Speak Through the Wind (43 page)

“Fourteen.”

“I had faith like yours when I was fourteen, too.” Kassandra busied herself spreading the second sheet on the bed, reaching across the mattress to smooth it on the opposite side. “I knew God as my Savior. Prayed to Him every night.”

“What happened?”

“I
trusted
Him,” Kassandra said, standing upright, barely able to keep the sneer out of her voice. “I trusted that He would watch out for me. That He would take care of me, no matter what. I left my home hoping He would show me that my decision was the right one, that He would
make
it the right thing to do.”

Biddy smiled a little, then seemed embarrassed and turned to take the covering quilt from the chair and, keeping her back turned, slowly unfolded it.

“What?” Kassandra asked, defensive.

“I’m sorry,” Biddy said, still fighting the smile that curved at the corners of her lips, “but that sounds a little silly.”

“Silly?”

“You can’t just make your own decisions and then hope that those were the ones God wanted you to make. The first time my Daddy decided he wanted to move out west, he practically started loading the wagon that same night. He said all those trails opening up had to be a sign that people were supposed to head out to Oregon. But Mother? She just told him, ‘Everybody isn’t us, Robert, and we’re not budging an inch until we know what God wants us to do.’”

Usually, when Biddy spoke about her family, her voice became even softer and smaller. But this time there was a powerful wistfulness to her words. She didn’t look away, keeping Kassandra’s eyes locked with her own.

“I remember praying every night for months, until both of my parents were sure that this was what God wanted them to do.”

“And where are they now?” Kassandra asked softly.

“They are with the Lord,” Biddy said, her voice a bit less confident.

She handed two corners of the quilt to Kassandra, and together they spread it over the bed. Kassandra recognized it as one Mae had pieced together over the winter, some of the swatches cut from the tattered remains of the skirt she had worn on her voyage to San Francisco.

“And do you really believe that is what God would have wanted for your family?”

Biddy ran her hand over and over the quilt, tracing the pattern as if trying to choose her words carefully.

“I didn’t ask for what … happened to me. None of it was by my own decision, or my own choice. None of it.”

“I’m sorry Biddy. I did not want to make you—”

“So that means,” she said, holding up her hand to cut Kassandra off, “that means I must have been in His hands.”

“Why would His hands drop you here?”

“That’s just it,” Biddy said, beaming again. “That’s exactly what it’s like. It’s like waking up and wondering, ‘How did I get here?’ Do you ever feel that way?”

“Sometimes,” Kassandra said. “But I know exactly how I got here. I can remember every single step.”

“You see?” Biddy said. “I can’t. I really don’t remember … much.”

“So how can you still trust Him?”

There was a single pillow stuffed with all the goose down collected last fall. Biddy picked it up, fluffed it, and handed it over to Kassandra to slide into its case.

“There’s a verse of Scripture,” she said. “I can’t remember it exactly, but it talks about how God cares about even the most worthless sparrow—”

Kassandra could not contain her laughter then, and surprised herself at its bitterness.

“What’s so funny?” Biddy asked.

“
Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.”

“You know it?”

“You seem shocked.” She tossed the pillow onto the bed. “I just …”

“Somebody very special taught me that verse. He used to call me his
kleiner Spatz.
Little Sparrow” Kassandra’s entire body warmed with the memory.

“Your father?”

“Something like that.”

“Then, see? God is my father, too.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And yours.”

“He used to be.”

“He still is. My mother says we can never stop being God’s children. No matter how far away we go, He always hears us.”

Kassandra could not imagine how so much faith could reside in such a small person, and she cringed in a mixture of envy and shame. How far away had she gone? The city. The ocean. The mountains. And each time God’s voice got dimmer and dimmer, until now, even when the woods were thick with silence, she could hear nothing at all.

“I do not think He would hear me.” She sat on the bed to ensure its comfort and patted the mattress, inviting Biddy to sit next to her. “Not anymore.”

“Of course He would,” Biddy said, sitting down. “You’re just not talking to Him.”

ewell spent most of the summer in a bad temper, much to Kassandra’s amusement. When the days grew crisp, Kassandra prepared to buckle down for another long winter. Most of the miners packed up what belongings they had, along with whatever money they’d been able to keep, and headed for a warmer climate. Others crammed together in their little makeshift cabins to ride out the cold.

Jewell had ordered an ample amount of booze to be delivered in the final supply drop-off, and the downstairs parlor became a makeshift saloon. To Jewell’s continuing consternation, however, the men who stayed behind refused to make her red-roofed house into any kind of a bustling brothel, preferring the company of each other as they gathered around makeshift tables to play cards.

“You could always go back to California,” Kassandra would tell her whenever she was in the midst of one of her pouts.

“Life ain’t about goin’ backwards,” she would reply. “That’s why God made our toes stick out front.”

This was just the kind of philosophy that delighted Mae to no end, and she would spend the rest of the day muttering Jewell’s latest gem under her breath.

“Pretty soon they’re gonna be thinkin’ they’re in Monte Carlo,” Jewell said.

“Oh, what do you know of Monte Carlo?” Kassandra asked.

“I know plenty.”

