The Staircase

by Ann Rinaldi

  Affectionately, your loving niece,

  Lizzy

  Dear Cassie:

  You must think me a very fickle friend, indeed, for not writing, but I have scarce had a moment since Daddy left me at this school in Santa Fe. I suppose that if you saw Uncle William at all and inquired after me you know that. Oh, Cassie, I miss you so! I miss my school and our afternoon rides, with me on Ben and you on Susie. That world seems so far away now—it is as if I never walked the streets of Independence, and it is the only home I have known before this.

  Yes, my dear mama is dead. Do you remember how we'd come in from our afternoon rides and she'd have fresh muffins and warm cocoa for us in the cold weather? Oh, I long for her. Be good to your own mama, Cassie, no matter how stern she gets when you forget to do your chores.

  I suppose she will soon have the baby. Oh, you are so lucky! There was a new baby just born here in Santa Fe, and I got to know the woman. She had it alone, at the fort, and we brought her and the baby back. She ran from her husband because he beats her. And now she may be dying. How can people not appreciate what they have, Cassie?

  Sometimes I think if I can close my eyes, I can he back in our kitchen in Independence, and my own mama will be there. It seems impossible to think of her gone. Where is she? I know I am supposed to think she is in heaven, hut how can she he when she is so needed here? My daddy will never be able to carry on alone, little as I care about him, and surely I will become even more of a ruffian without her.

  I am already well on my way here in this convent, surrounded by lily-livered girls whose every dream is to see visions of Saint Joseph or the Virgin. Elinora turned out to be as much of a plague as you said she would be and now says she wants to be a nun. But I know she is doing it for her own ends, which I cannot explain now but will tell you in the future.

  The school principal is Mother Magdalena, who is mean and unfair and often at odds with the Bishop. She already switched me for something I did not do. But I have a friend in the Bishop. He has a beautiful white cat that just had kittens, and he offered me one. And I have another friend in Mrs. Lacey, an elderly lady it is my job to help care for.

  I still ride Ben every day. I haven't time now to explain it all, only to say please forgive my tardiness in not writing and know that I think of you all the time. How are my cats? I know you are taking good care of them for me. I miss them so.

  Cassie, because I don't know if I shall ever hear from Daddy again, I have written to ask Uncle William to send for me. I am sure I will be back in Independence next summer.

  I must finish now because I have a pressing chore this afternoon. I will write again soon.

  Your ever dear friend,

  Lizzy

  14

  I RODE BEN QUIETLY through town. It was cold now, though when the sun came out from behind the clouds, it was warm. Inside the pocket of my apron, I had the note for Jesse James.

  How pointless. There was no Jesse James loitering about Fort Marcy. He loitered only in Mrs. Lacey's imagination. I was not so sure about Lozen, though. If she hadn't delivered Delvina's baby, who had?

  I also had a new candle and matches to light the lantern beside Robert's grave.

  It seemed a silly mission, but I could not refuse Mrs. Lacey. And it afforded me my ride on Ben and an hour or so of freedom away from the school.

  Since I had just dispatched letters to them, I thought about Uncle William and Cassie as we climbed the hill to the old fort, which seemed more stark and abandoned on this cold day. Wind whistled around the crumbled buildings. I made my way directly to Robert's grave, got off Ben, retrieved the matches and candle from my sack, then the note for Jesse James from my pocket. I set the note under a rock so it wouldn't fly away. I knelt down to put a new candle in the lantern.

  All I recollect is a rush, as of wind, coming toward me. Only it wasn't wind, it was a person, come out of nowhere, a person who came like a dark wind. I remember a cloak flapping in the wind, and then that cloak seemed to envelope me as someone grabbed me by the shoulders.

  "Where is she? Where is my wife?"

  The voice was gravelly. Strong hands held my shoulders until they hurt. Then he pulled me to my feet. The matches and candle fell from my hands. I heard the lantern clatter over and roll away. The man's head was covered with some sort of old flappy hat. His eyes were red rimmed, his face be-whiskered. His mustache drooped, and it had spittle on it.

  "My wife! Where have they taken her?"

