The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [123]
Thomas and I spent the evening in our room, making ready for our departure to our claim, which we had put off one day. We had packed all of Thomas’s books, so when we were finished, we asked Louisa if she would like to wait for Charles with us. She seemed worried and down in the mouth, as she and Charles hadn’t actually made much of a plan, so she didn’t know where he was or when he might be back. She knitted, Thomas sat quietly, no doubt pondering our soon-to-commence life as farmers, and I attempted to sew a little bit on the cuff of a shirt I was making for Frank. In fact, I expected Frank to come in, and had just said, "I told him for the last three nights that he had to put his things together, and when I look down there, it looks like he hasn’t done a thing."
Louisa sighed. "You don’t have to leave. I’ve been thinking about it. You’re going to be very lonely out there, is my opinion."
"Lots of folks have moved out there already," I said.
"But they aren’t necessarily your close friends. They don’t necessarily know how to promote your interests. Charles will miss you exceedingly, Thomas. In the business and otherwise." She sighed again and laid her hand over her middle. Her condition was not yet in evidence, but it was very much on her mind.
Thomas didn’t say anything, no doubt feeling that even to discuss the issue was to allow an opening that he wanted to avoid. We had spent a large sum on seed—barley and flax. Having it meant we had to plant it, didn’t it? But town still seemed bright, lively, and open to me, while our claim seemed small, dark, and silent, a rock on the prairie, a home too small in a world too vast. Try as I might, I couldn’t seem to make myself into one of those I saw all around me, who, no matter what their present circumstances, were already living in their futures—bright white clapboard houses with real United States windows looking out on broad, richly cultivated fields, but I thought if I willed myself to improve my character, I would get along well enough.
"Won’t you at least stay until Charles returns? If something unfortunate should befall him ..." She put her hand across her eyes. "I’m a strong woman, and I never flinched, all through Mr. Wheelwright’s painful end, but such a blow at this time, well..."
Thomas looked at me, not sure of what to say, and just then there was another knocking at the lower door. Louisa cried, "Oh, my land! What is that!"
Thomas went down. I stepped over to Louisa’s chair and put my arm around her shoulders. She laid her head against me. Thomas was back up the stairs in a moment. His face was flushed, and he was more upset than I’d ever seen him. He said, "That was Lacey and some others. Jones has been shot!"
"Hurt?" exclaimed Louisa.
"Killed," said Thomas, in a deep, horror-struck voice.
We jumped up in alarm. The danger to all of us in Lawrence as a result of this was only too apparent, and perhaps the danger to Charles was vastly increased. Thomas put on his coat and grabbed his hat. Then he seized his Sharps carbine and some rounds. I looked to the corner by the door where my carbine and one of Charles’s also stood. Thomas and I didn’t say aloud that we expected an attack before morning by the Missourians who had been threatening such an action for months, but we both thought it—we were both certain sure of it. Thomas said, "I have to find out what’s going on, and I have to find Frank, and I’ll try to find out something about Charles, too. But I have to go out. I can’t sit here."
"We’ll be fine, but you do have to find Frank," I said, "and then you have to give him a hiding, because he is scaring me to death."
And he was gone.
"Well!" said Louisa as the door closed after him. "We need to get ready!" She was no longer sighing, at least. She ran down the stairs to the shop, her wrapper flying behind her,