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Long shadows climbed the nursery wall like tho
rny vines growing into something else, something the house could not contain, something Vera did not want to see. A shuffling came from the hallway. Behind them, the door screeched as it began to slowly close, and it seemed to Vera that her heart would explode in her chest as Becky looked over her mother’s shoulder and smiled.
“Hi, Grandma.”
THE BROTHERHOOD OF SLEEPING CAR PORTERS
Memphis leaned his head against the side of the train and stared out the window at the countryside moving past.
“Where are we?” he croaked. His throat was dry and his neck was sore.
“Just coming into Maryland on the Crescent Limited,” Henry said.
“The… Crescent Limited?”
“That train to New Orleans. How are you feeling?”
“Like somebody knocked me out and put me on a train,” Memphis said tightly, his gaze still on the shapeless world outside the train window.
“He’s worried about his brother,” Bill said from the other end of the seat. He had his head leaned back and his eyes shut.
Memphis turned to face Bill. “Damn right I’m worried about my brother. You had no right to do what you did.”
Bill kept his eyes closed. “Like I said, live to fight another day.”
“I saw Theta and Evie with Isaiah,” Henry said. “They’ll look after him.”
“Not like I will,” Memphis grumbled. “New Orleans. That’s a long way from Nebraska.”
Bill opened his eyes at last. “We couldn’t be choosy ’bout which train to catch.”
“I’ve still got some friends in New Orleans. They could get us on a steamboat that’ll take us as far as St. Louis,” Henry said, trying to mitigate the situation. He hated conflict of any kind.
“You from N’awlins?” Bill said, surprised.
“I suppose I am,” Henry answered.
“You got kin there?” Bill asked.
“I suppose I do,” Henry said tightly, and Bill knew well enough to leave it alone.
Henry wondered if his parents were still alive. If his mother had gotten any better or if her mind was still broken. He thought of his cold, distant father reading his newspaper at the table as he always did while the servants poured his tea. He wondered when his parents had stopped looking for him. Or if they had ever started. He could never forgive his father for what had happened to Louis.
“From New Orleans, we can get a steamboat to St. Louis, and then catch a train to Omaha, and from Omaha, we’ll get on a train to Bountiful,” Henry said. He didn’t want to think about his family. There was nothing in New Orleans to hold him but old memories—ghosts it was time to put to rest.
“We can’t do that if everybody’s out there looking for us.” Memphis watched the trees, houses, the tiny lights of the distant cities flying past.
“Isaiah’s in good hands,” Henry said.
“You don’t know that,” Memphis grumbled. “What if the police caught up with them? Or those Shadow Men? What if he got separated from Theta and Evie?” Memphis pressed his hands to his temples as if he could squeeze the fear from his mind.
A quick knock at the door. The three of them sat up, alert, only relaxing when Nelson let himself in. “Brought you some sandwiches,” he said, sneaking food from his pockets. Memphis, Henry, and Bill dug in, barely taking time to swallow.
“I’ll try to get you some pie, too,” Nelson said. “If any of us porters come by, we’ll give the knock.” He rapped five times in a syncopated rhythm—one, two, three-and-four. “Otherwise, don’t open up.”
“How long before we get to New Orleans?” Henry asked.
“Tomorrow evening,” Nelson said. “Listen, if you want to keep your mind off of things, you can join the Brotherhood later tonight. Once everybody’s sleeping, ’round three or four in the morning, we get a little card game going, shoot some craps. Small bets mostly. But it passes the time when you’ve got a lot of it weighing down on you.”
