On the Trail of the Truth

by Michael Phillips

  “ . . . to love, to cherish, and to obey till death do you part according to God’s holy ordinance?”

  And with eyes brimming full of tears, and a radiant smile of love and thanksgiving spread all across her face, Mrs. Parrish answered: “I do.”

  Ten minutes later, as I walked back down the aisle in time to Miss Stansberry’s playing, my hand on Uncle Nick’s arm, I was following my pa and my brand-new mother!

  Chapter 2

  Rice, Bouquets, and Garters

  As Pa and Mrs. Parrish walked through the front door of the church and outside, I heard shouts and yells, followed by Pa’s loud voice and then Mrs. Parrish’s laughing.

  Uncle Nick and I were right behind. As the sunlight hit our faces, there were six or eight of the saloon girls gathered around, tossing handfuls of rice in the air at them. The whole rest of the church was right on our heels, and within a minute or two they were all getting into the act. Katie had made sure everyone in Miracle Springs under the age of fifteen—and a lot of those older, too!—had a good supply of rice. And before you knew it the whole town was after them, whooping and hollering.

  Mrs. Parrish could hardly move fast enough to get away in her beautiful white wedding dress, the same one as she’d worn in Boston and which she had packed away all this time. Most of the folks weren’t after her at all. Pa had by far the worst time of it with the rice! But I knew he loved every second, yelling and running and pretending to be trying to get away, while at the same time letting Tad and Becky and the other kids get him good a few times. When it was all done, and people were laughing and panting and hand shaking and back slapping, Pa’s hair and black broadcloth suit looked as if he’d walked out in the middle of a hailstorm.

  There’d been a big afternoon of festivities planned. Pa had fussed about it ahead of time. “Let’s just get the thing done, and then slip outta town, Almeda,” he’d said. “There don’t need to be a big to-do on our account.”

  Pa still didn’t understand. Mrs. Parrish took me aside and said, “Your father, bless him, is so humble he has no idea how folks around here look up to him!”

  She was right! If people around Miracle Springs were interested in Pa’s getting married before, now with him marrying Mrs. Parrish—and almost two months after Nick and Katie’s wedding for word to spread about it—why, folks had hardly been talking of anything else! The little church was packed, with people standing up all around the outside walls. Lots of folks from the hills and neighboring towns knew there’d be no room inside, so they just came and waited around outside for the festivities afterward. Rev. Rutledge had made sure the doors and all the windows were open, and so folks peered in however they could. Then afterwards the tables were set up and filled with food, with the big wedding cake in the middle. When everyone started gathering around, I reckon there were more people than would have filled the church three or four times over, and a lot of faces I’d never seen. Mrs. Parrish herself was a pretty well-known woman, so no doubt lots of people were there on account of her.

  It’s not often a man gets married with his kids right there with him. Pa had the five of us—me and Zack and Emily and Becky and Tad—come stand beside him and Mrs. Parrish. It was such a proud, happy moment! We were a whole family again! Uncle Nick stood right there in front of us with his arm around Katie. Zack’s best friend, Little Wolf, was there, as well as Miss Stansberry and her brother and Rev. Rutledge and all the other folks that we’d come to know. I hardly know how to describe what I was feeling—complete, I reckon. None of the pieces were out of place or missing anymore.

  Then Mrs. Parrish took Pa’s hand and together they began to cut the cake. Uncle Nick and Alkali Jones kept the men stirred up with their catcalls and poking fun at Pa, and there was plenty of laughter to go around, with Pa getting in his share of jibes back at his two friends. Then they handed out slices of the cake, first to the kids and then to everybody else, and there was more handshaking and well-wishing and congratulations offered to the bride and groom. A few of the women cried again, but most of the tears, mine included, had come and gone in the church. By now everybody’s spirits were pretty high.

  “Time to throw the bouquet!” someone called out.

  I glanced up, but couldn’t see who it was. It had been a woman’s voice—probably someone wanting to get it herself! Mrs. Parrish had told us earlier about the custom of the bride throwing the bouquet over her shoulder to the women of her wedding party and family and whoever else wanted to join in. “And whoever catches it,” she said, and eleven-year-old Becky’s eyes were big and wide listening to every word, “that woman’s going to be the next one to get married.”

