Later, Emma repeated Megan's account of Ada Haskill's problems to Ben.
"It's obvious that Ada's lonely," he said. "We'll invite them when the Parsons come to visit, and we can certainly share our Christmas with them. That might help."
"Of course," Enuna promptly answered, but there was little enthusiasm in her voice.
What Ben had said was right and the only neighborly
thing to do, Megan knew, but Christmas was going to be hard enough to bear, so far away from her family. Having Ada Haskill around would truly turn the holiday into a miserable day for everyone. With all her heart Megan wished that Mrs. Haskill would just go away.
Her wish had been so strong that Megan felt both shock and guilt when two days later the Haskills drove up in a wagon heaped high with their household possessions. Enmia's down pillow rested on the seat between them. Behind the wagon a cow was tied.
"WeYe leaving Kansas," Mr. Haskill said. "It's too hard a life here for a lady like Ada"
Mrs. Haskill, her beautifiil hat pinned fimUy in place, glanced at her husband with approval.
"Granted, it takes a lot of hard work," Ben said in a mild tone.
Mr. Haskill hunched his shoulders defensively. *There Ve been plenty who've had the good sense to leave," he said.
^That's right," Enuna echoed, and Mrs. Haskill glanced at her with grateful surprise. "It's important for the two of you to put youi' marriage first. Where are you going? What will you do?"
"We may try Ohio," Mr. Haskill said. "Maybe we'll settle even farther east."
"In a city," Mrs. Haskill added firmly. "Mr. Haskill is skilled at many things. He should have no trouble finding well-paid work to do." Mr. Haskill's cheeks grew red with embarrassment.
Ben quickly tried to change the subject. "What about your land, Farley? Are you going to just abandon it?"
Mr. Haskill pulled off a glove, reached into an inner pocket of his outer coat, and tugged out a folded piece
of paper. "If you want tx) take it over to add to your own, Tm giving you the right It's all written down here. Should be legal enough."
"But you might be able to seU it."
"Who'd want it?" Mr. HaskiU jerked his chin toward the back of the wagon. "The cow's yours, too, and the chickens—only I left them on the place. I figured you'd have an easier time collecting them and getting them over here than I would."
^That's a mighty fine gift, Farley," Ben said.
Mrs. Haskill sat up straighter. "We couldn't put a price on them, but it would help if you could pay a little something toward—"
Mr. Haskill's eyes blazed, surprising all of them, as he snapped, "I said they were a gift, Ada!"
'The Browders are better off than we are," Mrs. Haskill grumbled at her husband. "Look at them—a real house, and they've even got an Irish to help with chores."
There was a long moment of echoing silence.
"I'm sorry," Mr. Haskill said, and his shoulders drooped. "I've been proud to have you as neighbors, Ben and Emma, and you, too, Megan. You've all been good to us. Thanks for all you've done and given us." He broke off and reached down to hand Enuna her pillow. "You're a good, kind woman."
Ben quickly untied the cow, and Mr. Haskill turned the wagon, heading toward the road. He twisted around once, to wave good-bye, but Ada Haskill sat stiffly and never looked back.
As Ben led the cow to the bam, Enuna put one arm around Megan's shoulders and the other around her pillow and hugged them both tightly. "Please don't feel unhappy about what that terrible woman said."
"I don't give any importance to what she said," Megan
answered, '*but now you have no near neighbor, and that's my fault. I made a selfish wish that Mrs. Haskill would go away, and the wish came true."
*That*s not your doing. It's poor Farley's misfortune that he married a woman who has no faith in him or in what he can make of himself."
^There's more to it than that." Megan shivered.
Emma looked at her with concern and said, "Let's not stand out here in the cold."
As soon as the door had shut behind them, Megan said, 'There's something I must tell you. Bad things happen because I'm under a gypsy's curse. I'm a bad-luck penny for sure." Tearfully, angrily, she told Emma about the old gypsy woman and how her onunous words had haunted Megan's life.
"So that's what the gypsy in your dream was all about," Emma said.
