Conjuring Sight (Becky Jo Chronicles Book 1) (18 page)

“I wholeheartedly agree with this plan,” says Rosanna.

“You do?” Gabe and I chorus.

“Most certainly I do. Not only will Rebecca give James a fuller life, but while she is helping him look for a wife, she will also be watching over him. Gabriel, you can continue to keep an eye on Samuel, and I will watch that witch of his. If we work together, we will succeed.”

I smile, grateful not to have to save Colonel Blair on my own.

Gabe clears his throat and looks down at his gigantic hands. “Miss Harris, I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

I shake my head. “No, you, Henry, and Clara were wonderful friends to me in the future.”

He raises his eyes to mine. “I do not want to be imprudent, but would you tell me of the future?”

“What would you like me to tell you?”

“Please begin with your sister.”

It’s a strange place to start, but Marina is remarkably interesting, even in my time. “Marina is the smartest person I know, maybe even smarter than you. She’s actually a little scary, too.”

“Is her husband afraid of her?” Rosanna asks.

“Oh, she’s not married. She’s been too busy going to law school and traveling around the world, doing business.”

Gabe’s jaw drops. “Your
black
sister is…”

“A lawyer,” I fill in the words. “Yes and a very good one.  She’s always traveling to China to on business.”

“But it is a very long journey to China,” Rosanna interrupts.

“Not in an airplane,” I say with a smile.

I spend the next few hours answering Rosanna and Gabe’s never-ending questions. I tell them about cars, airplanes, computers, cell-phones, space shuttles, and the internet. They sit in shock when I tell them about America having an African-American president and how far the country will advance before my time. I also tell them about some of the sadder things: the many wars America will be involved in, the lack of basic civil rights for many of its citizens until after the 1960’s, and the continual discrimination.

My stomach growls, interrupting our conversation. “I should go see if Rose needs help with dinner.”

“It is just as well.” Gabe stands. “We will need some time to digest the information you have shared.”

*     *     *

“Colonel Blair, you have made leaps and bounds in preparing for a wife,” I say, admiring the newly wallpapered dining room.

“So, you approve of the changes?” he asks, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

I take away the glass. “I approve of the wallpaper and drapes, not the whiskey.

His long arms retrieve it, and he instantly puts it to his lips.

I roll my eyes while lifting the list of potential brides. “I have composed a list of eligible ladies.” He gestures for me to read it while sipping his alcohol. I begin with the first name, “Sarah Joyce.”

Colonel Blair chokes on the whiskey. “Sarah Joyce? She has the face of a mule.”

I give him a dirty look. “She is actually very kind and has a substantial dowry. At least that’s what her mother said last night.”

“She is going to need a substantial dowry,” he says under his breath as he cleans whiskey off his shirt.

“You are not being helpful. If you are not interested in the lady, just say so.”

“I just did. Who is the next candidate?” He resumes sipping his drink.

I move on, “Anne Lowery.”

He immediately shakes his head. “Too fat and homely.”

“You are insufferable!  Anne was very nice to me last night, and her dowry is even larger than Sarah’s.”

“I am merely being honest.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Miss Harris, have you forgotten that I have immense wealth? I have the luxury of marrying a beautiful woman.”

I huff at him, crossing out the names of girls I know he won’t find up to his standards of beauty. “Fine, you want beautiful?” I snap. “Gertrude Wells is incredibly beautiful.”

“Actually, I do not find her nearly as lovely as she deems herself, but she is unquestionably more beautiful than Anne.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Now, we’re getting somewhere. I found Gertrude to be stuck-up, but if he likes her, whatever. “Would you like me to invite Miss Wells over so you may get to know her better?”

He cringes. “Absolutely not, I detest her haughtiness. I would rather get to know the mule.”

I feel like screaming. “Colonel Blair, you can’t have it both ways. You can either have a kind wife or a beautiful wife.”

“Oh, I will have both, or I will not marry.” He takes the list from me and sets to work crossing out names. There isn’t a single name left when he finishes. He puts it on the table. “Miss Harris, I believe we will have to go in search of more candidates. A performance at Piper’s Opera House may provide more diverse society. I will reserve a box for tomorrow night.”

Friday, March 12, 1875

The next morning, I go for a short walk to clear my head. It feels as though the world will fall in around me if I don’t figure out how to save Colonel Blair. The woman he is looking for doesn’t exist. Gabe and Henry are counting on me, and I couldn’t return to my time only to eternally be reminded of my failure by the presence of their ghosts or worse, join them in haunting Virginia City.

“I agree with my son, you are doing what is necessary,” Gabe’s mother appears next to me.

“I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier,” I respond before asking, “Why is it you are in limbo?”

She smiles. “I am not in limbo. I am Gabriel’s guardian angel.”

I stop limping at a small tree. “You know, this is the tree that started it all,” I say, tenderly stroking one of the branches.

Her forehead wrinkles.

“You told me Gabriel made you a potion?” she asks in disbelief.

“Yes, he did, but I made a wish on a branch from this tree to back it up. This tree is still there in the future. It’s very old, but alive.”

“Rebecca, what exactly did you wish for when you conjured yourself here?” she demands.

