~ Belonging ~

by

Nancy Minnis Damato

Mule Gulch Canyon

Bisbee, Arizona 1893

Taylor Broderick stood on the precipice of the dream she had carried for all of her almost thirteen years. Her heart soared above the cliffs of the green streaked mountains surrounding her. She threw her arms around teary-eyed Catherine Pickett. “Don’t feel sad. Momma and I can go with you to California, Cat.” Taylor’s voice bubbled with such joy even the rank sulfur clouds from the copper mines dotting the canyon seemed to brighten.

The puzzled look from the bony, blonde “virginny” did not deter Taylor. “How could you ever think of going to California without me? You and your outrageous brothers are the only family I have--except for Momma,” Taylor said.

Taylor had never told anyone, not even her very best friend, about the “family” she had left behind in St. Louis, or of her life growing up in the ordinary house with Mrs. Costello, Mandy and the numerous guests.

“Your Ma’s made a right proper place for herself here,” Cat challenged. “The town holds respect, looks up to her. Even Baxter don’t trust nobody with his cash but your Ma and her bank.”

“You weren’t here when we arrived in Bisbee,” Taylor reasoned. “Momma was spent, unable to come around, from a ’bout of fever and had no will to go on. We had traveled for two years from St. Louis to the territories in an effort to find Poppa. The last people who saw him said Jacob Broderick left Missouri for California. We only stopped here until Momma got better, and we could pay our way to California.”

Taylor’s smile stretched across her face and stayed, she couldn’t stop the effervescent happiness tingling from her head to toe. I’m going to find Poppa. The mysterious Jacob Broderick! The father I have never met.

“I have to tell Momma.” Taylor darted away in a half-skip and a hop. “We’ve barely enough time to pack. I’ll come back later.” She sprinted across tufts of wild grass chomped to their roots by a nearby cow, her boots skimming the rocky, brown soil. In seconds, the cramped cabin housing Cat and another six Pickett children and Mr. Pickett, plus his new muleskinner wife and her four offspring, disappeared from sight.

Taylor kicked up dust and pebbles behind her in a most unladylike dash down Main Street. As she neared Hilltop Hotel strains of music created a churchly canopy overhead.

Sunday, thank God. As President of Bisbee Bank and owner of the town’s only assay office, Josie Broderick found few hours to spare, but when she did and the debilitating melancholia kept at bay, Momma played her violin.

Taylor burst through the door of the boarding house and raced up the stairs, three at a time, her gangly legs at ease with the span. “Momma, Momma.”

On the top landing Taylor threw open the nearest door. Petite Josie Broderick stood at the open window, her hypnotic blue eyes wide in alarm. Platinum curls had broken free of a topknot and hugged an angelic face giving an appearance of softness, submissiveness, obviously a lady of quality. But, Taylor knew the strong will that hid beneath the delicate façade.

“Momma, the Pickett’s and four other families are leaving for California in three days. We have to hurry and pack. Get supplies. We can go with them and find Poppa. Oh, Momma, we’ll be a family. Taylor bowed grandly, “May I present Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Broderick and their daughter Taylor?” Her words flooded out like the rush of water through a cracked dam. “We have to buy another wagon. We’ll take our savings in gold. Sew it in our skirts. We don’t want to end up without means like last time.”

“Stop rambling, child. Whatever are you babbling on about?” Josie’s brow puckered, her shoulders stiffened and squared. “We are not going anywhere. I have a position, a responsibility. And, whatever possessed you to romp down Main Street with all the refinement of a bee-stung colt? People will think I raised a savage, not a girl hoping to become a lady of consequence. Settle down, I have news of my own.”

Taylor ignored the question about her romping, Momma constantly fussed about proper manners showing good breeding. “But, Momma, we have to leave. Everybody’s going.”

“Is Mrs. Wentworth deserting this fine hotel and her dry goods store to go? Is Mr. Sullivan giving up his smithy shop? Sit, here on the bed, hands quiet, and tell me what has you so excited you embarrass your poor mother.”

