THE
RUBY (Volume 4 of The Bracelet)
By
Jennie Hansen
PROLOGUE
Kraft Rundell sat at his desk staring at two brilliant stones centered on
its polished surface. He couldn’t begin to estimate the value of the jewels:
the most flawless diamond he’d ever seen, large enough to grace the crown of a
monarch, and a perfectly cut Burmese ruby with the illusion of a star perfectly
centered in it. Each jewel was worth far more than the wagon and supplies he’d
given the Mormon woman in exchange for them. He subdued a twinge of conscience
by reminding himself that he had offered far more before his financial situation
had become dire. And he had allowed her to keep the sapphire and the emerald.
Anyway, it was because of the Mormons that his business was in ruins and his
wife had left him, taking their child with her.
He’d leave tomorrow morning to begin his journey to New York to
exchange the gems for enough cash to launch his business anew. By the time he
returned, the rest of the Mormons would be gone, and it would be safe for Claire
and the baby to return.
He caressed each stone, putting off leaving his office for his empty
house. Light from the lantern resting on one corner of the desk reflected off
the jewels, the beauty of it giving Kraft an excuse to stay lost in his dreams a
little longer.
CHAPTER
ONE
“Charlotte Mae Riggins, git in the house this minute!”
“Yes’m, Granny.” Charlie Mae gave a longing glance toward her
brothers who were just disappearing over the split-rail fence behind the barn.
It ain’t fair. Boys do their share
of dirtyin’ the house and eatin’ vittles. They oughtta do some of the
cleanin’ and fetchin’. She didn’t dare say the words out loud. If Pa
heard her, he’d whip her.
Mr. Sawyer had been by earlier, and he and Pa had sat out on the porch
talking most of the morning. She heard them plain as day while she washed
breakfast dishes, helped Granny dress, and swept the house. The boys had
listened too, the older ones lounging around on the porch and the younger ones
hiding behind the bushes that grew along one side of the house. She was about to
set an extra plate for lunch when Mr. Sawyer said he would be moseying on. He
had a few more folks he meant to talk to about plans for that night.
She ate her lunch standing up in the kitchen. Granny always ate her meals
in the kitchen at the pine table, but Charlie Mae found it simpler to stand.
That way she didn’t have to keep jumping up and down when she had to fetch
things for Pa and her brothers. She could hear them talking about Mr. Sawyer’s
visit. She pretended she wasn’t interested each time she carried more biscuits
and gravy into the front room where the big oak table sat, the one that Pa had
hauled from Tennessee to Arkansas, then all the way from Arkansas to Illinois.
He and her four brothers gathered around it, arguing and shouting uproariously
as they ate. They ate so much, especially Irwin, so that at most meals there was
scarcely anything left for Charlie Mae and Granny.
“There ain’t enough salt in the gravy,” Granny complained as
Charlie Mae returned to the kitchen from one of her trips to the front room. She
handed her grandma the salt shaker. It did no good to argue with Granny. She’d
taught Charlie Mae how to cook and clean, and Charlie did it just the way Granny
said, but it never satisfied the old lady. Charlie Mae was pretty sure Granny
hadn’t always been ornery and complaining. She had vague memories of Granny
holding her in a big rocking chair and making humming sounds in her ear. Charlie
Mae lifted a forkful of biscuit soaked in milk gravy toward her mouth.
“Charlie Mae, fetch another crock of buttermilk,” Pa shouted. Charlie
glanced at the food she was about to eat and set her fork back down. Best she
get the buttermilk. Dawdling would bring her a switching at best.
She ran as fast as her thin, brown legs beneath her too-short dress could
go to the cold cellar and returned, panting with the heavy crock clasped in her
arms. Pa took it from her to pour himself a glass then set it on the table where
Deke and Irwin both reached for it. They poked each other and wrestled over it
for a few minutes. Deke won because he was the biggest. She waited for the
scolding that always followed anytime she had to make a trip to the cellar
during a meal. She never could run fast enough. The scolding didn’t come, so
after waiting a few minutes more, she crept back to the kitchen, figuring Pa was
in a good mood because Mr. Sawyer said the last of the Mormons were finally
moving on—with a little help from him and some of his friends. It seemed to
Charlie Mae that all Mr. Sawyer ever talked about was how much he hated the
Mormons. Pa was almost as bad.
