‘Wait,’ Annie said, touching his hand. ‘Listen.’
Serena was walking as if on a tightrope, her skirts lifted to reveal her muscular calves. She pointed one foot in front of the other, ten steps, and then she turned and retraced her route. ‘I’m Indian, but you knew that, didn’t you?’ Serena spat the words out.
Thomas shook his head. ‘No, Miss Serena, I don’t know nothing.’
From down the dirt road came the steady clip-clop of a horse, the squeak of leather and wheels.
Serena’s forehead creased. ‘Sure you do. You’re older than me. You would have heard the talk. Why are you lying when I thought you cared for me? Isn’t that why you follow me, because you like me?’ Serena spun in a circle and came to a sudden stop. ‘Well, isn’t it? You’ve been following me around forever, always watching me with those big eyes of yours.’
‘I follow you ’cause I’m scared. Those places you go to, Miss Serena, they aren’t the right places for a white girl.’
Serena laughed. ‘I’m not a white girl, I’m an Indian.’
‘You don’t look like no Injun to me, Miss Serena.’ Thomas took her hand in his but Serena snatched it away. ‘You can’t go running around this here town barefooted and by yourself looking like you do,’ Thomas told her bluntly. ‘Firstly it’s dangerous and, second, what will people think?’
‘Why should I care about what people think?’ Serena replied, turning her back on him.
Thomas moved to face her. ‘Mr and Mrs Wade are real good people, they done took you in and cared for you because they love you.’
‘Really? And I suppose that’s why they don’t want anyone to know about me being an Indian, because they love me.’ She looked out across the paddock. ‘They just told me the truth of things, Thomas.’
‘Well then, that’s a good thing, ain’t it, Miss Serena?’
The girl kicked at a tuft of soap-weed. ‘I think they felt obliged to save me but they didn’t want the Indian part of me. They’re embarrassed about the Indian blood in me.’
‘But they’ve been real good to you, Miss Serena.’
‘Grandpapa has, I think the rest just do what he says. I heard them talking once, Aunt Chloe and Uncle Joe’s wife Aunt Susan, those two women said it was a crime that I was being reared like any normal white girl, when it was obvious I was different and would always be different. They said I didn’t belong with the likes of the Wade family, that I shouldn’t have been made a ward or be entitled to money and that eventually I’d cause trouble. Well, maybe they were right.’ She paused. ‘Look what happened to Gwen.’
‘That was an accident.’
Serena kicked at the ground again and pursed her lips. ‘Do you know who Geronimo is?’
‘Sure, everyone knows that name.’
Serena said the word Apache, slowly, thoughtfully. ‘Was he a murdering savage?’
Thomas thought for a moment. ‘Probably. He sure killed lots of people.’
A surrey appeared over a rise in the road. ‘It’s Mr Edmund and Miss Chloe. I heard that Mr Edmund is going to be your guardian when Mr and Mrs Wade have gone to meet the Almighty. That’s why we up and moved here to Oklahoma City, so you’d be near them.’
‘I don’t want a guardian,’ Serena said curtly.
‘But everyone needs someone to look after them, Miss Serena.’
‘Aunt Chloe hates me so why would I want Edmund looking out for me?’
‘You’re awful sad inside, ain’t you?’ Thomas stated.
They stared across the field, at the cattle with their heads down in the long grass, at the carriage approaching at a steady pace. Edmund’s surrey was ebony black with finely spoked wheels and a thick fringe that hung from the edge of the roof.
‘I got this thing inside of me, Thomas.’ Serena held a hand to her chest. ‘A thing that wants to get out, sometimes it’s here,’ she touched her head, ‘sometimes here,’ then her heart. She moved closer to Thomas. ‘Your grandpapa, he was a slave, wasn’t he?’
Thomas was caught off-guard by the change in topic, but he puffed out his cheeks and nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, ma’m, he came out from the old country chained up like an animal.’
Serena took another step towards him. ‘He didn’t like it.’
‘No, ma’m, he didn’t like it. And my pappy, well, he was born a slave, course now he’s a freed man.’
