No Eye Can See (8 page)

The others came through the gap fine, and they rested that night at Granite Creek. Mazy said the bunch grass on the foothills stood long, and her Ayrshire milk cows feasted once again. Suzanne consented to Ruths request that she play her troubadour harp.

“Wanting music to soothe the wild breast?” Suzanne said, forcing a smile onto her face. She was trying to remember to do that, to smile if she made some kind of joke.

“Something like that. Elizabeth says we cant give Jessie much more laudanum than she's had. I dont know what else might comfort her.”

“Music can do it,” Suzanne said. “Maybe Ned'll join me too.”

Suzanne played and Ned sang, and the good camp spot along with their having come through a difficult place seemed to buoy their spirits. They always seemed to close with songs of missing what they'd left behind, Suzanne noticed, or a rendition of “Home, Sweet Home.”

Ned sidled up to her later, when she fed the baby, sitting in the shade of the wagon. He pressed his round body against hers and talked softly, aware beyond what his years might suggest, that quick movements and loud voices startled the baby. He had a lovely voice, as pure as any she'd ever heard. Back in Ohio, she had instructed a chorus of young boys for a Christmas concert one year. They'd raised money for a new organ for their church and had even traveled to neighboring towns to
perform. She'd only been married to Bryce a year, and she found the adventure a filling one though it took her away from her husband and her photography.

“Can I touch his hair?” Ned asked. She agreed, grateful that he'd had the politeness to request. Like Ruth's other nieces and nephew, Ned just needed a little attention. Ruth didn't really know what children needed, not having any of her own. Jason might be the smarter child, with a quicker wit and tongue, Jessie the more demanding, and Sarah as quiet as a breath. But there was something to be said for Ned, about kindness over cleverness.

The next day, they passed springs of water that smelled hot. Seth moved them quickly along as he said the boiling water would be bad for the cattle.

“Be nice to wash clothes with water already heated,” Lura said. “I wonder if we could put this stuff in tins and keep it hot.”

“My ma's got a million ideas, don't she?” Mariah said. Suzanne couldn't decide if her voice held pride or embarrassment. “Is it all right if Clayton and I walk off to the side, Suzanne? You can hear his bells. We won't be too far away.” Suzanne nodded. The girl tried hard, that was certain.

They rested an extra day at a place called Deep Springs, then headed west. Suzanne could feel the hot sun on her face all afternoon. Seth said the land now was a large, hot, desert creek. “Not long and we'll be in the Smoke Creek Meadow,” he said. “You'll smell the clover knee high to Ned. This day'll be the worst. Good to keep your eyes on what's beyond.”

“You're very kind, to tell me things about what's here, what to expect,” she said. “My husband used to do that. He was very good at descriptions.”

“Don't know about the describing part, but I do like spending time with pretty women.”

Suzanne wondered what he saw to say that. She wondered if she blushed.

Wheels crunched on by her, and Suzanne smelled the oxen, heard a bellow or two as they began a slow descent. She walked behind then, guided by Pig, and coughed with the dust, held Pig back a bit. She wondered what it all looked like, this country. How high were the mountains? As high as the photographs she'd seen in books when she could still see? Were they all snowcapped and sharp edged? Seth said these mountains were rounded, some with timber on them. “People say they look like a pile of dough with scattered trees like raisins dropped on them.” She liked that image. A song formed on her lips, a silly song with her name in it. Others joined in and continued even when she stopped, all her concentration required to feel the tug of Pig keeping her on the trail and her younger son safely on her back.

She was grateful for something else, she decided as she listened to the voices: No matter what she'd face in this new land, she would have the memory of this—people who had become like family, if she could learn to let them. Tears came unbidden to her eyes. She'd been almost cloistered in this cluster of wagons and women, but they were also sheltered, sheltered by the loving of each other.

Seth announced a few days later that they'd need to start early for Mud Springs. “It's nine miles, not too much incline, but there are rough stones, kind of cobbled, that make it a slow go. After that, it's the Susan River we follow and, boys, we should be taking some trout when we hit that stream.”

“Just the boys?” Ruth asked.

“We'll eat whatever's caught, I expect. Best we take an early rest. Ma'am,” Seth said, tapping his fingers on his tall white hat and heading toward his horse.

