Bitter Eden

by Salvato, Sharon Anne

  "What will you do when you end up locked in prison, Peter?" Albert had said with a certain relish one evening when the family had gathered in the parlor. "You can't count on me to get you out, you know. As magistrate I'm bound to do my duty. Lord, man, give a thought to what you are risking. I am responsible to this parish. I must see the riots quelled. Shall

  you force me to arrest my own future brother-in-law? How would that look?"

  "What shall you arrest me for, Albert? My sympathies ?"

  "You know damned well what 1*11 arrest you fori Why pretend? We all know of your night rides. Everyone knows. You don't go to much trouble to keep them a secret. The whole neighborhood sees you making a fool of me."

  "They think. They don't know anything, and so long as I have made no night rides—with my family to back me up, of course—that is all they will do."

  "Until you are caught."

  "If you're so damned sure I'm a Swing rider, catch me!" Peter said and left Albert chewing the end of his mustache.

  However flippant and confident Peter was when talking to Albert, he was quite patient and pliant later when his father and two brothers spoke of the dangers involved. It was agreed that for the time being Peter would remain safe and easily seen inside the house at night

  "You should never have challenged him," Frank said. "Albert does not like being made to look a fool, and in his opinion that is exactly what you are doing. You know his next move will be to come here and find you gone."

  "I know," Peter muttered, annoyed. "He's like a bull dog. He's not going to give up until he knows for certain if I ride or not. He'll be knocking at the door in the middle of the night before the week's out. Why can't the damned fool mind his own business?"

  "It is his business," James said reasonably.

  "Whose side are you on?"

  "Yours, of course, but let's give Albert his due. It is his business to stop the rioting, and that is no small

  task. No matter what our sympathies, none of us truly thinks these uprisings can go on. None of the farmers hereabouts can stand a continuing loss of crops and machinery."

  "So we do nothing?" Peter asked belligerently.

  "My God, you're a bullheaded assl You know it can't go on," Frank said.

  "It will."

  "If hotheads like you have anything to say, it will; but I'll tell you, Peter, I sometimes wonder if you care at all about the cause. Isn't it the restless urge for excitement that keeps you agitating?" Frank walked to the end of the room. "It isn't anything new to you. Ever since you've been old enough to be on your own, you've been wanting newness, excitement. You'd have been better to take to the road years ago and gotten it out of your system instead of threatening our livelihood and good name with your wildness now."

  "You sound put out, Frank," Peter said grinning. "Is it that you want me to leave?"

  Frank gave a fleeting glance to his father, then looked down at the floor. "It may as well be said openly, and without the heat of an argument. That is what I mean. It would be better for all of us if you went"

  "And what do you think you'd do without me?"

  Td manage."

  "You may find you have to."

  James stirred in his seat He had heard enough bickering. It wasn't the first time this had come up, and it wouldn't be the last, but it was enough for tonight. "Peter is not leaving, and you cannot get along without him, Frank. Shall we retire for the night with the understanding that for now Peter will not ride with the Swing men? Let's see how serious Albert is

  with his intention of ending the disturbances. Good night to you both."

  Albert was very serious. He showed up unexpectedly at the Berean house several times, and always during the evening. Peter was always present, which Albert attributed smugly to his own efforts. Angry and tense, Peter was tempted to leave the house and join the Swing riders right under Albert's ferret nose. But he remained at home, and for the next few nights the Bereans were all together.

  Peter walked the fields twice as frequently. He became short-tempered with Rosalind. More often than not he went off alone to stand by the weir, gazing at it as though the season were spring and he would at any moment see a trout dash itself against the barricades.

  It was a nerve-wracking time for all of them. Every night they would stand in front of the house and see the night sky turn colors as it glowed from the light of fires. It was all around them, and sooner or later it would have to reach the Bereans or by their exclusion the Swing rioters would condemn Peter as one of them.

  "If we only knew what was going to happen and when," Meg cried, wringing her plump hands together.