Serena sidled closer to Thomas until they were only a foot apart. ‘A freed man,’ she repeated. Lifting her hand she traced the contours of Thomas’s face. ‘I’ve got this wanting inside of me,’ she whispered.
‘What are you wanting, Miss Serena?’ he asked nervously.
‘I don’t know, but maybe I’m just like your grandpapa and pappy.’
Thomas licked his lips.
‘Maybe I just want to be free.’ Lifting her skirts Serena ran swiftly down the dirt road away from the house.
At that moment Edmund halted the surrey outside his parents’ house and climbed out before lifting six-year-old Tobias to the ground. He then walked around to assist his wife.
‘Stop her, Thomas!’ Aloysius yelled from the porch.
Edmund took his hands from Chloe’s waist and stared down the road. Serena was running like the wind, her dark skirts billowing out behind. Thomas glanced towards the house and then he too was running, chasing Serena down the street.
Aloysius touched the spur to the horse’s flanks. At his back lay a swathe of gently undulating country and the residue of an afternoon sun. He imagined what the area may have once been like before the arrival of settlers in 1889, when the country was still empty of people, the trees grew tall and straight and buffalo wandered the plains beyond. There were farms here now, people grew wheat and corn and cattle. If a man were to go up in a hot air balloon he would see the new town, Oklahoma City, spilling out in all directions from a neat grid formation. There were three-storey buildings, grand hotels and a civic hall, electric streetcars and some very fine parks as well as a zoo. One couldn’t deny the progress that had been made in a little over a decade and Aloysius would be the first to argue the merits of opening up these lands. In fact, it should have been done sooner, yet there was another part of him that wondered at what was lost when change came too quickly. The outskirts of the city were ill-defined, a straggle of buildings interspersed with the tented population, order ringed by half-formed dreams, opportunities stymied by lack of resources and, people who were yet to find a place in mainstream society. Aloysius rubbed at the small of his back. He had been in the saddle for four hours straight; he was tired and thirsty and becoming maudlin, yet he had to keep his mind busy for he had a tendency to imagine the worst.
The horse nickered softly as they left the open country and reached the trees that bordered the waterway. Aloysius gave an encouraging cluck of his tongue as they crossed from daylight to semi-darkness. There was a well-defined trail to follow. This was the second time in as many days that he had travelled this route and the men that he rode to meet were already ahead of him, waiting with Edmund.
Overhead, the canopy stretched from branch to branch. A few spindles of light angled between gnarly cottonwood and hackberry trees, highlighting patches of grass, otherwise it was dark. Aloysius directed the horse in a zig-zag pattern, covering fresh ground from the previous day. The gelding circumnavigated a horizontal tree. There was a depression beneath the decaying cypress, a gap large enough for a body. Dismounting, Aloysius peered into the recess, checked the leaf litter for any traces of disturbance. There was no sign that anyone had rested here. No footprints, nothing. Taking the canteen from his saddle, he leant against the fallen tree, and took a swig of water. The liquid was tepid. He rolled it around his mouth and spat it into the dirt at his feet.
Further down the bank he could hear voices. He knew he must remount and join Edmund and the others but exhaustion was eating at him. Aloysius had no idea where Serena had run off to, but the girl had been missing for two days, as had Thomas. It was not a coincidence. He kne
w this in his heart. Having witnessed their conversation the day that Serena disappeared, he now wondered at their relationship. Aloysius always assumed that Thomas was a good boy at heart. He had been in his employ for many years and up until two days ago, was considered the most reliable of their staff. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that Thomas was a descendant of slaves and as such could not be trusted.
Heaving his body into the saddle, he urged his mount down the sandy slope to the North Canadian River. Voices echoed as the horse moved automatically towards the sounds, weaving through the trees and stepping gingerly over fallen timber until eventually Aloysius glimpsed the wide expanse of water that moved languidly from west to east. There were four men on horseback, including his son. Edmund waved to him on approach. It was clear by the expression on his face that there was no good news.
‘Sheriff Cadell has taken the second search party some four miles downstream,’ Aloysius informed the men. ‘I went briefly back to our residence,’ he told Edmund, ‘just in case there was any word.’
