With Endless Sight

by Allison Pittman

  “I do not think—”

  “Of course we can,” I said. “We don’t have anything else to do this afternoon.”

  The man indicated a crate off to the side. “Paper’s in there.”

  In the crate were sheets of red, white, and blue paper, a spool of twine, and a sharpened pair of scissors.

  I clapped my hands and gave a little hop, looking like a miniature Mae. “I haven’t been to a dance in years.”

  “You will have a lifetime to go to dances, liebling. When you get back home, they will probably have a dance in your honor.”

  We settled down in the shade of a lumber wagon and dug into our supplies. As there was only one pair of scissors, Sadie folded the papers to make the star pattern easier for me to cut, and then she threaded the twine through each one, creating a garland.

  We worked silently as I mulled over the picture in my mind of a grand ball to celebrate my homecoming. There would be a lovely grand ballroom with marble floors and chandeliers and an orchestra assembled on the balcony overlooking the dance floor. The men would wear elegant suits; women, silk gowns; and young girls—like me—would be dressed in ivory satin with white lace gloves.

  Who was I to deserve such a celebration? The daughter of a man who squandered away his business and a woman who valued her social position so much her husband would live a lie rather than tell her she didn’t belong there. In the years I’d been gone, my companions had been thieves, rapists, murderers, and whores. They had become my family; I’d found refuge in their homes. How likely would it be that the society of Belleville would festoon themselves in satins and lace and command the musicians to strike up a waltz?

  I sat with my back to the soft Wyoming summer wind and listened to the chorus of its whisper across the valley grasses. The staccato rhythm of the hammers and the sound of the scissor blades slicing through the paper combined to create the perfect symphony. I looked up at the endless blue sky and imagined what it would be like in a few nights, when all the paper stars Sadie and I created fluttered in the evening breeze beneath a stunning canvas of God’s own creation. What would it be like to waltz underneath its vast expanse? to feel the evening breeze cooling the exuberance of the dance from my skin? to feel that God Himself was watching from the rafters, applauding the couples and anticipating the next song?

  I snipped the final corner of a crisp red star and handed it over to Sadie.

  “I’m not going with you on that stagecoach,” I said, unable to look up at her.

  “I understand if you want to stay a few days to go to the party.”

  “No. I mean I’m not going home.”

  “That, I do not understand.”

  “There’s nothing left for me there, Sadie. I don’t think I’d fit in.”

  “Well, this is out of the question,” she said, sounding exactly like my mother. “I cannot simply leave you here alone.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m a strong girl, remember? I just don’t feel like my journey here is over.”

  “You should pray about this,” she said, and I smiled at her newfound faith. “I can stay longer with you, at least until you are sure.”

  “No, Sadie. I’m sure now, just as you are. You need to do what’s right for you. And you need to let me do the same.”

  She handed me a folded blue paper, and I sliced the first straight line.

  “Very well,” she said. “But that does not mean I need to leave first thing tomorrow.”

  “Yes it does. If you don’t, you never will.”

  It was late in the afternoon when we completed our paper star garland. The posts were not yet up to hang it, so we carefully layered it in the wooden crate and presented it to the laborer who assigned the task. When our efforts received little more than a grunt of acknowledgment, we took our aching hands back to the restaurant next to the Brasco Hotel for a late dinner.

  As the manager had promised, the stagecoach arrived around seven that evening. Sadie and I sat on the hotel porch swing, watching the passengers disembark. This was a much bigger rig than the one my family had traveled in, as I counted seven people slapping the dust off their clothes. The sight brought back bittersweet memories, and I spent the rest of the evening telling Sadie the harrowing details of stagecoach travel, with tears choked at the back of my throat and a smile.

  The passengers were all guests for the night at our hotel, and Sadie wanted to spend the rest of the evening making their acquaintance.

  “Don’t bother,” I told her. “By tomorrow you’ll know them better than you want to.”

