Glory (5 page)

“Ain’t those pretty,” Harper breathed, and Glory thought maybe she’d forgotten her usual fierceness in the excitement.

“I had a red dress once,” Ruth said softly. “It wasn’t near as pretty as this one, but I liked it, and it fit better than most.” She sighed. “I loved that dress.”

Glory didn’t want to mention that she’d never owned a dress in her life. Dresses like her new friends wore seemed to be the thing most young women wore instead of trousers. Another thing she learned from being in town.

“What happened to your red dress?” Lily asked Ruth.

“Wore out,” Ruth replied wistfully. “Wore it until one day when I washed it, it fell clean apart.”

A murmur of sympathy passed among the girls.

“How come you couldn’t get another one?” Glory asked.

“When you live in an orphanage, you get what other people don’t want,” Patience explained. “Sometimes folks pass on things that are better than others. Occasionally a dress or coat that still has a few wearings left in it will be donated, but not often. An orphanage depends on the goodness of others, except folks couldn’t afford much goodness at the one we came from.”

“We learned to take what we got, make the most of it, and be grateful,” Ruth added.

Glory studied the shiny material displayed on a form in the window and wondered how women could stand to wear such things. Why, getting through the brush with all that material dragging behind would be nigh to impossible. And the wind would whip up that skirt right smart-like.

“Never had a dress,” Glory murmured, almost before she knew she was saying it.

“Never had a dress?” Lily moved to stand beside Ruth, upwind of Glory.

“No.”

“Not ever?” Harper frowned. “How come? I thought every girl had a dress.”

“Not me. Never had much use for one.”

The women on the wagons who had come by the cabin wore faded dresses that more often than not hung loose on them, the hems sometimes ragged. None wore anything like what she saw in the window or even like those the women in this town wore. This dress was a pure wonderment. All that frilly lace and rows of ruffles would choke a horse.

Glory spied the boots sitting beside the dress in the window and grinned, pressing her nose against the cool glass. Now there was something she could use. Her boots had holes in the soles. She’d patched them with a bit of leather, but nothing lasted long, and the stitches let in water.

If she was careful where she stepped, she could wear her old boots out in the woods, but thick briars punched through the patches and the leather was soon eaten away again. When the snows had come, she’d padded the soles with rags to make do, but that was powerful lumpy to walk on and caused hurtful blisters.

Eyeing the durable leather boots, she thought about the gold in Poppy’s pouch hidden under her belt. She didn’t know how much it amounted to, but it was enough to get Amos riled. She could spend some of the money on a new pair of boots, but she didn’t dare show it. If Amos was so bent on getting the gold, then others would be too. Besides, if she were to begin a new life without any skills, it would take every bit of the gold she had to stay alive until she figured a way to make a living.

“It is quite remarkable handiwork,” Ruth observed, her eyes fastened on the window display. “Look at the fancy stitching along the bodice, and the way the skirt hangs so beautifully from that point in front.”

Harper made a disgusted noise. “Where would anyone wear something like that?” But Glory noticed Harper didn’t look away; she just kept staring at the pretty red dress like it was a pork chop bone and she was a hungry pup.

Jackson Lincoln came out of the mercantile and whistled shrilly. Glory jumped at the sound, but the girls, apparently accustomed to this signal, turned immediately from their daydreaming and started back toward the wagon. Glory trailed behind.

Jackson grinned as the girls approached, and Glory admired his right fine-looking eyes. They were blue, the color of eggs she’d found in robins’ nests each spring. And when he smiled, his white teeth flashed and his cheeks creased like he smiled a lot. “All set, ladies?”

Ruth nodded, smiling back at him pretty as you please. “Got the supplies ordered?”

He chuckled as if he really liked her, and Glory felt funny inside, kind of empty.

“They’ll be ready first thing in the morning.” He glanced at Glory, and his smile reappeared, making her feel warm inside. “Had decided to buy our staples when we reached this point of the journey. We’ll be camping right outside town tonight. You’re welcome to stay with us.”

“No,” Glory said, dying inside to accept his kind offer. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing that prairie schooner leave without her. “I’m starting my new life, so I might as well get to it.”

