don’t need three little stalls.” Gustie returned to tugging at her crowbar prying loose the top slat of the second stall. “I’m tearing down these partitions so she can turn around in here.”

“What if you get another horse?”

“Not likely.” Gustie ripped off the board and threw it to the side with such force, Lena jumped.

“You should have asked Will. He’d do it for you.”

“I feel like doing it now.”

Dust motes soaked in the afternoon sun clouded the air between them and gave the inside of the barn a kind of golden glow. Lena liked barns. There was nothing cozier than a clean barn, bright with yellow straw and smelling of new hay. Gustie kept her barn clean, that was for sure. Lena smiled at Gustie, who was attired in a man’s work shirt and overalls and her old train conductor’s cap. “Well, look at you!”

“I wasn’t expecting company,” Gustie responded curtly and went back to her work.

“Fiddlesticks! I’m not company. Where did you get those overalls?”

“They were hanging out here along with the shirt. I guess Elef Tollerude left them.” Another board crashed against the wall where Gustie threw it.

“Can’t you wait till Will can help you?”

“How did you get out here?”

“Hitched a ride in Iver’s cream wagon. He’ll stop by and pick me up on his way back into town.”

Gustie had one side of a board pulled free and began on the other side. The nails gave way with a screech, and Gustie pulled the board away from the side posts by hand. She tossed it to the side, dusted her hands off on her overalls and began on the next board. It did not want to give up its place as easily as the others. Lena stepped in to help. She pulled on the board while Gustie worked the crowbar.

“You’ll get your dress dirty,” Gustie grunted between pulls.

“It’ll wash,” Lena grunted back.

The nails gave and Lena almost fell backwards. She grabbed Gustie’s arm to right herself. Gustie winced. Lena saw the white rim of bandages just visible beneath the cuffs of Elef Tollerude’s old shirt. Lena took the opportunity to ask, “What did you do to yourself?”

Gustie pulled the cuff back down so the bandages were no longer visible. “I tripped getting out of my wagon and scruffed myself on the way down.”

“Doc Moody should take a look at it.”

“I’m fine. Lena, you’re not dressed for this kind of work. Please go over there and sit down.”

“I’ve done plenty of barn work in my day,” Lena retorted.

“I’m sure you have. But this is not your day. Not in a white dress. Anyway, I need to stop a minute. I’ve been at this for awhile.”

Gustie went to a bucket hanging on the wall. She lifted out the dipper and took a drink. She filled the dipper again with water and handed it to Lena.