Smoke River Bride Page 17

  “Carl Ness and the barber are the worst so far,” Leah murmured. “Marshal Johnson is trying to keep everything legal.”

  Thad cocked his head. “They all sound crazy to me. Bigoted and uninformed.”

  A high-pitched tirade poured out of one woman’s mouth. “Everyone knows the Celestials bring disease, and God knows what else—inedible food, strange potions, pagan rituals…”

  Thad sighed. “Yeah, that’s Smoke River, all right. Small towns have their shortcomings.”

  A man at the back leaped onto an overturned fruit crate. “There’s millions of ’em in San Francisco already! The Chinks are gonna take over our towns and cities…our whole country!”

  “Ignorant and close-minded,” Thad murmured. “I’ve had just about enough.” He set Teddy on his feet and stood up.

  “Mr. Chairman?”

  Carl Ness boggled at him. “Mr. MacAllister, did you wish to speak?”

  “I sure as hell do. Let’s get our facts straight before we go off half-cocked and do something we’ll regret.”

  A sullen silence fell over the crowd.

  “To begin with, Ming Cha—Uncle Charlie—is just one man. He’s only about five foot four and he’s way too shy to threaten anyone.”

  “But there’ll be others,” someone yelled.

  “That’s fine with me. We’ve got plenty of room in this country.”

  “Oh, yeah? Then let ’em go somewhere else.”

  Thad raised his voice to reach the back of the room. “We’ve got bigger problems in Smoke River than one new bakery. With the drought this summer, more than half of us are going to owe the bank more than we like to think about. We should be thinking about real problems, not whether one Chinese man opens a business.”

  “Well, hell,” a male voice shouted. “You’re married to a Celestial, so you can’t say otherwise, can ya?”

  “Sure, I could say otherwise,” Thad said in a controlled voice. “But I would be wrong. It’s just plain damn wrong to make one of us less important than another, and taking away someone’s right to a peaceful life in a peaceful town is wrong.”

  “Are we gonna listen to the fool of a man who planted wheat?” someone else yelled. “Wheat! Now, I ask you, does that make sense?” The speaker waited a heartbeat. “Well, neither does Thad MacAllister!”

  “How come Charlie Ming-something came to Smoke River in the first place?” someone called out. “Whose uncle is he, anyway?”

  Thad pinned the gaze of the speaker, a gangly man with long arms he was still waving.

  “My wife, Leah, is Charlie’s niece.”

  “Don’t make no nevermind, MacAllister. It’s Charlie we’re talkin’ about, not yer wife. Besides, she’s not so welcome, neither, seein’ as how she’s a Chinese immigrant, too.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Thad said in a suddenly menacing tone. “What’s wrong with immigrants?”

  “They don’t fit in!” someone answered. “Your wife’ll never last in our town. You just watch. She’ll bolt and run when the going gets tough.”

  “Is that right?” Thad said with a laugh. “Then you don’t know my wife.”

  “Miz MacAllister’s only half Chinese,” a woman sitting in back shouted. “This Charlie person is one hundred percent Chinaman.”

  “Question is,” someone yelled, “what’s a foreigner doin’ opening his business in our town in the first place?”

  Before Leah was even aware of moving, she was on her feet, her teeth clenched, ready for battle.

  Thad took one look at her, settled back on his seat and lifted Teddy onto his knees. “Go get ’em, honey,” he murmured.

  “Yeah,” Teddy echoed. “You kin do it, Leah. You’re real smart. Go get ’em.”

  Go get them? Her mouth was so dry she could not swallow.

  But her husband and her stepson were right. Someone besides Thad had to fight for Charlie.

  She wiped her damp palms on the front of her flounced muslin skirt and faced the crowd.

  Chapter Twenty

  I pray the Lord will help me. I cannot do this. This was worse than anything she had faced in Luzhai. This wasn’t a gang of rock-throwing bullies; it was a whole town full of adults who hated her and Uncle Charlie.

  In the front row of the restless crowd opposite her, Leah spotted Noralee Ness seated on an apple crate. The girl’s hands were clamped to the edge of the box and her eyes were wide.

