She now understood Miss Agnes’s funny look and Miss Esther’s careful wording. They’d planned all along to give Molly to that couple. Never had they planned to let Maelle and Mattie go, too.
She envisioned the couple in their fancy clothes, riding in their fancy carriage. Rich people. Hadn’t Da always said you couldn’t trust rich people? And now rich people had Molly. At least they had seemed to like the baby. They probably couldn’t have wee ones of their own. Wouldn’t they treat the baby like a princess? She hoped so. And she knew their name. Standler. She’d find Molly again. She would!
She and Mattie sat on the pew while, one by one, the children left with couples. Eventually only Miss Esther and a man who leaned against the far wall remained. The man pushed off from the wall and approached Miss Esther.
Maelle heard their mumbled voices, but she ignored them until they crossed the floor to stand beside the pew. Miss Esther touched Maelle’s shoulder. She looked up, and she hoped the hatred she felt didn’t show on her face.
“Michael, this is Mr. Richard Watts. He’s looking for a boy to travel with him and help him in his business.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Maelle looked Mr. Watts up and down. Dressed in a brown suit with a string tie beneath his chin, he looked like many of the other men who’d come to the church that day. He needed a shave and haircut, though. The man’s gaze bored into her. Maelle turned her face away.
Suddenly a hand curled around her upper arm and pulled her from the pew. Mattie’s cry of fear brought Maelle to life. “You needn’t be grabbin’ at me! I can stand on me own.”
The man laughed and squeezed her arm. “Feisty, huh? Well, that’s good. Need a boy who’s got some fight in him.”
His fingers bit into Maelle’s flesh, hurting her, but she couldn’t pull loose. She glared at Miss Esther, who stood to the side. “I won’t be goin’ nowhere without me brother. You can tell him so!”
Miss Esther gave Watts an apologetic look. “Although arrangements had been made prior to our leaving New York for the youngest Gallagher child, I assured the proprietress of Good Shepherd the brothers would not be separated.”
Maelle felt a small lift of hope at Miss Esther’s words. Mattie scooted out of the pew to stand beside her. He slipped his hand in hers and clung.
“Well . . .” Watts scratched his whiskery chin with one hand while maintaining his hold on Maelle with the other. “As I told you, I’ve got a good business going with my photography equipment, but my home is a box wagon. It would be a might crowded with two boys. Don’t know as I can take both of them.”
Miss Esther raised her chin. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s both or neither.”
Watts gave Maelle’s arm another squeeze. He worked his jaw back and forth as he looked at her. “Tall boy, seems to have some muscle in that arm. Appears to have some intelligence, too, even if he does talk like a mick. The kind of boy who could learn the trade.”
Miss Esther nodded. “It would be good for Mattie, as well, to learn a trade.”
Suddenly Watts released Maelle’s arm. She stumbled against Mattie. Rubbing her arm, she looked directly into the man’s face. “I ain’t goin’ without me brother. An’ that’s that.”
The man threw back his head and released a laugh that echoed to the rafters. “That’s that, huh?” Still chuckling, he turned to Miss Esther. “All right, then, lady. I’ll take ’em both.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The man called Watts dragged Maelle toward the only remaining wagon in the churchyard. Mattie trailed behind, lugging their bag. Stopping in front of the wagon, Watts gestured proudly toward it with his hand.
“Well, here you are, boy. Your new home.” It was a big box with some words painted on the side in dark green, square letters.
“Drop the back hatch and climb in, but mind you don’t bump any of my equipment. We’ll hunt us up some lunch, then find a dry goods store and get you some gear. That suit’ll be fine for shoots, but you need some traveling clothes.” He pulled himself up on the high seat and picked up the reins.
Maelle wasn’t sure what a back hatch was, so she and Mattie remained on the ground, peering upward.
Watts scowled down at them for a moment, then shrugged.
“Okay, then, follow me.” He slapped the reins onto the horses’ backs, and the animals trotted forward. Maelle grabbed the bag from Mattie and caught his hand. Together they dashed after the wagon. They came to a panting stop when Watts reined in next to a saloon.
