Inherited

by Gabrielle Meyer

  Elizabeth moved out of its way as another fell on her head. She squealed in surprise and flung it away.

  More began to come down all around them. The sun was now completely hidden from view and the street was as dark as dusk. Hundreds of the locusts fell from the sky, their bodies hitting the roofs of buildings with little thuds. They advanced along the street and crawled up the legs of Jude’s pants. He hit at them and swatted at his pants, but their feet clung to the fabric.

  “What’s happening?” she asked Jude above the noise of the whirring and humming.

  “I don’t know—but look.” He pointed to her gown where a hole had been made by the little creatures. “They’re eating everything in their path.”

  Thousands more fell around them, covering every square inch of ground.

  “Quick,” he said. “Let’s get inside.”

  They raced down the alley toward the back door of the Northern as he brushed the locusts off his arms and shoulders. It was impossible to avoid the insects as they walked, and they crunched underfoot, making their path slippery and treacherous.

  Jude rushed ahead and opened the back door. Elizabeth went inside, frantically trying to remove the horrible insects from her clothing and hair.

  “They’re pinching my skin,” she said as she cried out in pain.

  Jude slammed the door closed and dropped his travel bag. He went to her side, pulling dozens of insects off her. Then they removed the bugs that were clinging to him and crushed them under their feet.

  The back hall was as dark as night and it was almost impossible to see each other.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Elizabeth said, breathless. “Look at my gown. They’ve made holes everywhere. It’s ruined.”

  His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw another locust on her shoulder. He gently pulled it off. “I think we got them all.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, but then she looked down at her damaged gown. “If they’re doing this to my clothing, I can’t imagine what they’re doing to the crops.”

  His heart started pounding even harder than it had been. “My corn.” He grabbed the knob and yanked the door open.

  She put her hand on his arm. “Corn?”

  “My cornfield, remember? The corn pays for our winter mortgage.” His words sounded harsher than he intended, but there was no time to waste explaining. He rushed outside, desperation in his movements.

  “Wait!” She called to him and ran out the door.

  “Get back inside, Elizabeth.”

  “I won’t let you go alone.”

  He didn’t have time to debate, but rushed into the barn, where burlap feed sacks sat in a pile near the wall. He picked them up and saw that she had followed him inside the barn. “Grab the can of kerosene and a box of matches. We’ll try to smoke them out.”

  Elizabeth did as he said and ran to keep up with him as he headed toward his cornfield.

  * * *

  Elizabeth swatted at her head, trying to dislodge the locusts that clung to her hair. They swarmed around her in a storm of whirring and buzzing. She’d never seen anything like it in her life. It was like a plague right out of Egypt. Where had these insects come from and how would they get them to leave?

  She ran down the street, her feet slipping and sliding on the horrid bugs as one crawled down her cheek and tried to get into her ear. She squealed and pulled the bug from her head.

  Jude was gaining speed and she could barely see him in the whirl of locusts. She didn’t know where he was headed, but if she lost him now, she’d never find him.

  “Jude!” Elizabeth called to him. Her skirts were flying and her hair tumbled down her back in a tangled mess, but she hardly cared. If they could save his crop, she’d do whatever she could.

  Jude stopped and took her hand, pulling her along the street.

  “What do you plan to do?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Build fires around the perimeter of my fields and try to smoke them out. We’ll need to gather wood, too.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can.”

  He pulled her over the ravine bridge and down a dirt road. The grasshoppers continued to fall from the sky and the munching noise threatened to drive her crazy.

  They finally came to a field full of corn about knee-high. It was already infested with the grasshoppers. There had to be at least twenty of the insects to every square foot and they continued to come.

  “Set down the kerosene and go gather wood wherever you can find it,” he said to her.

  Elizabeth did as he said, pulling bugs off her face and arms, and then rushing off to a wooded area on the edge of the field, where she began to gather sticks and piles of leaves.

  She held as much as she could manage and brought it back to Jude. He quickly started a fire with the kerosene and matches, and when it was going strong, he set a couple flour sacks on it to start the smoke.

  Elizabeth returned to the woods and brought back more sticks. He directed her to put her stacks of kindling farther down the field, then return for more.

  She went back to the woods for countless loads and Jude built at least a dozen fires. Sweat dripped down her face and mixed with soot. She coughed and wheezed as smoke billowed out around the fields. For a time, she believed they were making a difference, but after two hours she returned and found Jude staring at a decimated field.

  Elizabeth dropped another load of sticks and was about to return when he called for her to halt.

  She crumpled to the ground, panting for air, pulling more of the horrible insects off her gown. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, but she couldn’t sit for long. She stood and faced him. “Why are we stopping?”

  “It’s too late,” he said. “There are too many.”

  Elizabeth walked over piles of grasshoppers to reach his side. “It’s never too late.”

  “Look at the corn—there’s nothing left.” He bent over to catch his breath. “They’ve destroyed my crop in less than three hours.”

  Elizabeth ran her forearm over her sweating forehead, panting for air.

  Jude watched her, his hair wild and covered in ash. He’d given up—she could see it in the weary lines of his shoulders.

