Kathleen Kent - The Outcasts

Euphrastus looked at her suspiciously. “I didn’t know the ferry made passage on a Sunday.”

“Commerce never sleeps, Mr. Waller.” Lucinda smiled at each of them in turn, relieved she would never see any of them again. “I can harness the horse myself.”

She drove the buggy to the Grants’ house and waited for Bill to come out into the yard. When he looked at her questioningly, she shook her head.

“The old man’s still sleeping off his drink,” he said, frowning.

She nodded but kept her eyes averted, afraid of seeing the displeasure on his face. He rested one arm casually across the rear wheel and leaned under the canopy. “I can’t wait any longer, Lucy. May’s inside. Go talk to her.”

After a moment’s pause, she stepped from the buggy and walked across the yard and into the house. She called out May’s name, and Jane appeared in the hallway, her eyes swollen from crying. But seeing Lucinda, she turned angrily away and walked back into the kitchen. May appeared at the top of the stairs and Lucinda motioned her down. She took May by the hand and led her outside so the girl could see Bill waiting by the buggy.

She took hold of both of May’s hands, gave them a reassuring squeeze. “You do know that I care for you like a sister, don’t you?” The girl nodded, her eyes slipping past Lucinda’s shoulders to where Bill stood. “And Bill’s happiness means everything to me.” Lucinda’s back was to Bill but she could imagine the familiar expression of seduction on his face in that moment as he stared at May: the slow burn of his eyes, the contagion of a creeping smile. “May, look at me. Do you love my brother?”

May returned her gaze and said, “Yes.”

“Would you then travel somewhere to marry him, if he asked you to?”

May peered over Lucinda’s shoulder once more, her eyes exultant, her breath coming faster. “Yes.”

Lucinda ducked her chin, a sorrowful anger narrowing her mouth to an ugly gash, and she reflexively tightened her hold on May’s hands.

At that moment Jane came to stand in the doorway, enraged now beyond tears. She stared hatefully at Lucinda, her arms crossed, her mouth moving as though practicing for an argument.

Ignoring her, Lucinda composed herself and said, “You know that Jane and your father would not allow it if they knew. They think you’re still a child. But I know better. Bill wants this to happen and can think of little else. But if you want to be with him, you must leave with me today.”

“Where will we go?”

“I’ll tell you everything once we’ve left. If Jane asks, we’re simply going for a drive.”

“Is Bill coming with us?”

“He’ll follow after us tomorrow.” Lucinda let go of May’s hands. She reached out and stroked a loose curl from the girl’s forehead. “Hurry now, while your father sleeps. You’ll be back to your family soon, and all will be forgiven once you’re married.”

May looked at her, incredulous. “Why would I ever return to this place?” She turned and ran into the house, brushing wordlessly past Jane, to gather her things, and Lucinda climbed into the buggy to wait.

Bill leaned in and circled his fingers around her ankle with one hand, stroked the calf of her leg with the other. He told her where to meet him in Galveston once they had made the ferry passage from Morgan’s Point. They would stay for only a day in Galveston and then go on to New Orleans. The grip on her ankle tightened painfully and he said, “I’m counting on you, Lucy.”

When May climbed into the buggy next to Lucinda, she was carrying a small bag, which she quickly threw to the floor. She turned to Bill, offering her mouth to be kissed, but Lucinda struck at the horse with the whip, and the buggy lurched up the road.

Within half a mile, they saw a man riding towards them leading two mules. He nodded in their direction as he passed and Lucinda recognized the hostile, close-set eyes of Jacob Purdy, Bill’s “surveying” partner. Where Innis Crenshaw was, she didn’t know, and didn’t want to know. After a few miles of traveling southeast, towards Morgan’s Point, she made several switchbacks along the paths running through the sprawling Allen cattle ranch, eventually heading the buggy in a northwesterly direction, towards Houston.

Lucinda had expected May to talk on and on about her excitement over her marriage to Bill, and she’d prepared herself for hours of girlish silliness. But surprisingly, May was mostly silent, her mouth curling in secretive smiles.

When Lucinda stopped the buggy briefly to allow May to get out and stretch her legs, she was tempted to whip the horse and drive off, leaving the girl to make her own way back to Middle Bayou. But Lucinda had formulated a different plan for May as she lay sleepless in her bed during the early-morning hours.

She shared some water and biscuits taken from the Wallers’ home and carefully began to lay out the journey they were about to make.

“We’re going to Houston,” Lucinda explained. “There you’ll board a train, and then in Hearne you’ll take the stagecoach to Fort Worth.”

“By myself?” May asked, her eyes widening in fright. “But I’ve never traveled alone. I’ve always been with Father. I wouldn’t know what to do—”

Lucinda reached out and squeezed one of May’s hands to silence her. “Listen and I’ll tell you all you need to know. I traveled by myself when I was younger than you and it was the greatest adventure of my life.”

May was quiet, but her mouth was downturned, her brows knit together. Her eyes worriedly scanned the prairie, and Lucinda knew that her shortsightedness rendered the surrounding grasslands watery and indistinct, making her all the more vulnerable in unfamiliar territory.

“Have you ever been on a train?” Lucinda asked, tamping down her sympathy for the girl, tearing her eyes away from the frightened face at her shoulder. May shook her head and Lucinda smiled. “It’s like flying. The passengers who travel on the rails are the most refined of people. And the view from the windows, May. It’s as if you’re watching a never-ending tapestry unspooling before you: fields and towns and people working on their farms, tiny from a distance, like dolls. All viewed from your comfortable coach.”

She glanced over and saw that the girl’s expression had changed from fear to rapt attention. Lucinda then described to her the wonders of rail travel, the excitement of arriving by coach to a city filled with theaters, shops, grand hotels, and beautifully dressed men and women. She was indiscriminate about weaving in descriptions of buildings or events she had seen in various cities and towns. May could not know that the picture Lucinda was painting was more than a little untrue.

“You’ll have a first-class ticket with money for food and drink, which you can buy on the train from the most cunning little tea cart. In Hearne, you’ll board the stagecoach to Dallas and then go on to Fort Worth.”

May’s face fell again at the mention of the stagecoach.

Lucinda exhaled sharply, her face disapproving. “Frankly, May, I’m disappointed in you. Bill and I will be only a day behind.” She paused for a moment, as though hesitant to reveal more. “He wanted to surprise you by arriving with a trousseau, and he needs my help to do that. He’ll be very pained. He thought you were an adventurous girl.”

May linked her arm with Lucinda’s. “I’ll go,” she said, uncertainty in her voice. “I’ll go.”

They arrived in Houston at midday and Lucinda purchased a first-class ticket at the station. She also bought a suitable traveling dress for May and dinner at a hotel, where she wrote down meticulous directions for the exchange to the coach in Hearne. She gave the girl money from the dwindling supply of stolen coins in the tapestry bag.