The Streel Read online

  I was just about to say his name when a dark- haired man stepped

  forward. “Our own Brigid,” he said and then I knew him. Padraic looked

  taller, and more somber, but his eyes held light. His nose was long, his eyes were slanted, and his shoulders broad. He was not handsome, but he

  looked intel igent and strong. He carried himself wel .

  “Paddy,” I said.

  He reached out a hand and rested it on my shoulder. “You’ve come.”

  At my name, Seamus swung the woman off his lap and stood. “The

  blessed sister has arrived. What a Christmas present she is.” He pulled me from Paddy’s arms and swung me around. “Did you fly? Jaysus, Brigid, it’s too hard for any woman to do it— that long journey.”

  The lovely woman he had had on his lap laughed and said, “Not so

  hard as that.”

  Seamus put an arm around her. “Yes, but Lily, we have it for a fact that the men carried you on their shoulders.”

  She cuffed him on the arm as her face lit up.

  “Darling Lily,” he said and grabbed my hand. “May I present my sister,

  Brigid Reardon.”

  “I’m honored, I’m sure,” she said. She turned her smile on me and I

  felt its warmth.

  She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She wore her lovely

  blonde hair in loose curls piled high. A gorgeous dress of blue silk cut low in the front, revealing flawless white skin. She looked like a dol . But there was a slight blue shadow under her eyes.

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  “I too am delighted to meet you,” I answered her. I addressed myself

  to Seamus, “You’re having a party?”

  “Sure and it’s Christmas Eve. The weather’s held and the gold is pour-

  ing in. We have much to celebrate.” He held me by the shoulders. “What

  brings you here? Did you not like working for the Hunts? If they’re all like Charlie, I can understand it being difficult.”

  I did not want to tell him the news of Mother with everyone. “No,

  they were a fine family. But I had not seen you for so long. I couldn’t wait till spring.”

  My heart leapt to see Seamus. Mother would have been proud of him.

  He was handsome as the great Irish bards: thick curly hair, snapping blue eyes, and skin soft as a rose petal. He had also grown a smart, short beard.

  He too looked like he had been working with his body. His arms were

  muscled and his posture was straight.

  “Wel , it’s time you were here. Our own family together now.” He took

  my valise and coat from me. The rest of the party went back to their celebrating, only a few women in amongst the men.

  Billy brought me a plate filled with a dark meat and biscuits swimming

  in gravy. I thanked him and sat down on a chair with the food perched on my lap. I took a bite of the meat. “Is it deer?” I asked.

  “Venison to be sure,” Billy answered and sat next to me, smiling. “I didn’t recognize you. Little Brigid is no more. You’re grown into a fair beauty.”

  Billy hadn’t grown much. He was a small man with a great smile. Still

  covered with freckles, he looked more like a leprechaun than ever. He too wore a beard. I guessed it must be part of the miner’s attire.

  “Thank you, Billy. You’re looking well yourself.”

  He blushed and pushed his hair back from his face. “Naw, I know that

  I look like the rough hand that I am. It don’t worry me none. We can’t all of us be such smooth customers as your brother.”

  Seamus came up carrying a glass in his hand and offered it to me. I

  could see by his behavior that he still liked the drink. Unfortunately, he took after our father that way. “Libations of the house, my dear sister. Have a drink with us.”

  “What is it, Seamus?”

  “It’s a distil ate made in these very hil s.”

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  “Potcheen? You know I don’t care for that.”

  “You always were the smart one,” he said, both a bit of tease and

  warmth in his voice.

  Paddy came up with another glass. “Try this. It’s a light cider. You de-

  serve as much after your hard trip.”

  Gratefully I tasted it. “Lovely.”

  Lily took the glass of potcheen that had been meant for me.

  I wanted to get to know this lovely woman who had so captivated my

  brother. “Sit with me, Lily,” I asked her.

  She pulled up a chair and the men went off to argue about something.

  “A night off sure feels good.” She took a big sip of her drink and made it look as if she were drinking water.

  “What do you do?”

  Her eyes opened wide and she blinked, then she said, “I’m an enter-

  tainer. I work at the Gem Theater.”

  “Oh, that makes sense. You have such lovely clothes.”

  “Thank you. It’s part of the business.” Her hands floated to her hair

  and arranged her curls.

  “I can imagine.”

  “What do you plan to do with yourself here?” she asked me.

  I had thought about it on my way in the stagecoach. They must need

  a woman to do some of the things I could do. “Wel , I plan on working.

  I am a good servant. And I have some other ideas— maybe work in a

  store.”

  Lily laughed. “Only the ugly women work as servants. And even they

  don’t have to if they don’t want to.”

  “Oh.” I wondered at the meaning of her words.

  “There’s a lot of men in this town.” She smiled at me.

  “Yes, I suppose, it being a mining town and all.”

  Lily laughed and it sounded like the tinkling of a spoon tapping on the

  finest crystal. “I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of here.”