  “Really?” said Becky slowly, full of wonder.

  “That’s what they say,” answered Mrs. Parrish.

  “Then I’m going to catch it!” said Becky, more as if she was speaking fact than hope.

  Emily didn’t say anything. She was thirteen, and turning into a pretty young lady. It wouldn’t be long before fellas would be turning their heads to look at her twice. And I couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking about the bouquet. Flowers or not, I had no doubts she’d have half a dozen handsome young men courting and sweet-talking her before anybody threw a second look toward me. Maybe that’s why I had the feeling that Mrs. Parrish would try to toss her bouquet in my direction.

  “All right . . . all right,” she answered to the call, coming out from behind the cake table. “Ladies, girls—all of you gather round right over here in front of me!”

  A scurry and bustle followed. All the little girls came running, some of the saloon girls, laughing to themselves but wanting to join in the fun and maybe hoping for a chance to grab at the bouquet, the three of us Hollister girls, and the few unmarried women that were there.

  “Are you all ready?” she said, and as she did her eyes caught mine. I wasn’t sure I wanted to catch it.

  A chorus of high-pitched shouts went up.

  Mrs. Parrish turned around, her back to us, picked up her bouquet from the table, and gave it a mighty heave up in the air back over her head.

  I was right; it did come in my direction—but not nearly close enough that I could even have jumped up and touched it. The bouquet went sailing over my head!

  Becky cried out in disappointment. Sounds of oohs and aahs and various cheers went up. I spun around to see a red-faced Miss Stansberry, standing far toward the rear, holding Mrs. Parrish’s flowers with a look of shock and surprise in her eyes.

  We all clamored around her, while the men clapped and cheered, and a few winked and kidded each other with knowing expressions of significance on their faces.

  “And now, Drummond, it’s time for you to throw my garter,” said Mrs. Parrish.

  “Yeah, Drum!” several called out. “The garter . . . throw it to me!”

  Now the men really erupted with shouts and yells and laughter. Above it all I could hear Mr. Jones’s hee, hee, hee! and Uncle Nick’s whooping. All the men were having a good time trying to make Pa feel as uncomfortable as they could!

  Mrs. Parrish pulled up the corner of her dress to the knee, and now all the yelling changed to whistling, while the women tried to shush up their husbands. But nobody was going to be denied making sport of anything they could on this day. Mrs. Parrish took her time, throwing Pa a smile as she slowly slipped the garter down over her calf and ankle.

  “Here, Drum, will you help me a moment?” she said coyly. Pa stepped up and lent a steadying hand to her free arm to keep her balanced.

  “No, Drum,” she said. “I want you to slip the garter over my shoe.”

  A red flush crept over his face. Pa stooped down to one knee and began the process, while the whistling and calling out doubled in volume.

  When he finally stood up, the garter in hand, he shouted, “Cut out all your hollerin’, you pack of baboons! Can’t you see there’s ladies present!”

  But the men just fired off more teasing and jesting at Pa all the louder.

  “All
right, then, you loco varmints!” shouted Pa back. “Any of you characters who’s fool enough to want to get yourself hitched come up here and get yourselves ready, ’cause I’m about to give this little thing the heave-ho.”

  All the boys hustled forward, nine-year-old Tad right in the front.

  “Throw it to me, Pa!” he cried.

  “You gotta fight for it with everyone else, boy,” Pa answered. “Get in there, Zack . . . Little Wolf . . . come on, all of you get ready.”

  Not nearly so many men gathered around as women, even though there were twenty times more men available for marrying than women.

  Pa turned his back to them and threw the garter in the air behind him. Zack made a halfhearted reach for it, Tad leaped up in the air, but neither was even close. Like the bouquet, the garter flew over the top of them, and I saw it hit Rev. Rutledge on the back of the head. He’d been talking to Patrick Shaw and wasn’t even paying attention to what was going on behind him.