"Look at all the misfortunes I've brought on this family!" Megan said, and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I think you should send me away."
Emma reached out to hold Megan tightly. "Nonsense! We could never send you away."
"But if I bring bad luck—"
"Life is not easy. We all have problems—even tragedies—to deal with, and luck has nothing to do with it. *Bad luck' is only a superstitious excuse for those who don't have the wit to deal with the problems of life. And you've proved that you have the wit and intelligence and cleverness to handle any crisis."
Megan raised her head, and Emma smiled. "Don't keep stumbling over what some addled old woman said. Believe in yourself. / believe in you."
"I—I'm not sure that I can."
"Of course you can." Emma paused, then asked, "What did your mother say about the gypsy's curse?"
"Ma said it was only foolishness."
"She was right, but it's even worse than just foolishness. Think about what 1 said, Megan. You're a practical young lady. Isn't trusting in your own good mind better than hiding behind a gypsy woman's silly superstition?"
Megan was disturbed. "Hiding? From what?"
"Maybe from something inside yourself. Only you can discover the answer to that."
Megan shook her head, thoroughly confused. "I don't exactly understand what you mean, but I'll think about it," she promised.
Daylight hours grew much shorter, pale sunlight giving way to deep blue twilight. The long December evenings were spent by candlelight and lantern light. Megan took turns with Enuna in reading aloud, and she proudly wrote painstaking letters to Ma and to Frances, Mike, Danny, Peg, and Petey, ready to mail whenever the opportunity arose.
Megan was aware that long after she went to bed each night, Emma sat by the fire, working with her needle. The baby quilt had been finished, but when Megan asked Enuna what she was sewing, Emma just smiled.
Ben had secrets, too. Sometimes he went back to the bam after dinner, and Megan occasionally could hear the sounds of a saw and hammer.
The approach of Christmas drew Megan's thoughts repeatedly to the past. The children in her family had never had much for Christmas; often they'd been given an orange or an apple for a treat, and maybe a shiny penny. But what Megan remembered was the love they shared, and their happiness at being together. On Christ-
mas Day—the only day in the year that none of them had to work at jobs outside their home—the Kellys would go to church. They dressed in their best, such as it was—and sat among the fine ladies and gentlemen. To Megan's way of thinking, none of the ladies, with their fur muffs and velvet skirts, was half as beautiful as Ma, with her hat balanced on top of her swirl of bright red hair, and none of the gentlemen who strolled down the church steps, brandishing their silver-topped canes and clapping their elegant top hats on their heads, could match Da's strong, dark handsomeness.
The fragrance of candle wax, the wonderful music that swirled to the high-domed ceiling, the painted statues that seemed to smile down on those at prayer— Megan would hug them to herself, wrapped in the beauty and joy that were so special to Christmas. But all that was left of these Christmases were memories, and there could never be another Christmas for all of them together.
Each night, as Megan lay in bed, a wrapped hot stone from the Browders' fireplace warming her toes, she would squeeze her eyes shut and try hard to fall asleep. She'd hear Enmia humming softly as she worked and wish it were Ma. She'd sensibly remind herself that she had much to be grateful for, that Emma and Ben were good, kind people, but in her mind Megan would see her family an
d long for them with such agony that she'd have to press the quilt against her mouth to keep from sobbing aloud.
/ want to go home! Megan cried to herself over and over, even though she knew she couldn't. Her family had been separated forever. Even the room she had known as home was gone. And all because she was a bad-luck penny. The gypsy had said so. She reminded herself of what Enuna had told her, that her own wit and clever-
ness were stronger than any gypsy curse, and over and over she asked herself, What covld I he hiding from? But the answer never came, and deep in her heart was a growing dread that there was even more bad luck in store.
One evening Clem Parker came by to join the Browders at dinner and share the news that Abraham Lincoln had been elected. Although Ben rejoiced, Mr. Parker shook his head sadly. *They say the Southern states are ready to pull out of the Union." He took a second helping of apple butter, piling it high on his bread. "President Buchanan's not strong enough to hold them. Between the election and March fourth, Buchanan's a lame duck."
