THE IMPERIAL ENGINEER (18 page)

Katie gathered her in, patted her back sympathetically. "I don't reckon there's much
of anything you
can
do. Does Tony know?"

"No," Lulu sobbed against her shoulder, "and I don't want you to tell him.
Promise?"

"Lulu, he has a right to know. The baby's his, too." She paused and Lulu felt her
stiffen. "It is his, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's his. And I'll tell him. I really will."

"Then I'll stay out of it. Now, when were you planning to see a doctor?"

* * * *

They could hear the children laughing as they approached the house. In no mood
for play, Lulu ducked into the side door to the barn, intending to cut through and enter the
house unseen, through the front door. Until she thought about what to say to Tony, she
didn't want to see or speak to anyone.

The interior of the barn was dark and shadowy. Perhaps that was why she didn't
see him at first. When she did, she ducked into a stall, for he was the last person she
wanted to encounter right now. She crouched there, waiting for him to pass her hiding
place.

Why wasn't he coming closer? What was he doing? Lulu peeked over the top of
the stall.

Tony was still where she'd first seen him, not quite facing her. Now that her eyes
were more accustomed to the dimness, she could see his bare chest, the loose white
britches that draped from his slim hips in graceful folds. His bare feet were widespread, his
arms held slightly out from his sides. So still did he stand that he might have been a statue
fashioned out of gold and ivory, rather than a living man, warm and vital.

Lulu shivered, for the interior of the barn was little warmer than outside. She
pulled her coat more tightly about herself as she ducked down, out of his sight. But a
picture of him remained in her mind, as if he stood there before her.

Her hands remembered the smooth power of his arms, the solid strength of his
chest. Even though she couldn't see his legs, she knew how the long, graceful sinews
would shape and define themselves as he shifted and moved. She closed her eyes, but
couldn't banish the sight of him.

Could she escape back the way she'd come? No, for she'd have to step out into the
central aisle of the barn, and he'd see her. Just as he must have seen her when she came in.
So why am I hiding? He knows I'm here.

She peeked over the top of the stall again. He still stood in the same position. Lulu
opened her mouth to say something, then closed it as he raised his arms slowly and brought
the tips of his fingers together to form a great circle in front of his torso, then lowered his
hands to his sides. He stood, unmoving, for almost a minute, then raised his arms in front
of him.
How can he move so slowly?

After another long period of complete stillness, he shifted and began an uncanny
sequence of motions, almost like a dance. He moved faster now, knees deeply bent, arms
constantly in motion, feet planted deliberately. Nearer and nearer to her he came, until she
could see that his eyes were unfocused, his face blank.
What in the world?

He turned, to begin a new sequence of graceful motions. Now his back was to her
as he flowed back toward where he'd started. Lulu watched, fascinated, with no more
thought of concealing herself. Each controlled movement showed the power of his body,
yet at no time did he appear to be doing anything more than dancing to a silent
melody.

She didn't know how long she watched him. When he finally stopped moving and
turned to face her, she was chilled through. She shivered as they stared at each other,
knowing that now, this moment, was when she should tell him.

Then he bowed to her, a formal, polite bow, and turned away. As he walked to the
barn door, she found herself unable to move. There had been no friendliness in his somber
gaze, no smile on his face. She might have been a total stranger.

He opened the door and walked through it into the snow-covered barnyard,
shoeless, shirtless. For a moment his figure was caught in the bright square of white light,
shining and dreamlike, then the door swung shut and she was once again trapped in
darkness.

That evening the men played poker. She never found an opportunity to talk to
Tony.

* * * *

Tony left the day after Christmas. Luke urged him to stay until the weather
moderated, but he pled a need to get back to work.

The children believed him. The adults didn't. They all knew that he'd gone away
because he couldn't bear to be in the same room as Lulu.

She should have felt guilty. Instead, all she could feel was scared. Now how could
she tell him?
When
would she tell him?

