Beverly Jenkins (21 page)

Later, in her room, Cara answered a knock on her door. It was Sophie, and it was easy to see by the grimness on her aging but still beautiful face that she had something pretty serious on her mind. “What’s wrong?” Cara asked, looking up from the laundry she was folding.

Sophie asked plainly, “Are you carrying Chase’s child?”

Cara’s whole body stiffened.

“Are you?” Sophie asked again.

Silence.

“Cara?”

Cara’s reply was just as quiet. “Yes, I am. And I don’t want him to be told.”

“Suppose he wants to know? Chase would never run from a responsibility like this. He wouldn’t want you fending for yourself when you are carrying his child.”

“I don’t want him told, and I mean it, Sophie. This is my problem. Chase has made it very clear how he feels about marriage, and I don’t want him forced into doing something he doesn’t want to do.”

Cara thought back to the afternoon’s incidents with the women. “Does the whole town know?”

“Just about. Your children have been telling
their parents about you being sick in the mornings.”

“Then I suppose it’s pretty silly to ask whether they’re going to make me resign. It’s only a matter of when.”

“The Black Widow has called a special town council meeting tomorrow night. The elders want you to attend.”

“Then that’s that,” Cara summed up bitterly. “Virginia will finally get her way.”

“Not without a fight from me she won’t. A lot of people in this town care for you a great deal.”

“I appreciate that, Sophie, but I don’t want others dragged into this.”

“Well, you know you and the baby can stay here as long as you want. I sort of like the idea of playing grandmere.”

Cara smiled sadly. “I can’t. A baby shouldn’t have to pay for her mother’s sins. People can be cruel.”

“That’s true, but where will you go?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“Don’t you believe for one minute that the folks will let you leave without some type of fight. Dulcie was over in Nicodemus this morning, and she said there’re a lot of people over there talking about coming to the meeting tomorrow to speak for you. A few here may hold the baby against you, but not everyone is a Virginia Sutton.”

Sophie’s support and understanding soothed Cara, but she placed little faith in her friend’s optimism. Schoolteachers had to be above reproach. Yes, it hurt thinking about leaving her students, but she expected the meeting tomorrow night to be a mere formality. She’d be dismissed. “Lord, what a mess,” she whispered, fighting the sting of tears.

Sophie pulled Cara into her arms, and Cara felt strength flow from the hug. Sophie drew back and in a coaxing voice entreated again, “Please, let me wire Texas. Chase will—”

“No, Sophie,” Cara said, pulling away. “The first thing he’s going to want to do is give me and the baby his name. Not because he loves me, but because he’s going to feel obligated. And I won’t do that to him.”

“But what about you? How are you going to provide for a baby?”

“Sophie, I’ve been providing for myself for many years. I’ll do whatever it takes to feed me and the baby. I’ll scrub floors, take in laundry, anything. I’ll lie, pass myself off as a widow, if it has to come to that. But this isn’t Chase’s responsibility. It is mine and mine alone.”

“Suppose he comes back?”

“If he does, it won’t matter. I won’t be here.”

“Oh, Cara Lee, let the people who love you help.”

“Then help me by not telling Chase. And stop worrying. I’m from strong Georgia stock. My baby will be strong, too. We’ll both do fine.”

The news of Cara’s pregnancy spread like prairie fire. The town council meeting the next night was packed. There were arguments on both sides. Those against, egged on by Virginia’s forces, shouted the louder; those in support of Cara sought to instill calm. Her supporters—Sophie, Asa, and the Three Spinsters, primarily—addressed the elders with logic. Where were they going to get another teacher as dedicated and as knowledgeable as Miss Henson? Her wages were hardly substantial enough to draw anyone of equal quality as a replacement. And the children were thriving under her fine tutelage and care.

“But we cannot condone someone with no morals teaching our children,” one of the detractors shouted self-righteously. A buzz went up in the crowd. “She has morals, the morals of a cat!” another person pointed out.

The argument grew so fierce at that point, Cara actually expected a fight to break out. Sheriff Polk, always on hand to keep the peace at meetings such as this one, banged his gavel, but it couldn’t be heard over the shouting and accusations.

They finally took the vote.

It turned out as Cara predicted. She was stripped of all duties until further notice with formal dismissal to follow.