  "We would if you'd agree to let me meet with them. We could even arrange for them to fire a rick with dry grass. There'd be no loss at all."

  "No. You stay here," James said flatly.

  "Don't take any more chances," Meg added. "Things are so bad as it is, we want no more brought down on our heads."

  Peter looked at both of them. 'If you had more faith in me you'd trust me to ride out unseen and do what must be done without incident."

  "You'll stay here," James repeated.

  The days marched on, the nights continued to be > reddened by the fires, and Albert organized his forces in earnest.

  Hourly the parish officers visited the farms checking for anything amiss and relaying the information to the variety of other petty officers Albert had rounded up. It looked as though they were preparing for invasion: men trooped by in regiments; carts of soldiers were transported day and night.

  Rumors, rampant before, became wilder and more frequent than ever. Panic was beginning to seep in, where before there had been respectful fear. The high roads were reportedly blocked off by the rioters. Travelers were being murdered and soldiers defeated at every turn. There was no one left unarmed, and no one who did not at least half believe the stories being circulated.

  On the tenth night after Peter ended the rides, the family was gathered in the parlor after supper.

  "I'm going to check the hay fields," Peter said.

  "You went not an hour ago. Sit down and relax a bit, dear," Meg said and patted the seat next to her.

  "Oh, let him go!" Rosalind pouted. "That's all he thinks of anyway. Look at him. Just look at him. If he isn't pacing he is staring out the windows. He might as well be outside for all he cares about what is going on in here."

  "I think I'll come with you," Frank said. "I don't know what it is, but I have been feeling edgy myself tonight."

  Peter and Frank went outside. The parlor was completely silent as though they were all waiting and listening. Stephen finally stood up. "I think I'll join them."

  "Be sure you call out so they know who you are,"

  Meg said, her hands automatically beginning to twist in her lap.

  T will. I have no desire to meet Peter in the dark with him thinking me the enemy. He is bad enough when he is playing" He laughed and put his jacket on, then stopped still, listening as they all did. First there was the sound of the gun, then of men yelling. All of them ran from the house, crowding through the door and spilling into the front yard.

  At first they saw nothing, and then a column of flame wriggled up at the south end of the hay field. Peter's and Frank's forms could be seen in relief as the fire took hold. Little columns of thin brilliance shot up in various sections of the field; then it all seemed to blaze.

  James ordered Meg to get anything that would hold water, and all the blankets and sheets they could wet down.

  "Callie, you and Stephen go to the well. Fill everything; wet everything. Rosalind, go to the barn and get all the receptacles from there. Anna, you come with me."

  Callie and Stephen drew bucket after bucket of water to be thrown on those parts of the field that hadn't yet caught fire, in hopes that the flames could be contained and then controlled. Stephen was doing the heavy work, but both were panting and straining.

  It's turned," Stephen shouted. "It's going toward the cow shed. You'll have to
do this alone, Callie. I've got to get the animals out of there."

  It was all confusion for the better part of the night; but slowly the fire was reduced to a smoldering mass of sodden hay and burnt earth. The outbuilding steamed, reeking of acrid smoke. It would take weeks to repair the damage; but the buildings still stood. Meg, who had come to take Stephen's place at the

  well, leaned heavily on the stone ledge, looking around her; then she slumped to the ground. "I am too tired to move," she sighed, but Callie heard relief in her voice, The fire was under control and they had come through it "Are the others coming in?"

  "Peter, Anna, and Frank are, but I don t see Uncle James, Stephen, or Rosalind."

  "They'll be coming soon, I expect Help me up, dear."

  Callie helped Meg back to the house and into a chair in the parlor. Rosalind was already there, looking remarkably fresh.

  "All over?" she asked brightly.

  "Where have you been?" Callie demanded.

  "The smell of the smoke was making me ill. I think . . ." Rosalind stopped as Peter, Anna, and Frank came in followed closely by Stephen.

