Maud's Line (34 page)

“Natural? Of course it's natural. What're you jabbering about?”

Billy turned, the rag around his fingers. “So you admit yer in a family way?”

Maud instantly saw she'd been trapped. And she wasn't used to being on the short end of the smart stick. Her temper flared out. “What if I am? It's my own business.”

“Is that the ground you want to stand on, Maud? I'd think that through if I were you.” Billy cocked his head.

Maud didn't know what to say. And her emotions weren't under much control. She started crying big tears. She couldn't stop. Billy started twisting his rag in both hands. He said, “It can't be that bad,” which didn't have any effect. Then he said, “Go on up to the house and take a rest on the bed.” He turned back to his saddle.

Maud couldn't bear to go into town that night. She couldn't bear to be with Billy. She wanted news on Pretty Boy, but she couldn't stand to think about talking to anyone at all. She sat on the porch, and although the weather was perfect, she felt hot and then cold. Eventually, she went inside, lay down on the bed, and stared at the crack in the ceiling until she wasn't sure if she was seeing it in the dark or in her imagination. She was going to have to carry that baby to term. And then she would have to go through the birth. She recalled Lucy's screaming. She shuddered. But the birthing wasn't the worst of it. She'd be saddled with the thing for the rest of her life. She'd never get out of the bottoms, never get away from the dirt. If she got lucky, she might get electricity. But that would be a long time in the future; and even if she did, she would never see a city, never ride in an elevator, never shop in a store on the second floor. Those thoughts led her to Booker, who was doing all of those things; and she became even more infuriated at him for leaving and for being such a coward that he couldn't stand a little killing of people who were as mean as wild boars. In the midst of that anger, Maud remembered that she was unhappy with the thought of her father joining Pretty Boy Floyd. She liked books, learning, and clean things. She liked folks being nice to one another. But most of all, she wanted to live in a place where people died of natural causes when they were old and were dressed up in suits and laid down in wooden boxes.

That night, Maud sank into a misery that not even reading relieved. She lost all interest in visiting. She spent most of her days on the porch looking out toward the river. The smells of cooking reminded her of horse piss. Billy began picking up food from Nan's for them to eat. When Maud wouldn't milk the cow or put the chickens up, he took over those chores. When she wouldn't wash herself, he led her by the hand to the rainwater barrel and washed her hair. But when he tried to undress her, she fought. She couldn't stand to have her stomach looked at. She started waiting until Billy rode off to work to dress in clothes that her father had left.

She stayed like that for weeks until, one morning in early November, she was sitting on the porch in Mustard's overalls and shirt with her stomach bigger than she wanted it to be but still small enough to be mostly hidden under the bib. She was worrying a river rock in her hand, turning it over and over, when she looked up and saw her aunt Viola leading a sorrel horse by a rope. Viola was wearing a long-sleeved checkered dress covered by an apron. Her hair was pulled back in a bun. Maud was interested enough to wonder why Viola had chosen to walk rather than ride that horse. But even that question soon left her, and the dull blankness she'd felt for weeks slid back into the space behind her eyes.

Viola tied the horse to the hitching rail and walked the stones to the porch. She stopped on the top step. When Maud didn't speak, Viola said, “I brung ya a horse.”

Maud didn't feel like she could form words. She nodded. Viola took a seat on the planks, leaning against a post with her face to the sun. She started talking. Her voice sounded to Maud like it was coming from deep in a cave. Her words didn't make any sense.

Eventually, Viola said, “Ya got the blues bad,” and Maud clearly heard that. She nodded.

“The thing is, this is a rough patch. Yer daddy's gone off. Lovely went and did hisself in. That man, what's his name, Booker, left. And now yer in an inconvenient way that ya don't seem to take to. My mama got inconvenienced when she waz fifteen. They waz living down in Texas. Her ma had broke with the first Early and had taken up with a mean man. She waz packing to leave him when he rode up on a horse and shot her dead in the doorway. Smack in front of Mama and her little brother and sister. But he didn't shoot them. He jist rode away. Mama buried her mother, gathered up her brother and sister, and started walking. She walked all the way from the Red River to 'round here carrying that baby in her belly. Gave birth to him at the end of that walk. That's my brother Frank. You've met him.” Viola took a pouch out of her apron and pinched tobacco from it. She put the pinch in her bottom lip and tucked the pouch away. A rooster crowed. Billy's dog stood up from his dust hole, shook, and trotted off toward a fence post where he lifted his leg. Eventually, Viola said, “I hear tell if ya want rid of a baby, the best way is to ride it out.”