Swallowing against a dry throat, she glanced up the street, her gaze taking in the orange glow of the setting sun. Things were settling down a bit, not as busy as they’d been earlier. Loud music now spilled from a doorway; men were coming and going from the building.

Gunshots rang out suddenly. Glory jumped, automatically crowding closer to Jackson. The crowd scattered like buckshot, ducking behind posts and water troughs. Then two men wearing tin stars on their shirts appeared from another building and quickly took in hand the two men who’d been
staggering down the street and shooting off their guns. Glory didn’t understand what was going on, but she’d just as soon it hadn’t happened.

When the excitement cleared, Jackson took her arm and steered her down the street. “You’re sure you won’t stay the night with us? This town looks kind of rough.”

“You don’t have to start your new life this very minute,” Mary encouraged. “You can spend the night in camp with us, then return in the morning when we come for our supplies.”

The other girls chimed in to agree, and Glory felt real proud to have such good friends. She’d never had even one friend before, unless she counted Poppy, and now she had a bunch. But she couldn’t accept their generosity. She’d already declared her independence, and Poppy would expect her to take care of herself.

There wasn’t a better place to start than here, right now, in this town . . . among all these strange people. “Thank you much, but I’ll be staying here tonight.”

“All right then, load up, ladies. It will be dark soon.”

Before they got into the wagon, each girl gave Glory a parting hug. She would have liked for those acts of kindness to go on longer, but the girls kept the friendly embraces brief.

Handsome Jackson Lincoln swung himself onto the wagon seat, as the women scrambled aboard. Ruth claimed the bench seat beside Jackson, Glory noticed, and she didn’t blame her. That’s the spot she’d have chosen.

Then it was time to leave. Glory stood on the edge of the road, waving until the wagon disappeared from sight, trailing a faint cloud of dust. She drew a deep breath to settle her quivering stomach and tried to ignore the wave of loneliness that washed over her, the likes of which she’d never felt before.

Squaring her shoulders, she sighed. Wasn’t nothing left to do but get to making her new life.

She set off down the walk, having no idea where she was going or where she’d spend the night. Smells coming from a building with a wide window drew her. She peeked in to see people, happy people who smiled at each other, eating at long tables. Her stomach knotted with hunger. Her noon meal had been a biscuit and bacon left over from breakfast, and it had satisfied her at the time, but that had been a long time ago. Wondering just how one got to eat in there, she forgot where she was until a gruff-looking woman with gravy stains on her white apron came out to shoo her away.

“Get on, girl. Quit annoying the customers.”

Hurt, Glory turned and strode down the planked sidewalk, head held high as if she had somewhere to go. Before long, she slowed. The rough planks hurt her feet through the thin soles of her worn boots. She hadn’t noticed before, but a wind had sprung up, a wind with rain in it if she knew the signs. And it was getting dark. She pulled her thin jacket closer, wishing it fit better. It wouldn’t do much to block out dampness. She scanned the black sky. If it rained, it would take days for her clothes to dry, and wearing wet
clothes was miserable, even in July. She’d gotten caught in storms a few times while out hunting, and she didn’t look forward to it again.

She kept moving, following sounds and dodging threatening-looking men who eyed her either with pity or with another look she didn’t understand at all. One threw her a coin. At first she was insulted and refused to pick it up, but then she decided that maybe the man would be upset if she didn’t accept it. She didn’t want charity, but then she’d never known anyone who had enough money to throw away. So she picked up the coin and stuck it in her pocket, hunched her shoulders against the dampness, and continued on down the street.

When she felt water well up in her eyes, Glory blinked hard and reminded herself of Poppy and how ashamed of her he’d be if she couldn’t make her own way. She couldn’t keep feeling sorry for herself. Stiffening her spine, she crossed the street and hurried toward a white clapboard building where men and women were gathering. Expensive buggies and fine-looking teams filled the yard, where a mellow light shone from lovely narrow windows. As she approached, the first stinging droplets of rain spattered on the dry road. The scent of rainwater hitting dry dust filled her senses.

