Texas Born (5 page)

Mr. Preston, the owner of Preston's Dry Goods
Store, shrugged his narrow shoulders. 'Everyone was panicking,' he
muttered, 'tryin' to round up their own families.'

'Does she have any other relatives?' Elender
asked. 'Please, it's very important.'

But Elender didn't hear his answer. She was
already outside, climbing up into her buggy, heading straight for
the doctor's, where she spoke to Hazy, the dwarf, who was suffering
from severely infected burns.

'It's gotta be Elizabeth-Anne,' the dwarf
mumbled painfully. 'She's Szabo Gross's daughter. He owned . . .
the circus. Her mother . . . her mother . . . was Marikka. Now . .
. now poor Elizabeth-Anne got no mother . . . no father.'

'Does she have any other kin?' Elender asked.
'Please, try to remember. It's very important.'

Hazy sighed deeply.

'Please,' Elender urged.

Hazy stared at the kind woman and then made
up her mind. God only knew what kind of relatives Elizabeth-Anne's
parents had had. Better she should mention Szabo's half-sister, who
lived back East. 'There is no one,' Hazy murmured. 'Just Szabo's
half-sister . . . Elspeth . . . somewhere . . . somewhere . . . in
Pennsylvania.'

'Where in Pennsylvania?' Elender pressed.
'Please, it's very important. Try to remember.'

The dwarf screwed up her blistered face,
whether in concentration or pain, Elender couldn't tell. 'I. . .
..I don't know. A little town. Starts . . . starts with a 'Y.'
'

'Yes?' Elender said eagerly. 'A 'Y' ?'

'A little town. York. Yes. York . . . York,
Pennsylvania.'

Elender thanked Hazy and left. She returned
to visit her two days later, but she had died from her infected
burns.

Now all that was left of the circus was
Elizabeth-Anne. The letters Elender sent to York, Pennsylvania,
went unanswered.

'I'm Auntie,' Elender would tell
Elizabeth-Anne gently. 'Until we can get in touch with your next of
kin, you'll be living with Jenny and me. She'll be your sister.
Don't be frightened, Elizabeth-Anne. Your mother and father are in
heaven, and we both love you. Don't we, Jenny?' Elender glanced at
Jenny, who made a production of nodding her head.

Elizabeth-Anne could only stare blankly at
both of them, but Elender was patient and kind. Unfortunately,
Jenny wasn't. The cruel streak she had apparently inherited from
Arthur Jason Cromwell was surfacing more and more all the time. She
despised Elizabeth-Anne. For weeks, the slap she had received from
Elender still burned hotly on her cheek, but she especially hated
Elizabeth-Anne because she usurped
her
place at home and
received most of the attention. Jennifer Sue Clowney could not and
would not tolerate the situation. She must have
all
of
Auntie's affection for herself, and she made a silent vow to
destroy Elizabeth-Anne. But Jenny was guileful, careful never to go
too far while Elender was watching or within earshot. She perfected
her technique of torturing Elizabeth-Anne in little ways. And
Elizabeth-Anne, unable to speak, had no way to fight back. She had
to take her lumps in numb silence. She would look Jenny in the eye
and pretend nothing had happened. She hoped that if she didn't
respond, perhaps after a while Jenny would get bored and leave her
alone.

Since Elizabeth-Anne hated anything that
reminded her of the circus, it was only natural that she despised
her hands. The shriveled, dry skin was an ever-present reminder of
the horrors she had witnessed. She got into the habit of hiding
them behind her back or keeping them out of sight at her sides, but
as much as she tried, she still caught sight of them too often. She
had to wash and eat, and she could do neither without using her
hands.

One day, out in the backyard alone, she
forced herself to take a good look at them.

They 're just ordinary hands
, she told
herself
. There is nothing wrong with them. Nothing at
all.

But the vision of the fire leapt up in front
of her, and only when she hid her hands did it disappear.

Elizabeth-Anne did not know it, but as she
tried to come to terms with her hands, Elender had been watching
from the window. That night, Elender stayed up until early morning
sewing Elizabeth-Anne three pairs of white gloves.

'Here,' she told Elizabeth-Anne when she went
in to wake her in the morning. 'Now your hands won't distress you
so much anymore.'

At lunchtime Elizabeth-Anne stared at her
plate hesitantly. Then she looked over at Elender and held up her
gloved hands.

