Chapter 2: THE WALLS

The stagecoach rattled and bounced as it rolled along what the drivers laughingly referred to as "the trail". Although you could see two ruts extending into the distance, the trail was littered with potholes and large rocks, with the occasional tree branch blown in the way as well. Often the ruts themselves were a problem, having grown too deep in places and seizing at the wheels. For these reasons, the coach always carried two "spare" wheels tied to the back; it wasn't unusual for the stage to limp into their next stop with the spares gone, and a 3rd wheel threatening to come off.1

Inside the coach, a woman with two recently born babies was riding, filling up one side of the compartment. The newborns contentedly pulled on her exposed breasts, eating their fill of her warm milk. Five riders were crowded into the other side of the coach, including three women, but there were no clucks of disapproval or disgusted looks. The woman with the baby had a sawed-off shotgun in a scabbard on her leg; she had already pointed it at a man who tried to sit on "her side", as she put it. The man had started to protest, but when he saw the woman's steely, uncaring eyes, he quietly went back and resumed his former place. Now, they rode in silence, with only an occasional cough or a baby's cry disturbing the solitude.2

It was dark, and a steady rain was falling outside. The drivers had their ponchos on, covering up as best they could, but still the rainwater leaked through. The visibility was extremely poor and they kept hitting things they weren't supposed to; cursing to high heaven whenever they did. Their concern was not for their passengers, it was for themselves, for they knew that if they hit too many more obstacles, they would be standing out in the rain changing wagon wheels. However, fate had something even worse in fate for them. As they were rounding a bend in the trail, the fellow that was driving now noticed that their team had slowed considerably, and appeared to be under strain. Their breath was coming out in white puffs and their chests were heaving mightily, each step seeming an exercise in futility. Then the driver noticed it, one of the horses was limping noticeably and its breath was coming out in short, quick blasts. The horse was either injured or ill...3

The woman sat in the coach and watched as the driver pulled the team up and stopped, setting the hand-brake. "What now?" she thought dismally, already having experienced several delays on the long ride from Lubbock to Fort Worth. She saw the drivers get down from their roost and walk around their team of horses, rubbing their chins. Their actions told the woman all she needed to know; it was obvious they either had some dead or dying meat in the reins.4

Sighing in exasperation, the woman transferred both babies to one arm and, pulling her poncho closely around her, got out of the coach. She saw the affected horse right away; it was alive but unable to put any weight on one of its back legs. The woman walked up to where the drivers stood, shaking their heads.5

"Well?" she said impatiently.6

The driver standing closest to her, the one who appeared to be the oldest said to her "Well, what lady? We got a crippled horse here, can't you see that?"7

The woman closed her eyes for a second or two, thinking "idiots, I'm surrounded by idiots." Then she opened them and addressed the young man, saying "Boy, how long you been workin' on the stage?"8

"Why I just passed my 3rd anniversary last week ma'am," said the boy, swelling up his chest and throwing his shoulders back.9

"THREE YEARS!?!" said the woman incredulously.10

"Why no, ma'am, actually 'twas three months," admitted the driver, his chest and his ego deflating at the same time.11

Three months, sighed the woman to herself. Right at that instant she wanted to kill someone very, very badly; anyone would do in fact. But she also didn't want to drive the stage to Fort Worth by herself, so she looked at the other boy and said, "and you boy?" 12

"'Tis my second trip, ma'am," said the boy, hanging his head.13

The woman sighed again, this time audibly, and reached under her poncho, pulling one of her six-guns out. The drivers gasped and shied away, thinking the gun was meant for them, but the woman walked past them and approached the team of horses. When she was close enough, she reached between the harnesses and shot the crippled horse in the side of the head, scattering parts of its brain on a big boulder at the side of the trail. The women in the coach cried out at the report of the gun and the men sank low in their seats, afraid for their lives. One of the babies began crying as loud as it could, the boy-child the woman saw. Strangely enough, the little girl only whimpered a little, and then turned back to snuggle in the woman's armpit, the better to shield herself from the rain. The woman looked at the girl-child and smiled, thinking "looks like I done had myself an iron pants bitch."14

Then she holstered her gun once more, and turned back to the so-called "drivers".15

"Ok", said the woman, "let's get that dead meat outta the reins and git goin' again."16

Of course, neither one of them had ever done that before, so the woman had to lead them through the process.17