She wasn’t sure why Pa and Mr. Sawyer hated the Mormons. From what
she’d seen of them, they were a hard-working lot. Their kids got to go to
school too. Pa said they had dangerous ideas and were heretics, whatever that
meant. He said they were trying to run the whole state and free the slaves. Deke
said the Mormons had their own Bible too, though she couldn’t see why any of
that mattered. Deke couldn’t read any more than Pa or her other brothers
could, and they didn’t own any slaves.
Her lunch was cold, and there was no way she could eat the congealed
gravy. She scraped at it with her fork, then swallowed a few bites of her
biscuit. Pa’s hounds would be pleased to get the gravy; they never minded if
it was cold and lumpy. She didn’t have to worry about her greens; Granny had
snitched those off her plate and eaten them while she was in the other room. She
didn’t care. Cold greens weren’t any better than cold gravy. Someday, when
she was grown up, she was going to fix a whole dinner just for her to eat while
it was hot, and she wouldn’t jump up to fetch anything for anyone.
Deke and Clyde, her oldest brothers, left with Pa, riding on three of
Pa’s four mules right after supper that night. She suspected they’d been
drinking Pa’s corn liquor, which meant they wouldn’t be home before morning.
They’d sleep past noon and wake up meaner than skunks. She sighed in
resignation then set to work gathering up dishes. She carried them to the bench
where the dish pan sat. She poured hot water from the teakettle over them and
resisted the urge to stomp her foot. It didn’t seem right that womenfolk
always had to work while menfolk went places and got to sleep late.
Through an open window she could hear Irwin and Sander. They weren’t
happy either. They sounded mad as hornets because they got left behind. From
where she stood washing dishes, she could hear them complaining.
“I can ride and shoot as well as Clyde, mebbe better,” Irwin whined.
“’Sides, last time Pa went, he came back with a silver dollar.”
“We can still go,” Sander suggested in a sly whisper. “I been
sneakin’ into that Mormon town to throw rocks at windows and swipe stuff most
all summer. I know a shortcut. We could go watch the fun.”
“If Pa catches us . . .”
“He ain’t gonna catch us. By the time he and that bunch git finished
with their business and celebratin’, we’ll be sound asleep in our beds.”
“Do you think we’ll get a chance to swipe any of them gold plates Old
Man Sawyer said they claim to have?”
“Naw,” Sander chuckled, “but you might git a few chickens or a new
shirt. That one you’re wearin’s more holes than shirt.”
Charlie Mae fumed as she listened to Irwin and Sander make their plans.
She never got to go anywhere, and she never got anything new. Sometimes Pa let
Sander go to the store with him, but he never took her, and Sander was only a
couple years older than she was. She’d grown a lot since they’d left
Arkansas, and her dresses were all so small she couldn’t do them up anymore,
so she had to wear Granny’s dresses with a piece of rope around her middle to
keep them from dragging on the ground. She suspected she was a little bit taller
than her closest brother too. Sander didn’t like that. Irwin was at least four
inches taller than Sander, and Deke and Clyde were practically grown men. Deke
had turned eighteen last spring and was now taller than Pa.
Charlie Mae brushed a strand of frizzy curls off her forehead. The
combination of summer heat and the pan of hot dishwater made her straw-colored
curls coil tighter and stick to her face and neck. She wished she were outside
on the porch with her brothers instead of up to her elbows in dishwater in a hot
kitchen. Better yet, she wished she could go with them through the cool woods
and along the river to watch the fun in Nauvoo.
An idea began to form. Why shouldn’t she go? Granny’s rheumatism had
been acting up all day, and she’d fixed her bedtime toddy with more of Pa’s
moonshine than usual. She’d be asleep by the time Charlie Mae finished the
dishes, and once Granny fell asleep, there was no waking her until morning. She
could follow Irwin and Sander. She’d be really quiet, and they’d never know.
Once the last plate was stacked in its place and the kitchen floor swept,
Charlie Mae hurried outside to gather clothes from the line that stretched
between two trees behind the house. She noticed that Irwin and Sander hadn’t
left yet, but they appeared to be fixing to leave right away.