'Yes,' Elender told her gently, 'you may wear
them while you eat.'

When it was time to wash before bedtime,
Elizabeth-Anne stared at her washbowl. She looked questioningly at
Elender and held up her hands.

Elender hugged her and handed her another
pair of gloves. 'You may wear them while you wash too. Only, don't
forget to change to dry ones afterward.'

Elizabeth-Anne looked at her gratefully.

At bedtime Elender sat at Elizabeth-Anne's
bedside and said her evening prayers for her. Once again, without
saying a word, Elizabeth-Anne questioned her about the gloves.

'You may wear them anytime you please,'
Elender told her, 'anytime at all. Even while you sleep.' Then she
kissed Elizabeth-Anne good night.

It s strange, how well we can
communicate,
Elender thought
. Even without Elizabeth-Anne's
saying a word, she always manages to get her point across.

I love Auntie,
Elizabeth-Anne
thought
, but I don't like Jenny at all. Maybe if I don't show
any fear of her, she'll leave me alone for good. Things aren't too
bad. Everyone else treats me nicely.

But she was wrong. The ladies were on their
way.

Jenny saw them first. She was sitting on the
porch swing with Laurenda Pitcock, who was a year younger than she,
when the contingent of women marched briskly down Main Street,
their long dark skirts flapping around their ankles. The Sunday
afternoon was warm, pale yellow with sun, but cool and shady on the
porch. From the open kitchen window behind the girls wafted the
sweet, mouth-watering fragrance of baking blueberry pie.

Laurenda's alert nostrils picked up the scent
first. Jenny heard her deep, appreciative sniffs and promptly
jabbed her elbow sideways into her ribs. Laurenda turned to her
angrily, and Jenny put a finger to her lips. 'Ssssh!' she
whispered.

Laurenda sighed heavily and leaned forward
with weary resignation, her chin resting on the palms of her
upturned hands, her elbows digging into her thighs. She was bored,
but neither she nor Jenny dared speak. It was a strictly enforced
rule that each Sunday, during the two hours that Auntie's roomers
and Elizabeth-Anne took their afternoon naps, Jenny and her friends
were not to make a sound. They didn't even dare swing back and
forth, for fear the rusty chains supporting the porch swing might
creak and awaken someone. Sometimes Jenny and Laurenda would
whisper to one another, but before they did so they would first
glance suspiciously back over their shoulders to make certain that
Auntie wasn't at the window, watching.

After a while Laurenda began to swing her
legs impatiently up and down, watching the tips of her Sunday boots
appear from under the swing, then disappear again. She twisted
around. One of the swing's slats began to creak, and Jenny jabbed
her with an elbow once again.

'Ow!' Laurenda mouthed soundlessly, promptly
poking Jenny right back.

'Now, what did you go and do that for?' Jenny
hissed.

Laurenda glanced over her shoulder at the
kitchen window. The gingham curtains were still open to the breeze,
but she couldn't see anybody. She turned back to Jenny. 'If we wake
somebody up, your aunt'll be real mad,' she whispered
ominously.

'I wish we would wake everybody up. I'm sick
and tired of just sitting here.'

'So am I.' Laurenda kicked her legs morosely.
'I wish I'd stayed home.'

Jenny sat up straight, craned her neck, and
nudged Laurenda again. The ladies, with Mrs. Pitcock in the lead,
were approaching the house. Their steps were purposeful, and Jenny
could see that their faces were set in grim, uncompromising lines.
'Your mama's coming,' she said in a low voice. 'Looks like she's on
the warpath.'

Laurenda made a face. 'Now I know I'm in
big
trouble,' she whispered morosely.

Jenny watched the women come to a stop. They
waited for Mrs. Pitcock to open Auntie's picket gate, then they
marched toward the porch like a flock of birds, their starched
skirts ruffling indignantly in the breeze. Jenny turned back to
Laurenda. 'Why are you in trouble?'

Laurenda shrugged miserably. 'I wasn't
supposed to come over here and play with you,' she said.

'What did you do this time to deserve that
punishment?'

Laurenda looked hurt. 'Nothin'.' She lowered
her voice and glanced at her mother out of the corners of her eyes.
'Mama just said I gotta stay away from here while the freak's stay
in' with you.'

Jenny felt a cold chill settling over her.
She had known from the start that Elizabeth-Anne was trouble, that
she was
poison
. Now it looked like she would lose all her
friends because of her, too. 'Then why'd you come?' Jenny
whispered.