  The minute it hit his head, the minister’s hand unconsciously shot up to investigate the disturbance he’d felt. He then turned around to see every face upon him, the garter hanging from two of his fingers, a bewildered expression on his face.

  When the truth of what happened dawned on him, a broad grin spread over his face, followed by an embarrassed laugh.

  “Well, Reverend,” called out Uncle Nick, “I reckon you’re next!”

  “No, no, not me,” insisted the minister. “Here, this souvenir ought to be your pa’s,” he said, leaning down and handing the garter to Tad, who had scampered through legs and bodies and now stood next to Rev. Rutledge.

  “Yes, sir!” exclaimed Tad, taking it from him, a happy smile on his face. He ran back to Pa and held it out to him.

  “No, boy, you keep it,” said Pa. “Who knows? Maybe you will be next—with the Reverend there performing the ceremony!”

  Everyone laughed again, and then settled down to the serious business of consuming the cake and other food people had brought.

  Chapter 3

  A Glimpse Ahead

  Pa’s marriage to Mrs. Parrish was just about the happiest day of my life.

  By the time we all got to bed that night, I was exhausted, and I think everyone else was too. Being too happy for too long at one stretch can wear a body out just as much as hard work.

  But as I lay in my bed on that warm August evening, even though I was so tired I didn’t think I could have kept on my feet another minute, sleep didn’t come for a long time. Once my feet and hands quit being so active, my brain figured it had to get some exercise. The instant my head rested against the pillow, my mind raced off and I had no choice but to follow.

  This day wasn’t just the first day of Pa’s and Mrs. Parrish’s life together as husband and wife, I thought. It was also my first day, I guess you’d say, as a grown-up.

  I wasn’t grown up yet, of course. And it’s ridiculous to say that all of a sudden, on a certain day, you just up and become an adult. I was only seventeen, and plenty of seventeen-year-olds did have to fend for themselves and were a lot closer to full grown and independent than I was. But I knew on the day of the wedding that a lot of things were going to be changing for me real soon.

  I’d been so busy the last two years since Ma died, acting like a mother to the other kids, helping Pa with the chores and the cooking and cleaning. Suddenly I realized time was passing quickly and I was getting older in a hurry. Ma had been right about the prospects of my marrying. And even if I did have any prospects—which I didn’t—I don’t think I’d have relished the idea anyhow. If I ever did get married one day, it’d have to be the Lord who saw to that part of my life, because there was a heap of living I wanted to do, things I wanted to see, places I dreamed of going.

  It began to dawn on me that maybe now I could do some of those things, go to some of those places. Now that Pa was married, Mrs. Parrish would be taking care of everything that I’d been doing—all those housekeeping and wife and mothering things I’d sorta done because there was nobody else to do them.

  Pretty soon I’d have to figure out something to do besides just being underfoot around the house. I was pretty close to being past schooling age, and I suppose I could study to be a teacher someplace else, like Miss Stansberry. Pa and Mrs. Parrish would have kept me at home till I was fifty—that’s just how wonderful they both were. But somehow I wasn’t sure that’d be exactly right—or if it was what I wanted.

  Something inside me started stirring that night. Ma and Uncle Nick and Pa—they all used to talk about the “Belle blood,” as if when your name was Belle, you had no choice but to get ornery and stubborn and independent every so often. I didn’t think I ever got too much that way, but once in a while when I’d get riled or headstrong over something, Pa’d mutter about the Belle blood.

  Maybe it was my Belle blood stirring. I started thinking about going off alone to some strange new place just to see what it was like, thinking about meeting new people, about being a grown-up who had to take care of herself because she didn’t have to tend to her Pa and brothers and sisters anymore. I found myself wondering what Los Angeles was like, and thinking about the Oregon territory folks were talking about. I wanted to know more about the mountains and the miners and Indians and trappers who lived in them and what kind of people they were.

  Even a month earlier I would have been afraid at the prospect of going someplace by myself, of being away from Pa and the others, of having a job of my own somewhere besides Miracle Springs. But it didn’t frighten me now. It was kind of exciting, adventurous.

