The Misadventures of Maude March Page 20

  Lily passed me a piece of bread she had buttered, having sprinkled sugar over it as well.

  “How'd you come to be here?” Maude asked shakily, having picked up her chair and taken her seat.

  “In my case, I believe we'd have to call it a failure of reputation,” Lily said, passing her the butter. “Just keep your heads down wherever it is you're going, and the whole mess is likely to blow over. The further west you go, the more you'll be judged by what you show people, not by any reputation that follows you. Most everybody out here has a reputation of their own.”

  “Don't most people deserve their reputations?” Maude asked.

  “If you're lucky, a reputation is made up of what people think of you,” Lily said, “but it's just as often made up when people don't think at all.”

  “It's very kind of you to say so,” Maude said, “but you took a big risk letting Sallie and me sleep in your place. We might have been deserving of my reputation.”

  “When I read that you and your gang were tearing up the pea patch in Arkansas, I had every reason to doubt that two little girls in need of a bed and a bath were going to do me any harm.”

  “What trouble have we caused in Arkansas?” Maude said.

  Lily flushed slightly. “Never mind,” she said. “Rival newspaper ran a different story, that's all.”

  “I should take a look at that,” Maude said in a grim tone.

  “No, you shouldn't. That's what I'm telling you,” Lily said. “Just don't head toward Arkansas either.”

  We agreed that Arkansas sounded like a bad idea.

  The search for Uncle Arlen did not lift our spirits. In most cases, it was a long, cold ride from one livery to another. Out of the maybe eight different people we talked to, all of them who worked with horses in one way or another, only two thought they knew Uncle Arlen once.

  One of them said he thought Uncle Arlen had gone to St. Louis, and the other thought he'd gone off with a railroad crew, headed for Denver. To make matters worse, late in the day, Maude found a newspaper on the ground, and on page three, she found:

  MAD MAUDE STRIKES AGAIN

  Hit Like a Swarm of Locusts

  The Wild Woman and her gang, numbering six in all, have struck again, riding down on the small community of Dowd, Arkansas. They robbed the bank, cleaned out the ready food supply, and changed horses at the livery, riding off again, much refreshed. Local ranchers have posse'ed up, looking to cash in on the offered rewards and the fame as well, by bringing an end to this band of despicable desperadoes. At least Missouri residents can put their heads on their pillows in safety tonight.

  That was as far as I got before Maude slapped her knee with the paper and then dropped it in a horse trough. “This is good news,” I said, hoping to convince Maude this was true.I tried to convince myself. “At least we are being hunted in Arkansas. All six of us.”

  “Lily was right,” Maude said.

  “We should never have read that paper,” I agreed.

  “Well, that too,” Maude said. “But I know what I have to do.”

  “What's that?”

  “You stay here,” she said.

  “Maude!”

  “No. No, we better stay together. Try harder to look like a boy.”

  I followed Maude at a trot, bringing the horse behind me. She walked with a man's long strides to the Lavender Door Hotel at the end of Second Street. This was the prettiest hotel of those we had seen earlier. I was eager to have a look inside of it, but Maude told me nothing more of her plan, which bothered me some. Just because she was the head of a gang was no cause to think she didn't have to tell me what was going on.

  We went to the back door and knocked. I slouched in the manner of Willie and his boys as I stood there. It was to be my best performance yet, and I felt a manly frown settle over my face.

  A black woman opened the door, and Maude said, “Could I please speak to Miss Lavender?”

  At this the woman laughed and said, “Gosh, girl, what kind of getup is that you got on? When you come lookin' for a job, you ought to dress nice.”

  Maude said nothing to this, and we were ushered in without further insult.

  “Oh, Miss Lavender,” the woman sang out when sheclosed the door behind us. Just the way she said it told me that Miss Lavender was not the right name.