Bringing in the wash gave her an idea. She slipped into Sander’s clean
shirt and overalls. A hat one of her brothers had left behind completed her
disguise, though it took longer than she liked to stuff her snarled curls inside
it where they couldn’t be seen. She used her dress and the rest of the clothes
she’d taken from the line to create a lump beneath her quilt in the corner
behind the cookstove where she slept each night. She took the precaution in case
Pa returned before she made her way back. Hopefully, it would appear she was
sleeping beneath the ragged quilt.
She let herself out the back door and edged her way along the row of
bushes until she could see the front porch. It was empty.
Cutting across the yard, she skirted the barn and headed for the river.
She’d listened to her brothers enough to know which direction they meant to
go. Following the path to the river was easy, but once she turned north, the
trail wasn’t so well-marked, and some places were nothing more than swampland.
Each rustle had her looking around fearfully. For as long as she could
remember, she’d been nervous about going into the thick trees alone. Deke had
warned her about bears in the woods, and she knew gators liked to hide in wait
for their prey in swamps. She hadn’t heard about any gators in Illinois, but
she wasn’t about to take the chance of stumbling onto one.
The snapping of brush a short distance ahead almost convinced her to turn
back, but then she heard Irwin’s voice and figured her brothers weren’t far
ahead. Knowing they were close by made the rest of her trek through the woods
and along the river bank almost pleasant.
She liked the flexibility wearing Sander’s britches gave her, and
she’d been avoiding Pa’s bursts of temper and severe punishments so long,
she’d gotten good at moving quietly so that she didn’t draw attention to
herself. These two factors combined to aid her in silently moving a short
distance behind Irwin and Sander, who were making no effort to be quiet or to
conceal their movements. They talked and laughed as they moved swiftly toward
town.
Charlie Mae knew little about towns other than that the houses were
crowded close together, and there were stores where anyone who had enough coins
could buy flour or other fixin’s. They’d passed through a few towns on their
way from Arkansas more than a year ago. They’d even passed right through the
Mormon town of Nauvoo. It had seemed liked a nice place with houses in neat rows
and garden spots and fruit trees in the backyards. Several people had smiled and
waved when she poked her head over the end of the wagon in order to see better,
but Pa said Mormons were wicked people who needed to be taught a lesson. She
wasn’t sure what kind of lesson he and Mr. Sawyer meant to teach ’em.
Through the trees, she caught glimpses of the stark silhouettes of
abandoned farms. She didn’t know why the people had gone off and left
perfectly good houses and land or why some of the houses and barns had been
burned. Pa planned to farm the forty acres next to his corn patch next year. He
said he had as much right to it as the Mormons that had been driven off. He told
Deke, “’Sides, they ain’t comin’ back, and it wouldn’t be right to let
that land go to waste.”
Irwin and Sander were slowing down, and their voices were getting softer.
They were probably getting close to town and didn’t want anyone to catch them
spying at the goings-on Pa and Mr. Sawyer had planned. Charlie Mae didn’t
exactly know what those plans were, but from what she’d overheard earlier, it
was bound to be exciting, and Deke said it was going to be fun. She moved
forward slowly, keeping an eye out for her brothers. She didn’t want them to
catch her and send her back to the house. She didn’t want Pa to whip her
either.
Stepping off the narrow trail, she walked in the grass to muffle the
sound of her steps. Through the trees, she caught sight of pinpricks of light.
She figured the lights came from the town houses. Evidently Irwin and Sander
thought the same thing because they weren’t talking anymore. She was close
enough to them now to detect two dark shapes moving stealthily up the trail.
Keeping to the shadows, she followed.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled. Charlie Mae shivered. She
hadn’t figured on the Mormons having dogs. She was glad Pa had shut his hounds
up in the barn before he left. If they’d been loose, they would have howled
back and probably picked a fight, spoiling everything.
When her brothers reached the edge of town, they darted down a dark
alley. Charlie Mae hesitated, uncertain whether to follow. At last she squared
her thin shoulders and plunged into the dark space between two buildings. She
inched her way with care until she reached the end of the alley, where it
intersected with a wide street. No matter how hard she stared in either
direction, she couldn’t tell which way Irwin and Sander had gone. The street
was unlit and the buildings were dark, leaving her wondering if she should
retrace her steps to a stand of trees on the edge of town where she could watch
for whatever was going to happen.
