The Book of Lost Friends - Lisa Wingate Page 0,156
he soweth, that shall he also reap,” he says in his deep voice. “Are you a churchgoing woman, Miss Gossett?”
“Be not deceived. God is not mocked.” I know the verse. Old Missus used that one all the time to let us know, if she punished us, it was our own fault, not hers. God wanted us to get whipped. “I am a churchgoing woman, Mr. Salter. But you can call me Hannie, if it suits. I reckon at this point, we know each other pretty close up.” I think of that moment on the boat, when he grabbed me up in the familiarest way to toss me off. Must’ve been about then he figured I wasn’t a boy.
The corner of his mouth twitches up just a hint, and maybe he’s thinking of that, too, but he stays watching Missy.
“I ought to take her back inside, I guess,” I tell him. “Doctor says it’s to be over with her daddy any time.”
Elam nods, but stays where he is. “Do you have a notion of where you’ll go when it’s done?” He’s stroking that mustache again, rubbing his chin.
“Not sure.” That’s the truth. The only thing I know right now is that I don’t know. “Got some business to see to in Austin City.”
I pull Grandmama’s blue beads from under the collar of the dress, tell him about Juneau Jane and me and The Book of Lost Friends. I finish up with the Irishman’s story about the white girl in the café. “Don’t imagine it means a thing. Could be she found them beads, or maybe the story ain’t even true—I did hear it from a horse-thief Irishman. But I can’t leave, not without knowing for sure. I need to see about that, before I go from Texas. Thought earlier on that I’d stay in this country, keep making my way round with the book, look for my own people, spread the names of Lost Friends, take in more names, ask after folks for other folks and for myself.” I don’t tell him I hadn’t been the one to write in the book and can’t read but a little of it. Elam is an up-spoken man. Dignified and proud. Don’t want him to see me as less than.
I think again about The Book of Lost Friends, about all the names in it and the promises we made. “Might be, I’ll come back to Texas in a year or two, go round with the book then. I know the way, now.” I look at Missy, feel her like a full-up field sack strapped over my shoulders. Who in the world will look after her? “Even with all she’s done, I can’t just leave her to wander, such as she is. Can’t leave Juneau Jane with the burden, either. She’s still a child and has the grief of losing her papa. And I don’t want her cheated from her inheritance. We had hopes to find her daddy’s papers and prove what was meant to go to her, but the doctor said Old Gossett was brought here to the fort with nothing.”
“I’ll write the jailhouse in Mason and see what I can learn of his saddle and gear and ask after someone to see you to Austin for the train east. We’re close to Marston and his men now, and they know it. They’ll do all they can to keep their cause alive, and they’ll want no witnesses left behind who might testify against them, if they’re caught and tried. The girls could corroborate the identity of the Lieutenant and perhaps others, and for that matter, you could as well. You’ll be better off out of Texas.”
“We’d be grateful to you.” Wind stirs the leaves overhead, and sun speckles turn his skin dark and light, his eyes soft brown, then gold again. I lose all the sounds of the fort. Everything flies away a minute. “You be careful after them men, Elam Salter. You be mighty careful.”
“I can’t be shot. That’s what they say.” He smiles a bit and lays a hand on my arm. That one touch shoots though me and lands deep in my belly, in some place I didn’t know was there. I sway a little, blink, see the shadows swirl and spin. I part my mouth to