Page 53 of Return to Telegraph Creek

Trick smiled.“I reckon that’s a tricky one for a child his age.How old is the little one?”

“Almost two.”

“Where’s his momma?”Trick asked.

Perhaps the question was insensitive, for Cal pulled herself up and said, “I’mhis momma,” in a voice that brooked no argument.

“Momma,” Samuel repeated, swinging their joined hands and grinning.

“Oh,” Trick said, with a smile.“Well, then.All right.”She glanced our way as if she wasn’t sure where to take the conversation.

“This your homestead, Cal?”Oscar said, swinging down from Onyx and walking toward her.“We been ridin’ all mornin’, lookin’ for you.”

Cal held tighter to Sam’s hand and seemed like she wanted to run.Oscar stopped walking and scratched his chin.

“I’m awful thirsty,” Oscar said.“Do you think we might come in for a bit?”

“Tirsty!”Samuel said, tugging on Cal’s hand.

Cal took the measure of us.“My husband’s not home, but I s’pose it’d be all right.”

“Thank you, Cal,” I said.“It’d be mighty kind of you.I’m a bit parched myself.”

Cal nodded, and I saw a flicker of something, perhaps a memory of the friendship we used to have, before she turned and started toward the stand of trees.

We glanced at each other and followed.

The house, when it became visible, was barely more than a sizeable shack, with walls that needed shoring up and a roof that probably leaked when it rained or snowed hard.As if she knew how bad it looked, Cal kept her head down and took her time, reluctant to take us there, I supposed.But now that I was aware of it, I wanted to see inside.I needed to see how bad it was and what kind of a situation Cal was in, through no fault of her own.

“This is fine land, Cal.What do you and Albert grow?”I asked.The fields looked like they’d been abandoned and not tilled for a while, but I thought I’d ask, in case I was missing something.

“This is the house, here,” Cal said, ignoring my question and stating the obvious, in a morose tone of voice, as the door opened and a girl child of about six or seven peeked out, strands of brown hair escaping from uneven braids.

“Elizabeth,” Cal said, “where’s Peter?”

The girl gaped at us while she answered Cal.“He’s out back, tryin’ to fix the washing line.”

“Can you go get him please?We got some visitors.”

Elizabeth gazed at us with wide eyes and shrank behind the open door.

“It’s all right, Lizzy.They’re kind folks.They only want a drink.”

Lizzy looked as if she didn’t truly believe Cal, but she nodded and pulled the door wider as Cal took Samuel in, and we followed.

As we stepped inside the dark space that smelled like spoiled milk and urine, Cal sighed.“It ain’t much, but it’s ours.”

“Sure,” Trick said, gazing about us at the sorry state of Cal’s home.“Better ’n I got.”

Cal’s gaze flashed to her, assessing.Did Cal regret not being at The Angel?The Angel was more comfortable, and cleaner by far, than this place, and didn’t have the demands of three children and an absent husband to worry her.But Cal had worked hard while she was there, and ’twasn’t necessarily a life to strive for either.

“Get Peter, please,” Cal reminded Lizzie with a gentleness of manner I remembered.

“Yes, Momma,” Lizzie said, her eyes huge and her manner subdued as she slipped into the kitchen and out of the back door.

Chapter Seventeen

Dire Straits