  "Let me go!"

  "You know! So does that old harpy who comes here every day. Where are my wife and baby?"

  I kicked and screamed. Fear cut through me. He was shaking me, dragging me, bellowing at me. I smelled the stench of liquor on his breath.

  "Tell me, or I'll kill you here and now, girl!"

  I fought and kicked and yelled. Then I thought he was releasing me, for he let go of one of my shoulders, but it was only to take a knife from his belt. It flashed in the weak sunlight. "Now! Or I'll kill you!"

  At that moment, a shot rang out and I thought I was dead, but instead his mouth formed a large O, and I saw he had rotten teeth. His eyes seemed to bulge and his other hand fell from my shoulder. That is all I remember. Except hitting the ground. Hard.

  When I awoke it was to Ben nuzzling my face, pushing me. I struggled to sit up and look around. For a moment I was so dazed that I could not determine where I was or what had happened. My head hurt and my shoulders, too. That made me remember, and I looked around in terror.

  The man was gone. But on some stones near me there was blood. And there were scuffle marks in the sand, as if someone had dragged something. The lantern was set to rights at Robert's grave, the new candle lit inside and the matches left near it.

  The note to Jesse James that Fd left under the rock was gone.

  Ben was still nuzzling me.

  "All right," I told him. "I'm all right." I got to my feet and leaned against him for a moment.

  Someone had rescued me. But who? I was trembling with fear and exhaustion from fighting that loathsome man. No wonder Delvina had taken refuge up here rather than live with him. But who had come to my rescue? And why hadn't he, or she, waited until I came to so I could give my proper thanks?

  I cast my gaze around the deserted fort, feeling eyes upon me. The place was downright creepy, but I would not be frightened off. I patted Ben's nose and, just in case anyone was watching, I knelt down by Robert's grave as if to say a prayer. Then, taking my time, I gathered my cloak around me and mounted Ben and started slowly down the hill.

  "It's all right, Ben," I told him again, for I could see he was agitated. His ears were back and he neighed restlessly. In a moment I becalmed him.

  "Do you think Delvina's husband is dead?" I asked him. "That he was shot and dragged away?" I kept looking back as we descended the hill, but saw nothing.

  "Was it Lozen who rescued me, Ben? Or Jesse James? And who took the note?"

  But Ben kept his own counsel, as he always did.

  "Likely it was a lawman," I said. "And likely Delvina's husband is sitting in jail right this minute."

  We made our way down the hill and home to the convent. "You know what, Ben?" I said. "I don't think I should tell anybody about this. Because then Mother Magdalena might convince the Bishop to put Delvina out. And she won't let me come here anymore. And that will end my afternoon rides with you."

  He agreed.

  My teeth were chattering, but it wasn't that cold. As we proceeded home I thought, I've been here a little over one week, and I've been attacked, whipped, abandoned, lied to, confided in, put under a spell by a witch, put into a penance chamber, slept in a feather bed, been blessed by a bishop, and offered a cat. Who knows what will happen before spring, when I start my trip back to Independence?

  JUST AS I PASSED the U.S. Army quartermaster's depot, a boy ran out of an alley and seized Ben's reins. "Are you Lizzy Enders? Stop, please! I have something for you to give to Elinora St. Clair."

&nbs
p; He was so handsome. Never in all my life had I laid eyes on such a handsome boy.

  At first Ben was frightened. He reared, but I managed to gentle him. Handsome or not, the boy was a fool. "You stupid bounder!" I yelled at the boy. "You don't ever run out of an alley and frighten a horse like that! What ails you?"

  "I am so sorry, señorita" He took off his hat and bowed. He had a head of curly brown hair. Oh Cassie, I thought, he's even more handsome than Charlie Walters in the sixth grade. Remember how smitten you were with him?

  I slipped off Ben's back. "What do you want? Who are you?"

  "Abeyta," he said.

  "Abeyta what?"

  "No matter, señorita" Then he leaned over and kissed my hand. "My apologies for frightening you. But someone saw you go up to the fort before, and I waited until your return. Forgive me."

  I'd never had my hand kissed before. I drew it back. It felt like I was branded. "What do you want of me?"