Edmund had a leg strung out across the front of his saddle and the dark cloth of his suit was covered in dust. His son looked exceedingly well; action suited him.
Ben Wright spat out a wad of chewing tobacco, the juice of which was beginning to leave a permanent stain in the corner of his mouth. ‘I know you said that you can vouch for the Negro boy, Mr Wade, but time’s a-marching on. You’d think he’d be doing his best to get your girl home by now.’
The two other men in the search party mumbled in agreement. They were young, rough-looking types, called up by the sheriff when a job needed doing quickly. The wooden stocks of their rifles were shiny from use.
Ben took a flask from his vest and swallowed thirstily. He’d recently come down from Dodge City, Kansas, having collected on a bounty owed him. At twenty-five years of age, he was a hardened man partial to hunting men on the run from the law. ‘I went back down to West Second Street last night, called in at a few establishments to see if anyone had heard of a black and a white girl on the run.’
‘You think my little girl would be in Harlot’s Lane?’
‘Don’t take offence, Mr Wade,’ Ben continued. ‘That there place is the best source of information in the city. Anyways, a couple of women know your girl, say they’ve seen her walking around at night on the edge of town.’
The men stared at Aloysius. He could only guess what they were thinking. ‘She’s been upset recently,’ he said by way of explanation.
‘Well, a Negro matching your boy’s description was seen outside of Schweinle & Monroney Dry Goods store on West Grand Avenue yesterday, but there wasn’t any white girl with him.’
‘If it was Thomas,’ Aloysius replied, ‘and Serena wasn’t with him then he must be looking for her as well.’
‘Yup,’ Ben sounded unconvinced, ‘that is, unless he’s got her holed up somewhere and he went out to get food. Abducted, maybe.’
Aloysius shuddered at the word.
One of the other men, Tyson, scratched at a thick beard. ‘That’s the worst of these free blacks, give them a bit of money and they think they’re just like anybody else. Anyway, the word’s out now. The whole town knows that black boy took your girl.’
‘Now hang on just a minute,’ Edmund interrupted. ‘There is no proof whatsoever that Thomas has done anything wrong.’ His horse backed up nervously, unsettling the other mounts. ‘You’ll have half the town after him.’
‘Well, if that be the case,’ Tyson sniffed, ‘you’ll have your girl back sooner rather than later. And then you can write it up in that paper of yours. Anyway the only good black is a dead black.’
Aloysius cleared his throat. He didn’t care for the beady darkness of Tyson’s eyes, nor the look of dislike on Edmund’s face. The men were tired and angry, hungry for a fight.
‘Come on,’ Ben ordered, ‘there’s nothing else that can be done here. We might as well call it quits for the day.’
‘But we can’t just leave Serena out here for another night,’ Aloysius argued.
‘And what do you propose we do, Mr Wade?’ Ben queried. ‘We ain’t seen a sign of them, no tracks, nothing. We’ll meet at the sheriff’s office in the morning.’
The group straggled off slowly. The hired men rode in single file, weaving along the riverbank back towards town. The silence along the waterway was punctuated by their fading laughter. Edmund and Aloysius watched them merging and reappearing from the shrubby growth. Tyson looked over his shoulder at them and gave a perfunctory wave.
‘That Tyson’s a troublemaker, imagine saying that about Thomas,’ Aloysius said quietly.
Edmund’s brow knitted together. ‘I’ve heard you say the same thing about Indians.’
Aloysius and Edmund left the tree-lined banks of the river and directed their horses for home. The Wade residence was just visible in the dying light, the top storey rose above the silhouette of the barn and windmill. Cattle were bellowing, dogs barking and a wind rustled the grass at their feet. The normality of the evening unsettled Aloysius. There was a half-moon tipped on its side in the sky, a handful of stars strewn about it. It was a middling night to be out of doors in a land so recently brought to heel. He gritted his teeth as he thought of Serena, his knuckles whitening about the reins. He knew that Annie and Chloe would be waiting patiently as women do, ready to bombard them with questions as soon as they set foot in the house. Aloysius grimaced at the thought. He imagined his wife standing in the ballroom, her father’s spy glass pressed against her fragile skin as she scanned the landscape for sign of them, Chloe at her shoulder.
