“HIS WIFE’S FAVORITE song,” Sister Eve said. “ ‘Beautiful Dreamer.’ It may have been the only thing that could reach all the way down to his heart. How did you know that, Buck?”
We sat in the private dining room of the best hotel in New Bremen, a place called the Morrow House, a whole roasted chicken on the table, along with mashed potatoes and gravy and asparagus. Despite the swank surroundings, I’d insisted that Emmy keep her seed cap on. She and I were stuffing the food down like there was no tomorrow. Sister Eve and the trumpet player sat with us. They ate more slowly and sipped “grape juice,” which I knew was really red wine, with their meal. Sister Eve had changed out of her white robe and wore a blue dress. The trumpet player wore a gray suit with wide lapels and a diamond stickpin through his red tie.
“I didn’t,” I told Sister Eve. “Emmy said I should play it.”
“Did he now?” She studied Emmy curiously. “Where do you two orphans stay?”
“We’ve got a little camp down on the river.”
“Do you live in the camp? I mean permanently?”
“Not exactly. We’re on our way to Saint Louis.”
“What’s in Saint Louis?”
“I have family there. We have family there,” I corrected.
“It’s a long way to Saint Louis.”
“I guess so,” I said. “But Emmy and me, we’ll make it.”
Sister Eve lifted her glass and considered her wine. “We’re going to Saint Louis. Not directly. We hit Des Moines and Lawrence, Kansas, first.” She took a sip of her wine and said casually, “You could come with us.”
The trumpet player looked like he was going to choke on his chicken. “Would cause us a boatload of trouble, Evie.”
“How’s that?” Sister Eve asked.
“Might be construed as kidnapping.” He dabbed his napkin delicately at his thin mustache.
“Kidnapping? The whole country is full of children who’ve been abandoned, Sid. Believe me, I know a thing or two about that.” She turned back to me. “We could deliver you to your family’s doorstep.”
“Now, wait a minute,” the trumpet player said.
“Sid.” She gave him a look that shut him up good.
I glanced at Emmy, whose face beneath her seed cap gave me no clue about her own inclination, one way or the other. I liked the idea of the soft life, but the decision wasn’t mine alone.
“We need to think it over,” I said.
“That’s fine.”
I wasn’t drinking anything alcoholic, but the smile Sister Eve offered me was absolutely intoxicating.
When we got to the river that night, Albert and Mose were sitting by the fire.
“Did you eat?” Albert asked.
“Like kings,” Emmy said with delight.
“How was the soup?” I asked.
We hadn’t talked to them since we split up before entering the big tent. Willis and his shotgun had pretty much brought the meeting to a close. A deputy who’d been in attendance had tapped a couple of other men from the benches, and they’d hauled the man-bear away, still sobbing. Others had carted the body of his wife to the bed of a pickup truck and set off for the morgue. Sister Eve had invited everyone to the table for soup and bread, then she’d found me and Emmy.
Mose patted his belly and signed, Best I ever ate.
Emmy sat down beside the fire and blurted, “Sister Eve wants us to stay with her.”
Albert said, “We’re going to Saint Louis.”
“She’s going to Saint Louis, too,” I said. “Des Moines, then Kansas, then Saint Louis.”
“She draws a crowd. The last thing we need is a crowd. Sooner or later, somebody’s going to spot Emmy.”
“We could be careful.”
“Careful is what we’re doing. There’s no way we’re going to hook up with a revival tent show.”
“It’s a healing crusade,” I insisted.
“Call it what you will, we’re steering clear.”
If I hadn’t known in my heart he was right, I might have insisted we put it to a vote. Emmy seemed not to care one way or the other and looked ready to nod off.
“It was a nice dream,” I said, mostly to myself.
After we all lay down, I stayed awake, staring up at a night sky dusted with stars. I listened to the song of frogs in the bulrushes and thought about the musicians who backed up Sister Eve, and I imagined what it might be like to play my harmonica in their company. The few times I’d had the opportunity—with Miss Stratton and with Jack—it had been magic in a way, like one heart calling out and another answering.
“Let it go, Odie,” Albert said quietly.
“She was nice. Maybe we would have been happy.”
“She’s working a con.”
“How do you figure?”
“Those people who get healed, they’re shills.”
“Not that grizzly bear tonight.”
“Did you see any healing with him? If you hadn’t saved her, she wouldn’t have a head.”
I turned, trying to see my brother’s face. I wondered what dreams he had. My dream was to be a musician maybe, or a storyteller, because people got paid for doing this, and these were things I loved. What did Albert love? What called to him from his own heart? I was surprised that I had no idea.
“Anything looks too good to be true, Odie, you can bet it’s a con,” he said, sounding a little sad. “You look close enough at this Sister Eve, you’re going to find there’s something about her that stinks to high heaven.” Albert rolled over and put his back to me.
I WOKE THE next morning to an astonishing sight: Sister Eve on the sand spit, sitting beside the fire with Albert and Mose. She was dressed again like a cowgirl and seemed to fit right in with that rugged outdoor scene. The fire crackled, and Albert and Sister Eve talked in low voices. When Mose joined in, signing, Albert interpreted for her. I sat up, scooted off the blanket, and walked barefooted to the powwow.
Sister Eve smiled at me. “Good morning, Buck. Or should I say Odie?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought I might come to say goodbye. Then I met these two hooligans.”
Albert and Mose, who seemed comfortable as you please in her company, grinned at that playful characterization. I couldn’t help thinking of the young man whose inner beast Sister Eve had tamed. It seemed that she’d worked the same magic on my two companions.
“I’ve convinced your brother and Mose that, rather than trying to make your way to Saint Louis on the rivers, it would be much safer for you to travel there with me.” She lifted a white sack. “Would you like one?”
Inside were donuts. Big, perfect, glazed, drool-inducing donuts.
“Sit down,” she said.
I settled myself on the sand and ate a donut. I couldn’t remember ever tasting something so good, so soft, so sweet.
“Here’s the deal,” she said, opening her hands in both explanation and invitation. “I’ve hired Mose and your brother to help with the work of the crusade, at least until we get you to Saint Louis. I’ll put them up with the others who do that for me. You and Emmy will stay with me at the Morrow House. We’ll tell everyone that you’re my nephew and Emmy is my niece. I’ve got a couple straw hats with big, wide brims I’ll give her. Much nicer than the seed cap, but they’ll still do a good job of hiding her face.”
“You know who she is? How?”
“Not important. What’s important is that we keep you safe and get you where you want to go. I can do that.”
“Like the trumpet player said, it could get you into trouble.”
“Sid’s a worrier. I’ve danced around trouble all my life.”
I glanced at Albert. “It’s really okay with you?”
Albert shrugged. “She convinced me.”
I looked at Mose, who grinned and signed, Donuts every day.
“What do you say, Odie?” Her face was serious, her voice deeply inviting. “Are you on board?”
I’d gobbled the last of my donut and was ready to swallow anything Sister Eve told me. “Heck, yes.”
“Do you want to wake up Emmy and ask her?”
Emmy lay curled on a blanket, still sound asleep. I shook her gently. She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, just a whisper.
“You awake, Emmy?”
She made a sound, not much, but enough that I knew she could understand.
“It looks like we’re going to stay with Sister Eve for a while.”
She blinked up at me sleepily.
“I knew that,” she said, rolled over, and went back to sleep.