  We stood in a kitchen, nice and bright with whitewash and touches of color in the bowls and dishes that lined the hutch. A big family-style pine table sat in the middle of the room, worn rounded at the edges but glossy with a wax job.

  The sound of piano music came from the next room, and so did the sound of laughter, girlish laughter. A short fat man put his head through the doorway. “You called?”

  “These gals are lookin' to talk to you,” the woman said.

  “No!” Maude said. “No, I'm not. I thought there would be a Miss Lavender.” The desperation on Maude's face made the man take her seriously when she said, “I need to speak to a fallen woman.”

  He turned on his heel without another word to us. “Kitty,” he called.

  A big woman came into the kitchen, or at least she seemed big. She wore heels that outdid cowboy boots, and her hair was piled on top of her head in swirls so that it looked like a brown owl to me at first. “What do we have here?” she asked.

  “This'n wants to see Miss Lavender.”

  “Kitty's my name. What can I do you for?”

  Maude told her everything. Everything. My jaw liked to drop right on the floor. Maude told her and finished up with, “I need to look like a girl again. I need to look like a different girl. I was hoping you'd help me. I don't have anyone to turn to.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Kitty said. “You want me to fix you up, but you aren't looking for a job?”

  “Yes, ma'am,” Maude said. “And no, ma'am. I want to find my uncle, and I think this town is the likeliest place to do it. But if I run into any kind of trouble, I intend to get out of here as fast as my horse will carry me.”

  “Our horse,” I said.

  “Bess,” Kitty said, “can you find a dress, some shoes, and some petticoats, and bring them down here?”

  “Yes'm.”

  “Better heat some water. We're going to have to start from scratch.” I went out to feed the horse and make him comfortable, because it was clear we would be there for some time.

  We were both head-washed, but only I put my same shirt on again. Maude was outfitted in ladies' undies with pink ribbons. She got shampooed again with something that turned her hair dark red. It was a little shocking at first, but after Bess put some pincurls up for her and let it dry in front of the woodstove—which didn't take long, Maude's hair was still short—it looked sort of pretty.

  While her hair dried, we drank cold milk and ate enough carrot bread to hold us for a time. When Maude was judged ready, she was fitted with a blue dress with more ruffles than seemed right, but then we'd been wearing boys' clothes for so long we hardly knew the way a girl should look anymore.

  Maude, for her part, seemed entirely pleased with the finished effect.

  While all this was being done in the kitchen, things got some rowdier in the hotel. They were having a regular party in that front room. It was late in the evening when we stood by the door to leave, and the party was still going strong.

  “How much do I owe you for this?” Maude asked aftershe'd stopped saying thank you so many times it was getting embarrassing.

  “Not a penny,” Kitty told her. “Let's just say I'm trading for good will.”

  “Oh, you have it,” Maude said, starting to gush all over again.

  “It's not your good will I'm talking about,” Kitty said, “but I'm grateful to have it too. If I roll up on your doorstep when I'm old and gray, you'll remember me, I hope.”

  “I will, Miss Kitty,” Maude said. “That's a promise.”

  I knew Maude would keep her word, but I couldn't see that there was any need. Kitty had that special shampoo; I didn't see why her hair ever
had to go gray.

  AMAN ON A HORSE WAITED FOR US WHEN WE LEFT THE Lavender Door Hotel. He took off his hat when he saw us coming. The light from the windows shone on his bare head.

  “Marion!” Maude said. “What are you doing here? Haven't they hung you yet?”

  “You and your sister come from a bloodthirsty lot; that would be my guess,” Marion said.

  “How did you find us?” I asked him. To tell the truth, I was some relieved to see him. I had no idea what Maude was likely to do next. I hardly recognized her anymore.

  “I've been asking around for you since I got here. I spotted you at a livery earlier today, been following you ever since.”

  “You asked after us?” Maude said.

  “I said I was looking for two boys,” Marion said. “You had me worried for a while here. But now I see what you were up to. Where you headed next?”