“Sophie, I’m going to make one last trip over to the school. I think those two books I’ve been looking for are there.”

Sophie glanced up from the newspaper on her desk in answer. Cara was peeking around the door. “Have you packed everything else?”

“Just about. Asa’ll take my crates over to Ellis and put them on the train sometime tomorrow. Will you please stop looking so glum?” Cara stepped into the office. “I know you don’t think this is a good idea, but I’m going to be fine. And I will write when I get to California. I promise.”

“It says here in the paper that the Tenth was in Oklahoma a few months ago. You know anything about this David Payne fellow?”

Cara shook her head.

“Well, according to this, he and his followers, called Boomers, are challenging the government’s right to keep white settlers out of Indian Territory. Seems Payne and the Boomers keep trespassing and the Tenth and the Ninth keep escorting them out.”

Cara knew Sophie was still trying to make her think about Chase, and it was working. “Has anybody been hurt?”

“Nope. At least not yet. It says Payne’s mad at the politicians, not the troops. There’s even mention of the soldiers sharing their army rations with Payne’s folks. I think that’s pretty interesting.” She put the paper down.

“Yes, it is.”

“Cara—”

“Sophie, don’t please.” Cara knew exactly what she’d been about to say. They’d been going round and round on this subject since the night of the elders decision two weeks before. “I can make it alone. Please, tell me you understand?”

Sophie sighed. “I do, Cara.” Then she added, “Make sure you put on something warm before heading over to the school.”

“I will.”

Cara’s cloak felt good against the chill of the late October night. The wind whipped across her bare cheeks and fingertips, encouraging her to quicken her steps. Inside the schoolhouse she found the missing books with no trouble. Holding them against her chest, she took one last look around. She’d miss this place terribly. She forced herself to go quickly then, lest she break down and cry.

She closed the door and put on the lock. The Reverend Whitfield would resume teaching until a replacement could be found, and Cara reminded herself that she had to leave the keys with Sophie in the morning before departing for Ellis. Cara had no idea what lay ahead in California, but the newspapers down at the mercantile attested to many established Black communities there. She was certain she could carve out a niche for herself and the baby.

A horse and rider moved suddenly out of the shadows, startling her.

Seeing it was only Miles Sutton, she relaxed, but his tone of voice soon roused her anger. “Well, if it isn’t the town whore,” he sneered.

The animal beneath him danced nervously, tossing its head back and forth, making Miles work to keep it under control. “So, Cara, I hear you’re going to wrap the bastard in Union blue after you whelp.”

Cara tried to move on, but he guided the stallion up on the walk to block her path. “Didn’t I tell you we were fated? And what do you do? You spread your legs for that soldier. You owe me an explanation.”

“I owe you nothing, Miles. Now let me pass.”

“No.”

Cara saw him weaving slightly in the saddle. In the dark she couldn’t be certain, but she was willing to bet every book she owned that he was stinking drunk. She took a hasty evaluation of the surroundings, looking for help, but saw no one.

He leaned down into her face, and for a moment she thought he might fall, so precarious was his seat. “I’m celebrating a very profitable business opportunity. Would you like to help me celebrate back at the Lady?”

“No.”

“Well, if you can spread your legs for him, you damn well can spread them for me. Now come on!”

His arm clamped onto her waist and, though she fought him, he raised her up to the saddle. She swung her fists, hitting him about the face and the chest desperately attempting to free herself. He was too strong and succeeded in seating her in front of him. Cara continued to fight him. The stallion
snorted and reared. When it reared again, she sensed she was about to fall. She clutched at Sutton’s shirt but he struck out, and she plummeted to the ground. Her back hit the edge of the walk as the hoof of the terrified horse struck her head. That was the last thing she remembered.

In the hallway outside Colonel Benjamin Grierson’s office, Chase pounded his Stetson against the side of his blue-uniformed leg. Three days ago, he’d received the colonel’s summons to return to Fort Davis. Chase and a small patrol had been pursuing renegades, and it had been a long hard ride back across the Chihuahuan Desert.

Tiny dervishes of dust took flight under the hat’s pounding. He was tired, dirty. He wiped sweat from his face, then retied the damp kerchief around his neck.