Watts hopped down from the high seat. “Well, at least I know you can run.” He didn’t apologize for making them trot behind the wagon like flea-ridden curs. Pointing toward the doors of the saloon, he said, “Let’s go.”
But Maelle held back, clutching Mattie’s sweaty hand. “Me ma would not approve of us goin’ into a place where spirits is sold.”
Watts glowered at her, his brows low, and for a moment she feared he would force her inside. But then he shrugged and straightened the lapels of his jacket. “Suit yourself. But it’ll be a long time to breakfast tomorrow.”
In reply, Maelle sat on the edge of the boardwalk. Mattie sank down beside her. Without another word, Watts pushed the swinging doors to the saloon open, calling, “Get me a bowl of stew and biscuits.”
Maelle’s stomach growled as she thought about Watts eating a bowl of hot, meaty stew. On the train, the children had been given cold sandwiches and tinned milk—filling, but flavorless. Mattie’s whimpers weakened Maelle’s resolve, but memories of her mother’s admonitions about demon rum kept her planted on the boardwalk.
After a long while, Watts emerged. “Here.” Leaning forward, he dropped a dry biscuit into each of their hands. As he straightened, Maelle glimpsed a slim tin canister in his shirt pocket. Her thank-you died on her lips with the sight of that little flask. “Now, let’s go.”
Once more, Watts climbed onto the wagon’s seat, and Maelle and Mattie chased the wagon down the street to a dry goods store. Without speaking, Watts gestured for them to precede him into the store.
Something good greeted Maelle’s nose as she stepped into the store—a malty, yeasty, tangy smell that made saliva pool in her mouth. Maelle sniffed deeply, as did Mattie. A grin of delight split her brother’s face when he spotted rows of candy jars. He dashed forward and, resting his fingertips on the wooden counter edge, raised up on tiptoe for a closer look at the jeweled gumdrops, striped peppermint sticks, and long ropes of licorice.
Watts stomped over and gave Mattie a cuff on the back of the head that sent his hat askew. “Get away from there.”
Maelle clamped her jaw against the protest that formed on her tongue. How dare that man hit Mattie? Holding his head, Mattie stayed close to Maelle as they followed Watts to the shelves of trousers and shirts.
Maelle wondered what Watts would say if she suddenly blurted out she was a girl and not a boy. He’d put her back on the train and disappear with Mattie, she was sure. She tightened her grip on Mattie’s hand and kept silent.
Watts held items against Maelle’s front and eventually built a short pile of two pairs of britches—one brown, one tan—and three shirts in different plaids. He plopped the stack into Maelle’s arms. “Come over here.” He led the children to a shelf that held folded pairs of long johns, and he added two pairs to her arms after shaking them out for inspection.
“Well, that’s that, then.” He turned toward the counter.
Maelle sent a startled glance at his retreating back. Trotting up beside him, she said, “Aren’t ya gettin’ somethin’ for me brother?”
Watts barely glanced at her. “He can wear hand-me-downs.” Grabbing the clothes from her arms, he thumped them onto the counter and told the merchant, “Figure my tab.”
The dry goods door opened and a family entered. The wife and two little girls remained close to the door, but the man removed his battered straw hat and came to the counter. “Excuse me, sir,” the man said, his gaze on the merchant. “The missus and I came into town to mee
t up with that train carrying orphans. We went to the church, like the printed flier said, but nobody’s there.”
Maelle’s heart rose into her throat. She looked at the woman beside the door. Plain-faced and simply dressed, she cupped the shoulders of the two little girls who leaned against her skirts. Her hands, although work worn, seemed gentle in the way they stroked the children’s shoulders. She was a good ma—Maelle could sense it.
She jerked her attention to the man. His clothes, too, were those of a working man, more like what Da had worn. Oh, why hadn’t this couple been at the church earlier? Maybe she and Mattie would have been taken by them!
“Far as I know, mister,” the merchant said, “all them orphans have been claimed. Train pulled out just a bit ago, and that city lady who brung ’em was on it.”
The man turned to his wife. “We’re too late, Martha.”
Tears winked in the woman’s eyes, her chin quivering. “How we was hopin’ . . .”