  “We haven't found our uncle yet.”

  “I'll help you look,” Marion said. “I hope we'll get lucky. We surely can't pass you off as a boy with you looking like that.”

  Which remark caused Maude to give him a look that should have singed his hair. Maybe because he had so little of it up front, he seemed immune. I went back alone to get our horse, determined that no one who had seen Maude before should see her in her fresh disguise.

  And although it was well into night, we kept riding from one livery to the next.

  “Well, there is nothing for it but to sit up till morning,” Marion said when we gave up after finding two liveries closed for the night. “Let's us tie these horses to a post and find us something to eat.”

  In fact, a place stood open before us, ready to feed a hungry body at any hour of the day. Only the cook, in a dirty apron, stood ready, and he sat alone and disheveled at a table with his elbows on a newspaper. Marion ordered eggs and chili from the doorway, causing the cook to get up from his table without a word of yea or nay. But he headed for a door at the back of the room and left us alone.

  In the near dark of the streets, I had almost forgotten how changed Maude seemed to be. The color of her hair suited her better than I would have thought if someone had come up to me earlier and asked, how do you think your sister would look with hair the color of a fox?

  But it wasn't only the color; it was the curls. She hardly looked like the Maude I knew. It was worse than when Marion got rid of his beard. In the end, I found it easier not to look at her very much. Luckily, I sat next to her and could look across the table at Marion.

  We had done almost no talking during the hours ofriding around looking for liveries, except to the smithies and stable hands we questioned. In part, I had the feeling that Maude was pretending Marion wasn't there. Maybe even Marion was pretending that. At that table, we had no choice but to talk back and forth about what we ought to do next.

  Marion asked if we felt ready to give up on finding Uncle Arlen. “Not really,” I said. “We might have missed a place.”

  “How many days are you thinking to put into this search?” he asked.

  “As many days as it takes, or until I am convinced we aren't going to find him,” Maude said. “We have nowhere else to go.”

  This statement struck me deep, and for a reason I couldn't plumb, I wanted it to strike Marion deep too. “We were orphans when we set out,” I said, “and we are orphans still.”

  “Lots of people are orphans,” Maude said stoutly. “Let's don't feel sorry for ourselves.”

  “I don't care to sound sorry for myself,” I said, “but I would rather not be an orphan so soon.”

  The chili was brought to our table, and Maude said to the cook, “I could do this job of putting food on the tables, if you are looking for someone to work for you.”

  “It's busier most times of day,” he said. “I have some help, but I could use another hand in the mornings.”

  “What do you pay?” Maude asked him, and when I thought she would say yes, she said, “I'm not sure that's enough for me. I have my little brother to support.”

  “That's for the first day,” the cook said. “If you do all right, I'll pay you what I pay everyone else. Some are raising biggerfamilies on what I pay and do well enough. But you can't wear that fancy dress to work here.”

  “What must I wear?”

  And so they settled it while Marion and I looked at each other over our chili. “What's this?” Marion whispered when the cook had gone back to sitting at another table.

  “If I work today, I'll earn the money to stay someplace tonight. As you said, now that I've returned to being a female, I can't very well share the floor with rough riders,” Maude said. “At any rate, it is time Sallie was returned to being a little girl.” She looked at me. “That might take a couple of days.”

  This silenced Marion, and if I had something to say, it could wait till I had eaten. Until the chili was set before me, I had not known I was so hungry. I had no complaints about the eggs either.

  Once my belly was full, all I could think about was how good it would feel to crawl into a bed. There was no bed to be had, only the hours of sitting in the chair waiting for morning. “We could play a few hands of cards, if we had a deck,” Marion said.

  “Aunt Ruthie didn't hold with card playing,” Maude said. “We don't know how.”

  So Marion told her all that she would need to know if ever she wanted to learn. That the deck is made up of four suits; hearts and diamonds, spades and clubs. “Clubs?” Maude said.