  Noralee looked back at her, expecting her to say something. The girl’s father, Carl Ness, was waiting for her to make a fool of herself. An almost feral grin spread across his narrow face.

  Before Leah could unclamp her jaws, Teddy reached out and gave a swift tug on her muslin skirt. She bent down and he cupped his hands and spoke into her ear.

  “Remember what you taught me, Leah. Don’t let ’em know you’re scared.” He looked up into her face for a long moment and then gave her a thumbs-up.

  Leah gasped out a laugh. For heaven’s sake, what a grown-up thing for the boy to do. Thad must have put him up to it.

  No, she realized in the next instant. It was Teddy who would remember those words. Not Thad, but his son. Teddy wanted her to know he was on her side. Leah’s throat ached.

  Carl Ness’s impatient cough reminded her She was standing before a throng of angry townspeople, some of whom she did not even know. she must speak out, and She must do it now.

  Suddenly she was unsure what to say. She knotted her fingers together, sucked in air, began to speak. What came out of her mouth surprised her.

  “Were all of you who live in Smoke River born here, in America?”

  Her question was met by some hesitant nods and more than a few grumbled no’s.

  Struggling to keep her hands from shaking, she faced the barber. “Mr. Poletti, where did you originally come from?”

  Pleased at being singled out, the barber beamed. “From Napoli. Bee-yoo-tiful Napoli, in Italy.”

  “You came from Italy to America?”

  “I sure did. On a big white ship.”

  “How about you, Mr. Pritchard? Where do you come from?”

  “Amsterdam. Is in Holland. My wife and I, ve are Dutch,” he said proudly.

  “Mr. O’Brian, what about you?”

  The red-bearded man stood up and bellowed, “Ireland, God bless ’er. The Emerald Isle. Came to work on the railroads.”

  “I am from Chermany,” said an older woman next to Mr. O’Brian, her accent pronounced. “Both me and mein sister.”

  All at once eight-year-old Noralee Ness shot to her feet and purposefully stalked over to Leah’s side of the room.

  “Noralee!” her father snapped. “You get back here.”

  The girl spun to face him. “I can’t, Papa. I’m real sorry, but what Miz Johnson taught us in school is right. In America, everyone is equal.”

  The mercantile owner’s face flushed purple. “When I get you home, I’ll—”

  “Stop it, Carl,” his wife ordered. “She’s right.”

  Taking a deep breath, Leah resumed her questions. “How about you, Mrs. Rose?”

  “I sailed from England, dearie. My family had a pig farm in Yorkshire.”

  Leah turned her gaze on the oversize man who had beaten up Thad and Uncle Charlie. “What nationality are you, Ike?”

  “Svedish,” he roared. “But my fader, he come from Denmark.”

  “My husband, Thad, comes from Scotland.” She waited two heartbeats. “And I was born in Luzhai, in China.”

  “Oughtta go back there!” someone yelled.

  “What’re you tryin’ to say, lady?”

  “Only this,” Leah replied. She waited until it grew so quiet she could hear Thad’s breathing behind her. “Do any of you feel you are better than anyone else in Smoke River?”

  “Guess not,” a gray-bearded man grumbled. “I got more hair than ever’body else in town, but that don’t make me better’n them, just different.”

  Harvey and Iris Pritchard chose that moment to march across the
room to Leah’s side, followed by white-haired Granny Bolan. “I come from Russia,” the old woman said with pride as she sat down next to Ellie and Marshal Matt Johnson. “My name used to be Bolansky.”

  Leah nodded. “It must be obvious then that all of us here are different in some way.”

  Heads nodded and suddenly Leah felt a wave of courage wash over her. She raised her head. “But this is America,” she shouted in the strongest voice she had ever used. “We are all kinds of people, with all kinds of backgrounds. We all have the same rights because that is what this country stands for.”

  “Ya, it sure does,” someone interjected in the silence.

  Leah squared her shoulders. “And those rights include the right to live where we choose. To live here, in Smoke River.”

  A sprinkling of guess-so’s and maybe’s came from her audience.

  Leah raised her arms to include both sides of the room. “If you do not believe all of us here in Smoke River have these rights, stand up!”

  Not one person moved.