“Cat’s new stepmother bought land in California before she came here, and she wants to go see it. So, Mr. Pickett said they’re all going. Except Abel, he wrote he’s doing very well at his law school in Chicago.” Taylor stopped to take a breath.

“That’s fine to hear, about the eldest Pickett. I am pleased you managed to keep his friendship after declining his proposal.” Josie gave a sigh. “Not yet thirteen, you were much too young to be approached about marriage. Wherever did that young man get the notion you would agree to be promised? He is still a boy--”

“In Virginia they marry at twelve, thirteen--”

“Well, not in this household. But, I, too, have had someone ask for my help.” Josie walked toward Taylor.

Josie’s announcement sailed over Taylor’s head. “Momma, we have to leave now. All my life we talked about how when we found Poppa he would see what a fine daughter I’m turning out to be, and you wouldn’t have to live alone anymore. Now we can do all that. We’ll travel with the nearest people we have to family. They’ll look out for us. We won’t be alone like when we left Costello House. With our two years experience driving mules and oxen from St. Louis to Arizona, we have lots to offer. Besides, they want us to come with them.”

Josie’s scowl deepened, her lips pinched. “More than thirteen years have passed without a word from Jacob. He had to have met with a tragic accident; otherwise he would certainly have come back for me, and to see you. It’s no use. As much as you want it to be true, Jacob is lost to us forever.”

“That’s not so.” Tears welled up in Taylor’s eyes, and she blinked repeatedly. “You thought Poppa was dead before you were chased out of St. Louis, but then in Carthage we met his friends.” Taylor reached across the bed, grabbed a charcoal sketch off the wall and thrust it toward her mother. “The proof. He left this and others behind when he started for California.” The drawing caught the likeness of Josie.

“And none of those people ever heard from him again. All these years without one word. Be reasonable,” Josie appealed.

“We have to find him,” Taylor insisted. “Maybe he caught brain fever and his memory faded. Or his letters to us got lost, and he thinks we died when he didn’t hear back from us. Or maybe,” Taylor’s voice grumbled, “he feared he hadn’t found enough gold to please you.”

“Shame on you.” Josie’s voice bruised.

“Well, you worry and carry on so about money, and gold, and land--from sunrise to sunset. You think of nothing else.”

“I am paid to do that, paid very well. I handle matters at the bank without reproach, and I enjoy my position. Hundreds of banks have failed in the last few months, while mine is still prospering.” Josie reached up and laid her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You know the satisfaction of accomplishment, of solving a difficult problem. I will have no more of your sass and sarcasm. We cannot leave and that is final.” Her voice emphasized her implacable decision.

Taylor shrugged the hand off her shoulder. “Then, I will go without you. I know Poppa will be happy to see me. I’ll tell him you were too busy at your bank to leave here.”

Josie’s milk-white face turned livid. Taylor didn’t care. Momma had no right making such a miserable decision. And, after everybody left for California, if Momma suffered heartache everyday, it would serve her right.

The damning thought barely claimed Taylor’s mind when she wanted to erase her meanness. “All my life,” Taylor pleaded, “you told me how proud Poppa would be to have us with him. How we would finally be where we belonged. Please, Momma, we have to go find Jacob now. I want to be a family, where I belong with people who care about me.”

Josie’s rage-flushed face paled, then withered to a mottled gray. My lie has led us here. The daughter I have given my life for pitted against me. Josie propped her body against the yellow washed wall that had aged to melon from the layers of copper dust. Tears trickled down her cheeks in shimmering threads.

“I’m sorry, Momma, forgive me.” Taylor’s lower lip trembled. She ached to take back her churlishness. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just want, with all my heart, to meet my father.”

Josie choked on a sob that distorted her words. “Jacob is not your father.”

Taylor stiffened. “I’m sorry, Momma. I didn’t hear right what you said.”

“Yes, you heard me. Jacob Broderick is not your father.” The words snapped with the slam of an iron trap cutting off life.

Taylor stared at her. “Why are you telling me such a lie?”