  The next morning I got up early to see Sadie off. We had just enough time for a roll and coffee at the restaurant before walking over to the station to board with the other passengers. When we arrived, the horses were already hitched and the driver was loading bags into the boot.

  “This it?” he asked when Sadie handed him her modest satchel.

  “That is everything.” She handed him a silver coin.

  “You want to hurry and get in so you can get a seat by the window,” I told her. “Trust me, you don’t want to sit in the middle.”

  “I will fight them off if I have to.” She assumed a boxer’s stance before enveloping me in a final hug. “I will worry about you with every mile. Whatever will you do with yourself?”

  “I don’t know.” I gave her a final squeeze and stepped away. “Maybe I’ll be a scullery maid for Mr. Brasco.”

  “Well, you would do a wonderful job.” She hugged me again, but this time she leaned down close to whisper in my ear. “I have left your half of the money in your bag. Be careful with it.”

  “So much? Sadie, I don’t need—”

  “I know it is what Gloria would have wanted. She was quite fond of you, I think. Make the life you want for yourself.”

  “I will,” I whispered, choking back tears.

  I remained on the platform even after Sadie was settled in the coach so that she could chat with me through the window. Until the moment the driver cracked his whip and the coach disappeared with the jangling of the traces and a cloud of dust, I think we both thought it possible that I might change my mind and jump inside.

  However, before the dust had a chance to settle, I knew I had made the right decision. It was just past dawn, and I was faced with an entire day to myself and an entire town at my disposal. I could go back to my hotel room and sleep the morning away, or I could ask the restaurant to pack me a picnic lunch and I could go exploring. I could go back to the dry goods store and buy whatever my heart desired. I took my first step off the platform, utterly, deliciously independent and alone.

  Until I heard my name.

  “Lindy!”

  I spun on my heel, looking back at the crowd still gathered at the station.

  “Lindy!”

  I walked away from the platform and around the edge of the building.

  “Lindy! Over here!”

  The station was behind a two-story building with double doors and a bell tower. It was obviously the town’s schoolhouse, because yesterday morning Sadie and I had seen a handful of children pouring through its doors to play in the grassy yard beside it. Neither of us had seen children for so long, we stood and watched, remarking at how little childhood games had changed through the years.

  Now I viewed that same building from the back, and to my surprise I saw that the windows were covered with iron bars. And behind those iron bars, yelling my name into this new morning, was my brother Chester.

  30

  His thick brown curls fell below his eyes, and soft tufts of whiskers peppered his jaw. By the time I reached the window, both of his hands were thrust through the bars, and I caught them in mine. It was the nearest to an embrace that we could manage. Both of us wept great, rolling tears, and when we attempted to speak, our questions ran together.

  “How did you—”

  “Where have you—”

  “When did you—”

  At some point the deputy pounded on the inner door, suspicious of
all the noise coming from Chester’s cell.

  “It’s my sister.” Chester looked over his shoulder.

  “Well then,” said a voice from within, “tell her to come on in and you two can visit proper.”

  I went around to the front of the building, arriving just as the doors were unlocked by a tall, thin man with a star pinned to his untucked shirt.

  “Morning, miss.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “This is a great day in here—you’re about all this guy ever talks about. I’ll even open his door and let you inside if you promise you won’t try to sneak him away.”

  “I won’t.”

  He led me into a large front room that looked just like the classroom of my childhood. A dozen desks were bolted to the floor, and a large teacher’s desk sat at the front. Three of the walls were covered with blackboard paint with yesterday’s arithmetic problems still visible in white chalk, and above them the alphabet was painted in perfect script.

  “We use this as the courtroom when the judge is in town,” the deputy told me as we walked past a small shelf holding half a dozen books.

  To the left of the blackboard along the back wall was a door that led to a second room with three prison cells. Chester was in the first one on the far left, looking so much smaller than I remembered.

  “You probably don’t need to open the door, Lee,” he said to the deputy. “Lindy here can probably squeeze right through the bars.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said, though his taunting pleased me in ways I couldn’t begin to describe.

