The Fiery Ring (6 page)

She breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the main street of Bismarck and Albert pulled up in front of the bank. “I’ve got to go in here and do some business. I’ll meet you all at the general store.”

As they got out Joy took a deep breath. She had planned her speech on the way to town and now said quietly, “Uncle Albert, I can’t get into any of my dresses. Could I please have a new one?”

“She can have one of my old dresses. I need a new dress, Daddy,” Olean piped up.

“There you are. Olean, you give Joy a dress and pick yourself out a new one.”

Joy stared at her uncle. She kept hoping to find some bit of kindness in him, but it never happened. Now she said, “I’m five feet four and weigh a hundred and fifteen pounds. Olean is five feet eight and probably weighs a hundred and eighty pounds. How am I going to make a dress like that fit?”

Witt grinned at her. “Get your needle and thread out and sew it up. Maybe I’ll help you.”

Olean’s face flushed, as she was sensitive about her weight. “Come on, Mother, let’s go,” she said.

Opal turned to whisper to Joy, “I’ll try to do what I can.”

“Never mind, Aunt Opal. I’m not asking anything of Albert ever again.” She turned and left Opal standing calling after her. Her aunt was totally ineffectual, and the scene left a bitter taste in Joy’s mouth. Angry thoughts raced through her mind, and she couldn’t control her trembling as she walked along the frozen streets.
I’ll never ask him for anything again. I’ll steal. I’ll do whatever I have to do!

By the time she reached the post office, Joy had gained control of herself. Entering the small building, she waited in a short line until she came up to Mr. Higgins, the postmaster. “Do you have anything for me?”

“Not today, Joy.”

“But my brother was supposed to write me in care of general delivery, and he’s been gone for months.”

“Well, he did write the one letter.”

Joy stared at Higgins. He was a small man with delicate features and wore thick-lensed glasses. “What do you mean ‘one letter’? I haven’t gotten any letters.”

“Why, there was one that came for you about a month ago. It came all the way from Texas, I remember.”

“I never got it.”

“Oh, your uncle was in, so I gave it to him and asked him to give it to you.”

Shock raced along Joy’s nerves. Speechless for a moment, she stared at the small man, then said, “I think it’s illegal for you to give a person’s mail to someone else.”

“But he’s your uncle.”

“I’m going to report you,” Joy said in a voice as cold as polar ice. She took some pleasure in seeing fear leap into the eyes of the man but turned and walked away.

He cried out to her retreating form, “But . . . Miss Joy, he’s your uncle. I just thought it would save you some time.”

Joy left the post office, blind with rage. All these weeks
of waiting, and her uncle had kept Travis’s only letter from her! She was trembling with anger and didn’t even notice the freezing air. She did not remember walking to the general store. When she arrived there and threw the door open, she saw her uncle standing at the counter talking to Orville Wessicks, the owner. She walked straight up to Albert and demanded, “What did you do with my letter?”

Albert blinked in surprise. “What letter?” he said loudly. “I don’t know anything about any letter.”

“You’re a liar! The postmaster gave it to you a month ago.”

“Oh, one might have come. I don’t remember.”

At that moment all of the pain, anguish, and loneliness that had been building up in Joy Winslow erupted. She had no control over her words. She was aware that Mr. Wessicks was staring at her, as was every customer in the store, but she didn’t care as she let her anger spill out.

“You’re a liar and a cheat and a thief! There’s not one kind or decent thing in you, Albert Tatum. You robbed me and my brother, and you’re a filthy, rotten crook!”

Bismarck was usually a quiet town, so the people in the store were transfixed by this unexpected drama unfolding before them. They moved in closer so as not to miss a word. As for Albert Tatum, his face at first flushed with anger, then grew pale. He held his hand up. “Now, now, don’t talk like that, Joy.” He tried to quiet her, but her voice rose louder, and finally his own anger overflowed. “Shut your mouth, girl! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I do too know what I’m talking about!” Joy saw that the gathering crowd was hanging on to her words. She pointed at her uncle and turned to the crowd. “He stole my dead parents’ farm, and he’s worked my brother and me like slaves! Now he’s stolen mail from the United States Post Office, and I’m going to tell the sheriff!”

