Together Apart by Dianne Gray Read Free Book Online Page B

there in that tree, I couldn't help but think how different things might've turned out if we'd made our journey in a wagon like that, moseying along, eating Ma's cooking, stopping to rest every night.
    The train had sickened Pa from the start. The rocking motion, the babies bawling, the stifling heat of having the windows closed, the choking smoke and cinders of having the windows opened, had heaped up on Pa like the weight of a blizzard's drift. We'd been headed for the Gulf Coast of Texas, which Pa had said was about as far from North Dakota winters as we could get. We weren't halfway along when Pa's heart gave out. His hand had flown to his chest. The color had drained from his face. He'd gasped and slumped forward, and by the time the train whistled the next stop, Prairie Hill, my pa was dead.
    ***
    When the family below had finished their supper, the father took out his fiddle and began to play—lively music, of a kind I'd never heard before. My foot set itself to tapping the air, and pretty soon my harmonica was in my mouth. I wasn't planning to give it any wind, but I got so caught up in the music that I didn't even notice when the fiddle music stopped.
    "Who goes there?" the father called up from under my tree.
    I about jumped out of my skin and had to grab a branch to keep my balance. I didn't fall, but my harmonica did. Fell and fell. Catching the downwind in its reeds and making a gaspy, heart-hurting sound. Then, just before it smashed to the ground, the man caught it. I'd already given myself away, so there was nothing left for me to do but climb on down.
    Lucky for me, Eliza stepped out of the shadows just then. "So good to see you again, Mr. Tinka," she said, sticking out her hand, which Mr. Tinka didn't shake like I thought he would. He kissed it!
    Eliza then introduced me to the family. She rattled off their names, but I only caught one, the oldest girl, Rosa. Her name fit her look. Rosy cheeks, dark eyes. Not as pretty as Hannah—no girl was as pretty as Hannah—but pretty all the same.
    I leaned over to Eliza and asked, "Where's Hannah?"
    "She's in the stable, unharnessing Persephone. I wanted to help her, but she stubbornly insisted that I come on ahead."
    I made tracks, but by the time I got to the stable, Hannah was already forking hay into Persephone's stall. I plucked the lantern from the hook on the stable wall and brought it close to Hannah's face so I could read her look. Her look said, "bushed."
    I told her as much and suggested that maybe she should just go on up to bed.
    "I don't want to disappoint Eliza," she answered. "She is anxious for me to meet her friends."
    So we joined the others around the campfire.
    Mr. Tinka came up to me then, his fiddle and bow tucked under his arm. "Play," he said, offering up my harmonica. I was about to tell him I didn't dare when Eliza said, "There's a bit of chill to the air tonight. The townsfolk will have their windows closed, and the sheriff lives way over on the other side of town. Your choice, but I think it's safe."
    "After you," I said to Mr. Tinka.
    He drew his bow across the strings and began to play. I listened for a bit, to catch the rhythm, then put my harmonica to my mouth and joined in, making up my part as I went along. Before long, Rosa began to dance around the fire. One arm above her head, the other across her waist, fingers clicking in time. Then Mrs. Tinka and the young ones started in dancing, too. Eliza, who'd been swaying along with the music, threw up her hands and said, "Oh, why not," and then joined the others, leaving Hannah the only one not letting the music move her. Eliza tried to fix that. She sashayed over to where Hannah stood and took up one of her hands. Hannah did take a couple of steps forward, did begin move in a way that wasn't quite a dance but wasn't scarecrow-stiff either. The fire's glow lit Hannah's face, and I thought I saw a flicker of the old Hannah in her eyes. But the flicker didn't last. All of a