"Git the harness off that meat, move this horse, move that one, move the stage this way, move it there," and so on. Finally, the stage was clear of the dead horse and they were ready to continue, albeit short one horse, but that was much better than dragging the cripple. As they were climbing back aboard, one of the drivers said to the woman, "ma'am you reckon we ought to move the carcass off the trail?"18

Once again, she felt the urge to kill someone, and once again, she restrained herself.19

"Move it? Hell no we ain't goin' to move it, you have any idea how much that sumbitch weighs? Just leave it there, by the time the next stage comes through it'll be a helluva lot lighter, and THEY can move it!"20

And with that, the woman and her babies climbed back inside the stage, and they moved on down the trail.21

A day or so later, the stage arrived in Fort Worth without further incident, and the woman and her tiny cargo disembarked. She went straight to a livery stable and rented a carriage, though her butt was sore from the days on the stage. "I can walk later," thought the woman. She asked for directions to the orphanage, and the stable hand, seeing the babes she had in tow, pointed the way. It was located on the outer perimeter of the city, only about a thirty minute ride if you kept the horses in a walking gait, which the woman did, not wanting to aggravate her soreness any more than she necessary.22

When she arrived at the orphanage, she was let through the gate by a teen-aged boy with deformed legs. "Jimmy", he said his name was. Jimmy led her into the vestibule at the front of the rectory, where she was greeted by a matronly looking woman who gave her name as "Sister Anne". The woman told Sister Anne about how she had found the babies abandoned in the desert outside of Lubbock, "probably by injuns" she said. The woman told the sister that when she rode up on them, a pack of wolves were circling the babes, about to attack and devour them. She related how she had scared the wolves off with gunfire, but that she was a poor farmer who couldn't afford two more mouths to feed. Would the orphanage be so kind as to take them into their care?23

Sister Anne looked at the babies and inwardly licked her chops. Surely, two young ones like this would be easy to "place", and would bring a handsome price to boot. Wait 'til she told the rector, she thought, he would be so happy...24

The sister, feigning compassion, clucked words of comfort to the woman, saying she understood and would the woman hold on just a minute while she went and retrieved the necessary paperwork? The woman was sitting with quill in hand, ready to sign, when the sister returned. She didn't even bother to read the papers, and signed the places Sister Anne indicated, ready to be done with the chore. She told Sister Anne the names she had given the children, to use or not use, as the orphanage saw fit. The sister smiled, and witnessed the woman's signature:25

Jasmine Trey26

Lubbock, Texas27

A.D. 185828

Then the sister sealed and filed the documents and collected the children. The mysterious Jasmine Trey arose and left, never to be seen at the orphanage again.29

The little girl didn't eat or sleep too well that night; she had grown used to the comfort and succor of the old woman that dropped her off. But she didn't whimper or cry, for even in her short existence she was coming upon the realization that one had to play the hand one was dealt, like it or not. They [?] sent a young woman in to feed her; the woman's milk was not quite as warm and tasty as the old lady's had been, but she made do and ate enough to sustain her. When the little girl was through, the woman rocked her for a while, hoping to induce sleep. The little girl could sense that the woman was tired, very tired, and so she pretended to drop off to sleep so the woman could go and rest. She lay there the rest of the night, neither asleep nor awake, and listened to the child who had come in with her cry. The child was all the way across the room from her, and she couldn't see it, but for some reason she felt a bond to it, and wished someone would come and comfort it. No one did, however, so the little girl laid there and hoped she would see it again. Early in the morning, someone came and got the child, taking it off to some other place in the house, and the little girl silently mourned his leaving. She didn't know it at the time, but it would be years before she ever knowingly laid eyes on the child's countenance again.30

When the Rector came back to the orphanage the next day, he was both happy and unhappy at the news Sister Anne had for him. Happy because they were newborns, and newborns were generally easier to adopt out; usually fetching a princely sum from rich people unable to have children on their own. Unhappy because the economy of the region was very poor right now, and rich people were hard to find.31

"We will be able to find a place for them, won't we Henry?" the sister said a little too familiarly.32

"I don't know," said the Rector. "It seems that the only ones making any money in this county right now are the thieves, and the thieves don't generally cotton to dragging kids around with them. But I'll think on it Emily [her birth name]". They shared a glass of wine then, and made plans to bed together that night, as was their custom every few days or so. The Rector felt he could use a little "relaxation"...33

