The Personal History of Rachel DuPree_ A Novel - Ann Weisgarber [62]
Upset by the thought, I got up, opened the door to the porch, and breathed in the cool air to clear my head. It was still raining. Isaac, Mary, and John were out in this weather, cold, wet, and hungry.
Isaac would never let strangers have our ranch. Not unless he was dead. I closed the door, slamming it too hard.
Earlier I’d told myself that if it rained, everything would be all right. I’d said I’d forget about buffalo soldiers and Indian women. Now that it was raining, things would be better between me and Isaac. We’d pull together; we’d get through the coming winter. Supplies might be short, but I’d make them stretch. I’d feed our children. I’d stand up and make the best of things. Like I always had. Like Isaac expected.
I left one lantern burning in the parlor window. Taking the other one, I went into the bedroom.
It was raining too hard to use the outhouse, so I used the chamber pot. That was when I saw the blood. Not much, but enough to scare me. I stuffed a rag in my drawers. The baby, I realized with a shock, hadn’t kicked all evening.
11
ALAND MINDY MCKEE
It was still raining the next day, and Isaac, Mary, and John weren’t home. I thought the worst—they were lost, lightning had struck them dead, they had fallen in a wash and drowned in a fast-moving current. As the day wore on, I knew I had to go to Al McKee’s to get help, but I kept putting it off. The McKees were about three miles away, and by horse it didn’t take all that long. But Isaac had the horses and that meant walking. The girls couldn’t do it. The slimy mud pulled like quicksand; they’d never stay upright. I’d have to leave them home, and that wasn’t something I cared to think about.
I told myself that if Isaac and the older children weren’t home by the time I finished scrubbing the laundry, I’d go then. Once that was all done, I decided to wait until after I had the laundry hung to dry in the kitchen. When that was all done, I said I’d wait until after Emma’s afternoon nap.
She was still napping when Rounder, looking like someone else’s dog, showed up. His black and white coat dripped with mud the color of long-dead fallen leaves and his fur was so slicked down that his legs looked like knobby sticks. His muzzle was as pointed as a fox’s. Walking up the road were Isaac, Mary, and John. I nearly collapsed with relief.
If they hadn’t been wet clear through and coated from top to bottom with mud, I would have thrown my arms around the three of them. I met them on the porch with towels and slices of soap. “Lord,” I said, “look at you all.”
“We’re a sight, aren’t we?” Isaac said.
“For sore eyes.”
He had wiped the mud away from around his eyes. His skin there was drawn and bruised looking. Likely Isaac had half carried Mary and John home. All the same, he was smiling. The drought was over. He had been right all along. Things would work out.
“You two go wait in the dugout,” I said to Isaac and John. “I’ll heat up some water and Mary can wash up on the porch. Then it’ll be your turn. I’ve got fresh clothes for you.”
“Where’re the horses, Daddy?” Alise said. “And the wagon?”
“At the McKees’.”
The McKees’? At best, I had placed Isaac and the children at the deserted Walker place. “Go on, now,” I said, and they did.
A little later the three of them were as fresh scrubbed and as close to dry as a person could be when it was still raining. Everything had a damp feeling. Even the inside of the house was soggy, with the two rows of wet laundry that hung along the back wall of the kitchen.
John plunked down at the kitchen table. “I’m hungry, Mama.