  At that moment, I heard music coming from outside the house. I rec-

  ognized it as “Adeste Fideles.” The others heard it too and Billy ran to the door and flung it open. The music poured in, sounding like a fine pipe or-gan in a grand church. After the first verse we all joined in and sang along

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  with it. When the song was over, everyone raised their glasses and toasted.

  It was midnight. Christmas Day.

  Lily had rejoined Seamus and they were singing another carol. Padraic

  came and sat next to me. “Where did that wonderful music come from?”

  I asked him. “It sounded like the angels had played on their harps from

  above.”

  “A set of triangles was made last year by a blacksmith here in town and

  played that very song at midnight. I guess it’s become a tradition.” He took my plate from me and refilled my glass of cider. “It will be so good to have you here, Brigid. I must warn you, we’re gone most every day working in the mine, but we could sure use a woman’s hand around here to cook and clean.”

  “That’s just what I’ve come for. And maybe I’ll find some other work.”

  “We can use your help around here, that’s for sure and all.”

  “Wel , I’d be delighted to help you three out. Are you trying to arrange a deal with Charlie Hunt for your claim?”

  “What makes you ask that?”

  “I overhead him and his father talking about it. He said that he was

  trying to buy you out, that they are putting together a number of mines.

  He mentioned some problems.”

  He looked at me, then said, “We have no problems. We’re as clear as

  clear can be. They need to do some thinking and I’m sure they’ll come

  around. We’re to finish it all up when Mr. Hunt returns.”

  On Christmas Eve, we did not h
ave to talk about such business. I was

  so glad to be among kith and kin, all that I had in this country. I smiled at him and said, “I’m sure, too.”

  After the food and drink, I could feel my body giving in to the warmth

  and the steadiness of the house. My eyes started to fall shut of their own accord.

  “Listen, Brigid. This party might go on until all hours. You must be ex-

  hausted after your journey. Why don’t you take my bed in the back room

  and I’ll camp out here on the couch?”

  Since it was either that or fall asleep where I sat, I thanked him and,

  after wishing everyone well and kissing Seamus goodnight, I followed

  Padraic back into a small room tucked next to the kitchen, where I saw a single bed and a box full of clothes.

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  He lit the small gas lamp next to the bed and turned to me. “You are

  the best sight I’ve seen since I left Ireland, Brigid.”

  “Thank you. Merry Christmas to you, Padraic.”

  “Merry Christmas.” He patted my hair and then left me in the room.

  I piled my clothes next to me on the floor and stepped into my flannel

  nightgown. I was used to a warm room and felt the chill air wrap around

  my shoulders. I crawled under the covers and tried to warm them with my

  breath. After a few minutes, I heard a tap on the door.

  “Who’s there?” I called.

  “Your own brother. I bring you some warmth.” Seamus held in his

  hands a warmed ceramic hot water container. I lifted up the end of my

  covers and he slipped it in. Then he came and sat down on the floor next to me and took my hand.

  “I can’t believe I’m seeing you again. Life is treating us well here,

  Brigid. You’ll see. Have you had a hard time of it all by yourself?”

  To see him so close, to finally have a bit of my family at hand and

  him asking me this question, I was afraid of all that was piled up in me of these last years. “It’s not been easy, Seamus,” I admitted. “But I made my way.”

  “I knew you would. I have great faith in you, Brigid. You’ve always been twice as smart as even the priests.” He squeezed my hand. “What brings

  you here? This can be no friendly visit in the middle of winter. You’re lucky enough the weather held to let you come into Deadwood. Sometimes

  we’re snowed in.”

  So he knew, or at least he suspected, something serious was up. “It’s

  Mother,” I said, sorry as I could be that I had to tell him this news on Christmas Day. “She’s gone.”

  I watched Seamus’s face and my heart broke to see it fall. “No,” he

  whispered. “I wanted to do so much more for her. Bring her and the family over to America.”

  We sat in silence for a while. He did not cry. I did not expect that of

  him. That was not his way. But he shook from the sorrow of losing her. I

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  took his hand and continued, “Father wrote to tell me. I’ve sent him some money. One can only hope it won’t all be spent on drink.”

  “Curse it. Of all the good people to leave the earth, it would have to

  be our own mother.” He bent his head and pounded a fist on the floor. “I hoped with all the gold I’m finding that I could bring the family over too. I just didn’t do it soon enough.”

  “She might not have survived the trip.”

  “You might be right.” Then he looked up. “You’ve come all the way to

  tell me this news?”

  I thought of tel ing him my other reason for coming, but I was too

  tired and, thinking about Mother, too sad. “I did need to get out of the Hunt home. Bringing this news was a good excuse. And I wanted to come

  here soon anyways. We can talk more in the morning.”

  After tucking the covers up around my ears, he left the room. Sleep

  was slow coming to me. I had worked so hard to get to this town, I couldn’t seem to relinquish this night.