“Is it still light out?” Suzanne asked Mazy.

“At least another hour,” Mazy said. “It's hard to put children to sleep when it's light, isn't it? I can help put them down,” Mazy offered. “Tell Clayton a story for you too.”

Adora piped in. “Sason's little head's lolling, Mazy. Best you straighten that contraption. Wouldn't want him to get a stretched neck from neglect. Got to attend every detail of Suzanne's. Here, let me. Maybe you should take him out, Mazy.”

“I think he's all right,” Mazy said. “It's Clayton who—”

“Their mother is right here,” Suzanne said. “Ask her if you might tend them. In fact, I'm going to take them…for a walk.”

“You? Alone?” Adora squeaked. “But the snakes and all.

“Yes. Me. Their mother.” She felt her cheeks burn and her heart pound.

“Could you fix the board on my back, straighten Sason in it?” Mazy didn't answer, and Suzanne guessed she'd nodded.

“I'll come with you,” Mazy said.

“No!”

Suzanne didn't wait for Mazy to object. She felt Mazy center the frame on her back, the sleeves of Suzanne's wrapper dress catching a bit on the slivers of wood, but she jerked away. “He's fine,” she said, and called for Clayton. She heard his bell and Mariah puffing behind him. “Here, Clayton. Take my hand. We're going for a walk.”

“I'll come with you,” Mariah said. “Just let me catch my breath.”

“I am going alone,” Suzanne said. “Alone with my children.”

“Golly,” Mariah said, but she seemed to know Suzanne was serious because the girl didn't protest when Suzanne snatched her son's hand and with the other gripped Pig's harness. “Ahead,” she told Pig, and the four of them retreated to the desert.

“Believe in English it'd be spelled
m-a-y-l-i-n-g?
Elizabeth said. They stood beside the Wilson wagon where an alphabet of brass tacks covered
the sideboard. Once they reached Shasta City Seth had told them, the tacks would be worth their weight in gold since things like tacks were luxuries in the northern mining towns. Everything had to be hauled in by mules from as far away as Sacramento City

“I see name write down,” Mei-Ling told Elizabeth. “Long time ago.” She was practicing being insistent. Other women asked things. She could too.

She held her first finger up to the wind the way Sister Esther did when making a point. “Same like how I put in sand.”

“You girls still dont get it, do you?” Adora Wilson told her, stepping in. Elizabeth and Mei-Ling both turned to her. “You've got to put aside those old ways, do things like they do in the States. You should keep the names the Sister gave you, the way Naomi decided. Help you fit in.”

“I fit same like you,” Mei-Ling told her, standing as tall as she could.

“Nothing about us is the same, if truth be known,” Adora told her, brushing corn pone crumbs from her ample bosom. “You and Naomi are from a foreign land. I, on the other hand, am American born.”

“You eat the same food nowadays,” Elizabeth reminded her. “Liking those herbs and such, from what I hear.”

“My sense of smell
is
coming back,” Adora said, and then she began to chatter about herself and her daughter Tipton.

Elizabeth let the words drift into the hot desert air. When Adora stopped, Elizabeth said to Mei-Ling, “So you want the letters
e
and
i
instead of
a
and
y
?”

The Asian girl nodded once, certain.

“All right. That's how we'll spell your name from now on.”

“What does your intended think your name is?” Adora asked. “Or have you told him something totally different?”

Mei-Ling's brows frowned over her almond eyes. She swallowed then, and her eyes blinked.

“That husband of yours may be waiting for an American girl,” Adora said. “Did you think of that? Got to think of these things.” She crossed her arms over her breast. “Might not take to a foreigner as his wife.”

“We're all foreign in this place,” Elizabeth reminded her. “I ain't never seen sand like this before or been surrounded by globs of rocks that look like hazelnuts rolled into cookie dough. Have you?”

“No. But neither do I have promises to keep when I reach California.”

“Your loss,” Elizabeth said. Then to Mei-Ling she said, “Dont you worry none, child. Your name means ‘beautiful,’ you said. So it's apt. Can't imagine a man not being happy with what you have to bring. Now all you got to do is tell the bees the new name you'll be using.”

“Bees know. I tell them first,” she said and walked proudly away.