A laughing couple carrying a baby entered the building, allowing warm light to spill out the door momentarily. A woman’s lilting laughter and children’s happy voices drifted to her, and she wished with all of her might that she could be a part of the festivities inside. Overhead, a
bell tolled from the tower, its sweet sound filling the stormy night. She paused to look up, blinking rain out of her eyes. That sound called out to her, its friendliness beckoning to her.
Welcome, welcome, welcome,
it tolled. But then one of the finely dressed men spotted her and smiled, shooing her out of the way when he and his family passed. He was eyeing the Hawkins rifle she still clutched in one hand.

“Run along now,” he said. “Services are about to start.”

His little girl stared back at Glory with wide blue eyes before her mother pulled her forward and they disappeared inside the building.

Glory backed away, and the man pulled the big doors closed. A moment later, singing began, singing like she’d never heard before, and she was caught by the sound. How wonderful it was! The melodic sweetness washed over her like rich, thick honey as she stood in the rain and listened. Shutting her eyes, she pretended that she was in the warmth and light, singing the beautiful songs with all those nicely dressed folks.

Rain peppered down harder, reminding her that she was not part of what was happening inside, but still she hesitated to leave. The music was so beautiful. Finally, the thunder and lightning drove her to seek shelter, and she hurried across the street toward a row of tall buildings. Water soaked through the shoulders of her jacket and began seeping through the soles of her boots.

Driven into an alley for protection against the blowing
rain, Glory found a large, wooden crate that offered temporary cover. Scrunching into the box, she ate a cold biscuit from her pack and watched the rain turn the street into rutted strips of mud.

Oh, Poppy, I miss you so much.
Her heart ached nearly as much as the chill in her bones.

She wondered what Mary was doing tonight. She imagined her sitting by a warm fire, eating some of Ruth’s fine cooking. Salt pork and brown beans. And, of course, the girls would be talking and laughing. Then, due to the rain, they’d go into the wagon to sleep. It might be close quarters, but they’d be dry and cozy, having each other for company.

Leaning against the back of the crate, she pulled her feet in tight and closed her eyes. Gripping her rifle tightly to her body to keep it dry, she thought of handsome Jackson Lincoln with eyes the color of robins’ eggs. He’d been good enough to give her a ride into town, and he hadn’t charged her a cent. How lucky Mary, Patience, Ruth, Harper, and Lily were to be traveling with a fine man like Jackson Lincoln, who would protect them and make sure they get to their destination, their new lives.

She drew a shaky breath and wished she were going somewhere, too. Wished with all her might that she had somewhere to go. Maybe she should have accepted one more night of their hospitality. It wouldn’t have affected her independence. At least she would have been dry. It was still up to her to find her own way, to make a new life, but she regretted starting out on her own on this
night, this cool, rainy night. A few more hours with her new friends would have been nice. A few less hours of being so alone.

A fierce wind rattled the brittle crate, and she pushed farther into the corner. Curling into a fetal position, she listened to the rolling thunder, her fingers still gripping the rifle, her teeth chattering more from fright than from cold. Men ran in and out of the building with the loud music, passing by the end of the alley. Women laughed louder. One woman had come out to roll a cigarette, the lantern light catching the red in her hair. She looked strange. Glory heard strains of the other music from across the street—the sweet, pure music coming from the building with the warm light. It seemed the two sounds warred with each other. One, loud and disturbing; the other, sweet and comforting. The sweeter singing told about a place called heaven and how they were all going to go there someday and walk on streets of gold.

Streets of gold. She closed her eyes.

Just imagine.

Gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering, she tried to find a comfortable spot. She’d heard Poppy mention that town called Heaven once. He’d said it was a place some folks hoped to go when they died, but he wasn’t sure how they planned to get there. For days after, she’d lie in the grass in front of the shanty and stare up at the sky, trying to figure a way up there. It would take a mighty tall ladder, taller than any she’d ever seen, taller than any ever made.

Keeping her eyes shut, she listened to the glorious voices
coming from the warm building, hoping that Poppy had gone to live in that town called Heaven and that someday she could go visit him. Wasn’t likely, though. She didn’t know where this Heaven was or how to get there. Right now, she wasn’t overly fond of Squatter’s Bend and not so sure it was where she wanted to start her new life.