  She sucked in a long breath. “Now, about Ming Cha, my uncle Charlie. Charlie looks different from most of us, and that is because he is Chinese.”

  “Yeah,” someone yelled. “But he sure makes good cakes!”

  “So what? He’s a Chinaman!” another voice responded.

  “What you really mean,” Leah challenged in a voice she didn’t know she possessed, “is that Charlie doesn’t look like everyone else in Smoke River?”

  “Yeah, he’s got slanty eyes.” This came from one of Ellie’s students.

  “And he ain’t white, like the rest of us.” This came from the back of the room.

  Old Mrs. Bolan next to Ellie banged her cane on the floor. “Well, what of it?”

  “By golly,” a bent, gray-bearded man spluttered. “I dunno as it makes a lot of diff’rence what color his skin is. He makes the best blackberry pie I ever tasted!”

  The opposing sides of the room began slinging comments back and forth.

  “No damn Chinaman’s gonna show his face in our town!”

  “Why not? He’s got as much right as anybody.”

  “Oh, yeah? Prove it!”

  “Don’t have to,” a schoolmate of Teddy’s screamed. “It’s in the Constitution.”

  “Sez who?”

  “Sez Miz Johnson, that’s who.”

  “No woman speaks for me, you son of a gun!”

  “She’s the schoolteacher. She oughtta know! She oughtta speak for all of us.”

  At that point, Marshal Johnson rose to his feet. “Folks, I’m reminding you again that having freedom of speech means everyone can say whatever crazy thing they want, but there’s to be no violence.”

  Leah sank onto the fruit crate. She had said what she had to; now she could only watch and listen.

  The heated shouting match went on for another half hour. In the middle of the uproar the Williams family and red-bearded Mr. O’Brian stalked deliberately over to Leah’s side of the room.

  Finally Carl Ness, his narrow face splotchy with rage, jumped to his feet and banged down his gavel so hard the cedar head flew off and clattered onto the floor. A man grabbed it and raised his arm to throw it into the opposite crowd.

  Marshal Johnson heaved his tall frame upright and in an instant complete quiet settled over the room. “Let’s keep it peaceful, folks.”

  Colonel Wash Halliday, Jeanne’s husband, rose immediately and raised one hand. “I move we vote on it.”

  “I second the motion,” the marshal said quietly. “That’s democratic as hell. Vote no, and Uncle Charlie’s bakery goes. Vote yes, and it stays.”

  “But either way,” Colonel Halliday added, “Charlie has a right to live in Smoke River. Right, Marshal?”

  Johnson gave a decisive nod. “Absolutely damn right.”

  Colonel Halliday pinned the mercantile owner with a look that could wither cornstalks. “Right, Carl?”

  “Hell, no!” Carl yelled. “I’m never gonna agree to—”

  His wife jabbed him in the ribs and he shifted uneasily. “Oh, all right,” he grumbled. “When ya put it that way, I guess he’s got a right.”

  “That’s real smart of you, Carl,” the marshal said with a grin. “I’ll set up a ballot box at the mercantile. We’ll vote on Tuesday about whether Charlie’s bakery stays. That’s all. Have a peaceful night, folks.”

  Thad and Leah mounted their horses in silence and headed back to the ranch. Teddy rode in front of Thad, talking excitedly about the evening’s event. Leah, still shaking from her speech-making ordeal, could not say a word.

  They rode side by side for a mile without speaking, and then, where the town road split, Thad caught her bridle and leaned his large frame close to hers.

  “I’m proud of you, Leah.”

  A warm flush washed through her. He was really proud of her? For some reason she wanted to cry.

  He said nothing more, just rode on. Teddy’s chatter brought only an occasional noncommittal grunt from his father.

  Leah tightened her hands on the reins. Sharp darts of anxiety were beginning to jump in her stomach. What was Thad really thinking? Finally she could not stand his silence one more minute.

  She cleared her throat. “Where did you take Uncle Charlie during the meeting?”

  Thad snorted. “You mean where’d I hide him from the tar and feathers? I took him up to Verena’s.”

  “Verena’s! Verena’s? Verena’s apartment is right above the meeting hall!” Angry words bubbled up, but Leah forced them back.

