The Year We Were Famous by Carole Estby Dagg

Author:Carole Estby Dagg [Dagg, Carole Estby]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

CHAPTER 17

WE BATTLE NATURE

August io, 1896–Day 97 Wyoming

WE were climbing into the Medicine Bow Mountains at the pace of slugs. We should have been on the far side of Nebraska by now. If Ma hadn't had to wait for the governor's signature in Boise, if she hadn't insisted on that shortcut across the lava fields, she hadn't felt the weight of the entire suffrage movement on her shoulders and wasted a day in Ogden marching with her sign ... if, if, if.

Every time I thought of how far behind we were getting I wanted to howl.

Ma would never have made it this far without me, yet it hadn't occurred to her to put my name on her cartes de visite. I was just "and daughter" like something else she had packed in her satchel and brought out in emergencies. Need someone shot? Need someone to drag you through the lava fields? Whip out your trusty Clara; she'll take care of it.

By the point where the tracks entered a narrow gorge, I waited for Ma to catch up. I sighed impatiently when she stopped again, smiling at the wildflowers and taking in the mountains, a backdrop for some nameless lake.

"No lollygagging!" I called out.

"Of course you're spry; you didn't have consumption all winter." Her chest rose and fell with the effort of walking uphill; maybe she wasn't lollygagging but had to rest.

"I always said you didn't have consumption, and Dr. Holmes agreed with me," I called out.

"How would she know? She wasn't in Mica Creek when I was sick."

"Humph. She said you were sad, not sick," I said.

When Ma caught up with me, she put down her satchel so she could gesture freely—one hand on her hip, one finger pointing to the middle button on my sweat-stained shirtwaist. "You don't understand what real sadness is like. After Henry died, you bustled on through your chores every single day like nothing happened. I feel things more strongly than you do."

"I feel things every bit as strongly as you do. I just don't wallow in those feelings. You have to steel yourself to do what needs doing."

Ma shook her head. "It goes beyond sad. I don't know if there's even a word for it."

"Melancholy, depths of despair, despondency?"

"Stronger yet. It's more like—like an elephant sitting on your chest. No amount of willpower is going to make that elephant move. You just have to suffer until the elephant takes a mind to get up and leave you alone for a while. But you know he'll be back. And you won't be able to do anything about it the next time, either, except wait for him to go away."

"The trouble is, when your elephant comes to call, I have to take over for you. And besides those times you can't help, there are all those times you trot to Spokane to sip tea and talk votes." When I realized I was standing with one hand on my hip and one finger pointing at Ma—mirroring her pose—I jerked my arms down to my sides.

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