This might be her only chance to see the town, though. Even though the
night was dark, with only a crescent moon and a few wispy stars, she didn’t
want to miss this opportunity. If she stayed on the side of the street where the
shadows were the deepest, she could still explore a bit. With her back against
the nearest building, she sidled along, feeling her way. The planks beneath her
bare feet were still warm from the afternoon sun and worn so smooth there were
hardly any splinters. She passed five or six buildings in this cautious fashion
before noticing a sliver of light showing beneath a lowered blind of the
building behind her.
Her heart beat faster with the realization that someone was awake. What
if it’s a Mormon and he catches me? Another alley opened at the side of
the building, and she ducked into its welcoming blackness. She stood still,
listening intently until her heart settled to its usual steady rhythm. No sound
came from the building where she’d seen the light, but her ears did pick up
the pounding of horses’ hooves coming down the street she’d just left.
She shrank against the brick wall at her back. As the beat of hooves grew
louder, she retreated from the street, hoping that this alley, too, ended near
the stand of trees beside the river where she’d first entered town. Her toe
struck something hard. She clapped her hands across her mouth to keep a scream
from escaping. Once the pain ebbed to a steady throb, she reached out with her
hands to discover what she had run into. It only took a moment to learn she’d
careened into a barrel. Exploring with her hands, she discovered a second barrel
and a door stoop.
The horses had reached the opening to the alley, and now she could hear
riders on their backs, whooping and hollering. She could see the riders, too, by
the light of their half a dozen or more flaming torches. The man leading the
ragtag mob looked like Mr. Sawyer. Frightened, she crowded into the narrow space
behind the barrels.
She could see now that there were more than a dozen dark-faced riders on
the horses and mules that raced up and down the street. One rider drew his mount
to a stop then hurled his torch toward the window where she’d seen a sliver of
light. A whoosh of sound followed, and flames leaped skyward. She figured the
torch had struck a kerosene lantern.
Her fear grew as she realized the building a few feet from where she
crouched was on fire, and when the flames reached the back of the building, she
would be in danger of being caught by the fire. The alley was narrow, and though
the building she crouched beside was brick, the flames would reach her anyway if
she stayed where she was. She started to rise, ready to risk being seen running
toward the back of the alley and into the woods. Two large animals charged past
her, startling her into remaining behind the barrels.
Charlie Mae noticed Pa and Deke sneaking away from the screaming, yelling
mob, leaving Clyde behind. He started to follow, but the fire was jumping
between buildings by the time he reached the alley where they’d disappeared.
Charlie Mae watched him rein in the mule he rode and turn the animal’s head
and kick its side, urging it toward another alley farther down the block.
Brilliant light filled the alley, and Charlie Mae
looked up to see the roof of the neighboring building covered in flames.
Scrambling from her hiding place, she ran. When she reached the back of the
buildings, she stopped. Seeing nothing of the men and horses that had dashed
down the alley minutes earlier, she eased herself around the corner of the brick
building. Spotting a stack of wooden crates, she crouched low and ran behind
them.
From behind the crates, she looked back once more at the burning
building. Flames leaped from the roof of the frame building to the roof of the
brick building. Her hiding place wouldn’t be secure for long. She’d have to
make a run for the shadowy row of trees she could just see in the distance.
A shout had her twisting her neck to look back toward
the burning building. A man stood framed in the rear doorway. Flames formed a
vivid orange backdrop behind him as he clutched at the doorjamb with one hand
and held his other hand in a raised, clenched fist.
A slight movement in her peripheral vision drew her
attention to a man who stood with a raised rifle at his shoulder. Thunder boomed
from the long rifle, and the man in the doorway crumpled face-first in the dirt.
A triumphant shout rose above the crackling flames, and the rifleman, followed
by another figure, darted toward the fallen man. The one toting the rifle stood
by, while the second man kicked at the fallen man until he flopped over on his
back. The kicker then knelt to search the dead man’s pockets.
Charlie Mae knelt, frozen in terror. A terrible memory played at the
edges of her mind. She’d seen someone else fall just that way long ago.
Something white had fluttered briefly near the still form. Her mind would go no
further.