  “We can’t give in, Jude. Not now.”

  He picked up a stalk of corn, eaten around the edges. “It’s no use. We’ll never win this battle.”

  She knelt on the ground and clasped her hands in her lap, then she lowered her head and took deep breaths. She looked around at the leafless trees and the barren ground. The land was dreary and bleak, the beauty gone. How long would she have to gaze upon the desolate earth?

  Defeat hung about her and she wanted to weep. “I’m sorry. I wish we could have saved it.”

  He sat beside her and watched his field disappear under the hungry mouths of locusts, smoke rising up all around his crop.

  “I don’t think I can put into words what your efforts mean to me,” he said. “I appreciate your help more than you’ll ever know.”

  What else would she have done? She couldn’t just sit back and let nature win without a fight. She put her hand on his arm. “Will we be able to make the winter payments?”

  “We’ll find a way.” He stood and offered his hand. “Now that I know how hard you can work, I’m sure we’ll find a way.”

  She accepted his offer to stand, but found no joy in his words. She’d worked hard because she thought she was making a difference. Now she knew her work had been in vain. Was that how it would be with trying to buy Jude’s portion of the hotel? What good was her work when it felt like everything was conspiring against her efforts?

  She followed Jude back toward the Northern. The streets were almost empty, except for the millions of grasshoppers piled up in corners of buildings and crawling over a
nything in their path. At least they had stopped falling from the sky.

  They entered the hotel lobby and Elizabeth put her hands up to her hair, half expecting to find another bug there. Instead, she touched a snarled mess of curls.

  Grace rushed down the hall, her skirts fanning out around her. “Elizabeth! What happened to you?” She touched Elizabeth’s gown, her eyes wide. “I didn’t know where you went. Rose woke up from her nap and no one went up to get her. She finally came down the steps bawling.”

  Elizabeth’s heart constricted at the news. She’d put Rose down for a nap moments before meeting Jude in the barn and had told her not to leave the room alone. After the incident at the river, she had not let Rose leave her sight. “I forgot.”

  “I took her to the kitchen and Martha is giving her cookies.” She shook her head. “What is happening out there and why do you two look like you’ve been through an inferno?”

  “I feel like we’ve been through worse.” Elizabeth looked outside where the world was crawling with bugs and couldn’t hide her despair. “This place is a nightmare.”

  “We tried smoking the locusts out of the cornfields.” Jude sighed. “It was no use.”

  “You must be exhausted,” Elizabeth said to him. “I’ll have someone draw a bath for you and then you should eat and go to bed.”

  “You’re in just as much need of a bath.” He touched her stained sleeve.

  She looked down at her black hands and ruined gown, trying not to cry. She had so few dresses to begin with.

  “I don’t think anyone is coming out for supper tonight,” Grace said. “I’ll have Martha and Violet warm up enough water for both of you to bathe and then you can eat.” She wrinkled her nose. “We should throw away your clothing, too. There’s no use trying to save it.”

  Elizabeth didn’t debate as Grace disappeared down the hall.

  With a sigh, Elizabeth crumpled to the stairs in a mass of soiled calico and buried her face in her hands. “What am I doing here?”

  Jude sat beside her. “It will be okay. I’ve been through a lot worse and lived to tell about it.”

  “You were right.” She played with the ruined cuff of her dress. “I don’t think I can survive until winter.”

  “You’re exhausted. Tomorrow things will look better.”

  She wanted to laugh. If the locusts continued to eat everything in their path, who knew what tomorrow would look like?

  Was she strong enough to endure the hardships of frontier living or owning her own business? If she continued to lie around and bemoan the setbacks, then maybe she wasn’t.

  She took a deep breath, inhaling the heavy scent of smoke that lingered on their clothes, and squared her shoulders. “I suppose it doesn’t pay to dwell on what we can’t change. We need to turn our attention and energy onto what we can do—like make enough money to get us through the winter.”

  “Your tenacity astounds me.” He shook his head. “We’re barely through one crisis and you’re ready to tackle the next.”

  What choice did she have? If she gave up now, she’d have nothing.

  Chapter Eleven

  A week later, Elizabeth stepped out of the Little Falls Company Store just after breakfast. She’d gone under the pretense of purchasing calico to make a dress, but she’d also used the opportunity to speak to Abram Cooper about work.

  Unfortunately, the Little Falls Company, like so many other businesses in Little Falls, was struggling to make ends meet. The national depression, outlaw activities and locust invasion had affected the local economy and no one had money to hire her. She’d offered her bookkeeping services to half a dozen companies, and even asked if they had other jobs for her, but there was nothing. At this rate, she’d never make enough money to own the Northern Hotel.

  Elizabeth trudged along the boardwalk, frustrated at her own limitations. It didn’t help that the landscape was as barren as winter under the hot July sun. Leafless branches clawed at the blue sky as dust billowed up around a passing wagon. Sweat gathered under her bonnet and disappointment weighed down her shoulders.