"A whatT Megan asked.
Even Emma couldn't keep from laughing. "It does sound comical," she said. "But a lame duck can neither run nor fly. He isn't much good to himself or to anyone else. And that's the way it is with a man who holds a political office that someone else is soon going to take over."
Megan shrugged. "I understand. 1 just think that it's silly to call a man a lame duck. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that Mr. Aesop's behind that name and the story to go with it."
Mr. Parker clapped a hand to his pocket and widened
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his eyes in mock surprise. "Bless me if I didn't almost forget. Speaking of news from back East—" He pulled out a packet of envelopes. "Here's the mail from the post office in St. Joe." He handed the top two letters to Ben. Then he looked at Megan and smiled. "My, my. It seems the rest are for this young lady."
Megan le2q)t from her chair and tried not to snatch the letters from Mr. Parker's hand, barely remembering to say thank you as she took them. There was a letter from Ma dated one month ago, and one from Frances, and even a letter from Mike!
Enuna gave Megan a smile and a pat and sent her off to read her letters. Megan lit the lamp in her room, then sat cross-legged on her bed. She laid the letters on her lap, touching each with her fingertips, tracing the familiar handwriting, making the moment last longer in order to treasure it more.
She opened Ma's letter first. Megan had practiced every day at reading the cursive writing sheets Emma had prepared for her, so although some of Ma's words were hard to make out, she worked on the sounds of the syllables until they made sense. Megan was delighted that she could read the letters without asking for help.
Ma had a fimny story to tell about the cook in the great house where she worked, who accidentally mixed the salt and sugar one morning, creating a rumpus throughout the household. "At least it woke up the sluggards," Ma wrote. She went on to tell about the eldest son of the family, who every day slumped at the breakfast table, his chin almost in his porridge, grumbling about having to wake up so early to accompany his father to his uptown office. "After a big gulp of coffee flavored with lots of salt, he went to work with his eyes wide open."
Megan smiled at the stories, even though she ached
with loneliness for Ma. Again and again she read the letter, then closed her eyes, trying to picture the people Ma wrote about, trying to picture Ma herself at the table in the big kitchen writing her letter.
Megan opened FYances Mary's letter next. Petey had grown at least two inches, FYances insisted, and had been allowed to ride the gentlest of the horses. "I can drive the team by myself," FYances wrote. This was exciting news, and Megan wanted to know more about it, so she was disappointed that the rest of the letter went on and on about someone named Johnny Mueller. Megan read that part of the letter twice and didn't understand why FYances had fiUed most of the sheet of paper writing about this boy. Was he really that special? Nothing FYances had written led Megan to believe so. She shrugged. Lots of boys could whistle through their teeth.
As Megan read Mike's letter about the FYiedrich family she gasped in indignation, then grunted with anger. Finally she let out such a joyfiil whoop that Enmia popped into the doorway, her eyes wide.
"What's the matter?" Enuna asked.
Megan waved Mike's letter and laughed. "Oh, there's so much I have to tell you about Mike!" she said. "Some of it's dreadful enough to chill your bones, but there's a good part. Mike's living now with that fine Captain Taylor we met on the train! The captain and his wife took Mike to live with them at Fort Leavenworth! Imagine! Mike was always so excited about the West, and now he's living on a real army post!"
Enuna grinned with Megan and held out a hand. "Don't forget the letters you've written to your family. Better give them to Clem. He's almost ready to leave."
Megan scooped the letters from the top drawer in the little chest and quickly printed Mike's new address on
the one she'd written to him. She had some exciting stories to tell her family, too. Just wait until they read about her escape from the wolves!
The snow had melted completely by the time the Parsons came for a visit. The children hopped down from the wagon bed and ran shrieking toward Megan.
"We brought candy!" Teddie shouted.
"Mama made it!" Thea screeched.
^'Vinegar taffy, and I helped pull it, and Thea couldn't because Mama was afraid she'd drop it because she did last time and—"
"No fair! You told, and you promised Mama you wouldn't!"