Joy whirled, but Albert caught her. “You’re not going to do anything but go home. I’ve heard enough of your insolence.” He would have said more, but Joy suddenly swung
her arm and slapped him across the face. The print of her hand leaped into his cheek, and he slapped her back with his heavy hand. Joy fell backward and Mr. Wessicks caught her, saying, “Hold on there, Tatum. You can’t strike a youngster like that.”

“You don’t know what she’s done,” Albert shouted. “She does nothing but make trouble.” He looked around wildly and said, “Witt, take her home!”

“Sure, Dad.” Witt came forward and took Joy by the arm. “Come on,” he urged, tugging her out of the store. Before the door closed, she heard his father instructing, “Don’t take her all the way home. Let her walk the last three or four miles. It’ll cool her off.”

Witt yelled back, “Okay, Dad.”

Tatum turned back and saw the people staring at him. “Well, I hated for you to see her like that, but she’s always screaming. We can’t do a thing with her.”

Mr. Wessicks said nothing, but he stared at Albert Tatum with his cold gray eyes. “Did you fail to give her the letter that came for her?”

“I gave it to her. She just wanted something to throw a fit about.”

Opal stared at her husband. Later when they left the store, she said, “You didn’t tell me about a letter.”

“It was from that no-good bum of a brother of hers.” “You should have given it to her, Albert. Do you still have it?”

“No. Now enough about it.”

****

Joy wedged herself against the car door as far away from Witt as she could get. He had spoken to her several times on the drive back to the farm, but she had kept her face averted, returning not a word. The pain of losing a letter from Travis was overwhelming. Where was he? What did he say? He would think she didn’t care because she hadn’t answered his letter.

Her thoughts tormented her as the car moved along, and finally she was aware that it had stopped. She looked out and was surprised to see that Witt had taken her all the way to the farm. As the two got out of the car, Witt said, “I couldn’t be mean enough to let you walk. Come on now. You’re all upset, but it’ll be all right. I’ll talk to Dad.”

“Stay away from me! Don’t ever speak to me again, and if you touch me, I’ll claw your eyes out!”

Joy turned and went into the house. She was so shaken she could not think properly, and she went to her room, trying to calm down. She collapsed on the bed weeping. After several minutes, she finally got control of herself. She began thinking, then suddenly sat bolt upright. “The letter—it’s probably in his desk.” She knew her uncle never threw anything away and suspected that the letter was still there.

With renewed hope in her heart, Joy ran downstairs and headed straight for the big rolltop desk. Sighing with relief that it was not locked, she pushed up the cover and began searching through the compartments in the top section. She found nothing and had just pulled open the bottom drawer when she spotted a package of letters with a string around them. She untied the bow and shuffled through them. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Travis’s handwriting. She threw the rest of the letters down and opened it. It was very short, but just the sight of his writing brought a pang to her heart.

Dear Sis,

I’ve had a hard time finding work, but at last I’ve had some luck. I’m signing on with a ship, a steamer, that’ll be leaving here to go to South America. It’s not on a regular run so I don’t know exactly where we’ll be going. I do know we make one stop in Brazil.

I hate to leave the country, but it was
all I could find, and pay is good. I’ll save it all, and as soon as I get back, I’ll come for you. Write me in care of general delivery in Galveston, Texas. I won’t be here to get the letter, but I’ll call at the post office as soon as I get home.

Things have been bad, sis, but God’s going to take care of us. I’ve been thinking a lot about how Mom and Dad served the Lord. I haven’t done that, and I guess you haven’t either, but I’m feeling more and more that I need to.

Take care of yourself. I know it’s hard for you. I’ll be counting the days until we return, and I’ll come as soon as we do.

Love, Travis

Tears came into Joy’s eyes, and she stood there, shaken by the only contact she’d had in months with someone who loved her. She was so overcome she did not hear footsteps before two arms suddenly went around her. She cried out, knowing that it was Witt. She thought he had gone back to town to get his family, but instead, here she was alone with him! She squirmed, but he held her tightly. Raising her foot, she brought her boot down on his toe, and he cried out.

“Stop that! I’m not going to hurt you!”

“Let me go!”

