None of them ever took much notice of me, perhaps because I was still so small. I hadn’t grown even an inch since coming to Jewell’s, and my body seemed determined to cling to the same gauntness I’d acquired during my winter with Laurent. Jewell was adamant that I not wear my hair in braids, saying it made me look like I was about nine years old, so I left it to fall in its natural soft brown waves, securing it with a loose ribbon at the back of my neck. And though I’d long ago discarded the threadbare dress I’d worn all last winter, the new ones Mae had sewn for me were the same, childish style—high-necked, long-sleeved, and plain. Nothing like the more elegant styles the other women wore.
To be truthful, I was glad the men didn’t pay me any attention. I often felt like I was awash in a sea of anonymous uncles, fetching their drinks and laughing at their jokes.
Then, one day, Buck came.
The first evening he came to Jewell’s, I was up in my room, having decided to turn in early and rest. The night before, I had been in Gloria’s cabin, tending to baby Danny so she could get some sleep, and I’d fought exhaustion all day. I hadn’t even bothered to change into my nightgown but was plopped on my bed fully clothed when the noise from downstairs drew my attention. I was used to hearing loud conversations and laughter, but there was something different tonight. Music. Not the bawdy, raucous drinking songs that were often brought to a ragged, abrupt halt whenever I walked into the room, but a single pure voice beckoning me to listen.
I got up and slipped down the stairs, staying on the bottom step rather than walking into the parlor, lest I interrupt the song. It told the story of a soldier who lay dying in a foreign land, and with each verse, he was instructing his comrades to send his story home—to send love to his mother, to tell his brothers of his bravery, to comfort his dear sister, to tell his lover that his soul had been set free.
Slowly I turned my head to peek into the parlor, and while the singer himself was out of my vision, I did see the men gathered around. Most of them with tears flowing unchecked down their cheeks. Even Jewell was moved by the song.
Then, in that clear tenor voice, he sang the final verse:
His voice grew faint and hoarser, his grasp was childish weak.
His eyes put on a dying look, he sighed and ceased to speak.
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled.
The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead!
And the soft moon rose up slowly and calmly she looked down
On the red sand of the battle field, with bloody corpses strewn.
Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine
As it shone on distant Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine!
The room exploded in thunderous applause, and I didn’t think I’d ever heard anything more beautiful. I too felt the emotion of the song, but I waited until my tears were dry before walking into the parlor to see who had been the singer.
His name was Ben Danglars, but everybody called him Buck because he always wore a buckskin jacket with fringe along the sleeves and hem. He’d come from Virginia, and I think I could have fallen in love with his voice without ever seeing his face. That is, until I saw his face when I turned the corner and came into the room.
He towered above every other man there—would have even if he weren’t the only one standing. His hair was the color of wet sand, cut short above his ears but longer on top. His lips were full, his smile wide; blue eyes looked at me from behind heavy, hooded lids, and a tiny cleft punctuated his square chin.
The men were urging him to sing another song—something fun and rollicking this time, but he held out a hand to me, saying, “I believe this next song will be the little lady’s request.”
All eyes turned to me, and my surprise at being singled out must have registered on my face, because there were more than a few chuckles in the room.
“Come on, Biddy,” Jewell said, her voice thick with amusement. “What d’ya want to hear?”
At that moment I could just as easily name a song as sprout wings and fly. “Anything. Anything at all. I’m going back to my room.”
That remark was followed by whoops and hollers, with more than one man saying that sounded like an invitation. But Sadie’s voice hushed them all. I listened to it all from the stairwell, my face burning, but soon enough I was forgotten, and Buck’s voice rang out again, this time leading the rest of the room in a robust singing of “Buffalo Gals.”
I ran all the way up to my room and threw myself on my bed. Not even the day spent with Del could cause my heart to pound the way it was now, and while I loved to remember the kiss he gave me, the thoughts of Buck doing the same thing was too much to think about.