  Maybe that was what the Belle blood did to folks. Maybe that’s why Uncle Nick was always in trouble and then came out here—that adventurous spirit in his blood.

  So when I say it was my first day as a grown-up, I don’t mean that anything really changed all at once. But my thoughts and my outlook toward things began to change—no longer a little girl way of viewing. I began to think, This is my life, and I’m getting older. Pretty soon I’m going to be out doing things and going places because I decide to, not because my ma and pa decide for me.

  Maybe that’s what growing up is more than anything else—being on your own, relying on yourself to decide what’s going to become of you instead of looking to somebody else like you’ve always done. And as I lay there that night, that was the question that kept coming to me: What AM I going to do with myself now?

  It wasn’t as if I needed to decide anything before I got up the next morning. With Uncle Nick and Aunt Katie still there in the cabin with us, and with Pa and Mrs. Parrish off to Sacramento and San Francisco for a week, for a while it’d be just like the last six months. School would be starting up again in a few weeks, and I had already agreed to help Miss Stansberry again this year.

  But Uncle Nick was already building a new cabin for him and Katie up past the mine in a little clearing in the woods, about five or six hundred yards from ours. Zack was now fifteen and had been growing like a weed. He was still quiet, but his voice had deepened and he was apt to be as tall as Pa in another six months. He’d be thinking man-thoughts before long.

  Mrs. Parrish and I’d already laughed several times over what I should call her. She told me, “I would be honored, Corrie, to have you call me Mother, but only when you feel comfortable doing so. And you must never call me what you called your real mother.”

  “I called her Ma,” I said.

  “Then you call me whatever you like.” She smiled and put her arm around me. “I will always call you just Corrie. But I want you to know that I do think of you as a very special daughter—a spiritual daughter, a daughter whom the Lord gave me first as a friend . . . a daughter of grace.”

  “Thank you,” I replied. “But I’m afraid you will keep being Mrs. Parrish for a while yet.”

  She laughed, that laugh that always seemed to have music at the back of it. “Oh, I do love you, Corrie Belle! I will be as happy as can be to keep being Mrs. Parrish to you forever!”

  I gave
her a tight squeeze. I loved her too—differently, but I think by now probably just as much as I loved Ma and Pa. I couldn’t believe how good it was of God to bring together the two people I loved most in the world.

  Just then some of Ma’s last words came back to me. It had been two years, but I could almost hear her voice saying them like it had been yesterday.

  You turned out to be a right decent-looking girl, she said. You’re gonna get along just fine, Corrie. I know you’ll make me and your pa proud.

  I cried thinking about her. It was still the happiest day of my life, but sometimes happiness and sadness get all mixed up in a girl’s heart, and then tears come out and you don’t quite know why.

  Then Ma’s words about women getting on in the world came to my mind, her telling me—as she did more than once—to be strong and have courage and to try things.

  “Don’t be afraid to go out and do things, Corrie. And never worry what folks’ll say or think. How else is a woman gonna get on in the world if she don’t try?” That wasn’t the kind of thing you heard most women talking about. But I guess Ma had plenty of the Belle blood in her too!

  When I finally began to get drowsy, the last thought I can remember was praying that God would make me strong and would give me the courage to go out and do whatever it was he might want me to.

  But I don’t think my prayers were completely finished when I fell asleep.

  Chapter 4

  Possibilities

  That next week I found myself wondering even more about what my future held. Katie and I took care of things, the kids played, Uncle Nick worked on his new cabin, but most of the time I kept thinking about Pa and Mrs. Parrish getting back home. Now that they were married, it didn’t seem right with them not here.

  But their being gone did give me and Katie a good chance to get to know each other better. I reckon with it all settled between Pa and Mrs. Parrish, I found myself able to see a lot in Aunt Katie that I hadn’t seen before when my feelings were getting in the way placing her up alongside Mrs. Parrish and comparing the two. Now, Katie was . . . just Katie! And I discovered I really liked her a lot more than I ever thought I would. We talked about many things, and she told me about growing up in the East, and even some about her and Uncle Nick. She treated me like a friend, and I found myself thinking about her as mine too.