No Eye Can See (11 page)

“Jessie!” Ruth said, springing into the wagon. “That's enough.”

The girl cowered, perhaps surprised by Ruth's entrance, but just as quick she'd sat up, her arms crossed over her chest. “They make stinky things for me, and you let them. What kind of an
auntie
are you, letting an old blind woman take care of me?”

Ruth felt the blood rush to her face and her hands clench. It was one thing to be rude to her, but she couldn't tolerate it directed toward someone else. Ruth had wanted to slap the child's face, would have if Suzanne hadn't been there, she knew she would have.

A night of terror flashed before her, the night she'd been too rough with her son.

“I've got to go,” she told Suzanne, racing from the wagon. She swung her leg over Koda's back and reined the horse around and let the wagons pass, trembling with the knowledge that the girl could so incite her. Farther behind, she dismounted, and felt the bile from her stomach move up. Fear and humiliation spilled out onto the ground. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then laid her head against Koda's neck, still spitting out the vile taste.

Had Jessie been like that when Betha and Jed were alive? Ruth didn't remember.

“The girl could come in our wagon,” Sister Esther said, the woman's quiet approach startling Ruth. “I was privy to what occurred back there.”

Ruth shook her head. “No. She's just horrid enough she'd aggravate the bees. Then where would you be?” Esther nodded agreement. “Besides, Elizabeth says it's important that she learn to bend a little, not expect so much from everyone. She'll get along with other people better if she can do that.”

“And be kinder to herself as well,” Esther said. “We're almost always
harder on ourselves than we are on other people, so just imagine what she must think of herself.”

Ruth frowned. “You dont think her rudeness is from… I dont know how to describe it. Arrogance seems too big a word to describe a little person, but it comes to mind. Just like her father always was?” Ruth added.

“Not the word I'd choose, no,” Esther said. “Frightened, perhaps. Lonely. Overwhelmed with the amount of influence she has. Imagine getting an important adult to do whatever you want. That's terrifying for a child. She may just think you can't take care of her so she has to do it herself.”

Ruth stared at her. Scared? Lonely? The thoughts had never occurred to her. “That isn't the way I see it,” Ruth said. “Bratty, that's what she is.”

“You might be spending too much time living in valleys, Ruthie, and missing out on the mountaintops that living with children can bring.”

“Whooee, look at that!” Jason shouted. He punched his younger brother in the shoulder, and the boys, who had walked out ahead, came running back, the thick and thin of them silhouetted against the blue sky. “There's a huge meadow and hundreds of deer over there.”

“And a cabin,” Ned said.

“John Hill's Ranch,” Seth said. “Deer Flat, they call it too. And beyond is the Sacramento Valley. We're almost home, boys. Almost home.”

Now they found the signs of civilization, of lumber mills where men came and ogled them, whistled and shouted to Seth about his “harem” as they crossed rushing streams. Hats were thrown into the air as the wagons rolled on by, and despite herself, Mazy smiled. “We're something of an oddity,” she told her mother.

“They look the sort to celebrate most anything,” Elizabeth said as she waved back. Something that looked like a cabin bore a sign that read “Shingletown.” Three miles farther, they encountered “Charleys Ranch” and were offered peach brandy.

“Made it myself,” Charley told them. “Heading back to North Carolina to bring out a couple of hundred more starts. This country has the best growing for peaches you ever
seen!
Ain't that good brandy, sir?” he said to Seth, the only one to imbibe.

“Good for medicinal purposes,” Seth said, and he winked at Mazy.

“My mother was a great reader, enjoyed the classics,” Seth told Suzanne. He had offered her his elbow, suggested a walk. It was the last evening before they'd reach the river ferry. “She liked language rolling off her tongue. She often said it was the true gift of slavery that she had help for the daily things, freeing her to do her quilting and raise her children as she wished. ‘Course, other mothers paid the price.”

“You left that life, to come west?”

“She always made sure the house slaves had their children about. They were my playmates.” They walked in silence for a time. “But she sent them from the room when I'd push at her to read. S'pose that's when I knew that institution was wrong, no matter how my life grew rich from it. No matter how much my parents depended on the sweat of someone else's back. The work of holding hostages—and I saw it as work my family did—well, it tied them up too, kept them looking and watching their
holdings
instead of living their lives free. I wanted out from that. Thought I'd see what life looked like where people chose to be together, had equal chances.”

“I'm not sure we do,” Suzanne said. “Any of us.” She reached to adjust the frame Sason bobbed in on her back. “At least California's a free state.”

“Voted in April to keep free slaves out, send runaways back,” he said, a tone of sadness in his voice.

