The Personal History of Rachel DuPree_ A Novel - Ann Weisgarber [110]
For a moment it startled me that this stranger knew about Isaac, but then I remembered that Isaac had been to the depot five days before us.
“No,” I said. The children pulled in their breaths; I didn’t look at them. Instead I looked at the chalkboard behind the counter. The train to Sioux Falls left at 1:19 P.M. A wash of memories came over me. Sioux Falls was where Zeb and Iris Butler lived. Sioux Falls was where me and Isaac first came to know each other. It was where I had my first chance at pleasing him.
I pulled in some air, willing myself to study the prices printed on the chalkboard. A ticket to Chicago was thirty cents more than Manny Franks had said. I worked out the arithmetic, my mind almost too jumpy to hold on to the figures. I did the arithmetic again and went weak with relief. I had enough money.
I kept my eyes fixed on the chalkboard, needing next to work out the trip. From Sioux Falls me and the children would get the Chicago-bound train. I said, “Six tickets, please.”
“Where to?” the depot man said, coming around to the back side of the counter.
“Chicago.”
One of the little girls giggled. “Mama,” I heard Mary whisper. “Mama.”
“It ain’t cheap,” the man said.
Heat rose to my cheeks. This white man, the corners of his mouth lifted in a narrow grin, was taking in our rough, ill-fitting clothes. This man was thinking that Isaac DuPree was land rich and cash poor, so poor he had to leave his ranch and work a gold mine. Isaac DuPree’s wife couldn’t have money for train tickets clear to Chicago. I flushed with anger. This man was taking pleasure in the idea that Isaac DuPree had fallen on hard times.
Without looking at Mary, I handed Emma to her. I took off my gloves and opened my handbag, seeing the letter that Charlie Johnston had given me. Keeping my hands in my bag so nobody could see, I counted out the dollar bills and some change. Like Mrs. Clay had done a few days before, I laid the bills out on the counter, and as I did, I saw the emptiness of my left hand.
The bills were worn and thin. I didn’t let myself think about how Mrs. Clay had earned that money. Or how I had.
The depot man looked at the bills on the counter, and I saw his surprise. He turned to the ticket cabinet on the wall beside the chalkboard, the key in the lock.
“Rounder?” John said. “What about Rounder?”
The depot man turned the key; the lock made a clicking sound. Inside the cabinet, stacks of tickets showed in the rows of pigeonholes. He studied the rows and then pulled out some tickets.
“Mama!” John said, his hand on my arm. “Who’s going to see to Rounder?”
“Manny Franks and Pete Klegberg,” I said.
The depot man flicked the tickets with his thumb as if counting. He laid them beside my money and stamped each ticket, the sound of it as loud as the heartbeat in my ears.
“They won’t know how,” John said. “They don’t know anything about Rounder.”
“That’s enough,” I said, my voice low.
The depot man gave me a few coins in change, and then he slid the train tickets across the counter to me. I put them in my cloth handbag so that they rested beside the letter Charlie Johnston had given me. The train was twenty minutes away. “Come on,” I said to the children, heading for the door.
“Hold up,” the depot man said. I turned back. He said, “It’s all right by me if you wait here.” He inclined his head toward the stove. “It’s a tad breezy out there.”
“Obliged,” I said. “But outside is just fine.”
“Suit yourself.”
I saw what he was thinking: that Negro woman was a hard one, making her children stand out on such a bitter day. My lips pressed tight, I nodded good-bye to him as I took Emma from Mary. The depot man already knew enough of our business; I didn’t want him knowing more.
Outside, we stood close to the clapboard depot office wall, trying to stay out of the wind. It had begun to snow a little but it didn’t stick. It just skittered in the wind, sometimes getting trapped for a few moments against the rough-cut depot wall before being lifted up and carried on. We stood there, Mary and John saying,