  “Like a paw print,” he said.

  That was the last I heard. I couldn't remember putting my head down on the table. I only noticed when I woke up that I had slept until there were sounds to be heard from the streetoutside. The clop of horses' hooves and the low drawl of a man's voice.

  Marion had gotten a deck of cards from someplace, and he and Maude were playing in silence. “Where'd you get those?” I asked.

  “Bought them off a fellow who came in for a meal,” Marion said.

  “I don't remember that.”

  “You were out like a light.”

  Across the room, the cook got up, folding his newspaper.

  “Is that a recent paper?” Maude asked him.

  “Yesterday evening.” He set the newspaper down and took our empty bowls. “You could be here at seven, if you want to start right away,” he said.

  “I will be on time,” she said, and spread the paper out in front of us.

  IHAD BEEN SAYING A SILENT PRAYER THAT ANY NEWS OF Maude would have been moved further to the back, and written in very small print. If the print got small enough, she wouldn't be able to read it at all.

  The first page was half taken up with a headline: DARING BANK ROBBERY!!!

  “Have you robbed another bank?” I asked her.

  She threw a dirty look in my direction and said, “It's Jesse James this time.”

  “Where?” I said, spotting a smaller story heading: BLOODY GUN BATTLE.

  “Right here in Missouri,” Maude said, skimming the page.

  I leaned in to look at it along with her and told Marion, “Jesse James killed somebody again.”

  “Well, there's fresh news,” he said with a smirk.

  “It's all they've written about in here,” Maude said.

  “Read it out loud,” Marion said. “I can't read upside down.”

  And so I began at the first column:

  THE BLOODY BOYS RETURN

  Jesse James Shoots to Kill

  A daring holdup of the Gallatin Bank on a cold December morning ended in gunfire and spilled blood, and near tragedy for the James boys' momma. Leaving their gang of eight men stationed on the boardwalk to cover their backs, Frank and Jesse entered the bank with pistols drawn. No one stood against them and, in fact, the bags were filled to bursting with money before the shooting began. After asking him for his name, Jesse declared that the clerk reminded him of a man he despised. A few words were exchanged, then Jesse James Shot and Killed the clerk, John Sheets, and wounded another man. That it was the James boys
might well have been taken for rumor but for the fact that Jesse's horse threw him as he rode out of town. The horse dragged him three wagon-lengths before Jesse freed himself! The horse ran off. Stranded, Jesse traded gunfire with courageous citizens, wounding a few, and there are reports he may have taken a bullet himself. It was Frank, onlookers tell, who defied death by riding back and rescuing his brother from an undignified end! Positive identification was proven from papers found in the saddlebags when the horse was recovered by the sheriff.

  “Maybe they've forgotten about you,” Marion said as Maude began to read about Jesse and Frank from anotherarticle titled, “Local Boys Gone Bad.” “What with this interference, and your disguise, you won't have to worry about being recognized.”

  “I never believed I would feel so relieved to hear about such things,” Maude said, “as a man killed.”

  “I bet Frank rescued Jesse so he could finally get his name in the paper alongside Jesse's,” I said. Maude made a disgusted sound, but I argued, “It must get tiresome for him that Jesse gets all the attention.” Meanwhile, I realized Marion was right; Maude might not be news at all anymore. I paged through the paper, skimming the headlines. “There's not a word in here about you today.”

  As the sky lightened outside, the room began to fill up with hungry cattlemen. Some of the help had arrived while we read the paper from front to back, girls not much older than Maude, most of them. And from the moment they stepped on the floor, they ran their feet off, carrying coffeepots and taking orders.

  One of these customers came in carrying a fresher newspaper, and Marion bought it from him once the fellow had finished with it. I could see the light in Maude's eye that meant she couldn't see the sense in offering to pay for a paper that had already been read, but the truth of the matter was, the man hadn't looked like he would leave it behind.