Laurenda screwed up her face. 'I didn't have
nothin' better to do. Mama doesn't let us work or play on Sundays.
Says it's the Lord's Day. I get bored sittin' around the
house.'

'Are you going to get whipped?' Jenny looked
at Laurenda with keen interest.

'Naw,' her friend said in a grown-up voice.
'I don't ever get whipped.' She fell quiet and waved to the women
as they stepped up on the porch. Mrs. Pitcock's face was
frozen.

'What are you doing here, Laurenda Pitcock?'
she demanded.

'I was just passing by and—'

'You go home right this very minute, Laurenda
Pitcock!' Mrs. Pitcock hissed at her daughter. 'Your pappy's going
to wallop you good for disobeyin' me!'

Laurenda paled and jumped off the swing. In
her hurry, she lost her footing and went sprawling. There was a
thud as she hit the porch and let out a grunt. Quickly Jenny helped
her scramble back up on her feet. 'You hurt?' she asked with
concern.

Laurenda didn't bother to reply. She leapt
off the porch and dashed across the lawn.

Jenny turned around and stared up at Mrs.
Pitcock. The left side of the woman's face was brown and crinkly,
where she had been burned in the circus fire. The other side was
still perfect.

Virginia Evins Pitcock, strong as the
proverbial rock, stood tall and straight as a board, one gaunt hand
clutching the shawl she wore draped over her shoulders. The other
women clustered around her. She was clearly their spokeswoman.

Mrs. Pitcock's bituminous eyes flashed as she
took a deep breath. She looked as if she could barely control
herself . . . as if a thousand buried burdens were ready to burst
to the surface. 'Is your aunt at home?' she asked in a voice
quivering with anger.

'Hello, Mrs. Pitcock,' Jenny said politely.
'Yes, she is.'

'Then could you be so
good
as to tell
her that we'd like to speak to her?' Mrs. Pitcock asked
sarcastically. 'We'll wait here.' She folded her hands in front of
her.

Jenny hesitated for the barest fraction of a
second. She knew that Auntie did not like disturbances while her
roomers were napping. Yet what choice did she have? Mrs. Pitcock
had been forbidding and intimidating at the best of times, but ever
since she'd been burned in the circus fire two months earlier, she
had become positively condemnatory.

Jenny preferred invoking Auntie's anger to
Mrs. Pitcock's any day. She dashed inside the house to find
her.

In the bedroom dimmed by the drawn curtains,
Elender was gratified to hear the gentle snores. She looked down.
Elizabeth-Anne's white-gloved thumb was in her mouth, and her long
golden lashes were pressed down against her freckled cheeks. She
was fast asleep.

Slowly Elender shook her head, a sad smile on
her lips.
Ah, the sleep of the innocent,
she thought to
herself
. How lucky the poor thing is to be able to retreat into
its protective, healing mantle. Yet how tragic to be orphaned at so
tender an age, and by so horrible a calamity. The worst is surely
yet to come—it isn't easy to adjust to a new life.

Elender, if anyone, could easily sympathize
with that.

While she watched, Elizabeth-Anne rolled onto
her side, tucked her knees up to her stomach, and continued to
snore. Elender had come to wake the child, but now she decided
against it. Better to leave her sleeping, she thought. Let her at
least have her dreams.

She had so little else.

Elender leaned over the bed, brushed her lips
ever so lightly against Elizabeth-Anne's cheek, and pulled the
cover up over her. Then, straightening and tiptoeing from the room,
keeping the door open a crack so that she could hear the child if
she cried out in her sleep, she collided with Jenny.

Elender could see the grim expression on
Jenny's face. For an instant she felt guilty for having kissed
Elizabeth-Anne. What if Jenny had seen? She knew that Jenny was, by
nature, extremely jealous. Jenny never wanted to share anything
with anybody, least of all attention and affection.

Jenny cleared her throat. 'Mrs. Pitcock and a
lot of other ladies are here, Auntie,' she blurted. 'They want to
talk to you!'

Elizabeth-Anne didn't know how long she had
been asleep. When she awoke, she opened her eyes and frowned up at
the ceiling. Then she turned her head to one side. It was starting
to get dark out, and the curtains were drawn. But the stream of
pale yellow light coming in from the cracked door gave the room a
comforting glow. Somewhere in the house she could hear sharp voices
raised in anger.