Moving to his wife, the man patted her shoulder. “Now, don’t fret. There’ll be other trains. We’ll leave earlier next time. We’ll get us a boy, don’t worry.”
Watts frowned at the couple. “You there. You said you were wanting a boy?”
The man faced Watts. “That’s right, mister. We drove all the way from Shallow Creek, thinkin’ we’d choose us a new son. Our own Titus died of the fever last winter. Me an’ the missus have missed havin’ a boy around the place.”
Watts caught Mattie’s collar and hauled him forward. “This boy came off the train. He needs a home.”
Maelle leaped to Watts’s side, the betrayal stinging like a slap. “He ain’t needin’ a home! He’s got one—with you!”
Watts clamped a hand around the back of Maelle’s neck and squeezed, silencing her. “I took both of these ’cause they were all that was left, but I really only want the one. You can take the smaller boy, if you want. I was gonna leave him in the orphanage in Springfield, but it’d probably be better if he went with a family.”
Maelle watched in mute horror as the man went down on one knee before Mattie.
“What’s your name, boy?”
Mattie’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his skinny neck. “Matthew Gallagher, sir.” The words came out in a hoarse, quavering whisper.
“Matthew. Good strong Christian name.”
The wife leaned forward, her hand stretching out to touch Mattie’s cheek. Mattie shrank away, and the woman’s fingers trembled. “Got brown eyes, just like our Titus.”
Without another word, the man scooped Mattie into his arms. Mattie let out a squawk of protest and began to kick, reaching for Maelle. The man didn’t even seem to notice Mattie’s actions. He headed for the door, his wife and the little girls scuttling ahead of him.
Maelle wrenched free of Watts’s grasp and charged after them. “Come back here! You canna be takin’ him! You canna be takin’ me brother!”
The man swung Mattie into the back of a weather-worn wagon. Mattie made as if to scramble out again, but the man said in a low tone, “Stay put.” He turned and caught Maelle’s shoulders, crouching to her level. “Don’t make this harder’n it needs to be.”
Warm tears splashed down her cheeks. “But . . . but . . . please take me, too!”
The man gave her a shake. “Can’t afford to feed you. We can only take one. I’m sorry. I can see you’re a fine boy. But we’ll take good care o’ this’n.”
The woman crowded close, her linked fingers beneath her chin. “Please don’t carry on. I need that little boy. Got a ache in my heart that can’t be filled no other way.”
Maelle knocked the man’s hands away from her shoulders and swiped the tears from her cheeks. “You’ll be lovin’ me brother?” The words were more demand than question.
The woman nodded. “Like he was my own.”
Miserably, Maelle turned to the man who still hunkered before her. “Can I at least be sayin’ a proper good-bye?”
Catching her beneath the arms, he lifted her into the wagon bed. Mattie sobbed as she pulled him snug against her chest. His hat fell off, and Maelle stroked his rumpled curls and murmured soothing sounds.
Eventually she pulled back and took Mattie’s face in her hands. “Ya got the photograph, Mattie, don’t ya?” She waited for his nod. “You’ll always be rememberin’ Ma an’ Da an’ baby Molly an’ me. An’ someday I’ll be findin’ ya. We’ll be together.”
Tears coursed down Mattie’s pale cheeks. “Ya promise me?”
Maelle hugged him again. “I promise ya.” She choked on her words. “No matter how long it takes or how big ya get.”
His face pressed to her neck, Mattie asked, “If I get big, how will ya be knowin’ me?”
Maelle pulled loose and forced a smile. “By the photograph. Just as I’ll be knowin’ Molly by the Bible. An’ you’ll be knowin’ it’s me when I show ya Ma’s letters tied up in the pink ribbon.”
Mattie nodded.
“Be good for these people,” Maelle instructed, using her best big sister voice. “Don’t be shamin’ our da, ya hear?”
“I’ll be good,” Mattie promised.
Just as she had Molly, Maelle kissed her brother’s cheeks and forehead. She whispered, “I’ll always be lovin’ ya, Mattie Gallagher.”
