A Gift from Nowhere

By Henriette Pruger

Coming from an immigrant family, the English language has
been a large part of my life. Ever since I wrote my fi rst play where T.H.R.U.S.H. kidnapped the Beatles and U.N.C.L.E. helped fi nd them, Ive always wanted to be a writer. I was nine years old. I love words so much I became an English major in school. Shakespeare became my best friend. Life is full of dramas and words are the actors. I hope this will be the start of my dream.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469130910

Book preview

PROLOGUE – THE PRESENT

 

CYBER-GRANDMOTHER EMMA SITS in front of her computer.

She is very intent and obviously enjoys herself. Her glasses fall on her nose and she pushes them back.

If you like scrapes and falls, I recall one day Maggie-; she says as she types and is interrupted by the door bell.

She stops typing and answers it. A young woman, her grand-daughter, Maggie, stands there. Maggie is a famous rock star who plays modern rock and goes by the name, JADE. Jade has purple hair, worn in a spike down the middle of her head, a ring through her nose and black heavy eye make-up. She is wearing a torn black top with uniform two rows of gold and silver buttons, and torn, tight, low-fitting jeans. She looks like Michael Jackson on a bad day.

Maggie! Emma says, lovingly hugging her, trying not to get poked in the eye with her hair.

Grandma! Maggie says, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

Please, come in, Emma says.

They enter.

I don’t have to tell you how surprised I was when your mother called. She made it sound so hush-hush., Emma says. Take a seat. I’ll get us some tea, or would you like something stronger?

Tea will do. Maggie replies.

Just be a sec. Emma says, leaving.

Maggie looks at the Face book page on Emma’s computer and shakes her head.

Face book again, Grandma? Maggie mutters under her breath.

Emma comes back with the tea and sits down.

So, how can I help you? Emma asks.

I have a favor to ask. You know that TV show, Who Are You?’. They trace family histories", Maggie asks.

I watch it every week. Emma replies.

They want to do me. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’m so scandalous. Maggie says putting scandalous in quotes with her fingers.

Now that’s strange. Everyone on that show has been around for awhile. You’ve only been out for a few years. I guess you’re the new IT girl. Emma says, Even though you’ve always been mine.

The producer said I should start by asking family members, Maggie continues.

And I’m the only oldest one you know. Makes sense, Emma comments, being quite pleased with herself.

What can you tell me to get me started?

I have the perfect person, my grand-mother Margaret, your name sake. She was more scandalous than you. What she did would make your purple hair stand on end, if it didn’t already, Emma adds, looking disapprovingly at Maggie’s hair. I liked you better when your hair was long and brown and you sang in the church choir.

What did she do? Maggie asks, ignoring Emma’s last remark.

It’s not her. It’s what my grand-father’s first wife, Emma, did. Emma was dying, so she went into town and bought a prostitute from the local saloon owner. She wanted the woman to marry her husband and raise her boys. She didn’t want them to be alone when she died, Emma continues.

And he agreed?

Not at first. He obliged her because he knew she was ill. She passed and the woman lived with them for one week and went back home. Course, in that week, grandpa and her became friends and we’re the living proof. That woman was your great grand-mother, Margaret Jacobs.

That’s a wild story, Maggie commented.

I have a picture of them but first I’ll tell you the story. It was the late 1870’s, Emma began.

NOWHERE

 

THE TOWN IS Nowhere, California and that’s what it truly is. Founded years ago after the first discovery of gold, miners create the need for everything. There is a general store run by a man called Jessie, one stable, one jail and no sheriff, one bank, a saloon, a barber who sometimes works as an undertaker, and a church that doubles as a school in the warmer months.

A small collection of farms surround the town. The farmers are always struggling to work the land to grow crops. The land is hard and crops barely survive. They lead a hard life, not unlike the miners. Together they try their best to survive.

The one business that always thrives is Cobb’s Saloon. Mr. Cobb comes from out east with a collection of young women whose sole purpose is to service the miners. Along with the booze, it is a bordello and Cobb is its pimp.

A small wagon comes into town. The driver is a small farm woman named Emma Jacobs. She is petite with an aging face. Her hair is pinned up. Her skin is worn, as is her hands. Even though she is in her mid-thirties, she looks much older. In addition, she is in ill health.

She drives up to the saloon, gets out and ties up her buggy, grabs a large bag and enters the saloon. As she walks in a different world comes to her. It is filled with miners drinking and gambling. Cobb’s women are serving drinks. Some are dancing with the miners. Some are going upstairs, hand-in-hand, with the miners, to complete their duties.

The miners turn to her with surprise. They tell Mr. Cobb. He turns and can’t believe what he sees. She is the first farmer’s wife who has had the nerve to enter. He walks over.

Can I help you? he asks.

Are you Mr. Cobb? Emma asks.

That’s my name. How can I be of service?

I need to talk to you. May I sit down?

Please, he motioned with his arm. Can I get you a sarsaparilla?

No, I won’t be long.

They both sit down and she pulls out a coin bag. She shows him several pieces of gold.

You come here to gamble?

I come here to buy one of your girls.

My girls don’t do girls. What do you want them for?

My name is Emma Jacobs. My husband and I have a farm outside of town. We have two boys.

You want me to initiate your boys? That can be arranged, he adds, seeing money in his eyes.

No, she replies, becoming annoyed.

Then what do you want with my girls? Speak up, woman, before I have you thrown out, he says, becoming aggravated.

I’m dying, she replies.

What has this to do with me?

I came to buy my husband a wife and a mother for my boys.

A wife? What does this place look like, a general store? My girls are happy. They make money. They make ME money. Why would I sell one to you and lose all my future profits?

I don’t have much time and I don’t want my family to be alone.

Let me count the coins, he says, opening his hand.

She does and he counts the coins.

You ain’t got enough. This is good for one week only. When do you expect to die? he asks.

Can’t say. Maybe a few days.

Tell you what, Mrs. Jacobs. I want to help you. I’ll give you a girl for a week. She can help your family during the hard times, or until you die, which better be soon. My girls cost me money. I’ll give you Margaret. She’s no good to me this week. It’s her bleeding time, he offers.

He rises and waves his hand to the bar.

Margaret, come here, he orders.