  Ever since the Day of the Locust, as she’d come to call it, business had slowed at the hotel and their income had continued its downward slide. More break-ins and vandalism had occurred around town and new construction had dwindled. Everywhere she looked, hopelessness invaded. It was evident in the half-constructed buildings, desolate gardens and empty stares of people passing by.

  The glimmer off the Mississippi was the one bright spot in an otherwise dismal day. Ducks played in the shallow waters along the banks and a fish jumped near the middle, causing a cascade of ripples.

  She longed to go to the water’s edge and lose herself in its beauty, but work awaited her back at the Northern. Violet had come down with a cold and Martha had insisted the maid rest for the day. Elizabeth had promised to help Martha with the noonday meal preparations as soon as she returned.

  The Little Falls Company Store was only two blocks behind the Northern, so Elizabeth made it back in short order. She approached from the rear of the hotel along the narrow alley.

  Shouts from within the barn made her halt. If she wasn’t mistaken, someone was yelling in German.

  Before she could get into the hotel, the barn door opened and an older man with a ruddy complexion stormed out. She recognized him as one of their guests. He was a peddler who had tried selling her his wares yesterday. According to Martha, the man stopped by every three months on his circuit around the territory. Martha had bought a pretty brooch from him and Jude had bought a pair of leather gloves. He had other goods in his cart—clothing, shoes, patterns, household items and even a sewing machine.

  He had eaten in the dining room the night before and slept in one of their rooms. She was surprised he hadn’t left town yet.

  “You!” The man pointed at Elizabeth, his German accent thick. “How do you explain such things?”

  Elizabeth blinked. “Me?”

  “Someone broke into the barn and my goods was stolen.”

  Elizabeth expected to see that the barn door latch was broken, or the boards kicked in, but everything appeared in working order.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He spoke in German, his words coming fast and furious.

  “I’ll get Mr. Allen.” Elizabeth hiked up her skirts and rushed into the hotel. She peeked into the kitchen, but Jude wasn’t there.

  Martha looked up, her eyes wide with surprise at Elizabeth’s sudden appearance.

  “Where is Jude?”

  “He’s probably in his room, lovey. He’s working on some correspondence to the territorial legislature. He’s asking for assistance to help local farmers after the locusts.” She wiped her hands on her stained apron. “Is something wrong?”

  “The German peddler claims someone broke into the barn and took some valuable items.”

  Most women would look shocked or even concerned, but Martha’s eyes narrowed and she put her hands on her hips. “And I know who’s to blame. Those ruffians are cowards, that’s what they are, and that sheriff, too.”

  Elizabeth left Martha stewing in the kitchen to race up the back stairs and down the long hallway to the front room where Jude slept. She knocked on the door, out of breath, and waited.

  She heard the scraping of a chair and then the door opened. Jude’s eyebrows went up. “Elizabeth.”

  Today he looked much like he had the last time she’d come to his room. His suit coat was tossed over his rumpled bed, his shirtsleeves were rolled up and his top button was open. Even his hair, which was usually in perfect order, dipped down over his forehead in a most becoming way. “Mr. Ackermann claims someone broke into the barn and robbed his cart. He’s out there right now.”

  Jude didn’t hesitate but grabbed his coat and followed her out of his room and down the hall. As h
e walked he unrolled his shirtsleeves and ran his hands through his hair.

  They took the back stairs and exited the hotel into the alley. Mr. Ackermann was inside the barn spewing German words and shouting unintelligible English.

  Jude entered the barn ahead of Elizabeth.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Mr. Ackermann turned to Jude, his face redder than before. “I pay extra for my cart in barn to keep safe.” He pointed wildly at a window facing west. It had been pushed through and lay broken on the floor. “This is disaster.”

  Jude walked over to the window, his shoes crunching the glass beneath his feet. He ran his hand along the opening where the window had once sat. With a sigh, he turned back to Mr. Ackermann. “What was stolen?”

  Mr. Ackermann went to his cart and threw back the oiled tarp. “Jewelry, tools, clothing.” He rattled off other items and Jude listened carefully, casting a look at Elizabeth while the man rummaged around his things.

  “I’m very sorry this happened,” Jude said to Mr. Ackermann. “Next time you come through, your room is on the house.”

  The short man threw the tarp back over his cart. “We must speak to sheriff.”

  “I’m afraid the sheriff won’t do anything.”

  “I go and see.” Mr. Ackermann walked around Elizabeth and out the barn door.

  Jude sighed and started to pick up the broken glass.

  Elizabeth grabbed an empty bucket and hurried to his side. She bent to help him.

  “This was the work of Hugh Jones,” Jude said.

  “How can you be sure?”

  Jude was quiet for a moment. “I went to Dew’s place last week and told him to stay away.” He tossed some bigger pieces of glass into the bucket. “Apparently this is his form of retaliation.”

  “You went to Dew’s place?” Was that why the prostitute had recognized him on the Fourth of July? She had heard enough about the saloon and brothel to know it wasn’t a safe or respectable place to go.

  “I had to go where I knew I’d find him.” He picked up another piece of glass and dropped it into the bucket with a quick jerk of his hand. Within seconds, his finger dripped with blood.