Disease swept through the crowded compartments and one in five persons died. After the first twelve weeks, bodies were carried out everyday by crewmen wearing spacesuits to shield them from the smell of the steerage bay. Michael and Elena seemed least affected; they roamed freely from compartment to compartment and frolicked in the corridors, venturing as far as they could before they encountered locked hatches.
Abigail and Nora did what they could to help the sick. As they worked side by side, they would take up the quarrel they had sustained for so long. They fought like two exhausted generals, maneuvering over familiar ground, unable to deliver the decisive blow.
"It's your fault we're in this mess," Nora said to Abigail, as she changed the diaper of a dark skinned baby whose mother lay near death a few feet away, "We should have moved to Dallas like we planned."
"Baxters are farm people," Abigail said. "When the state took the land, it was up to me to decide what was best for the family. That's the way Lloyd would have wanted it."
"Half that money belongs to John," Nora said. "I shouldn't have let you bully him into this. The man has no mind of his own."
"Now don't be hard on John," Abigail said. "John's all right, as far as men go. He can fight a war or kill a dragon, if he puts his mind to it. It's day to day life that leaves him bewildered."
Nora noticed that her mother-in-law's voice seemed to be fading. Abigail seemed to be very far away and Nora watched her vision become a narrow tunnel of light that receded into blackness.
When the blackness lifted, Nora was holding a shovel and digging a hole. She realized she was trying to plant a pecan tree, but the ground was very hard and progress seemed slow. Despite this, she realized that the hole had become much deeper and she was trapped in the bottom.
She looked up and saw John and Abigail standing up above her looking down. It started to rain and Abigail said, "She ain't sick. She's just trying to get attention." Then they went away and the water deepened around Nora's ankles. Nora took up the tiny seedling in its pot and hugged it. She had to save the pecans.
Hours later, Nora awoke knowing she was very ill. Abigail was mopping her brow to keep her from burning up. "John!" Nora called out.
"I'm here," he said.
Nora turned and saw him. "I'm going to die, John. Don't let them throw me out in space! Hide my body until the ship lands!"
"You aren't going to die," John said. "Rest and save your strength."
"Promise me, John! Just promise me!"
"Calm down," he said, in a loud whisper. "If you were to die, which you ain't, I would never let them throw you out. I promise."
She clung to him. "It's cold! It's so cold!" Her body trembled and then she fell asleep again and dreamed of the day her father had brought home his new wife, Olive. In the dream, Olive swept her mother's things off the dresser in the master bedroom, scattering them on the floor. "Take what you want," Olive had said. "And throw the rest in the trash."
When Nora awoke she felt much better. John was sitting beside her, dozing. When he glanced at her, his eyes widened. "Nora, are you smiling?"
"Yes," she said. "I just remembered why I married you."
The immigrant processing center was a vast hall and from somewhere ahead came the sound of wailing.
"What's that noise?" asked Nora. "What are they doing to those people?"
"Nothing, it's just a medical exam," Abigail said, and took out her handkerchief. "It's hot in here."
"Those must be the rejects," John said.
They came at last to the desk and the man sitting at the terminal entered their names and ages. "Go through the medical scanner as I call out your names." He pointed toward a rectangular frame just past the desk. One by one, they went through the scanner as if it were the doorway to the new world until at last only Abigail stood waiting for her name to be called. She wiped her brow and stepped through.
"Just a minute," said the immigration official, staring at his screen. He leaned toward a microphone and called out a number. A woman in a nurse's uniform came forward and clipped a white plastic bracelet on Abigail's wrist.
"They'll remove that on the ship, Ma'am," she said.
Abigail's face registered no surprise. "Where do I go from here?"
The immigration official pointed to a door. "Exit to the left and follow the tunnel. It will take you back to the ship."
John Baxter stepped forward. "Just a minute! We are a family! You can't send my mother back!"
The official shrugged. "There is nothing I can do. Now please move along. A lot of people are waiting."
John slammed the desk with his fist. "There has to be something you can do! This is crazy! You can't let her come this far and then send her back!"
The official pressed a button and a slip of paper shot into his hand. "Here are the results of the scan."
"What does it mean?" John asked, studying the words on the paper. "How bad is it?"
"You'll have to talk to a medical doctor. Next!"
John started to argue but Abigail took hold of his wrist. "Come, don't make a scene, John." With a gentle tug, she drew him aside and the rest of the family gathered around.
"What are we going to do, John?" asked Nora.
There was an uncertain look on John's face as he shifted his eyes from his wife to his mother and back.
"I can't let my mother go back alone," John said.
Nora sighed. "I knew this was wrong. I knew it was not going to work." She picked up her bag and reached for Elena's hand.