‘Something must be done,’ Edmund began. ‘Either Serena must spend her days locked away when she is not in the company of a responsible adult or –’
‘Or what?’ Aloysius didn’t like ultimatums, he had enough on his mind. ‘We have to find her first, my boy.’
‘We’ll find her.’
Aloysius had long lost the confidence of youth, yet he could still feign conviction. ‘Serena is in my care, you are not yet her guardian.’ Their horses nickered and snorted as they walked through the grass, dipping their heads they tore at the pasture.
‘Well, clearly she can’t be allowed to run wild as she has been. Treatment of some sort is required, Father. If something is not done soon I fear Serena will be uncontrollable. May I suggest an institution? There are many fine –’
Aloysius tugged on the reins, bringing his horse to an abrupt stop. ‘You are talking of an asylum, Edmund, and I tell you right here and now that I would no sooner entrust that child to …’ He lost his voice to a coughing fit. Instantly Edmund was unhooking his canteen from the saddle, unscrewing the lid and passing him water. Aloysius accepted it begrudgingly. The time would come when he would no longer be around to protect Serena. Edmund would be in charge.
‘She has always been different, Father. Willful, spoilt and totally endearing. Serena was a most loveable child and therein lies the problem.’
‘You think she has lacked discipline?’ He shoved the canteen against his son’s chest.
‘Considering the circumstances, I doubt I would have acted differently in your place,’ Edmund replied agreeably, taking the water container from his father’s hand. ‘But we both know she should have been told sooner of her heritage.’ Edmund poked at the guilt within. ‘You asked me what I think, Father, and so I will tell you honestly. As Serena gets older I see something else in her, a desire not to fit in. It is as if she would shrug off this life you so generously gave her and replace it with something else, anything else. I fear trouble ahead, ongoing concern for both you and Mother and the staining of the Wade family name by a young girl who appears to know no better. We have to think of my son, my siblings, your health. If you won’t consider an asylum then perhaps you should send Serena back to her grandmother. Perhaps she will fit in better there. What do you think, Father?’
‘No.’
To their left came a line of riders. They galloped in single file across t
he grassland, coat tails flapping behind them, strangers in the distance. The last streaks of daylight were receding across the countryside as Aloysius turned to his son.
Edmund spurred his horse. ‘Come on.’
They cut across the field as the land was caught in the twilight space of day and night. Aloysius gripped at his horse’s flanks with the curve of his legs and concentrated on the bobbing animal’s skull, on the stretch of his arms as the horse strode across the ground and the outline of his son just feet ahead. Dirt and grit flicked against his skin, his eyes grew smeary with the dust and wind. Ahead, the riders moved at a lightning pace. They galloped in a single line, a series of differing shapes strung out against the pale line of the horizon. Aloysius doubted he had the strength to keep up with such hard riding but nor would he leave his son to follow these men alone, whether they were good or bad, they were not to know. He hardened his mind to the task before him, trying to picture Serena but envisaging Philomena instead.
Finally the horsemen turned back toward the river. Soon he and Edmund were following railway tracks, tracks which he knew split in two with one line leading to the light rail crossing over a bridge. Aloysius knew they had little chance of catching the men if they didn’t slow down, they had too great a lead. They rode parallel to the tracks as the ache of the gallop crept up his lower legs and into his thighs. The land had darkened into night. The rush of wind dried the sweat accumulating on his upper lip. The wind was warm, verging on hot. He was reminded of Dallas’s late Indian summers, which could break winter’s grip. Aloysius felt the heat of the horse beneath him and wondered how long they had already been galloping, how much further there was to go and what they would find. He stuck hard behind his son, wary his horse could falter on uneven ground and he came foul of the saddle. The railway tracks veered. Ahead, Edmund slowed.
The approach to the bridge was reasonably clear of trees, the local timber cut to erect the structure with its crisscross sides and truss supports. The bank gave way quickly to a steep-sided descent and Aloysius caught up with his son as Edmund drew his horse to a stop. He could barely hear anything above the beat of his heart, his breathing and the heavy panting of his sweating horse.
The Great Plains Page 10