I tell her, and she laughs crazily.

“Rebecca Josephine Harris, you are a very special girl!” she says. “Do not ever let anyone ever tell you otherwise!”

She disappears, leaving me in bewilderment.

*     *     *

“When are we going to eat?” I ask Colonel Blair that evening. “I’m famished.”

He pulls a silver watch out of his pocket. He glances at the watch face. “We will eat in town.”

“There is no need for that. I’m sure Rose has something we can grab in the kitchen.” I lift the ton of skirts from the new, light blue dress the Colonel purchased for the performance and start down the stairs.

Colonel Blair easily passes me and blocks the way.

“Miss Harris, a table is awaiting us at Delleplane’s, and then we will go to Piper’s Opera House.  This outing should give you several names to add to your list. Shall I help you descend the stairs?” He offers his arm.

“Names you are sure to reject. I can manage the stairs…”

I’m silenced as I trip over myself, tumbling forward. Fortunately, Colonel Blair catches me before I fall down the staircase.

“Why are you so stubborn?” he whispers.

“I am not stubborn. I am practical,” I retort, trying to untangle myself from him.

He doesn’t relinquish his hold. “Practical, you are not. A practical girl would allow the gentleman escorting her to see her down the stairs.”

I humph before continuing down the stairs. He flanks me the entire way.

Henry excitedly waves from the driver’s seat of the large carriage when he sees Colonel Blair, Clara, and I exit the house. He is dressed in a smart suit and jacket.

“Old friend!” he cheers.

“Henry, I almost didn’t recognize you. Are you going with us?” I ask, unable to hide how happy I am to see him.

“Henry is our driver this evening,” Colonel Blair explains, helping us into the carriage. He climbs in across from me and Clara.

Even with the glass windows, the ride into town is very cold. I am extremely grateful for my cape and muff. I am even more grateful when Henry stops the carriage outside Delleplane’s restaurant. Colonel Blair assists me and Clara out before ushering us into the restaurant.

I don’t know exactly what I anticipated, but dinner surpasses every expectation. The building is beautiful with chandeliers, elegant furniture, and ornate dishes. When I see the overall splendor, I’m grateful Colonel Blair purchased me a new gown for the occasion. The meal is also delicious. The Colonel, Clara, and I enjoy soup, roast pork with potatoes, vegetables, a citrus ice, rolls with fresh butter, a variety of jams, jellies, sweet pickles, cake, and coffee. We are served so many courses I have to stop eating long before the meal ends. A corset makes it so you can’t eat very much. I make a goal to wear sweats for a week if I return to my own time. Of course, Colonel Blair has to have alcohol with his meal, despite my objections. He even lights up a new pipe until I take it away. I don’t care that the restaurant is already filled with smoke; he doesn’t need to make it worse.

“I see you still object,” he says, watching me put out the pipe.

“I will always object. Smoking is not good for you.”

“It relaxes me.”

“You need a new hobby.”

He leans toward me and in a hushed voice says, “I have plenty of hobbies. What I need is a wife to take care of me.”

“I will help you find one before I leave,” I retort.

He smirks as he stands. “I will go for our things.”

I look at a large clock and find we’ve been in the restaurant more than an hour. It’s frustrating to know Henry has waited in the cold while we’ve been eating. I gesture the waiter over and have him prepare something for Henry. He is just returning with the food when Colonel Blair rejoins me.

“My apologies, Miss Harris, Miss Egan,” the Colonel says. “I was stopped by James Fair. He wanted to know my feelings on the progress the Sutro Tunnel is making.”

“It’s not a problem. I had a meal made up for Henry while I waited.” I lift the bundle.

He takes it, passing me the fur cape. “You should worry about your own welfare more than Henry’s. I promise; he is well cared for.”

“And yet he’s been waiting in the cold while we eat?” I counter.

“You will spoil him.  I do not want him too comfortable with society.” Colonel Blair gives me a stern look before we go to the carriage.

I don’t care what he says; there is nothing wrong with spoiling Henry a little. He is delighted with his meal and tears into it the moment he stops the carriage in front of Piper’s Opera House. It’s not the same building I toured in my time, being one of the buildings destroyed by the Great Fire of 1875, but it is still very lovely. Colonel Blair wraps my arm around his and ushers me and Clara inside.

Mr. and Mrs. MacKay greet us in the foyer.

“Miss Harris, Miss Egan, Colonel Blair, we were hoping to see the three of you this evening,” Louise says with a large smile on her face.

“Miss Harris’s enthusiasm for society cannot be contained,” Colonel Blair mocks me.

John slaps his back. “You must join us in our box. I have invested enough money in this venture to enjoy a few perks.”

Colonel Blair holds up our tickets. “Thank you for your hospitality. However, I have reserved another box.”

“As always, you are welcome to join us for Sunday Mass,” Louise says.

“And, as always, I will graciously decline. I am not a church going man, and if I were, I would not attend Catholic Mass. My parents were Episcopalian.”

“Miss Harris, Miss Egan, you are also welcome,” she tries another tactic.

“Thank you, but I Miss Egan and I are not Catholic,” I reply. “However, we look forward to your St. Patrick’s Day party on Wednesday.”