  The party died down after a while, and I heard the wind roaming

  around outside the house. I crossed myself and prayed for us all.

  As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a high- pitched wail that made me shiver. Surely it was the wind winding its way through a crack in the house, but making the sound of a banshee. It was told they would come and sing

  outside the window of a house when someone was about to die.

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  Christmas Day

  Rarely did I remember my dreams when I awoke. I’d had too many

  mornings of being pulled from bed before I was ready in order to

  start the fires for breakfast, the dreams ripped from my head half- formed.

  But that first morning in Deadwood, I remembered my dream very clearly.

  The dream came as several drawings strung together, images that I will

  never forget. I was standing in snow up to my ankles, but I was in my night-dress. A star fell from the sky and landed in my hands. The star glowed like an ember of coal in white ashes. I felt the ember burning my hands and I dropped the coal, then woke.

  That first morning I felt as if I were coming out of a long illness. Many days of hard travel had left me exhausted. I realized that I was farther than ever from my homeland, from what remained of my family. On this holy

  day of Christmas I missed them all to the core of me. But at least I had Seamus.

  In a very white and cold room, my body slowly came to itself. I

  watched a few flakes of snow drift down on the other side of the window.

  I could see my breath in the air and had little desire to leave my nest of a bed. I snuggled down deeper into the covers and listened, but no sound

  was to be heard from the adjoining rooms.

  Though diminished, the party had gone on, as Padraic had predicted,

  until the early hours of the morning. Singing had woken me from time to

  time in the night. It was surprising to me to witness Christmas Eve cel-

  ebrated in such a fashion. But this was a town on the far frontier, and I sensed that the rules of ordinary civility did not reign in this place.

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  I had no idea of the time as I lolled in bed, but if the sun was up it meant it was past seven. I had not had the pleasure of lying in bed in the morning since before I left Ireland. Even when I had time off at the Hunts it was only in the afternoon. I had still been expected to do all my morning chores.

  When I felt myself entirely awake, I dressed under the covers as I had

  as a child. No one was stirring in the main room.

  Depending on what was in the larder, I supposed there was a Christ-

  mas feast to cook, not sure the men would think of it. I was starved to have some breakfast, even just a piece of bread.

  The place reeked of cigar smoke from last night and peanut shel s lit-

  tered the floor. I walked carefully, trying not to crunch them underfoot.

  Padraic was stretched out on the couch. Even in sleep he looked wor-

  ried, his brow furrowed like a field in spring. I thought to run my hand across his forehead, but I did not wish to wake him. He looked like he had been working hard. Older than us all, he must feel somehow responsible, a heavy burden for one still so young. His blanket was slipping off his shoulder so I pulled it back up. He sighed in his sleep and turned from the light that came in the front window.

  Lifting the lid on the woodstove cooker, I shoved the few pieces of

  wood I could find into the red pool of coals and blew on them. Within moments, the fire had caught. I warmed my hands and then walked toward

  the other stove, which was against the wall. That fire had gone out, and there was no more wood in the firebox.

/>   There had to be a woodpile outside. I pulled on my coat and grabbed

  a pair of heavy gloves that were by the front door. Also I needed to use the outhouse. I was not looking forward to the cold, as I had been spoiled by indoor plumbing at the Hunts.

  When I opened the door, I was dazzled by the white light. Everything

  was draped with snow, white caps on fence posts and big mounds near the

  street. Someone had shoveled a path last night, but even that had a bit of snow on it. I watched my step as I walked down the front stairs.

  I looked up and saw the mountains encircling the town. Dark with

  pines, they were capped with snow. The town was crowded with wooden

  houses like the one my brother lived in. Tents dotted the outskirts. A small town, Deadwood was much more primitive than St. Paul.

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  There was no traffic on our side street. I walked around the side of the house and found the firewood neatly stacked up against the house, also

  covered with snow. As I walked toward it I saw another mound— was it a

  low- growing bush?

  There looked to be a red flower blooming under the snow. I couldn’t

  believe such a thing could manage to bloom in this cold weather. What

  could make this bril iant red?

  I slowed my steps and stared. My mind did not want to understand what

  my eyes could see— the shape of a body under the new blanket of snow.

  My hands flew to my mouth and I fell on my knees. Somehow— maybe a

  touch of the second sight— I knew even before I wiped the snow from her

  face that it was Lily, beautiful in her shroud of white.

  In the center of the blood- flower was a dark stamen, a knife handle

  sticking out of her chest. Her legs were twisted under her. She must have been standing and then fallen straight down when she’d been stabbed.

  My stomach turned inside of me and I bent my head into my hands

  and wept. For what? I didn’t really know the woman. Maybe for women

  in this wilderness. Then I saw it was for myself. That I should be the one to find her, that I should be so far from home, that I had not a home any longer. What kind of place had I come to?