Confused, scared, and undecided, Lulu found that her usual clear thought
processes were muddled and confused. The last thing in the world she wanted was to
marry, to have children. But still...

Oh, God, what possessed me to be so careless?
That question repeated
itself over and over in her mind, until she could hardly think of anything else. In a way she
was grateful for the continued bad weather, because just getting to Boise took all her
concentration. The fifteen-mile journey took them most of the day; the roads were all but
drifted shut in places. Fortunately there was enough traffic that the larger drifts had been
broached, else they might have had to turn back.

When they reached the big house on the east edge of Boise, Merlin bid them
goodbye. "I smell more snow," he said. "Time to git for home, before I get stuck here." He
kissed his sister, then hugged Lulu. "You and Tony need to settle your differences," he
muttered as he held her close. "A couple of lovesick fools, if you ask me."

"I didn't," she retorted, "but you're right and we will. Soon."

As she and Regina stood in the drive, waving him on his way, she wondered when
'soon' would be.

* * * *

Regina returned to school the second day of January. Mrs. Petrie only came in
once a week to clean. Abel, the hired man, had his own little cottage behind the barn, so
Lulu had the house mostly to herself.

At first she found enough to occupy her days. She wrote, answered the few letters
that arrived, and sewed. Regina hated needlework of any kind, and her mending had piled
up shamefully. Lulu found such work soothing, and spent many peaceful hours darning
socks and resetting sleeves. Curiously, her mind, usually busy as her hands, stayed almost
blank, drifting from memory to memory, as if incapable of generating new ideas.

After a week, replies began arriving to her letters about the persecution of the
Chinese. Most of the early replies came from individuals who believed the Chinese issue
was none of their concern, and a few even took Lulu to task for equating it with the slavery
that had existed before emancipation. A few heartening responses arrived, but not many.
The more replies she received, the more sick at heart she became.

Many contained reminders that the Chinese, unlike freed Negro slaves, were by
law aliens and not entitled to the same protection as citizens. One writer cited the Chinese
Exclusion Act, claiming that the Chinese were in the country illegally and should be
deported. He obviously had forgotten that any Celestials who had been in the United States
before November, 1880, had a legal right to remain. Another expressed wonder that Lulu
would even ask for assistance in combating such a just and Christian goal as ridding the
United States of the heathen Chinese.

With each letter, Lulu grew more dismayed. People whom she had considered
sincere and committed humanitarians were proving themselves just as bigoted as anyone
wearing a white hood and robe. When no new letters had come for several days, she sorted
the ones she had, pulling out those inviting her to address an organization, or agreeing to
speak out for the Chinese. The rest she tossed into the fireplace. As she watched them
burn, she asked herself if anything she had ever done had mattered.

Once I thought I could change the world, and now I know it doesn't want to be
changed.
The
status quo
is far too comfortable.
Unutterably tired,
she laid her head down on Uncle Emmet's desk and wept.

When she heard Regina come in the back door, she forced herself to sit up and
wipe the dried tears from her cheeks. Her body, stiff from sitting on one position for so
long, protested when she arose and walked toward the kitchen. "I'm sorry. I fell asleep and
forgot all about supper."

"It doesn't matter. I'll scramble some eggs and you can make toast. We don't need
more than that anyhow." Regina tied an apron over her plain gray dress. "I haven't much
appetite tonight. I've been correcting tests since three o'clock, and came straight home."
Regina usually stretched the mile between her school and the house into a five-mile
walk.

"That's right. You did say you were giving your natural history students a test
today." Lulu pulled the part-loaf of bread from the breadbox and set it on the cutting board.
"Do you enjoy torturing them like that?" Having spent much of her childhood following
Regina as she collected birds' eggs and pollywogs, flowers and mushrooms, Lulu felt some
sympathy for her students. Not everyone was as fascinated with plants and animals as
Regina thought they should be.

"Every young woman should know something of the world she lives in. And not
just politics and history."