  "I would prevail upon you to give this note to Elinora." He held out a folded piece of parchment.

  Was this all I was good for? Delivering notes this day? "How do you know Elinora?"

  "Señorita. I go to the boys school. Over there." He pointed to the distance, beyond the famous wall. "Did Elinora not tell you of me?"

  "No," I said. "Though she did make mention of sneaking out at night. Are you kin to her?"

  It was a cruel question, because I knew he was not. The look in his eyes when he uttered Elinora's name did not bespeak the concern of a relative.

  "She has the voice of an angel," he said. "The way she sings, Madre de Dios. I sing, too, señorita. And we have become soul mates." He looked abashedly at the ground.

  All I could think of was, How does a girl who is as ugly as Elinora get to have a soul mate who looks like this?

  "We have met four times already, by the wall at the boys school. This note will remind her. Tonight is the Comanche moon."

  "The Comanche moon?"

  He nodded. "It is said that if lovers stand very still on the night of the Comanche moon, they will see warriors crossing the river. And hear their chanting. And their war drums. And if this happens, the lovers will be blessed forever and their union will be certain."

  I nodded. "But Elinora said only this morning that she is to become a nun."

  He laughed, showing perfect white teeth, the sight of which tore into me, broke my heart. "She only says that to throw people off the scent. So they won't suspect about us."

  "I never believed it. I thought she was doing it to gain favor with her uncle."

  "Which she badly needs. Will you give her the note, please?"

  "I'll take it," I said. And I did. "But this could bring great tribulation to you, and to the Bishop. It would hurt him so if he knew Elinora has taken up with a young man. The Bishop has been good to me."

  He bowed again. "Do what is in your heart, señorita," he said. Then he turned to go.

  "Wait," I said. "Aren't you afraid of what will happen to you if you are caught?"

  "We will not be caught. Anyway, my father is Manuel Antonio Chaves, an important personage hereabouts. Ask anyone about him. He gives much money to the church."

  Like Mrs. Lacey, I thought. And like Mrs. Lacey, he likely gets away with all kinds of mischief. And so would his son.

  "Are you and Elinora lovers then?" I asked boldly.

  He held himself straight and tall. "I shall love her forever. I would die for her. And one day soon we will make our way out of here on horseback at night and wed."

  And we were here only a little more than a week. Then I remembered—Elinora's mother had run off at sixteen. I nodded, put the note in my apron pocket, and got back on Ben. "I will study on the matter," I said again.

  Elinora, with her big nose and her provoking ways. Her talk of being a bride of Christ. Encouraging the others to wait for a miracle. She had sneaked out of our room while I had slept like a newborn babe. How did she do it?

  Life wasn't fair, I decided. Not at all.

  GOD BROODED ON THE school when I got back late that afternoon. The first thing Ramona told me in her halting English was that Delvina had died.

  That sat hard on me, though I knew it was coming. And though I thought I'd never again be so diminished by a death after Mama's.

  As befitted a death, there was an eerie cast about the place. I'd never have thought it could get any gloomier than it usually was, but the nuns had given their all to the effort. Candles that were never lit glowed. Mirrors, in short supply to begin with, were covered lest anyone look into one and find that they themselves still existed in the flesh. At every turn I heard prayers being said, saw the girls going about with folded hands and downcast eyes. The nuns were scurrying back and forth with what could only be winding sheets. The church bell was mournfully tolling.

  And then I minded something else.

  The hammering inside the chapel, which had begun this morning, had stopped.

  Had it stopped in honor of Delvina? Or because Elinora had succeeded with the Bishop?

  Then I saw her coming down the hall, eyes lowered, hands joined in front of her, lips moving. She was surrounded by her lieutenants. For a moment, as she passed me, she hesitated and gave me a sly smile. And I knew she had succeeded with the Bishop in stopping the carpenter from his work.

  I ran from her. As I turned, I almost bumped into Sister Roberta.

  "My, you're in a hurry. Didn't you know? All the girls were told to walk softly and pray for Delvina's soul this day. To refrain from chatter and giggling and give something up at supper."