Thea raised a small fist, but Megan skillftdly intercepted it Holding one of Thea's hands and one of Teddie's, she led them into the house. Thea squealed when Moby scampered to her, and both children dove to the floor to play with the puppies, not taking the time to remove their heavy coats and caps.
"Would you like a pup for your very own?" Emma asked them.
"Oh yes! This one!" Thea shouted as Moby's pink tongue licked her face.
The Parsons brought not only the taffy, which was so wondrously chewy that Teddie lost a loose front tooth, but also a Christmas cake thick with currants, a cured ham, and loaves of dark wheat bread. Will Parson carefully unwrg^ped his fiddle. "We'll have some music of an evening," he said.
Emma and Nelda Parson chattered to each other without stopping from the time Nelda entered the house. Occasionally they added their opinions to the men's conversations about prospects for their spring crops,
new settlers in the territory, Kansas politics, and the unrest in the South which President Buchanan couldn't, or wouldn't, handle. For the most part they talked eagerly, hungrily, to one another about their own concerns, the many things only a woman would understand. Megan recognized the loneliness that caused them to bubble over with words and shut out everything else, so she kept Teddie and Thea busy with games and stories.
That night Nelda and Will took Megan's bed, and Megan bedded down with the Parson children on pallets near the fireplace. With just a minimum of whispering and giggling, the two little ones fell asleep, but Megan lay awake, thinking over the busy day. There had been laughter and fun, and the music was the grandest treat of all, but she couldn't help thinking of her own brothers and sisters. Why was there always sorrow, like the darkest shadow of night, slipping in to turn laughter into tears? She hunched down under the quilt, rolling into a ball, picturing her family and hoping with all her might that they were happy. She wondered how they would be celebrating Christmas. Would they miss her as much as she missed them?
For some unknown reason, as she saw Peg in her mind, she shivered. Did it mean something good or something bad? Why hadn't Danny and Peg sent her a letter? Couldn't someone in their new family have written for them? Surely they were all right. Or were they? Oh, how she wished there had been a letter from Danny and Peg!
The next morning, while Ben and Will were working in the bam, Teddie screamed, 'There's a man coming!" and dashed toward the road. The others hurried after him, watching the large,
bulky figure on horseback approach.
The man raised a hand in greeting and shouted, "HaUoo!"
"It's Marshal John Avery," Ben said, and called back a greeting.
The marshal swung from his horse in the Browders' front yard and pulled off his hat. After he had greeted the women and had been introduced to Megan, he clapped it back onto his head.
"Come inside, John," Emma said. "You could probably use a hot cup of coffee and something to eat."
He shook his head. "Thanks, but I haven't got time. 1 just stopped by to see if Ben would lend me a hand. I'm glad to see Will is here, too. We can pick up Farley and—"
"Farley left the territory," Ben said.
Marshal Avery shook his head slowly. "I never thought the land would be too much for Farley. The man had real purpose."
"Farley got married," Ben said, "and he and his wife decided to go back east."
Megan waited, but neither Ben nor Emma added any information about Ada
The marshal didn't seem curious. He just said, "I got word from Joe Dawson, marshal in the territory east of here, askin' me to look out for a man name of Cully Napes. Dawson personally thinks Napes headed south toward Texas, but someone who knew Napes was sure he'd travel in this direction, and Dawson has got to check it out."
"What did this Cully Napes do?" Ben asked.
"Killed a man," Marshal Avery said, and Megan felt a cold chill in the pit of her stomach. "Napes and two other rowdies got to actin' up over near the Missouri border," the marshal continued. *They was tryin' to bully
some folks in a tavern and, whether on purpose or accidental, set fire to the building. Everyone got out, but the tavern owner went after the troublemakers with a rifle. Unfortunately, Napes is a good shot drunk or sober. Before the man could do more than hft his rifle, Napes killed him."
Emma gasped. ^That's terrible!"
In the Face of Danger Page 11