  “Thought he’d be safest in the bosom of his enemies, so to speak. Verena never knew he was there. She’d already gone down to the meeting.”

  Disbelief welled inside Leah. “Thad, how could you?”

  “Why the hell not? Charlie loved it. He made tea in her fancy flowered teapot and even scrubbed off her stovetop.”

  Leah stared at Her husband. If she lived ten thousand years, she would never plumb the mysteries of this man. Her mind whirled with questions.

  “Why Verena?”

  “She’s an old friend, Leah. She may be outspoken, but Hattie always liked her.”

  Hattie! An unwelcome heat flooded Leah’s cheeks. She hated to admit it, but she was jealous! Jealous not only of Hattie, but of Verena Forester. Blindingly, stupidly jealous. Suddenly ashamed, Leah felt her face flame. With an effort she kept her eyes on the mare’s thick mane.

  “There’s nothing to be upset about, Leah. Verena didn’t know anything about providing a safe haven for Uncle Charlie. Then I took Charlie to the jail.”

  “The jail?”

  “Now, don’t get all riled up. The marshal let Charlie sleep there on a cot so he could keep an eye on him.”

  Leah bit her lip. That would be just like Thad—do something unexpected and think she would understand.

  Another question nagged at her. If Verena had been interested in Thad, why did he not marry her? Was it because of Teddy’s dislike? Verena would have made a fine housekeeper. Why had he sent for Leah?

  She wanted reassurance from Thad that he wanted her, not Verena. Now as never before she hungered for some indication that Thad cared for her, despite his preoccupation with other things.

  If Thad did not care…

  But she couldn’t think about that now. Instead she pressed her lips together and resolved to keep silent.

  For the moment, at least.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tuesday dawned with a sky so blue it reminded Leah of her mother’s treasured lapis lazuli necklace, a wedding gift from Father. By breakfast time, the heat in the small house felt as if a prairie fire smoldered under the plank floor.

  Teddy poked listlessly at his oatmeal and Thad ate nothing at all, just sat staring out the window, nursing his mug of coffee. Leah tried to eat, but her stomach roiled with such jitters she gave it up after a single spoonful.

  Today the townspeople would decide about Uncle Charlie’s bakery.

  A muscle in Thad’s j
aw was jumping rhythmically and she wrenched her gaze away. He was obviously troubled. For days now he had slept in the barn.

  Suddenly he jerked to his feet and, without a word, strode out the front door. Leah stared after him with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Why could he not tell her what was bothering him?

  Hurriedly, she washed the cups and bowls and put them on the shelf, but this morning instead of stacking the china neatly as she usually did, she shoved the pieces in any which way. Her life, she reflected, felt as disordered as her dishes.

  What was happening to their marriage?

  She shook the thought away, but the question stuck in her brain like a blob of pitch. She stood watching Thad out the window, striding across the pasture with his hands jammed in his pockets.

  Then, with a resolute shake of her head, she brushed aside her fear, gathered up her hat and headed for the barn to saddle the mare. It was Tuesday.

  Voting day.

  Despite the stifling heat, Smoke River’s main street was bustling with activity. Leah tied up her mare at the hitching rail and joined the crowd of townspeople jostling each other outside the mercantile door. Thad would ride in later to vote; he and Teddy had stayed at the ranch to dribble what water they could on the sun-seared wheat stalks. But that would not be much, she thought with a stab of unease. Because of the drought, their well was going dry.

  Everything was dry! Thad’s interest in her was shriveling up like the mudflat in the pasture where the pond used to be. Things could not get any worse.

  But she knew they could. What if Uncle Charlie lost his bakery business? Where would he go? What if Thad never returned to her bed? What if the feeling of oneness they had once begun to share had died?

  A sharp-edged pain lanced her chest and she caught her breath. What would she do then?

  She took her place at the end of the long line of townspeople waiting to cast their ballots. Instantly the loud conversation around her dwindled to an awkward silence. Leah winced. They must have been talking about Uncle Charlie.

  Or her.

  The line edged forward a step. Behind her she heard Darla Weatherby’s high, thin voice. “I think it’s purely shameful, having a Chinaman living in Smoke River. Right out in plain sight, too. Mama and I are voting no.”