But, though the Rector tried mightily in the coming months, he was never able to find anyone to buy the babes. He had long ago given up using words like "adopt" and "place", he knew he was nothing more than a slave trader in children, and he preferred to think of his business that way; he knew he was fooling no one inside the orphanage, and very few outside of it as well. The only time he used those words was when speaking to charitable organizations asking for money for the orphanage. He felt he was no worse than the hucksters dragging their tents around the country, piously exchanging the word of God for silver lining for their pockets. They sold scripture, he sold children, and he saw no difference in that.34

No one came forth with any offers for the youngest two, and the orphanage got by on donations and occasionally selling older children, who were immediately pressed into servitude by their new owners; men and women who needed more help in the fields, or in the bunkhouse kitchens. Sometimes, if you were pretty and a female, you got the rather cushy job of working in the saloons and honky-tonks of Fort Worth, performing another kind of "service" that was in great demand, especially when various cattle drives came to an end in the stockyards there.35

When the Trey children turned two, they were pressed into service at the orphanage as well. The girl was sent to work in the kitchen, mostly cleaning and doing dishes, and the boy was sent to the fields to learn the art of picking cotton. They had not seen each other since the day of their arrival; and in fact, probably didn't know that each other existed. They had been separated the day after they came there, with the boy being sent to live with the boys, and the girl with the girls. The Rector, it seems, didn't believe in the "conjoining" of the genders, it being overall better to keep them separated for purposes of discipline. The feeling that there was "something there" lingered with the girl however, even as she scoured pots and pans.36

The woman that ran the kitchen was named Noreen, Noreen Davis. Some of the children called her Miss Noreen, but most called her "boss lady", including the little girl. Noreen was a negro from "south Louisiana" she was proud to tell all, although the Rector and others who had been there for years weren't too sure her memory was correct about that. After all, she wasn't even three yet [as best they could tell] when they found her one morning lying against the front gate crying. There was a note pinned to her dress stating her name and a message that said "you all ples tak care baby, wes cants". The orphanage took her in of course, being as they were taking public funds at the time, and state law didn't allow them to turn anyone under the age of ten away.37

Anyway, the orphanage took her in, and as a special reward, they put her to work in the kitchen, immediately. Little Noreen eventually stopped crying, and began minding the "boss" of those days, an apache squaw named "Moon Dance", or Moon, as most people called her. Moon didn't care much for the ebony little Noreen at first, but soon noticed that she came already equipped with some kitchen skills, and once she started working, she stayed focused on the job; a skill that not many three year olds possessed. She could boil water, peel potatoes [somewhat clumsily], knead bread, and even fry bacon, being very careful to stay away from the spattering grease. Additionally, she knew which side of a knife was sharp and which wasn't, and which end of a broom did the work.38

Moon began to like Noreen, thinking her a welcome addition to her little staff, which was always undermanned and overworked. In a year's time, little Noreen became the "ace" of the staff, if you will, and Moon began to wonder how she had ever gotten along without her. She became very protective of little Noreen, and 2-3 years later when the Rector wanted to move Noreen to the fields, Moon refused to let her go.39

So it was that Noreen ended up staying in the kitchen, helping her friend. They not only worked together, but enjoyed each other as well, and life for Noreen was about as good as it could get behind those white walls. But, as happens, all things both good and bad must come to an end...40

It happened rather suddenly for Moon. The picture of health normally, she came down with a raspy cough that didn't want to leave. A few weeks later came a raging fever that persisted night and day. And, a few days after the fever began, she didn't show up for work one morning, the first day she had ever missed. Little Noreen went to her room to awaken her, thinking that maybe Moon had gotten into the Rector's brandy the night before.41

When Noreen entered her cubicle, she saw Moon lying on her pallet, seemingly in deep, deep sleep. And indeed she was...when Noreen touched her, she felt just as cold and dry as a frigid winter's day, and Noreen could see her chest wasn't rising and falling. And little Noreen knew that her only friend in the world had died.42

Noreen cried as she watched the men take Moon away, presumably for burial on "Bartholomew Hill"; which served as the "resident's" cemetary. The kids in captivity there called it "Slave Hill", for in truth that is what it was...when the men got back, they found Noreen hustling and bustling around the kitchen, washing dishes and scouring tables and floors, having already served breakfast. And there in the kitchen she still was, some 20 odd years later...43