Maud eyes widened a little. She looked at the horse.

Viola got up slowly. She walked to the hitching rail, untied the horse, and led it to the edge of the porch. “She don't take a bit. Tender in the mouth. You'll haveta use this hackamore. Let me see if ya can git on her from here.”

Maud stood up, went to the edge of the porch, and threw her right leg over the horse's back. “What's her name?”

“Leaf.”

“Whose is she?”

“Yer grandpa's now. Early won her offin a fellow and gave her to Bert as payment for something or other.” Viola looked off toward the river. “We can't be losing Lovely and you both. Ya don't haveta ride her hard. Jist enough to keep arocking back and forth. I'm not saying it'll work fer total sure. How far along are ya?”

“Five months, as best I can tell.”

“Then it's too late fer anything else. I'll open the guards fer ya.” Viola started walking, talking over her shoulder. “You ride her up and down the line. Jist stay on her as much as ya can. But if ya get to cramping or bleeding, get to Nan or Lucy.” She looked up at Maud. “Ame and me, we're gonna move in a couple of weeks. You can ride her up to our place and visit a spell. We'll be south of Manard on a hill. Yer cousin Minnie's allotment.” Viola was referring to her husband's first wife. “The important thing is not try to deal with it alone if it starts to coming. It's too late fer that. There'll be a lot of blood and you'll be weak. Billy won't be much help.”

Maud started crying. She cried until she sobbed. Viola drew a handkerchief out of her apron and handed it to her. Maud wiped her nose and tucked the handkerchief in her bib. “I'll give it back.”

“Don't worry 'bout that. But ride over to see us tomorrow. I don't feel too good 'bout leaving ya down here with this remedy. Bert said to do it, so I am. But a delivery can be hard, 'specially if the baby ain't helping.”

Maud understood that her grandfather was taking care of her and that she had to get help if the remedy started working. She promised to visit the next day, swore she wouldn't ride far off the section line, and agreed to get to family if she felt any cramping or saw any blood. At Gourd's corner, they parted ways. Viola walked east to see the spot on Nan's allotment where she and Ryde were planning to build a house, and Maud rode up the line.

She turned west at the cross of the section lines and rode on past the snake lakes to the cemetery beyond the water. She stopped at Lovely's grave and looked at the sandstone marker they'd put up until money was saved for a better one. The soil was still bare except for a few fallen leaves. She was cried out, too listless to get off the horse and figure out how to get back on, too foggy in her mind to form many words. But she did say to Lovely, “If I can't get rid of this baby, I'll name it for you.” However, she regretted that as soon as she'd said it; the promise might keep the baby in her long enough for a live birth. She said, “Not if it's a girl. Only if it's a boy.” She hoped that cut the chances of a live birth in two.

Maud didn't stop by her mother's grave because she knew her mama wouldn't be too happy with her. She stopped at her grandmother's marker only long enough to think that the tall slab of granite must've been bought in a year of good crops. She steered the horse around other graves so as not to step on any. She'd come to the cemetery to be with Lovely and to find a spot to bury whatever came out of her. She eventually found a place close to a little bush about fifteen feet south of Lovely's marker. She thought maybe the baby's remains would nourish the bush into something pretty. She wished it still had its leaves so she could determine what kind it was.

After that, she rode the section line west to the next one, turned south on it, and rode to Blue's allotment. His cattle were grazing there, and she watched them for a while. She didn't think about anything in particular, and the cows made her feel a little better. She decided she would ride over to watch them every day.

When Billy got home that night, he didn't seem surprised to see Leaf and didn't ask why she was there. And Maud didn't tell him. She figured that he didn't know horseback riding would bring a baby on and that he wouldn't approve of what she was doing if she told him. She did, however, feel well enough to boil some eggs for supper, and she opened a can of greens from the cellar and made some cornbread. Billy was so appreciative that when they settled to sleep he put his arm around her.