  When Deputy Lee unlocked the door, I ran into my brother’s arms and would have been content to have the door locked behind me forever.

  “Come, sit down.” Chester sat on the thin cot that took up nearly half the room, and I sat down beside him. “I’ve looked for you every day. We were supposed to meet you here, remember?”

  I shook my head. “Everything went so wrong. You don’t know …”

  He pulled me to him, and I rested my head on his shoulder. “Yeah, I do, Lindy. I heard what happened. About Ma and Dad.”

  “It was so awful. I couldn’t do—I couldn’t stop him.”

  “Shh, shh.” He rocked me back and forth as if I were a little girl. “Of course you couldn’t. But when I heard about the family that had been … killed, and I knew it was my own, I asked everyone, ‘What about the girls? My sister and our cousin?’ But nobody knew.”

  “There’s no way anybody could have.”

  “But you’re here now, Sis.” He held me away to look in my eyes. “Tell me. Everything.”

  “I can’t. Not now, anyway. There’s just too much. All that matters is that God has brought me here to you, and He’s kept me safe until I could get here.”

  “And Phoebe?”

  If Phoebe were watching from heaven, she would be dancing on the golden streets, because Chester’s eyes grew mournful when I was finally able to say that she’d taken ill and died.

  “You were so good to her that night,” I said.

  “Which night are you talking about?”

  “In the barn—the night you and Del left.”

  “Oh yeah, that one. So how much did you see?”

  “Everything.”

  He looked away, but I reached out and turned his face toward me again.

  “A kiss can change a girl’s whole world, Chester. It was the most generous thing you’ve ever done.”

  He held me close again, and this time it was I who broke away.

  “Now,” I said, “you tell me. What ever happened to Del?”

  His face took on that mischievous grin. “I always thought you were a little sweet on him.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “Well, if it’s any comfort, I have no doubt that he returns your affections.”

  “I couldn’t care in the least, as a matter of fact,” I said, but I felt my pulse quicken. “I just wondered where he is, that’s all.”

  Chester stood up and walked to the cell door. “Believe it or not, he’s probably still asleep. That guy could sleep through an earthquake.”

  “He’s here?” I jumped up from the cot and started to smooth my skirt.

  “Right next door.” Chester held a finger to his lips and motioned the deputy to come near. “Do me a favor, Lee. Go open Saunders’s cell and let her in it. Then bang on his foot or something until he wakes up.”

  Deputy Lee shrugged, let me out of Chester’s cell, then opened the next door down.

  “Go on,” Chester urged.

  While it seemed right to be a part of one of Chester’s pranks, my stomach churned. Still, I walked into the middle cell behind Deputy Lee and kept my eyes to the floor.

  “Hey, Saunders,” Lee said, his voice so gruff it had to be part of the joke. “Wake up, son. There’s somebody here to see you.”

  I looked up just in time to see the deputy give me a wink, and my eyes followed him as he slunk out of the cell. Then, I turned to face the form sleeping on the cot. I’d like to think that, had my brother known Del was not wearing a shirt, he would never have put me in this position. As it was, the first thing I saw was a strong, wide back and his hair—even longer than it had been—splayed out over his bare shoulders. Then he braced his hands against the mattress, slowly pushed himself up, and turned to face me.

  I stood motionless. Proud of myself for remembering to breathe.

  “Belinda?”

  “Good morning, Del.”

  He swung his legs over the edge of his cot and sat there, clasping his hands in front of him, bowing his head so that his hair became a curtain obscuring his face. Then I heard his voice whispering, “Thank You, God, for bringing her home.”

  Later that morning I brought over a platter of pastries from the restaurant, and Deputy Lee allowed the three of us to gather in one cell for breakfast. In the time that I was gone, both Chester and Del cleaned up considerably, running a wet comb through their hair and donning relatively clean shirts. A small table was procured from somewhere in the courthouse and covered with a blue-checked cloth. Chester’s cot was used as a bench—he and I sat on it together—and another chair was brought in for Del. We had a pot of good, strong tea, which I generously laced with honey, and a dish of strawberry preserves courtesy of the deputy’s wife.