Suddenly, the comfort I’d felt at being thought of as a child disappeared. I hoped Buck would look at me one day and see a woman.
26
After that night, I was down in Jewell’s parlor every evening. I had convinced Mae to add a bustle to one of the dresses she made for me, giving the illusion that I had more of a womanly figure than I did. I also spent nearly an hour each day fighting with Sadie’s curling tongs to create ringlets to frame my face once I’d fastened the rest of my hair in a sophisticated twist. One evening I even snuck into Jewell’s rouge pot and added just a hint of color to my cheeks and lips, but Sadie caught me in the hall.
“Go in and wash that off your face,” she said, grabbing my arm and steering me none too gently back to my room. “What will people think?”
I knew exactly what they would think, living upstairs in this house as I did, and I didn’t care. Buck would never talk to me if he thought I was just a child.
Not that he talked to me much anyway. He didn’t come to Jewell’s often, and on the evenings he did, he rarely said more than “Good evenin’ ” to me before falling into conversation with one of the other men. Each night I positioned myself somewhere in the room to make it easy for him to see me. I stood on the hearth, enjoying the higher perspective, thinking we might be close to eye level if he came to stand by the fire. But he didn’t. I perched myself on the arm of the sofa, but Sadie sat on the end and threatened to topple me to the ground if I didn’t find someplace more proper to sit.
On one of the nicer spring evenings, Jewell moved the party into her yard. Another supply wagon had visited earlier that week, bringing with it a keg of beer which, for this camp, was reason enough for a celebration. Jewell let the men build a big fire in the center of our gathering, and it warmed all of us as it popped and sparked long into the night.
Buck looked beautiful in the firelight. Irresistible, really. I made my way through the miners, who hoisted great mugs of beer amid much cheering over the lode to come and, braver than I ever could have been in the parlor, sidled right next to him.
“You don’t have a drink,” I said, thankful to have my hostess role to fall back on. “Would you like me to get you one?”
He looked down at me and smiled. “That’d be real nice.”
Once I was out of his sight, I ran back to the house and into the kitchen, tearing through the cabinets looking for a cup. The only one I could find was a beat-up old tin thing, but it would have to do. The men had moved our kitchen table out into the yard and set the keg on it. I held the mug under the spigot and filled it nearly to the top, then made my way back to where Buck stood, hands in his pockets, looking into the fire.
“Here you are.” I handed him his drink.
“Thanks.” He lifted the cup to me as if making a toast, then took a long drink. “None for you?”
I shook my head. “My mother would never approve.”
He raised one eyebrow and smiled. “Well, that’s not something I ever thought I’d hear a—one of you ladies say.”
“I’m not one of those ladies.”
“Good to know. How old are you, Biddy?”
“You know my name?”
“There’s only five women in this whole place—six if you count the one of us that has a wife. It’s
not hard to know all the names.”
“Oh.” I hated the battle between foolishness and disappointment. “I’m almost sixteen. But Jewell thinks I’m younger.”
“That’s probably smart. But you wouldn’t lie to me, would you? Because you look a lot younger than almost sixteen.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“Well, that’s good to know too.” He finished the rest of his drink with one deep swallow and handed his cup to a grizzled man who happened to walk by. “Miss Biddy,” he bowed to me and offered his arm, “would you be so kind as to take a walk with me?”
My heart pounded, but I must have given some affirmation because he took my hand and led me away from the fire, into the dark woods just beyond the clearing.
“I can’t get used to how cold it is here,” he said once we were separated from the crowd.
“This is nothing,” I said, though now that we were away from the fire, I was wishing I had my scarf and hat. “Wait until you live through a winter.”
He laughed. “Don’t know that I’ll do that. I’m only here because I don’t want to fight in no war back home. Once that’s blown over, it’s back to the South for me.”
“Oh,” I said again, feeling that same ridiculous disappointment. “You don’t like the mountains?”
