with her provisions and weapons, she strode toward the woods, now anxious to
be hidden among the trees.
She had gone some way up the trail before it occurred to her – she couldn’t
walk off with every penny. A bear wouldn’t have pocketed Iola’s egg money. If
everything of value was gone, that could make the Law think a human had
robbed and killed them. She stood among the trees for a moment, reluctant to go
back, but then sighed and set her burdens down. She half-ran back to the cabin,
carrying only one of the guns, and returned the three dollars to the cookie jar.
Then she marched out, finally turning her back on the Stubblefield place for
the last time. But she felt no relief. None of the comfort she had expected. She
felt hollow and incapable of confronting the rest of her life.
She walked as fast as she could. The basket of food was heavy and awkward
to carry, and she kept switching it from one hand to the other. Her body ached
and she thought she might be getting ill. She did not think about Iola and Filmore. She forced one foot in front of the other and thought about a hot bath, a
cup of coffee, and a soft mattress. After a while she stopped and sat on the ground to drink one of the bottles of milk, which seemed to help settle her stomach. When she reached into the basket for the second bottle, she noticed that
the butter was already beginning to melt and tossed the greasy mess aside.
After finishing the milk she paused to listen to the woods. They seemed too
quiet – nothing but the buzz of a fly or bee. Remember the sounds, she thought.
Remember the gentle slopes of this forest. The trees that reach up to the sky. The
carpet of ferns, the wild raspberries, strawberries, and grapes. This may be the
last you’ll ever see of the Michigan woods. Uncle Scruggs’ paradise. She sighed
as she got to her feet and pitched the empty bottles into the woods, far from the
trail.
Dixby and Dougan were waiting patiently, but Olivia had nothing to say to
them. Annoyed by the flies, she removed the pie from the basket, set it on the wagon seat, and turned a bucket over it. Then she splashed water over her face
and took a long drink. Feeling limp and used up, she dragged herself up onto the
mattress, curled up into a tight ball, and quickly escaped into sleep.
When she woke a few hours later it was still light. She sat up and looked around, blinking as if she had no idea where she was. Then she lay back down
and cried until she was worn out.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
When Olivia’s sobs subsided she stretched out on her back, hands behind her
head, and stared up at the blue sky. Before long the force of her new habit drew
her hands to her stomach. Was she? Was it Mourning’s?
“Ain’t no use worryin’.” She sat up and spoke aloud, mimicking Mourning’s
deep voice. “You gonna know when you gonna know. And feelin’ sorry for
yourself ain’t gonna get you no closer to Detroit City.”
It won’t be so hard, she consoled herself about the trip ahead. It’s only a fourhour drive to Detroit. Four hours is nothing. Why would a wheel decide to fall
off today? Once I find my way back to the road, all I have to do is stay on it.
There’s no way I can get lost. I’ll be there before dark, if I ever get myselfmoving. I’ll take a room in one of those nice hotels, pay for it with Iola’s money.
She can treat me to a bath and my supper too. Tomorrow morning I’ll sell thewagon and team and all this junk. I already know how to get on a steamboat.