  It wasn’t until we were all in place and Del had asked a blessing on the food that I finally had the chance to ask the question that had been plaguing me all morning.

  “Who is going to tell me why you are both in jail?”

  They exchanged a sheepish look before Chester said, “It’s my fault.”

  “No argument there,” Del said.

  “We were at Celine’s,” Chester began.

  “Oh,” I said. “The place with the piano music and fancy ladies?”

  “And card tables,” Del said. “Don’t forget card tables.”

  “The man accused me of cheating,” Chester said. “Not only have I never cheated in a card game in my life, what proof would he have, seeing that I was twenty bucks in the hole?”

  “It’s the age-old mystery.” Del held up his hands.

  “There I am, hardly winning a hand all night, and he has the nerve to call me a cheater.”

  “So your brother threw a table,” Del said.

  “I did not! I tripped as I was standing to leave the game, and the man got the wrong idea.”

  “And you got into a fight,” I said.

  “I had my honor to protect, Sis.”

  “And just how did you get involved in this?” I asked Del.

  “Just happened to be walking by, heard the ruckus, and realized this boy needed saving. He was—”

  “Doing fine.”

  “—pinned to the floor. I pulled the guy off him, and the next thing you know, all three of us are being hauled in for drunken and disorderly conduct.”

  “Which is another lie.” Chester gestured with his pastry. “Neither of us were drunk. Del here doesn’t touch the stuff.”

  “So, why isn’t this oth
er man in here with you two?” I said.

  “The circuit judge was here about a week after we were arrested,” Del said. “That guy paid his fine and got out.”

  “Paid it with the money he won from me,” Chester said. “Tell me where the justice is in that.”

  “How much is the fine?” I asked

  “Twenty dollars,” Del said.

  “For each of you?”

  “Yes.”

  Neither he nor Chester would look at me.

  “And you don’t have it?” I trained my eyes on Chester. “It’s gone? All of it?”

  “I’m so sorry, Lindy.”

  “That was everything we had. Our parents died for that.”

  “I know,” Chester was whispering now. “I’m so sorry. I just—”

  “It’s not all gone,” Del said. “There’s a bit of it here in the bank. But I can think of better things to spend forty dollars on. Plus,” his broad, smooth face broke into a smile, “it’s six months we don’t have to pay room and board.”

  “You’ve been here for six months?”

  “Just two so far.”

  “When does the judge come back around?” I asked.

  They looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Because I have money.”

  “Well then, you’re in luck.” Deputy Lee stood in the cell doorway, twirling his keys. “Judge’ll be here in a week.”

  I visited the boys often during the intervening days, bringing them breakfast and dinner. It was over these meals that I told them, as much as I could, the stories of all that had happened to me after the murder of our parents. Once again we were all silent and sad as I recounted Phoebe’s illness and passing, but Del beamed when I told them of Laurent’s redemption. Chester said nothing, and I knew he hadn’t found it in his heart yet to forgive. When I told them of Hiram’s demise, I said only that he seemed bent on attacking me, letting them fill in any missing details for themselves. I described my time at Jewell’s as a year of friendship, restoration, and healing.

  When I was not at the jail, I spent my time back at the site for the Independence Day celebration. I’d established a friendship with Lars, the carpenter in charge, and he relegated all the decorating to me. A ten-foot pole was set up at each corner of the dance floor, and I wrapped red, white, and blue streamers around each one before hanging tiny lanterns on the ropes strung between them. When the floor was complete, I took my place among all the workers on my hands and knees, sanding it smooth. I suggested that they erect a framework behind the band’s stage on which we could display the flag. Finally, the day before the celebration, I pulled out the garland of paper stars and directed the men who had somehow become my crew in stringing them high above the dance floor.