Now, Noreen had her own version of herself in the little girl, who not only worked beside her, but was her confidant and friend as well. Noreen just called her "little girl", and had watched her with interest since the day they had booted her in there, telling Noreen to "see iffen she could get some work out of her". Noreen soon discovered that the little girl was older than her years, and had talents that her other helpers lacked. With her keen green eyes and nimble hands, she could snatch flies right out off the air, 20 or 30 or more in a row. Every time her hand would flick out, the little girl would come back with at least one in her hand, and sometimes more. That in itself was a talent very helpful in the orphanage's kitchen, but even more astounding to Noreen was the fact that the little girl could read, and read well. "Girl," Noreen asked her one day, "how you know how to do all this stuff"?44

"I've been browsing through the library", was all the little girl said. Noreen couldn't read a lick, not even one word.45

Before long, the little girl was "borrowing" books from the library, and reading them to Noreen. Most of them were fantastic stories about about huge sea creatures and one-eyed dragons, and the like. Some were books called "histories" that Noreen thought boring, but she loved to hear the little girl's voice drone on and on, so she listened to those as well, eventually developing an interest those too. And the time passed quickly, contentedly, for Noreen and the little girl, especially for Noreen. 46

But, as the time passed by, Noreen saw that the little girl appeared agitated, and would often spend extended periods of time staring out one of the few windows the orphanage possessed. The little girl often seemed distant, and didn't smile as much as she used to, whigh Noreen thought was a shame. Even at just barely over six years of age, the little girl was radiantly beautiful, and "had a smile that would knock an armadillo over", as Noreen put it. Years later, a journalist with the rather unwieldy name of Wainwright Farrington III was to write about her that "she is a hellion with the eyes of an Irishman and the cheeks of an Indian" in the business pages of the Fort Worth Star-Telegram in 1870.47

Finally one day, Noreen asked her point blank, "Honey, what's the matter"?48

The little girl looked at her mistily, and replied "Aunt No-No, I want out of this prison".49

Noreen was a bit taken aback, though she could see why anyone would not want to stay in the orphanage. She had no desire to stay there herself, but she had been there so long that living within those walls had become a way of life for her, like it or not. She was comfortable and at ease there, and felt no stress; when she arose in the mornings, she knew exactly where she had to go and exactly what she had to do. She was quite a bit afraid of living in the outside world as well, amongst people she had not known all her life and in situations she couldn't even imagine. So it was that the structure and the discipline of living in the orphanage some how made life easier for her, and she accepted it.50

But the little girl, the little girl was a different matter entirely; she refused to believe that this was all there was to life. Wake up in the morning, go work in the kitchen all day, go to sleep at night, day after day after boring day. Whereas Noreen feared the outside world, the little girl craved it, and wanted to be free to pursue whatever life might bring her out there. She might be successful and live long and healthily; or she might get killed around the first turn she took, who knew? All the little girl knew was that she wanted the chance to try it out.51

Noreen realized this when she looked at the agitated little girl, and she also realized that the little girl, wise beyond her years as she was, might very well make it on her own. She was still young and adaptable, she had taught herself to read and write, and she was strikingly beautiful; Noreen could visiualize her taking the world on by the horns and winning. And, thought Noreen, her precious little girl deserved that chance...52

At that moment, Noreen vowed deep in her heart to help her friend to "get out of that prison" anyway she could. She wanted little girl to have the opportunity to do something besides give her life over to slavery, as she had done. She would be losing a friend, but she would be gaining some kind of freedom in her own heart, to deny little girl her desired chance at life would be to destroy the meaning of life altogether Noreen realized. And Noreen had knowledge of something that might be of aid to little girl, and so she formed a plan in her mind and slowly put it into motion.53

Noreen had been living at the orphanage for so long that she had special privileges that the rest of the residents didn't; when her work was caught up, she was allowed to roam the grounds outside the building proper on her own, getting some much needed "fresh air", as she called it. Every now and then, she would see a bird, or a sudden thunder storm would come along and drench her to the bone. She loved those little sorties onto the "campus", as the Rector called it, and would always be smiling when she had to go back inside. But sometimes there was more than just the weather and the birds to enjoy; sometimes she became privy to knowledge she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to have. Like the hole in the wall, for instance...there was a hole in the orphanage's gleaming white wall that only she among the residents knew about.54