Maud rode the next day, the next, and the next. The following week, Gourd moved back into his house. He'd split the sheets with his woman, seemed glad to be home, and started visiting when Early did. When they came at night, she played cards with them some, but mostly she left them in the kitchen with Billy, went to bed with a lamp, and read Mr. Singer's medical book.

A few days later when Viola and Ame moved, Maud rode up in the car with them and helped them set up house. But she was anxious to return to riding Leaf, and her great-uncle and great-aunt drove her back the next day. They returned her to her grandfather's house, and they all stayed for dinner. Early was there, too, and he and Blue had been in town that day selling hay. Blue had heard at Taylor's General Store that Choc Floyd was still in the Missouri pen. But he said that Mustard had heard right. He'd been due out; he was serving extra time for having narcotics in his cell and socking a guard. If he could keep his behavior under control and didn't escape sooner, he'd be out in early spring.

Billy wasn't at that meal, and before it was over, Maud reminded Early, in particular, that family business was family business and that Billy wasn't yet kin. Early raised a fork full of sauerkraut and poked it toward Maud. “You might want to remedy that as soon as you can.” He grinned and deposited the sauerkraut in his mouth. A string hung out on his chin. Maud said, “You can't even hit your mouth with your food. Don't be giving me advice.” But the news that Mr. Floyd was still in prison made her feel better, at least for the evening, and she felt a small seed of hope that her father had found something to do for a living that didn't involve robbing grocery stores and filling stations, and that he'd come to see her soon.

The next day she took up her routine of riding the section lines and visiting the snake lakes, the graveyard, and the cows. The riding made her feel more hopeful. When she realized that, she supposed it was because she was doing something to rid herself of the baby. But as the days wore on, she grew less sure the riding would work. However, by then, that didn't seem to matter so much. And the riding helped with the aches in her hips and lower back.

By December, she'd completely given up hope that riding would expel the baby. She resigned herself to having it. She told herself that Billy would make a good father and that Nan and Lucy would teach her how to care for it. But she kept on riding because she understood that Leaf had restored her sanity. She began to suspect that her grandfather and great-aunt had had that result in mind from the beginning.

Shortly before Christmas, on a Sunday when the family was gathered at Nan's, her grandfather pulled a piece of paper from his overalls' bib. He laid it on the kitchen table in front of her and smoothed it out with his hand. He said, “Now, keep this safe. It's the paper moving yer mama's allotment into yer name.” He continued in a low tone. “Blue'll go on and farm yer land, just like always. Unless ya got other plans?”

Maud couldn't think what her other plans might be. “I don't know that I have.”

Bert nodded toward the porch where the younger men were congregated, waiting to be fed. “Walkingstick's not much of a farmer, is he?”

“His interest lies in horses, cattle, and airplanes.”

“Don't know 'bout airplanes, but nothing wrong with horses and cattle. In fact, the way wheat prices seem to be turning that might be best. But, now listen to yer grandpa, Maud. Nearly ever' family we know has lost their allotments. You can't even imagine the stealing that went on before ya waz born. We've held on to our parcels, but there may be landgrabbing again. Anything in the world can happen. But ya need to understand, Maudy-Baby, nowadays most women lose their allotments to men. You hold on to yers.” He laid his hand over hers, squeezed it quickly, and let it go. “Pin it to yer slip.”

Maud was as surprised by her grandfather's hand as she was by the paper, and she only half heard him say something about having held the allotment for her and Lovely since their mother's death. But Lovely's name refocused her attention. She felt the loss of him all over again.

For Christmas, Billy gave Maud an oak cradle with a design carved into its head. She could tell the design was a bird, but Billy said it wasn't just any old bird, it was an eagle, and he'd carved it himself. He was so proud of the cradle that Maud wondered if he understood that the baby wasn't his, and she began mentally shuffling through all the hues in the family. Andy and Morgan were dark, so was Lucy's baby, Nancy. All of them had white daddies. But then so did Renee, Sanders, and Lee. They were pale. Her aunt Sarah's kids had a white daddy, too. Most of them tended to be light in the winter and dark in the summer.