The man stepped to the edge of the wagon. “Come on now.” He lifted Maelle from the back. “Scoot on into the store.” Although his words were gruff, she saw kindness in his lined eyes. She moved to the boardwalk but didn’t step up on the wood walkway.
The man pulled himself onto the seat and then looked at Mattie, who stood in the bed of the wagon opposite to where the little girls huddled together. “Matthew? You want to help yer pa drive the team?”
Mattie’s eyebrows shot up. He touched his own chest with a questioning finger.
The man smiled. “Yes, I mean you. C’mon up here, boy.”
Mattie scrambled to the front of the wagon, and the man settled him between his knees. He placed the reins in Mattie’s hands, curling his own large hands around Mattie’s much smaller ones. The man guided Mattie’s hands into flicking the reins. “Giddap!” The horses lurched forward.
The wagon rolled down the street. Mattie’s face appeared briefly as he leaned out and craned his neck to look backward. But then the man shifted his shoulders, shielding Mattie from view.
The intense pain in Maelle’s heart made her legs feel weak. She longed to chase after the wagon, to cry, to scream, to storm at the unfairness of having Molly and Mattie taken away. But a part of her recognized no amount of protest would change a thing. They were gone. Her sister and brother were gone, and she— “Mike?” Watts called from the doorway of the dry goods. “I bought these britches extra big so they’d last longer. You’ll need suspenders to hold ’em up. Come choose a pair.”
Maelle cared nothing about suspenders. Where was the family taking Mattie? She squeezed her eyes closed, and then she remembered: Shallow Creek. She added the name to her memory bank. Standler. Shallow Creek. Then, opening her eyes, she took a step farther into the street for a last glimpse of the wagon.
A hand clamped around the back of her neck, yanking her onto the boardwalk. She yelped, swinging her arms. Watts let go with a shove that sent her sideways. Maelle regained her footing and glowered at the man.
Hands on his hips, he growled, “Mike, I’m a mild-mannered man, but when I tell you to do something, I expect you to obey. I got hundreds of dollars worth of photography equipment you’ll be learning to use. One misstep because you didn’t follow directions, and something gets ruined? I’ll cut me a switch and leave tracks on your legs that’ll be there ’til next Christmas. Do you understand me?”
Maelle clenched her jaw so hard her teeth hurt. She sucked air through her nose to keep from crying. Reaching back to rub her neck where his fingers had dug in, she gave a single nod of her head in reply.
“Good. And one more thing . . .” He bent forward, bringing his face level with hers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t kee
p your brother.”
She searched his eyes. Was he being honest with her?
“I don’t have room for him in the wagon, and I don’t have need for more than one apprentice. Besides, he’s with a family. Isn’t that what you’d want for him?”
Maelle considered his words. A family was best for Mattie—a ma and a da, and even sisters. Her heart skipped a beat. Mattie would have sisters. Would those new sisters replace her and Molly?
He straightened. “Well, you’re a quiet one, now. Seem to have lost that fire you had in the church.” Arching one brow, he mused, “I figure it’ll come back, though. When the hurtin’s done in your heart.”
Maelle swallowed. He’d sounded . . . kind.
Then he grabbed her shoulder and turned her toward the dry goods door. “Get in there and pick out some suspenders. In time, you’ll be so busy you’ll forget you had a brother.”
Maelle did as she was told, but she made a promise to herself. She’d never forget she had a brother in Shallow Creek. Or a sister with a family named Standler. And someday she’d find them. Like she’d told Mattie, she’d know them by their ties to home.
PART TWO
CHAPTER FIVE
Maelle
Dunbar, Louisiana
December, 1902
You there, boy!” Melle “Mike” Watts retained her casual pose—elbow propped on top of the camera case, right leg bent with the toe of her boot pressed into the dirt—and waited for the boy she’d called to pause in his scurrying journey toward the weighing shed. His dirty bare feet stirred dust as he stumbled to a stop. He turned, the full buckets in his hands swaying with his movements. Squinting, he sent her a puzzled look. He couldn’t be more than eight years old.
“You talkin’ to me?”
My Heart Remembers Page 4