“I’ll tell you what I like.”
We’d walked only a few yards into the forest; I could still see glimpses of the bonfire in the distance. There was a fallen log on the ground, and Buck sat down on it, pulling me down to sit next to him. He took my chin in his hand and turned my face toward his.
“I like a starry night, and a pretty girl to share it with.”
I was sure he could feel the great gulp of my swallow.
“Have you ever been kissed before, Miss Biddy-who-is-almost-sixteen?”
I thought of Del’s soft lips brushing my cheek, of Hiram’s rancid mouth raking across mine. “No.”
“Well then, I’d like to be your first, if that’s all right with you.”
Slowly, slowly he drew me closer, until his lips touched mine. They were warm and soft as they moved across my mouth, and he brought his hand to the back of my head, kissing me deeper until I could taste the beer on his breath. I reached for him too, wrapping my arms around his neck, combing my fingers through his sandy hair.
All I could hear was my blood rushing in my head. I opened my eyes for just a second and saw glimpses of him, sand-colored lashes dusting his cheek. My breath was full of him, my body drawn toward him, clinging to him, even as he pulled himself away.
“Are you sure you’ve never been kissed before?” He smiled in a way that made me feel as though I were being kissed again.
“Not like that,” I said, feeling shy.
“Well then, I’ll have to do it again.”
He did, and we quickly reached the intensity of the first kiss. I could have stayed there all night, kissing him, but after a time I sensed a change, and his embrace took on a zealousness I couldn’t begin to match, and his hand snaked its way from my waist to my thigh.
At once I was back in the snow, back on the ledge with Hiram writhing on top of me.
“Stop it!” I turned my head, summoning the courage I wish I’d had that afternoon.
“I’m sorry,” Buck whispered. He took his hand away, but continued to lean toward me, seeking my mouth.
“No!” I pulled myself away.
I buried my head in my hands, surprised at how hot my cheeks were. For a minute I was glad we were in darkness, because I must have been flaming red. Beside me, Buck’s breathing was as ragged as my own, and we sat, both of us staring at the ground, inhaling and exhaling in almost perfect unison.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s fine,” he said, though I thought I heard a hint of disgust in his voice.
“It’s just—I can’t—”
“It’s fine,” Buck said, more sweetly than before. He stood up and offered me his hand, which I took, and helped me to my feet. “Are you all right?” he asked, noting my slight stagger as I gained my balance.
I nodded.
“Good.” He bent down to give me one more soft kiss on the top of my head. “I knew you were a nice girl. There aren’t too many of them in these parts. Can I walk you back?”
“Please.”
I didn’t think anybody noticed when Buck and I walked back to the fire. As soon as we rejoined the crowd, he dropped my hand and I went inside.
“Biddy.” Sadie’s voice beckoned from the kitchen door, and I turned around. “You be careful. One charming man can ruin your life.”
“I know.” I took a candle from the shelf and held the wick in the lantern’s flame before heading to my room where I stood, gazing at myself in the mirror on the wall.
I looked different. I put my hand to my lips; they were fuller, swollen and red, the same color they’d taken the day I dipped into Jewell’s rouge pot. The flush had not left my cheeks, and as I took off my coat and unbuttoned my blouse, I saw that my chest was tinged with red. My heart was still pounding, and there was an unfamiliar queasiness in my stomach.
I took off my shoes and stripped down to my chemise, letting my dress pile on the floor, and fell to my knees.
Father God, forgive me, I prayed. Oh, Lord God, take this temptation away from me. Lead me not to it. Deliver me from it.
But I could not banish the memory. I tasted Buck’s breath on my breath, heard his heart with my heart. When I closed my eyes I saw only his, and I felt his hand on the small of my back. I couldn’t do any more than beg for forgiveness and trust that the Lord granted me that grace, despite my wayward thoughts.
I climbed into bed and burrowed under my covers. Sleep was a long time coming that night, but when it did, it was sweet and deep and full of dreams that became elusive in the light of morning.