  "Rosalind, give us a hand with Peter. He's burned his arm," Frank said and motioned toward the kitchen. "Did anyone see to the animals?"

  "The animals are all right," Stephen said.

  "You got them out?"

  Stephen nodded and Frank seemed satisfied, but only for a moment "You didn't put them back in the shed, did you?"

  "No. The smell of smoke and ash was too strong. They are grazing Over near my hill. They'll be all right for now."

  "Good. Where's Pa? Hasn't he come in yet?"

  "I haven't seen him since the beginning," Anna said. "He was with me when we first went out. I thought he went after the animals. Didn't you see him, Stephen?"

  "He wasn't there," Stephen said. Each of them looked at the other, but not fast enough for Meg to miss the concern registering among them. Bone weary

  and unsteady on her feet, Meg rose and went to the door.

  "We'll go, Ma. Nothing has happened. Sit down."

  "Something has happened to him. He's out there and I'm going . . ."

  "Ma, he's all right. Stay here. Anna, take care of her. We'll go. Pa knows how to take care of himself. He's probably seeing to something we overlooked," Stephen insisted and thrust Meg into Anna's capable hands. "We'll find him."

  "I want to come with you, Stephen. I want to see where James is."

  "You'll only slow them down, Mother Berean," Anna said, and put her arm around Meg. "If something has happened the men can help him far better and faster than you could." She nodded for Frank and Stephen to go.

  Callie slipped out the door just steps ahead of them, hurrying across the barnyard toward the smoldering field. Behind her firelights flickered in the darkness once more as they lit torches. From time to time she looked up from the search and could see the dots of flame marking the passage of the men through the field. After making a complete circuit they all met at the entrance to the field. None of them had seen James. Their concern was now real and deep. Not one of them thought to tell Callie to go inside or wondered why she was wandering around alone. All of them thought only of James. He answered no call. No one had heard any noise or seen any sign of his having been there.

  Separating, they each took a section of the farm where the disturbance was seen or heard. It covered a lot of ground and promised the rest of the night would be spent searching if James did not call out to guide them, or come back on his own. Since he was

  the most familiar with them, Peter searched the woods. Frank covered the fields that were not yet threshed and the one that had burned that night.

  Stephen retraced his steps from where he had left Callie at the well and went to the cow shed and the horse barn. Although Stephen had not seen him, it was possible that James had been there, perhaps fallen or hurt and Stephen hadn't known. Inch by inch he searched inside and out of the cow shed and then the horses' stalls and the stable and barn.

  Peter was having the same ill luck in the woods. It would take him all night and longer to cover one section of the woods. Frank found the same to be true of the fields. A man could lie on the ground and not be seen in the darkness unless his seeker had the dubious f ortune of tripping over him.

  Callie was looking in the tool shed and all the smaller buildings nearest to the house. Her way was darker for she had no torch, but she was thorough. Her search, however, was equally fruitless. Finally she heard one of them call, and all ran to meet at their designated spot at the opening of the field.

  As they each told of their failures, Anna ran across the yard. She was panting and struggling to catch her breath as she clung to Frank. "Mother Berean doesn't know it yet, but Natalie is missing too. I went to her room ... no one thought about her when the fire started. . . . Did she go out with any of you? I don't recall seeing her."

  One after another they affirmed that Natalie had not been in any of the twosomes that had gone to help.

  "What about Rosalind? Did she see Natalie? She went back to the house sooner than the rest of us," Callie said.

  "She hasn't seen Natalie . • . before or after. She

  thinks Natalie left before the fire started. Do any of you remember if she was in the parlor before Frank and Peter went out?"

  "No," they said in unison. Then Peter sighed, winced a little as he touched his burned arm. "You'd better get Rosalind out here too, Anna. We're all going to have to search. If Natalie is missing, it could mean that Pa saw her and went after her. I just hope none of the rioters saw her. In any case, our best bet is the woods."

  "But if Papa is with her, why wouldn't he call out.or answer us?" Anna asked.