The colonel’s door opened, and an aide stepped out. “Colonel Grierson will see you now, Sergeant.”

Chase entered the office and saluted. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, Chase. Have a seat.”

Chase availed himself of one of the wooden chairs opposite the desk.

“You catch those renegades?”

“No. We chased them back across the Grande,” Chase replied. The renegades would be back soon, no doubt, terrorizing the border towns strung along the banks of the Rio Grande until the army once again chased them back into Mexico. It had become a very frustrating game, in some way as frustrating as the unsuccessful search for the bandits in Kansas the past summer. But Chase had the distinct impression he hadn’t been called back to
report on the campaign against the bandits. “Has something happened, Colonel?”

“I’m not certain, but we’ve been receiving telegraph messages for you.”

He handed Chase a handful of messages. Puzzled, Chase opened one on top and read:
CARA GOING CALIFORNIA, PREGNANT, SOPHIE.
Chase’s eyes widened.

Before he could digest the news, Grierson handed him another. “This came yesterday.”

Chase opened and read the second.
CARA HURT. LOST BABY. PLEASE COME. SOPHIE.

Chase’s heart stopped. He was numb. There was no other way to describe it. Cara had been pregnant! The enormity of that news alone rendered him speechless. And now to find she’d lost the child, his child. There couldn’t be a doubt that the baby had been his. Grief welled in him and he slowly folded the telegrams and placed them in the pocket of his shirt. “Permission to return to Kansas, sir.”

“Somebody run down those coach robberies?”

“No, sir, this is personal business. I’m going to marry a woman I met there last spring.”

“Well, congratulations are in order,” Grierson exclaimed enthusiastically.

“I suppose so, sir.”

Their gazes held. Chase had known Ben Grierson a long time. Together they had ridden to hell and back. “Let me be frank, Ben. She was pregnant. She’s lost the baby.”

“I see,” the colonel replied softly. “You have my sympathies, Chase.”

“I appreciate that. I just hope she’ll appreciate what I’m going to do.”

Chase didn’t have to debate the issue with himself. Marrying Cara was the honorable thing to do.
She was a vibrant and beautiful woman. He refused to let her bear the slurs alone. Had he kept his hands off her, none of this would have happened.

“Chase, are you sure about this marriage? I remember hearing you say a dozen or more times that you weren’t the marrying kind.”

“She’s different, Ben.” The image of Cara’s laughing face shimmered in Chase’s memory, and for a moment he saw nothing else. “So much fire,” he added wistfully. “I have to marry her. Only honorable thing to do. And I do care for her, more than I ever have for a woman.”

“She’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.”

“Don’t bet on it. She’ll probably fight me all the way to the church.”

The colonel’s raised eyebrows did not escape Chase’s attention. “I told you, she’s different.”

“Well, take all the time you need. You have enough leave to give everyone in a regiment a long vacation.”

Chase stood and saluted, and Grierson returned the salute. Chase headed for the door.

“Oh, and Chase . . .”

His hand on the knob, Chase stopped and turned back. “Yes?”

“Good luck. If there’s anything Mrs. Grierson and I can do, please let me know.”

“I will, Ben.”

C
hase had never been a praying man, but on the long train ride North, he sent more than few a prayers heavenward. Sitting in the cattle car because of the fickle Jim Crow laws, Chase refused to listen to the inner voice that whispered Cara might be dead . . . like the child.

The babe would have been the first in his line since slavery to be born free—free to be educated, free to carry a father’s name, free to exercise the right to flourish or fail just like every other American.

He assumed Cara only recently had discovered her pregnancy, and the letter telling him about it was still winding its way to Texas. He would marry her. No question about that. The twin slurs of “slave” and “bastard” would never again be associated with children of the Jefferson lineage. Dwelling on the child’s death moved him to a pain-filled numbness. Nothing in his experience prepared him for the emotional upheaval unleashed by Sophie’s news. He, who’d ridden into bandit nests, faced death many times over on many campaigns, felt overwhelmed by fear at the prospect of Cara’s dying. He hadn’t a qualm about breaking his pledge to leave her alone if ever he returned to Kansas. That seemed like foolishness
now—maybe madness. He had to help her regain her health; he had to give her his name.