27
Do you think I’ll ever be beautiful?”
It was evening, and I was sitting with Gloria in her cabin. Outside a cold spring rain pounded the tiny roof, sounding just like I always imagined the ocean would.
“No,” Gloria answered without hesitation.
Her reply couldn’t have surprised me more if she’d delivered it with a slap to my face.
“Don’t look so wounded,” she said. “There’s a lot more to life than being beautiful.” When she spoke, she looked down at baby Danny nursing at her breast.
“I suppose,” I said, though I didn’t feel any better. “Do you think I’ll ever have a family? I mean one of my own. With a home … and a baby.”
“Not if you stay here. Trust me, Biddy. You want a life; get out of this place now. I didn’t have that choice when I was your age.”
“I don’t think I could ever be … what you are.”
“Referring to what, exactly? being beautiful? or a mother? or a whore?”
I tried to stammer a reply, but she interrupted me with a laugh, saying, “Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s not so easy to hurt my feelings. I know what I am. All I’m saying is that you still have a chance to live the kind of life you want, and there’s not many women who have that. Go on back to Beetown—”
“Belleville.”
“—wherever you came from. Start up your life there.”
“I don’t know what I’d do back home. It wouldn’t be the same without my parents.”
“So do something else. Get that sweet young boy to marry you.”
I blushed at the thought of it. “Buck? What do you know about him?”
Gloria chuckled. “Honey, everybody knows you’re sweet on him.”
“Everybody?” Which probably meant he would never want to see me again.
“Just be careful. I don’t know anything about courting and having a beau, but I know plenty about men and what they expect from a girl who lives in a whorehouse.”
“But I’m not—”
“After a time it won’t matter what you are and what you’re not. Jewell has her eye set on making you earn your keep. I kno
w that woman. Don’t trust her.”
“I don’t have to trust her,” I said. “I trust God, and I know He didn’t bring me here to become a—to do anything wrong.”
“That’s what you think?” She practically snorted. “That God brought you here? Well, I know less about God than anything else, but if this is something He’d do to a person, I’m better off on my own.”
There was a knock on the door, and Sadie stepped inside, nearly soaked through from the short walk from the main house.
“I am going to MacGregans’ cabin,” she told Gloria. “It is her time.”
“What?” Gloria’s outburst startled little Danny, whose arm flailed out in surprise. She lowered her voice and ran a soothing hand across Danny’s soft, fuzz-covered head. “I can’t believe you would help that woman.”
“Who’s MacGregan?”
“One of the men who lives outside of camp,” Sadie said. “His wife is having a baby too. And she needs my help.”
“That’s not what she said before.” Gloria made no attempt to soften her bitterness. “I believe she said she wouldn’t have anything to do with a woman like you. See Biddy? That’s what I mean. You stay around us long enough and you become ‘that kind of woman.’ ”
“Mrs. MacGregan did not ask for my help,” Sadie said. “It was the husband. I have to see what I can do.”
“Because you’re such a good person?” Gloria said.
“Because I am just another woman.” Sadie reached for the door, but she turned back before leaving. “I almost forgot. Biddy, that young man was in the parlor tonight, and he was asking about you.”
After that, nothing mattered but Buck. I woke up in the morning thinking about him and fell asleep ready to dream about him. I curled my hair hoping he would think it looked pretty and walked around slightly tiptoeing hoping it would make me look tall.
When Sadie came into the kitchen with the sad news that Mrs. MacGregan had died after giving birth to a little girl, I could barely bring myself to feel sad because my head was too full of the thought that Buck had asked about me. When the camp gathered together to give the poor woman a funeral, I chose to stay in my room, claiming I’d had more than my share of death and mourning. But when I heard his clear tenor voice singing the first few phrases of “Amazing Grace,” I threw on my shoes and ran down the stairs, arriving breathless at the gravesite before the third stanza.
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