She happened to be outside the day a digruntled father and a few of his friends, all drunk of course, had approached the orphanage with a battering ram and attempted to breech the wall with it, succeeding in leaving a good size hole in the edifice; a hole large enough for a young child to crawl through. She had immediately been shooed inside by the Rector and his minions, not to be allowed to return until the day the Rector said it was "fixed". As soon as she was allowed out again, Noreen had hurriedly gone around to where the damage had been done, to survey the newly repaired wall. She was disappointed when she arrived, however; it seems the Rector's idea of "fixed" was to set adobe bricks in front of the hole and covering it up. But Noreen knew it was still there of course, a little fact she had stored in her mind for years now, thinking it might be useful at some point.55

And now, that time was come...Noreen began dislodging a few of the bricks every day on her outing, and moving them around to the front of the pile. No one noticed the change, because no one had even thought about the hole in years, the brick pile having kind of blended into the landscape along with the rest of the dreariness of the orphanage. She told the little girl what she was doing, and she had become bubbling, happily, excited. She wanted to help Noreen, but there was no way she could go outside without being noticed, so she stayed in the kitchen and worked, and prayed that her friend didn't get caught.56

Noreen moved bricks for weeks, until finally she deemed the clearance large enough for little girl to get through. Now it was time to put the rest of her plan into action, and free her friend. Noreen told her friend to be ready to go "at a minutes notice", and then the waiting game began. Noreen wanted to wait until the Rector and Sister Anne had one of their "nights" planned and take advantage of their absence from the grounds. With the Rector and the Sister preoccupied, the only one of the orphanage's employees still around would be the gate guard and the field boss. Noreen knew that after a couple of hours the guard would be in his cups; he regularly brought a bottle of whiskey from town with him, to "keep him awake" he said. The field boss would stay close to his fields, it being his job to keep the residents and outsiders from stealing produce from the farm.57

Noreen didn't have to wait long. On the third day, the Rector ordered her to the cellar to bring up a couple of bottles of brandy for "medicinal" purposes, as he put it, and Noreen did so. She knew of course that there was no medical need for the brandy; she would find the two empty bottles of brandy in the trash the next day, after the Rector and the Sister had finished "doctoring" each other. After Noreen delivered the brandy, she hurried back to the kitchen to tell little girl the news and put her on alert.58

"I figger 'bout ten tonight will be 'bout right", she said, and then kissed her little friend on the forehead. Looking at the little girl, Noreen could see both sadness and gladness in her eyes, and she understood. Lord knows, she felt the same way herself. 59

At ten o'clock, she fetched little girl, and they crept out of the chamber room that served as bed and home for little girl and about twenty others, and silently made their way down the hallway to the front door. When they exited, the eased across the grounds the same way they had the hallway; there was no running, just slow, silent progress. When they reached the brick pile, Noreen motioned the way behind to where the hole was located. Before she entered, little girl quietly whispered to her friend, "I love you, and I'll be back to get you out of here someday"! With those words, she quickly slid behind the brick pile and into the hole, pausing only long enough to blow a kiss to Noreen, and then...she was gone.60

Once outside, little girl just kind of liesurely strolled away from the orphanage, much like a lady would stroll through a haberdashery, looking at this, and then that. She reached down with her hands and felt the grass, and touched the leaves on a tree, and watched the moon slide behind some clouds and then back out again. She listened as she heard the hooting of an owl somewhere, and she came upon a stream and wet her face and hands in the cold water. She listened to creatures rustling through the brush and knew not what they were, but yet, she wasn't afraid. She was happy, gloriously, completely happy, and felt an inner peace she hadn't felt in a long time. She knew then that she was right to leave the orphanage and her friend behind, for out here in the wild, wide world was where she belonged; she pledged to herself she would never give up this abandonment, this freedom, again.61

When she reached the top of a hill, she turned to gaze back, once more to look at the place that had been her home for the past six, seven years, all of her life. She saw the white walls completely then in a burst of bright moonlight that illuminated the landscape; the first complete look she had ever had of them. She felt nothing but disgust at their appearance, they looked too closely like pictures of the places called "prisons" she had seen in books in the library that lay hidden behind them. She thought she had known the meaning of the word prison, but she realized now that she truly hadn't, the white walls leant more to the meaning of prison than any of the pictures in the books could possibly have, for they were real and not just drawings on paper, and they affected real people that were more than the narratives of the prisoners in the books.62

She took that last look at the white walls and shuddered, and then she turned away and continued her journey. She followed the stream in a south westerly direction, alternately wading and walking on land. As she walked, she made up her mind not to be "little girl" anymore, she was starting anew with her real name and a new life.63

Her name was Angelica Trey, she was somewhere between six to seven years old, the year was 1865, and she was "gettin' on" with her new life. 64