Page 11 of My Heart Will Find You

As the man sat back down, he turned to Etta. “Are you all right?”

She nodded as she stared at the woman. Etta had seen a dozen photos of her. “Martha Logan.”

“No. It’s Martha Garrett.” He snapped the reins to go again. “Same name as this town.”

“Does she own it?”

“Her husband did, but after they died, she didn’t have much property left.”

“‘They’?”

“Her husband and son were killed in the war.”

Etta wasn’t sure which war he meant, but it couldn’t be one of the two world wars. It must be... “North and South?”

“What other war is there?” he answered, giving her a look of shock.

“Henry and Ben,” she said.

“Who are they?”

“Martha’s husband and son.”

“Her husband was Theodore. I don’t know the boy’s name.”

As they slowly rode down the filthy, fragrant street, Etta looked at the buildings and the people.

Oh for a cell phone to photograph it all! If it were real, that is.

When he halted to let another wagon go by, Etta looked at one of the saloons. “‘Girls and beer.’” She read the sign aloud. “That about covers the desires of the entire world.” When he full-out grinned, she was pleased. Getting him to smile was becoming a goal for her.

The door to the saloon swung open, and two women came out. One had a broom, and the other had on a low-cut red dress and lots of rouge.

Etta’s eyes widened. “That’s Sophie and Freddy.”

“Sally and Freida,” the man corrected her. “Not your sort.”

“You mean she’s a sex worker so I’m supposed to snub her? Not in my dream! Freddy,” she called out and waved. “And Sophie. It’s good to see you two again.”

The women looked at her in shock. Freddy raised her hand in a weak wave of hello, while Sophie just stared.

As the wagon started again, Etta turned in the seat. “Can you sing?” she asked Sophie and received a curt nod. She looked at Freddy. “And you like vegetables. And gardening.”

Freddy’s eyes widened as she too nodded.

Etta turned around, her smile broad. “It’s always nice to see friends.”

The man wasn’t smiling. “I don’t think those two can be your—”

“My what?” Even to herself she sounded aggressive. “Not my friends because they’re not suitable? They’re beneath my class?”

He gave her the oddest look, as though she were an alien being.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Where I come from, things are different. People are equal. We don’t look down on how someone makes a living. I’m sure Freddy does what she has to do to survive.”

“Your home must be a very different place,” he muttered, frowning. They rode in silence, and the air between them was heavy.

It’smydream, Etta thought.So why would I embarrass myself in my very own made-up dream?

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