“What now?” Suzanna said under her breath as Father opened the gate for Basil as we returned from school one day.
“Hurry into the house, girls.” Father caught me as I slid off the horse’s haunch. I handed him Suzanna’s cane and then dismounted. Taking the reins, Father headed towards the fencepost. Basil nudged the back pocket where Father kept the carrots.
“What’s happened, Father?”
“A letter came this morning,” he said. “Mother’s sister, your Auntie Catherine, has passed on. She lived in Europe with her husband and baby, Winifred.”
“She’s the one that gave me my doll, didn’t she?” Suzanna asked.
“Yep,” Father said.
Mother stood at the kitchen sink and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Oh, Mother. I’m sorry. I know you were close. What happened?”
“She died of consumption,” She said. “I knew she’d been sick for a while, but I didn’t know it had progressed.” Mother sat down at the table. “Suzanna, she gave you Sally.”
“I know, I’m so sorry, Mother.”
“Catherine and Arthur lived in London,” she said. She held the letter in her hands. “Thank God he wrote that he and Winifred, your cousin, are well. I don’t understand why he didn’t send me a telegram months ago. Catherine passed last January, and I didn’t even know. She was only thirty-nine.”
I hung my arms around Mother’s shoulders like a dish towel. “She met Arthur at the ’93 World’s Fair in Chicago.”
“Chicago? Didn’t she live in Austin after she came back from Europe?” Suzanna asked.
Father leaned against the sink and said, “You two help your mother. I’ll take care of your chores.”
I stoked the fires on the stove and put the kettle on.
Father smoothed her hair off her forehead, looked into her eyes, and held her close for a moment before he left.
➰
“But Mother, why was Catherine in Chicago in ‘93?” I asked. “And how did she meet Arthur?”
“An old auntie lived in Illinois, and Cat, as we called her, your Aunt Catherine, went to take care of her. Believe it or not, she met Arthur while waiting in line to get on the Ferris Wheel. They stood together for over an hour and struck up a conversation,” Mother laughed. “I guess you never know when you’ll meet someone.”
“Really Mother, on a Ferris Wheel?”
“Arthur was a wealthy businessman who worked for Herman’s Hatters of London. He stayed with his brother in Chicago while exhibiting for his company at the World’s Fair. He charmed my sister with his fancy ways and English accent. I think he’s a good man.”
Mother rested her elbow on the table, her chin on her fist. Her eyes moist with fresh tears.
“Cat and Arthur had a short courtship. When he left, he sent her cards and letters from England. Our old auntie, your grandmother’s sister, died later that year. After she settled Auntie’s affairs, Arthur sent for my sister, paid for her ticket, and married her in December at St. John's in Hoxton, London. Of course, none of us could afford to go.”
“Was she happy there?”
“I don’t know. I can only say I missed her something terrible.” She sighed. “Author was high breed. People frowned on Cat because she was a foreigner and didn’t have a dowry. She wrote to me saying she was shamed because she was barren. Then, to everyone's surprise, Winifred came along. They called her Winnie, and she was such an adorable child. She seemed to be the bond that was needed. The family finally accepted Catherine. Then she got consumption three years ago, and now she has passed. I wonder if she was ever happy.”
“What will happen to little Winnie now, Mother?” I asked.
“I suppose she will stay with her father and his family.”
“I hope we get to meet her one day.”
“That would be nice, Ruth. Like I said, Arthur’s brother is in Chicago. Maybe they’ll visit at some point so she can get to know us.”
Mother sat between us and took each of our hands. “I pray you girls stay close. I’ve missed my sister so much since she moved away.” Then she joined Suzanna’s and my hands and placed hers on top. “Try to stay together, no matter what comes along.”
➰
When the kettle boiled, I got up and made a pot of tea. Suzanna put the cups on the table.
“I remember there was a scandal at that fair, um,” I said. “What was it?”
“How do you know about that?” Mother asked, sitting a little straighter.
“Mateo and Juan told me. His dad wrote about it in the paper.”
“That man at that fair was the devil. I don’t want you talking about him. Just doing so may bring a demon upon us. As if we don’t have enough trouble, what with the cotton and my sister’s passing.”
“Okay, Mother,” I said.
“I’m going to go lay down,” Mother said. “Can y’all make dinner tonight?”
No sooner had she left the room than I whispered to Suzanna. Tell me, tell me. What scandal?
“Word had it that the World’s Fair was a spectacle to see that year—very successful with rides and attractions no one had ever dreamed of,” I said, sorting some green beans to string. “Like Mother said, there was a Ferris wheel, and Buffalo Bill was there too.”
“What about the scandal?”
“Mother doesn’t want me to talk about it.”
“Ah, Suzanna, now I just gotta know. Spill the beans.”
She glanced over her shoulder and said, “A man named Holmes; his real name was Herman Webster Mudget, but he went by Dr. Herman Holmes. He murdered twenty-seven people.”
“No, that can’t be true.”
“A bigamist. He was married to four women at the same time. Mateo told me he was a horse thief, a con man, a swindler, besides being a murderer. He even told the police Satan possessed him.”
“I didn’t know there were people like that in this world,” I couldn’t help but blurt out.
“Keep your voice down, Ruth, shush.”
I picked up a potato, but I stopped my knife mid-swipe and rested my hands on the sink.
“In the medical school he attended, they say he was a grave robber and sold the skeletons for medical study.”
Suzanna’s knife slipped, and she almost sliced her finger.
“Careful!”
“Anyhow, during the fair, he lured folks to stay in his hotel, in the heart of Chicago, which later took on the name of ‘Murder Castle.’ He killed and tortured folks to sell their bodies and innards to the medical schools.”
“No wonder Mother didn’t want us to talk about him.”
Father walked in. “What’s happening in here? You two look guilty of somethin’. Where’s your mother?”
“Mother’s resting—dinner will be on the table soon. I’m boiling the taters.”
“Okay, I’ll get washed up.” He headed out the door.
“Suzanna, tell me, what happened to Herman Mudget?”
“They hung him for his crimes in 1896.”
“Thank God. I hope he’s damned and gone to hell.”
“Yeah, may hellfire consume him. But I know that evil has a way of returning to this world,” I said. “It shows its vile face again and again like the damn boll-weevil did. I wouldn’t bet his spirit is gone forever.”