“We will greatly anticipate your attendance.” John takes his wife’s arm. “We best take our seats for the performance.”

We are shown into a beautiful theatre box with fancy chairs. Colonel Blair helps Clara and me to our seats. As he takes his own seat, I realize many members of the audience are intently watching us. Numerous eyes follow Colonel Blair as he sits.

“You really have been antisocial,” I tease him. “Everyone is very intrigued to see you.”

“They are more intrigued by my money.”

There is a moment of silence in which I begin surveying the theater for potential brides from Colonel Blair. Unfortunately, the performance begins and the list goes to the backburner.

The show ends up being wonderful. There are singers, musicians, and actors. I watch in rapture, knowing these are the precursors to entertainment in my own time. At one point in the performance, the music makes me jump. Colonel Blair chuckles next to me. I ignore him as the lights are relit after the performance.

“What do you think of the lady to our right?” I ask as we clap with the rest of the audience.

“Definitely no,” he replies.

“The woman to your left?” I press.

“She is the age of my mother,” he retorts with disgust.

“She is not,” I object, searching the room. “And the two girls in the middle of the third row back?”

He shakes his head. “One is too tall and the other is too thin.”

“You are too picky,” I rebuke.

He flashes me a fake, Southern smile. “I can afford to be picky.”

Colonel Blair takes my arm and directs me and Clara from the Opera House. The crowd parts for us. People stare as we pass.

“You really need to get out more often,” I whisper to him.

He doesn’t say anything as his face hardens. I follow his eyes. A man with a large rifle blocks our way.

“Rebel, I want my claim back!” he growls.

“George, we have no dispute,” Colonel Blair answers calmly. “My father made his claim a year before you arrived in Nevada. This has been proven in court, and the judge sided with my family.”

“No one was there when I claimed it!”

“That was also explained in court. My father and I were fighting in the war when you tried to claim our property.”

The man cocks his rifle. “Why would the judge ever side with a Rebel like you? You should be shot for treachery!”

“George, put the rifle away,” Colonel Blair warns.

The man lifts it. A shot rings out, making me scream.

“You should have heeded my warning,” Colonel Blair says, holding a pistol. I have no idea where it came from. George drops the rifle and clutches his arm. Colonel Blair continues, “There is a reason I survived the war.  The next time you pull a weapon on me, I will put a bullet in your head.”

John Mackay looks at the man with disgust. “George O’Malley, you are a fool! You have absolutely no right to the Blair holdings, and to call James Blair a traitor is preposterous!  The Blairs’ helped to finance the Federal troops while they defended their home of New Orleans from those troops. You should be disgusted with yourself! It is best if you spend some time in jail. Take him away!”

Two soldiers confiscate his rifle and drag him away.

The other theater patrons whisper as they resume walking. Colonel Blair takes my arm, protectively walking next to me and Clara.  He holds his head high as we leave the theater next to Mr. and Mrs. MacKay.

“George O’Malley is the world’s best opportunist!” John growls as we step into the street. “Maybe you should have put a bullet in his skull.”

“I find myself feeling charitable this evening.” Colonel Blair opens the carriage for me. “Good evening, John and Louise.”

Once inside the carriage, Colonel Blair says, “Miss Harris, I apologize you had to witness the encounter with George O’Malley.”

“Colonel Blair, do not apologize for other people’s actions.” I shiver in the fur cape.

He looks at my trembling bottom lip. “We cannot allow you to become chilled.”

“No,” Clara agrees, lifting a thick quilt. “Colonel Blair, if you would be so kind, please sit on Miss Harris’s other side. We will keep her warm.

He obliges, and she wraps us in a thick quilt.

“It is so c-cold,” I stutter.

“The three of us will be forced to engage in the northern tradition of bundling,” he says, sitting very close to me.

“B-bundling?”

“My father told me couples were tucked into bed together as a courtship ritual. It saves on fuel for heat.”

“You can afford fuel,” I say, warming up. I yawn, laying my head on his shoulder. Clara silently looks on.

“Yes, I can,” he whispers in my ear. “I can afford a lot of things.”

He clears his throat, taking a paper out of his breast pocket. “Please do not be angry with me, but I took the liberty of writing your sister in Charleston. I wished to inform her of your location and situation. I received this telegram today.”

I sit up and take the paper. It reads:
No one by the name of Marina Douglass [STOP]resides in Charleston.

“The war has displaced a great many people. It is best if you remain in Virginia City until your sister can be located,” he says.

I hand him the telegram. “You should have talked to me before trying to send her a telegram. I would have told you she is impossible to contact.”

He puts it back in his pocket. “There is nothing left for you in South Carolina. You must make other plans for the future.”

“Maybe Mr. Piper could find me work at his opera house?” I tease. “I could play the violin.”

Clara gasps. “I would never allow it!  Ladies do not perform on stage for money! You would ruin your reputation!”

I take her warm hand under the quilt. “Clara, I was not serious. I’m only here until the twenty-first, and then I’m going home. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Regardless, we should start looking for suitors for you.” She squeezes my hand. “An advantageous marriage would be best.  George Pierce was smitten with you.”