A section of the nearby roof fell with a resounding crash. Flames leaped
into the air, illuminating the scene as brightly as though the sun had suddenly
risen. Charlie Mae watched, too stunned to run for her own safety. Pa, holding
his deer rifle, stood over the man who had been shot. Deke knelt beside the
body. Burning gorge rose in her throat, threatening to strangle her.
Pa killed that man like he was a
deer or a squirrel. She’d seen enough game killed by her father and
brothers to know what dead meant. Was this why Pa and her brothers and Mr. Sawyer came
to Nauvoo tonight? She watched Deke search the man and had to stifle an
urge to scream at him to leave the poor dead man alone. Her stomach hurt.
The ground rumbled as the building the dead man had left minutes earlier
collapsed, raining sparks across the victim, Pa, and Deke. It reminded her that
the fire was now raging inside the building just behind her too. She needed to
leave her hiding place. But Pa might shoot her too if he caught her sneaking
away. She’d always known Pa was mean, but now she knew he was even meaner than
she’d believed him to be. Her brothers, except Sander and sometimes Irwin,
were just like him. Sometimes Sander was nice to her. Irwin wasn’t nice to
her, but he wasn’t mean either. Mostly he paid her no mind. She wondered where
Irwin and Sander had gone and if they’d seen Pa kill the man. She didn’t
feel well, and she needed a drink of water. She hoped the flames would die down
soon so she could sneak away in the darkness.
While she hesitated, Pa and Deke ran toward the mules she could now see
were tethered to a post. The animals were snorting and kicking, making mounting
them difficult. Once they were both astride the animals, Pa whooped and Deke
echoed the cry. They both savagely kicked the animals’ sides, urging them to a
run. From across the fiery rubble she could see shadowy figures racing about on
the other side of the flames and hear distant screaming and gunfire.
She stood and looked longingly toward the distant trees, then back at the
still figure lying on the ground. Some force seemed to draw her toward the
fallen man. She took a step toward him, then fearing she might be seen by the
men on the other side of the fire, she dropped to her knees to crawl the rest of
the way. When she reached him, she looked at him for a long time. He was neatly
shaved and wore the finest clothes she’d ever seen. One hand, doubled into a
fist, was tightly closed. The other lay open across the gaping wound in his
chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Pa shouldn’ta done that.”
A shower of sparks fluttered to the ground. She brushed several from the
man’s shoulders and felt the sharp sting of one striking her cheek. She stood,
poised to run. Again she hesitated, feeling a great sadness and a strange sense
that she had stood there before. She couldn’t move the man, and she couldn’t
keep sparks from landing on him. Soon his clothes would catch fire, and he would
burn.
A large piece of burning debris landed at her feet. She watched it sizzle
brightly, then turn black. As she shifted her eyes from the black lump, she saw
a large red coal lying next to the man’s closed hand. Without thinking, she
reached down to brush it aside.
Something registered dimly in her shocked brain. The coal should have
been hot, but it wasn’t. It was smooth and cool between her fingers, and it
didn’t fade to a charred, spent lump. She clutched the strange coal tightly in
her small hand, then holding it close, she turned to run toward the trees as
though Pa’s hounds were nipping at her heels.
*
* *
When she reached the trees, she paused to look back,
regretting leaving the dead man amid the flames. She saw someone ride toward the
body. Just as a shower of sparks rained from the burning building onto the man
sitting astride a mule beside the fallen figure, she recognized Clyde. She hoped
he hadn’t observed her hurried departure.
His attention seemed to be focused on the man on the ground. Kicking the
mule’s side, he urged him forward. The animal balked, stubbornly refusing to
get closer to the burning inferno. Clyde dismounted. Taking time to tie the
mule’s reins to a post, he stood eyeing the flaming timbers tumbling around
the body and then sprinted forward. Like Deke, he riffled through the man’s
pockets then stood as though disappointed.
Before regaining his feet, something drew his attention to the dead
man’s clenched hand. He stooped to pry the object from the man’s lifeless
fingers. Clyde stood for several minutes, still looking down at the object
he’d taken. Something startled him, and he dashed toward the mule. After
mounting in one wild leap, he kicked the animal’s sides. He disappeared into
the darkness, traveling fast in the opposite direction Pa and Deke had taken.
Charlie Mae ran. Heedless of her surroundings and oblivious to the sharp
tree branches that slashed her face, she ran deeper into the trees.