“I am telling the truth. I rued the day I would have to tell you. Please understand, I was alone and barely sixteen, banished from the only home I knew, then threatened by my family. We needed to be protected, so I pretended to be Mrs. Jacob Broderick. As a wife left behind, like many others during the gold rush. I gained respectability. Which would have been impossible for an unwed mother without family or fortune. As an out-of-wedlock child you had no standing. But, as the daughter of an adventurous businessman exploring the West, you enjoyed acceptance and sympathy. Others admired us for our resolve, our loyalty.” Josie sighed, “I had no choice.”

“You lied about my father? All these years lying to me about who I was?” Taylor’s voice stumbled from the crippling of her mother’s words. “Who is Jacob Broderick?” Taylor shrieked with the squeal of an abused kitten, “And who is my father?”

Taylor thought about the covey of women who sat in broken chairs in the heat and the cold along Brewery Lane. Their secrets, enhanced by colorful gossip, served up curious tales about the history of some children of Bisbee. She had listened to her fair share and suddenly felt dirty in the knowing. “Do you even know who my father is?”

“Mind your tongue. I am your mother, not some street Jezebel.” Josie turned away. “His name does not matter. Only that your Poppa is not Jacob, and you need not waste anymore time over the situation.”

“You will tell me now or never!” Taylor yanked Josie’s sleeve, almost knocking the petite woman over in the effort to bring her face-to-face.

“Someone who needed an heir to protect his claim to property. He promised a stipend that would allow me to live in luxury the remainder of my life, and I agreed.”

Taylor gasped, “No better than the women we shame along Brewery Lane.” Her voice faded. “He abandoned you?”

“I believe he never intended to keep his part of the contract. He planned all along to punish my father and bring dishonor on my family. He needed the Dutch Apostolic Church Elders and the community to shun my father, break him. Doing so would have delivered my mother into his care. I am sure that was his aim. My poor mother died believing I had behaved like a wanton woman.”

“And you hadn’t?” Taylor meant for her disbelief to sting. “You agreed to sell your child? After all, its value was only as a financial holding.” Taylor choked on her sarcasm. “I am that child you bargained with. Me, look at me.” Taylor gripped her mother’s shoulder and forced her to look.

“You might have come into something someday,” Josie’s voice softened, “but I cut us off. I learned he and others planned to harm us. Hear me out, Taylor, please? I have loved you since the moment I held you in my arms. My brother, Stuart, would have sent you to a workhouse, or worse. I protected you with my life.”

Wild-eyed, Taylor lashed out, “You kept me for that ‘someday’. In case I might fall into money. And, besides that, you gave me Jacob Broderick’s name.”

“Jacob Broderick wanted to marry me. We cared deeply for each other.” Josie’s features twisted and froze in a mask of hate, her blue eyes dark with puzzling. “The man who planted your seed separated us. Somehow he arranged for Jacob to vanish.” Josie sobbed. “But you are what I live for, my life is yours. Someday I will wreak my revenge and reclaim the life we are entitled to. All those people think us dead, leave it alone for now.”

“The name, just tell me my father’s name. I deserve to know.”

“No, the matter is closed.”

“My father, my family, my heritage, a matter closed to me?” A sob strangled Taylor’s effort to talk. “Well, Momma, go ahead, find your revenge, but I will not be at your side.”

Tears flooded down Taylor’s chin and neck. Her green eyes narrowed, icy and barbed. “I hate you.” The harsh words snaked between clenched teeth. “I hate your lies. All my life you prodded me to follow in your footsteps, ‘be a lady of consequence’. Hah!” Taylor pushed her mother aside. “Don’t come near me, not ever.”

Taylor grabbed her sleeping mat off the floor and began tossing her personal belongings into its center.

Josie forced her small frame between Taylor and the bed, grabbed at her daughter’s wrists, struggling to stop her. “Everything I did was for you. You cannot abandon me.”

Taylor knotted the corners of the blanket together. Towering over her mother, grim faced, she ordered, “Out of my way.”

The door slammed like a gunshot behind her as Taylor scrambled down the stairs.

The sun blazed with the blistering heat of a smelter when Taylor took her last step off Hilltop’s porch. Her waterfall of tears dried against her cheeks as she ran, sobbing, to the only family she had left.