  "I didn't know that, Sister. I'm sorry."

  As she looked down at me I thought I saw the usual twinkle in her eyes, but I couldn't be sure. "She died a peaceful death. I was with her. The baby will be baptized this evening and cared for here at the convent."

  No death was peaceful. How could she say such? But all they did around here was pray for a "happy death." This was the greatest achievement in life, as far as the nuns were concerned. I nodded, saying nothing.

  "Now you should go to Mother Magdalena's office. She wishes to see you."

  I was in trouble again. I turned to go.

  "Lizzy?"

  "Yes, Sister?"

  "You look as if you've been in a scrape. Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

  I minded then how I looked with my disheveled hair, smudged face, and dirty apron. "Not now, Sister. Not yet."

  "Well, you know you can come to me anytime. Now I'd suggest you clean up quickly. Change that apron before you appear before Mother Magdalena. Hurry."

  I thanked her and ran. Was something wrong? Fear coursed through me as I washed my face, ran a comb through my hair, and changed my apron. Had Mother Magdalena been told by the authorities that I'd been attacked up at the fort? Was she going to forbid me to go out on Ben?

  Ten minutes later, I knocked on the door of Mother Magdalena's office and stood before her.

  "Sit down, Elizabeth."

  I sat. Something bad had happened, I was certain of it. Maybe she had found out about the note I held for Elinora. Hadn't she told me there was little around here she didn't know about?

  "What happened to your face, Elizabeth?"

  My face hurt by now. I'd fallen harder than I realized. "I fell."

  "Where?"

  "I tripped in my room," I lied.

  She nodded. "You have heard the news about Delvina, I take it."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Since the rules in Santa Fe require that bodies be buried within twenty-four hours, and tomorrow is Sunday, the funeral will be this evening. We are keeping the baby. It is the Bishop's wish, since there seem to be no relatives but a drunken, violent father."

  I looked at my folded hands in my lap and nodded. What good to tell her about the man who attacked me? He was likely dead, anyway.

  "I have a letter here for you, Elizabeth. From your father." She handed the missive across the desk to me. I could scarce move for a moment. My father had w
ritten to me? Why? I did not want his letter. But I got up and took it, fearful that it would burst into flames in my hands. I held it in my lap and saw my father's familiar scrawl. "Miss Elizabeth Enders." Oh, the writing itself burned into me.

  "Thank you, "I said.

  Her eyes were on me. "Some fathers are drunken and abusive," she said. "Some are not."

  I nodded yes.

  "And I have this for you." Again she reached out, and again I got up to take what she had in her hand.

  It was a gold coin. I looked at it.

  "It's a twenty-dollar gold piece," she said. "Delvina gave it to me when she was dying. She said to give it to you."

  A twenty-dollar gold piece! Was there to be no end to this day and what it would bring me?

  This was the gold piece that Mrs. Lacey said had been given to Delvina by Jesse James.

  15

  I SAT QUIETLY in my room on my bed, fingering the gold coin. Was it from Jesse James? I was starting to get like Mrs. Lacey, I thought. It was a beautiful coin, and there seemed to be some magic in the thought that it could be from Jesse James. But then I minded that Delvina's husband had been a thief. And likely it was part of some illegal bounty.

  I'd been excused from the supper table to read my father's letter. It sat now like some dead thing in my lap.

  "Dear Lizzy," he'd written. How could he call me "dear"? He'd left me, abandoned me just when I needed him most, and now he wrote endearments. I'd always thought it was stupid to begin letters by calling the other person "dear."

  Men did it to each other in letters about business. I'd seen Uncle William receive letters from some bedraggled, worn-down fur trapper, that began with "dear."

  My father was on his way to Texas.

  At the outset on the Gila Trail, on his way to Colorado, he'd met a drover who worked for the Santa Gertrudis Ranch in Texas, owned by a man named King. The drover had just returned from driving a herd of cattle north, to the Plains. He'd told my father how King needed good men on his ranch, which was the biggest in the Southwest, and how my father, having once run a plantation, would find good-paying work. My father immediately abandoned his Colorado idea and started for Texas.