Joy struggled fiercely, frightened by the thought of what he might do to her now that they were alone. “You’ve been running away from me,” he sneered, “but I’ve got you now. Nobody’s here. Go ahead and scream. I’m going to get what I want, Joy. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Paralyzing fear gripped her, for she saw the wildness in his eyes. She fought with all her might, but he wrestled her to the floor. She struck at him with her fists, but he was much
bigger than she, and Joy could no more stop him than she could stop the wind.

Using the only weapon she had, she scratched her fingernails down across his face. One of them struck his eye, and he yelled with pain and released her. Joy scrambled to her feet and dashed across the room, but he was already coming after her, cursing loudly. She grabbed the front-door handle as he reached her, catching the back of her dress. She wrenched herself free, feeling the dress tear.

And then she saw the poker that rested beside the stone fireplace. She made a lunge for it, and as she turned back with the poker in hand, she saw that Witt was headed straight for her. She swung the weapon with both hands like a baseball bat. Witt never saw it coming, and it struck him in the temple. He staggered to one side, his eyes rolling upward, but he quickly recovered his balance and lunged at her again. Joy struck him again, and this time the poker caught him above the eye and blood spurted down his face. He fell to the floor, his legs and arms twitching. Then he became very still.

Panting and petrified at what she had done, Joy dropped the poker. She stood there trembling, waiting for him to move, but he did not.

“I’ve killed him!” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to kill him!” Panicked, she knew she could expect no mercy from her uncle.
I’ve got to get away from here!

She ran upstairs and began throwing her clothes together. She had no idea which way to go, but she knew she couldn’t stay here. She took a deep breath and forced herself to think calmly.
I’ve got to get away, but where can I go?

And then as if from outside of herself, a thought formed clearly in her mind:
The two-thirty freight—it’ll be coming along in half an hour.

The thought galvanized her. She knew that hobos sometimes rode in the empty cars. She had seem them sitting there dangling their legs, sometimes waving at her as they went by. They seemed happy enough, she thought.

But I’m a girl. I’ll be easy to find among all those men.

Joy was terrified over what she had done, but some part of her mind still worked rapidly. “I’ll put on boys’ clothes, some of Travis’s old ones,” she said aloud. She ran to pull out a trunk in the attic next to her room where they had hidden some of their possessions. She found a pair of overalls Travis had worn when he was younger, a pair of his old shoes, several shirts, and a floppy hat he had once loved—an old fedora. It was shapeless now but big enough to tuck her hair into and pull down over part of her face. She also found an old green-and-white mackinaw, worn but usable. Quickly she stripped off her own clothes, shoved them in the trunk, and donned her disguise.

She ran back into her room and grabbed her journals, the thirty-eight pistol, and her egg money. It wasn’t much, but it would have to last her. She stuffed the money into one pocket and the pistol into the other. Then she crammed the journals, some underwear, and a few other items into a gunnysack, knowing she could not carry much.

Moving cautiously downstairs, she started to leave. Expecting to see Witt’s lifeless body on the floor, she was startled to see that he had turned over onto his back and was breathing regularly. Blood flowed from the cut over his eyes, but he was not dead!

Relief washed over her, and she tiptoed quickly past him toward the front door. She stopped only to glance at the clock and saw that it was fifteen minutes past two. The two-thirty freight was nearly always on time. She had to hurry. The train stopped to add water at a tank a mile from the farm. Realizing she was going to need some food, she went to the kitchen. She got a few cans of food from the cupboard, a can opener from the drawer, a tin cup and plate, some utensils, and some matches that were by the stove. Then she stopped dead still. Her lips set in a straight line as a thought occurred to her. Going over to the counter, she reached into a jar marked TEA. She pulled out some bills and some change and stuffed them
in her pockets. “He’s robbed me of everything, so I’m going to have this at least!” She did not count the money but knew she would need every penny.

She hurried outside and headed toward the train tracks, then suddenly thought,
I need to buy some time.
The ax was stuck in the chopping block beside the house. Putting down her sack, she ran and got the ax and carried it to the car. She drew the weapon back and struck one of the balloon tires with it. The tire made a mild explosion, then flattened. She flattened all four tires, then threw the ax down. Retrieving her sack, she hurried west toward the railroad tracks, with one thought replaying in her mind:
I’ve got to get to Galveston.