Even Biddy was wooed by the friendly atmosphere and had ventured down from the room she’d been given to talk and serve drinks to the miners. In truth, they seemed far more terrified of her than she did of them, and on odd occasions Kassandra even heard her laughing at some joke or another. She thought of herself when she was just seventeen serving up drinks to the men in Mott Street Tavern.
Oh, Biddy
, she thought,
faith can slip away so quickly. We have to get you out of here.

But there wouldn’t be any leaving now for any of them, not anytime soon. Leaving took money or a willingness to walk alone down the mountain, and right now Kassandra had neither. She’d given everything she had to Jewell to move them here and build this house, and she hadn’t earned a dime since then. Part of her was at peace with that, knowing that her body was her own, living with an invisible, impenetrable hedge, completely undesirable to the few men who did come to Jewell’s house seeking a woman’s affection. Since leaving San Francisco, she hadn’t once painted or powdered her face, and the blotches and wrinkles were exacerbated from months of exposure to the Wyoming winter’s air.

No, where Jewell found aggravation, Kassandra found tranquillity. As Jewell bemoaned their poverty, Kassandra enjoyed a manner of prosperity. Never before—not since before leaving Reverend Joseph’s house—had she felt such control over herself and her life. There had been a few moments there, during her conversation with Biddy, when she had felt a little sorry for herself. A little bit abandoned by God. A little lost. But if Biddy could take comfort in the fact that God dropped her here, she could take pride in having gotten here on her own. Here, nobody would hurt her. Here, she had nothing to give, so there was nothing to take. In Jewell she had someone who watched out for her, and in Biddy she had someone to watch over. She was, at last, a mother and a daughter.

It seemed they were doomed to repeat a winter identical to the previous one, just Jewell and Kassandra and Mae—with the welcome addition of Biddy—rattling around Jewell’s house, getting poorer and poorer as they passed late nights drinking coffee and swapping stories.

Then one afternoon, just before dark, Kassandra heard an elated
whoop!
come from Jewell’s room.

“What is it?” Kassandra clambered through the doorway to find the woman wearing her silk dressing gown and leaning out her window.

“Come look at this,” Jewell said, beckoning Kassandra over her shoulder.

Kassandra stood and looked over Jewell’s shoulder. Her window faced the little path that led into the Silver Peak camp and directly into Jewell’s yard. In the distance, she saw a woman emerging up the path. She carried a small green case, wore no coat, and looked like she might collapse at any step.

“I wonder what she wants,” Kassandra said.

“Her name’s Gloria.”

“You know her?”

“I knew her ma,” Jewell said, not turning around. “Millie Marsh. Best whore that ever worked for me.”

“The one that got sick? How can you be sure that is her daughter?”

“Looks just like her ma. Beautiful woman—one of the most beautiful you’re ever gonna see. If that girl woulda stuck with me, we’d both be knee-deep in rich by now.”

“Why didn’t she?”

“Hmph.
Some sense of loyalty to that mother of hers. Look,” she turned around and gave Kassandra a light push away from the window, “you stay away from her.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you turnin’ her off with all your gloom and doom. One look at that long face and she’ll haul herself right out of here.”

Kassandra let forth an incredulous laugh. “Am I to be banished to my room?”

“I’ll bring her up here, let her get some rest. Just wait in the kitchen for now,” Jewell said, giving her another little push. “She might want some thin’ to eat.”

It was Biddy who came into the kitchen a little while later, her eyes wide. “Oh, Sadie, she’s lovely.”

“Is she, now?” Kassandra replied, both amused and concerned at Biddy’s sense of wonder.

“I’m to fetch her tea and toast.”

“Fetch? Are we her servants?”

“Nothing like that. I think she’s really quite hungry.”

Hours later, Kassandra and Mae ate their own late supper. One of the men had managed to shoot a late migrating goose, and the two women were heartily enjoying it when Biddy came back in the kitchen, this time lugging Gloria’s green case, her eyes downcast.

“What’s the matter?” Mae asked, licking her fingers as she jumped to her feet to put a comforting arm around the girl.

“Jewell told me I was to go through her bag and look for money,” she said quietly. “She wants me to be a thief.”

“Well, don’t do it,” Mae said, drawing Biddy close.

“Tell her you looked and found nothing,” Kassandra said.

“Then that would make me a liar,” Biddy said.

“Then tell her you gave it to me.” Kassandra reached over to take the bag out of Biddy’s hand. “I have no problem lying to her.”

Still later that night, after all the company had gone away, Kassandra picked up empty glasses and bottles and took them to the kitchen. The room was a mess from supper, but she was too tired to face it now. Her bed beckoned, and taking a single candle for light, she went back through the dark, abandoned parlor and headed up the stairs. There she saw Jewell, coming out of her own room, looking as downcast as Biddy had when sent to do a thief’s errand.

“How is she?” Kassandra asked, opening her bedroom door and stepping inside, giving a silent invitation for Jewell to follow.

“Pregnant.”

“Really?”

Kassandra attempted an air of nonchalance, though for some reason this news quickened her heart. She sat on the edge of her bed, set the candle on the table next to it, and bent to untie her boots.

“Why would she come here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Jewell said, depositing herself on the other end of the bed. “But I’ll lay ten to one she wants me to get rid of it.”

“She told you that?”

“She didn’t even tell me she was pregnant.”

“Then how do you know she is?”

“I stripped her down. Woman that good-lookin’ is bound to have some cash on her.”