Abigail's voice was faint as she said, "You can't go back with me, John." She reached into her purse and pulled out a roll of bills. "This is all that is left. You and Nora and the children must stay here on Edenia. I'll be all right. Go find us a good piece of land and when you do don't ever let go of it."
"Not without you, Ma," said John. "If you go back, we all go back. We'll manage somehow. I'll get a job." He pushed the money back into her hands. "We're a family, Ma."
Abigail turned and held out the money to Nora. "Please, help me now!"
Nora took the money and held it for a moment. Then she shook her head and tried to give the money back, but Abigail would not take it. "I can't decide this," said Nora. "I can't take the responsibility!"
"You have to," said Abigail. "I am counting on you to pull the family through."
"Me?" Nora's face was suddenly pale. "Not me! I...I'm not even a Baxter. I am just Nora Marooney!"
Abigail took hold of Nora's hands. "I wasn't born a Baxter either, thank the lord. I have never seen a more shiftless bunch. Ever since Lowell Baxter paid two dollars an acre for land in McMullen county back in 1883, it was the women who held on to the land and kept the family together. And not a one of them was born a Baxter."
For a moment, the two women stood with their eyes locked while the children fidgeted and John stood beside them clenching and unclenching his fists.
Finally, he shook off his indecision and said, "We can't stand here arguing. We know what we got to do." He picked up two suitcases and waited for the women to start walking.
Abigail let go of Nora and adjusted her handbag. "I know what I have to do," she said. "I got to go back to that ship."
"Yes," said Nora. "And I know what I have to do. Goodbye, Mother Baxter." She took the children by the hand and started toward the right hand exit.
"Nora!" John wailed. "Where are you going?" He ran after her carrying the heavy suitcases and caught her halfway to the door.
Nora turned on him, her face locked in a mask of resolve. "Go say good bye to your mother, John. We'll wait for you here."
"But Nora!"
"Hurry, we have a lot to do. We have to get to the land office."
John nodded, a feeling of relief washing over him. "Yes. Yes." He lowered the suitcases and fought his way back through the flow of people to where he had left Abigail, but she was gone. He went to the left hand door and started to push his way through.
"Wait, Ma! Wait!" he called out.
"Are you going back aboard?" asked a woman in uniform, stepping out to block his path.
"No, I'm staying here," he said. "I just wanted to say goodbye to my mother."
The woman shook her head. "Too late for that, she's already on board. Exit to the right, please, and do not block the aisles."
"But I must say good bye!"
"I am sorry sir, but no visitors are allowed on the ship."
John turned away from the door with a sigh and went to look for his family.
It was winter and the Baxter's sat close to the hearth. John held a hot drink in his hand and savored a few minutes of warmth before he had to get back to work on the barn he was building.
"Maybe we should take a homestead further south," he said. "It would be more like Texas."
"It's too dry down there," Nora said.
"You can always irrigate," John said. "I could get in four crops a year."
"Not without electricity," Nora said. "Electrification is always twenty years behind the frontier. I checked."
"Summer is nice here," Michael said. "And I like snow at Christmas."
Outside the little cabin, the murmur of an engine could be heard. "The mail man!" shouted Elena, and she ran to the window. "I'll get it!"
"No, you don't have your shoes on," Nora said. "Let Michael do it."
"I'll get it," John said. "I am expecting some nails." He went outside and walked up to the wide, squat truck, with its huge mud tires.
"Got your nails, John," the mail carrier said. "And a letter."
John looked at the letter in surprise. It had come all the way from Earth! He struggled with the envelope while the mailman placed the keg of nails on the ground. John's heavy gloves were too clumsy to open the envelope. He left the nails sitting beside the road and hurried back to the house. He handed the letter to Nora and said. "Open it," he said. "I'm too nervous."
Nora opened the letter and read:
"To the Noble and Honored family of Abigail Baxter: My dear friends. It is with deep sorrow and regret that I take pen in hand to inform you of the tragic and untimely death of Abigail Baxter on the return voyage of the S.S. Crescent. It was, on that voyage, a part of my duties to perform the final services for those who succumbed to the vicissitudes of said voyage. Regrettably, Ms. Baxter's effects were ransacked before her body was found, therefore we are unable to return them to you, except for the enclosed photograph. Please rest assured a proper and dignified generic funeral service was conducted prior to the commission of her mortal remains to the infinite reaches. All my love and sympathy, Lannis Cheatham, Mortuary Services Officer, most recently of S.S. Crescent."
Nora removed the faded photograph from the envelope and the family gathered round her chair. For a moment, they studied the faceless figures of two men in ancient uniforms. "Which one is Lowell Baxter?" Elena said.
"That is Lowell Baxter on the right," Nora said. "If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be here today."