Since this was an argument they'd had many times, Lulu merely grinned. "Don't
cook more than two eggs for me. I'm not particularly hungry either, and I want to go to bed
early tonight."

"Oh?" Regina glanced at her. "You look terrible! What's the matter? Didn't you
rest well last night?"

"Not really." She turned away, not wanting those too-sharp eyes to see how
melancholy she was.

"I know it's none of my business, but is something on your mind? You seem to
have lost all your interest in life."

"I'm fine," Lulu said. "Honestly. I just let myself get run down, with all the
traveling I've done. Once I can stay in one place for a while, I'll catch up."

"I hope so." Regina's tone said she had some doubts.

She didn't catch up. In fact, every morning she woke up feeling more tired than
she had been the night before. After a while, she found writing too much effort, so she set
the two articles and the one story she was working on aside. Often when it wasn't snowing,
she walked down to the river, less than a mile away, and simply sat and watched the water
flow. Toward the end of January, the weather turned bitterly cold, so she stayed indoors,
and some days, in bed. No matter how efficient the fireplaces and stoves in the big house
were, there were still icy drafts one could not escape.

All the while she thought about the letter she should write to Tony. She wrote it in
her mind again and again, arranging and rearranging the words until they refused to fall
into any sort of sense. What could she say? How could she tell him he was about to
become a father? And when she told him, wasn't he likely to go all old-fashioned on her
and demand that she marry him? When she refused, he'd make a fuss, and then the whole
family would know.

And they'd all insist on a wedding.

"I don't want to be married," she said aloud. "I don't want a baby."

How much longer could she hide her pregnancy?

* * * *

WOOD RIVER TO BE RID OF THEIR HATEFUL
PRESENCE.

That was the headline in the January 19 edition of the
Wood River Times
.
Tony read the article through for the fourth or fifth time, still shaken by the vituperative
temper of it.

Despite Mr. Eagleton's advice, he hadn't attended the meeting at the Hailey
Theatre last Saturday. His excuse was the snowstorm that had all but blocked the roads
outside of town, but he knew he could have come in had he been determined.

His real reason was that he'd been afraid.

If Mr. Yu had recognized him as Chinese, how long would it be before others
did?

Once more he read the resolution passed by the newly-formed Anti-Chinese
League.

Whereas, the presence of the Chinese upon Wood River is a
standing menace to American labor, and no trade or calling is secure from
this deadly touch: they bar every avenue of approach and like Jack Frost,
creep in unawares, and blight and wither by their breath the fairest fruits of
American industry; as a people, they contribute nothing to the welfare,
prosperity or happiness of any community in which they reside. We believe
that, when Chinese labor shall be supplanted with white labor, business will
naturally improve and the wealth and population of our country increase...a
determined effort is being made all over the Pacific coast by the various
communities to rid themselves of the burdensome presence of the
Chinese...immigration to Hailey must cease, and that the Chinese already
here be instructed to wind up their business and prepare to remove from
amongst our people...

Some of the men quoted in another article advocated violence. One of them was
Patrick Newell. Fortunately wiser heads prevailed. The resolution called for peaceful and
lawful means to accomplish its goal. According to the paper, there had not been a
dissenting voice when the question was put to a vote.

"Would I have voted for it?" he wondered aloud. "Am I that craven?"

He honestly didn't know.

Mr. Eagleton, who had attended the meeting and, presumably, been among those
approving the resolution, said nothing in the days to follow. It was as if their earlier
conversation had never taken place.

The Chinese New Year celebration took place the last week of January. Tony
stayed as far away from it as he could, and welcomed the opportunity to go to Ketchum for
several days to replace subscribers' batteries and to sign up new customers.

When he returned to Hailey, he learned that the Chinese community had
apparently accepted their fate. On February 4, the paper informed its readers that most of
the Chinese in town would be leaving, now that their New Year celebration was over. In a
way he was sorry. It was a shame bigots and blowhards could win so easily.