“That's dreadful,” Suzanne said. She stumbled, and Seth was quick to grab her elbow. She liked the touch of it, realized how rarely—except for the children—she felt another's warmth. “Don't people see we're all slaves needing to be set free? It's the challenges that differ.”

She imagined Seth nodding in agreement when he added, “Those living in free States find ways to be held hostage too. You're right. Worse, they don't even know it.”

“What will you do after you deliver us to Shasta? Or what did Charley call it?”

“Whoa Navigation,” Seth said. “I'm a white-collared man, through and through. Like my risks. Keeps the blood flowing.”

“So you'll head back out and try to lead another group in before winter?”

“Good chance of it. Like to see you women settled first, though. And I play a mean hand of poker, among other games of chance. You have some idea of who'll be helping you?”

“What makes you think I need help?”

“No offense, ma'am. Just that, with you not seeing and all, I—”

“I didn't think you were in on the conspiracy.”

“Ma'am?”

“You call me ‘ma'am’ when you're caught in something,” she said. “Yes, the conspiracy. To help ‘poor Suzanne’ who, by the way, does not need help from any of you.”

She turned back then, feeling her way with her arm swept before her as though she held a magic wand. She heard Seth's “wait,” but she moved forward, calling out to Pig instead. The dog barked and bounded toward her. “Good boy,” she said, feeling the high brace still on his back. “Come, let's find Clayton and take care of him ourselves.

Another day and they passed Pain and Smiths ranch, rolled by a Dr. Bakers place on Bear Creek, and on to Fort Reading at Cow Creek, a hive of activity as men framed log and lumber buildings on rock foundations. “Nothing more than a mosquito-infested, marshy lowland meant to settle warring Indians, all who live too far from here to be a bother,” Seth said. “Nobles said they just began building it last May. We wont stay. Malaria,” he said under his breath. Then more loudly, for more of the women to hear, he said, “They give the men double rations, if that tells you anything.”

“It doesn't,” Lura said.

“Just means no one wants to be sent here, so they bribe them with twice the food.”

“If they have a doctor, we might have him look at Jessies leg,” Ruth said.

“I wouldn't risk the malaria,” Seth told her.

Suzanne heard Ruths horse stomp against flies, the bit and rings jingling as he twisted his head. “All right. Well take your advice. She seems to be doing well. I just wouldn't want it to cause a limp for her, later. Especially if we discover we should have acted differently”

“Your call,” Seth said.

“Let's head on,” Ruth said. “Maybe Shasta will have a doctor to take a look.”

Four miles distant, they arrived at the Sacramento River. Suzanne smelled the water and mud and grasses before she even heard the shouts of men and others.

“There's a ferry,” she said.

“How'd you know?” Seth asked, riding beside her. “I can barely see it.

“It just sounds like back at Kanesville and a few places since. The noises and smells give it away, the water lapping on the shoreline. The
thunk
of a wagon on waterlogged timbers.” She listened again. They were surely crossing into something new.

A short distance farther, the women halted. Ruth watched the bustle of pack strings and ferries. Stagecoaches disgorged people and gobbled up others. The sun glistened on the river then hid itself behind a dark cloud. The wind picked up. “Rain in the air,” Seth said.

They drove the oxen closer to the river, and then the three wagons pulled abreast of each other. Ruth scanned the activity at the waters edge, strangely anxious, but not sure why. The wagon wheels crunched to a stop. A river-washed breeze crossed her face, threatened to lift her hat. She shoved it down with her hand. Pressed at the whip she carried.

“This is where we can make our partings, then,” Seth said. “Some of you want to head to Sacramento, you can do that from here easy as not. We'll cross on the Emigrant Ferry at the mouth of Cow Creek. Then there's a route south. Pick up a stage at Red Bluff, or take your wagon on in to Sacramento. If you've a wagon to take. Or catch the steamer if you want. We're just a day from Shasta. Those of you heading on in, tomorrow or the next one's the day.”

There, it was said. Ruth's heart began pounding, and she looked over at Suzanne. The woman gripped Pig's leather harness so hard her knuckles were white. The dog growled low, as though aware of his master's discomfort.

“But I thought we were staying. All of us,” Sarah said.

“We need a meeting,” Jason said. “Like we used to. With a vote, isn't that so, Auntie Ruth?”

“We've been putting this decision off,” Ruth said. She dismounted, patted the horse's rump. Mazy's cows mooed, and Ruth wondered if Suzanne could feel the vibration of the loose animals lumbering slowly across the ground, moving closer to the river to suck up the water dirtied by the slap of ferry and activity. “Guess we all knew that staying together wasn't all that realistic,” Ruth said.