  "How should I know?" Peter said irritably.

  "Maybe she was hurt," Callie said.

  "He would come for help." Stephen looked toward the woods. "Let's begin or we'll never find them."

  Once more they set out in pairs, each looking to one side or the other of the network of paths through the woods.

  "Let's go to the pickers' cottages, Stephen," Callie said. "She was very upset that the gypsy had left Maybe she went back to the campsite again."

  "We can look. One place is as good as another," Stephen said grimly and hurried along, forcing Callie to run to keep up with him.

  It was so unlike her first trip to the gypsy camp when she and Natalie had been laughing with excitement. There was no laughter in any of the Bereans tonight. As the minutes slipped away from them and there was no sign of James or Natalie, Callie's foreboding grew.

  They came to the campsite, walking more slowly and cautiously, their eyes straining to see into the dark shadows of the overhanging trees and brush. Quickly Stephen put his hand out, stopping Callie. He raised the torch.

  Natalie sat on the log where the old gypsy crone had sat Slowly a golden arc of light from Stephen's torch crept over the log and over her. She stared at the darker patch of earth within the wavering arc of light Dark and smelling of scorched wood, the spot showed her where the gypsy's fire had been. Truly she had been there. Otherwise the fire couldn't have been. Oblivious to the noises, the voices around her, Natalie was pleased with her mental gymnastics. The gypsy was real because the fire had been real. She began to hum. One tiny piece at a time her shattered thoughts began to emerge from the haze of nothingness that had overcome her today and then had reached an unbearable white-hot brilliance that night It had been so bright inside her head it pained her, drove her, blinded her so nothing else could get in.

  She reached down. The ashes of the Romany woman's long-dead fire funneled through her fingers like the sands of an exhausted hourglass.

  "Natalie!" The voice sounded far away. She looked at Callie's hand on her arm, but it didn't feel right It seemed that Callie was touching someone other than herself. From the corner of her eye she watched Callie's long, graceful fingers make the material of her gown crinkle. Natalie thought of shadowy snakes coiling around Callie's fingers. She fixed her eyes on
the ashes. Only they were reaL

  "Nattie . . . Nattie, do you hear me? Are you all right?" Her voice sounded shrill to Natalie. Sharp and loud enough to pierce her eardrum, burst her head.

  "Stephen! Her gown! Look, the hem is binned. Oh, Nattie, say something—please! Are you hurt? Did • . . did those men find you?"

  Natalie put her hand to her ears. Her skull was splintering, the sounds distorting and ripping the bone from her brain. Then she began to cry. She couldn't

  keep her hands on her ears and still touch the real ashes. She leaned over, digging her fingers deep into the blackened ashes, clutching a fistful of them, then watching the black stream fall to the ground.

  Someone was crying. Then Stephen stood in front of her. Stephen her brother. Stephen worried. She closed him out, staring hard at the ashes. Dark ashes. A dark-haired woman.

  "Are you all right?" Stephen s voice shook. The torch he held, making the wavering golden circle, wavered more. The circle jiggled and shook. The earth looked as though it were falling apart They would fall through the molten gold ellipse.

  Stephen s free hand ran over her shoulder. He moved the light about, forcing her chin up, making her hold out her arms, making her stand. "We'll go home now, Natalie."

  "No! I'm waiting for the gypsy."

  Callie knelt on the ground, her skirts in the ashes. "She's gone, Nattie. She's not coming back."

  "She promised!"

  Stephen walked impatiently from the clearing, taking the light with him.

  Callie pleaded with Natalie.

  Natalie shook her head frantically, her hands pressed tight to her skull. "She must come back! She must! I need her! I need her to help me!"

  "Nattie, you don't need her. We're all here. Well help you. We . . ." Callie's mouth opened on the next word, but no sound came. Stephen had returned. He strode up to Natalie, his face marked with anger, his body rigid. "Why didn't you come for us? At least answer our calls?"

  Natalie hummed and stared at the ashes.