Conjuring Sight (Becky Jo Chronicles Book 1) (19 page)

“George Pierce is a nincompoop,” the colonel mutters under his breath.

“Don’t mind him,” I tell Clara. “He does not like anyone. As for George Pierce, he is nice enough, but I’m leaving in few days, and I have other concerns to deal with before I depart.”

*     *     *

I curl up on the floor next to the fireplace in my bedroom. I’m still chilled from the ride home from the opera house and can’t face a cold bed. I watch the flickering light dance around the walls until I realize I’m not alone. I sit up and face Rosanna.

“How was your evening?” she asks, sitting on the empty bed.

“Colonel Blair is insufferably picky. It’s going to take a hundred years to find him a wife, and I don’t have that long.” I sigh. “What news do you have on Cassandra?”

The ghost shakes her head. “She is a terrible woman with a fascination with the dark arts. We must be vigilant.”

She smiles at me on the floor before unexpectedly pushing over the bedside table and disappearing. That ghost is a real troublemaker! The loud crash draws footsteps to my bedroom.

Colonel Blair throws open the door. “Miss Harris, are you hurt?” He dashes into the room.

“I’m fine. The table just tipped over,” I explain, lying back on the floor.

He stands the table on its legs. “Why are you on the floor?”

“It’s warm.” I say, returning my gaze to the dancing flames.

One moment I’m watching the fire, the next I’m wrapped in a quilt and Colonel Blair picks me up. I think he’s going to put me in the bed, but he surprises me when he sits in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace and cradles me in his arms like a small child.

“This room is too drafty,” he says. “I’ll have White Cloud fix the drafts and wallpaper it, and I’ll have Rose purchase a bedwarmer.”

I yawn, laying my head on his chest. “You are making your home very comfortable and lovely.”

“I’m afraid it has been in disrepair for too long.”

“You should not have any problems finding a bride now that your floor has been rescued from Samuel’s chewing tobacco.”

He chuckles. “What about the smoke from my pipe?”

“Completely revolting, and you should probably do something with these old beds. Every time I get in mine, I feel like I’m going to fall through to the floor.”

“You can help me replace them, tomorrow.”

Saturday, March 13, 1875

“Rebecca, it is time to remove your hair from the basin,” Clara instructs, holding a towel.

I obey, lifting my head. Ida squeezes the excess water from my hair before Clara wraps my head with the towel. She dries my hair while Ida prepares my clothing. Having taken a bath separately, I’m only wearing my underclothes.

“How did you enjoy your evening?” Clara asks.

“I liked the opera, but I have not decided about the rest,” I answer truthfully. “What did you do after we returned last night?”

Clara’s eyes dreamily gaze out the window. “I had a long conversation with White Cloud.”

“Dey done been kissin’ by da fire,” Ida interjects.

“It was a beautiful evening.” Clara beams as she changes the subject. “We need to find you a husband to take care of you.”

I laugh. “I assure you, my sister is more than capable of taking care of me.”

I look in a mirror and gasp when I see my hair. It’s puffy and frizzy.

“Lye always dries out hair,” Clara says, picking up a bottle. “I will brush some oil in it, and it will feel better.”

She applies the oil and begins brushing my hair.

“What does your family think about you kissing White Cloud?” I ask. I see her smile in the mirror.

“White Cloud is a powerful medicine man and shaman. Since I have spent most of my life living with white people and learning their ways, my family is very happy with the idea of me courting White Cloud.”

I stretch my hands and face, finding the skin extremely dry. I take the salve Rose gave me and begin applying it.

“Miss Harris, where be you goin’?” Ida says, shining my shoes.

I glance out the window. The sun is almost over head. “I’m going into town to help Colonel Blair purchase new furniture.”

*     *     *

I walk through the display room, looking at the extravagant future which will become extravagant antiques in my time. There are wardrobes, tables, writing desks, chairs, chaise lounges, dressing tables, and china closets. I’ve never seen more beautiful furniture. I sit at a particularly lovely dressing table and covet the silver brushes, combs, and mirrors displayed on it. I’ve only seen the elegant items in movies – never in real life. I pick up a brush and pretend to run it through my hair while watching myself in the large mirror on the back of the dressing table. Someone chuckles behind me. I put down the brush and glance in the mirror as Colonel Blair smiles.

“What exactly do you wish to purchase, Colonel Blair?” I ask him, turning around.

“Miss Harris, as I am nearly ten years your senior, I’m afraid I have been a bachelor a great while. The sorry state of my home reflects this. It is in dire need of a woman’s touch. With the exception of a few of my mother’s things, all the furniture in the Blair Mansion is strictly utilitarian. Today we will remedy this.”

“I agree you need to make some changes, especially the beds.” I stand up, surprised he is so much older than I am.  He has a very youthful face. I force my eyes away from his face and turn my attention to the beds. “Where do we begin?”

“With the entertaining rooms,” he replies.

I sit back down. “I’m afraid that’s your area of expertise.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “If you refuse to help me, I will be forced to purchase furniture myself. Edmund,” he calls to a man waiting at the back of the store.

The small man dashes to his side.

“Yes, Colonel Blair?” Edmund asks.

“I am in need of several items for my home. I want them delivered to my mansion, today.”

“Of course, C-Colonel Blair,” Edmund stutters. “It is a privilege to serve you.  What items would you like sent to your home?”

Colonel Blair smirks at me before leisurely strolling through the furniture. He stops in front of a particularly ghastly china closet. “This is a fine piece of furniture. Do you agree Miss Harris?”

I frown at him, knowing he’s won. I’m far too practical to allow him to purchase the tacky item.

“No, I do not agree, Colonel Blair.” I cross my arms.

“Really? What china closet do you prefer?” he asks, innocently batting his eyelashes.

I huff as I walk to him. “I prefer the china closet to its right.” I point to the very elegant china closet.

Edmund gestures for his employees to ready it for transport.

I head to the front of the store. Colonel Blair stops me with a shake of his head. “We have just begun.”

I wrinkle my forehead. “Besides beds, what other items do you need?” I ask. I can’t even stand shopping in my own time.

“Dining room table, a sofa, chairs, a wardrobe…”

“That one,” I interrupt, pointing to a dining room table, “…with the matching chairs, the red sofa, and the small wardrobe, over there, should suffice.” I gesture to the smallest one.

Colonel Blair laughs. “No, I must insist on the largest wardrobe you have, Edmund.”

Edmund’s employees move the items from the store as we point them out.

“And which bed would you like, Miss Harris?” Colonel Blair directs me to the beds.

“Colonel Blair, just choose the most practical beds,” I say.

“We offer the largest selection of iron beds in the west,” Edmund suggests.

I shake my head. “I don’t know if iron beds are right for Blair Mansion, except for the guest rooms.”

Colonel Blair raises an eyebrow.

“Iron beds are very popular, but I do have some beds which might interest you, Miss Harris.  They are very expensive but the best usually is. I just got these in from New York.” Edmund gestures for us to follow him to a back storage room.  He shows us the contents of the room.

“Sold,” Colonel Blair says automatically, without even consulting me.

I can understand why. The canopy beds are spectacular. Each is made of dark walnut and more than double my height, one bed being slightly larger than the other. On each of the four bedposts is a carving of a lion. I run my fingers over the teeth of one of the wooden lions, remembering what Sunny said about Colonel Blair fighting like a lion in the Civil War. A lion is a good symbol of the man – proud and powerful.

“Yes, I like these beds very much,” I add. “Are we finished with your shopping?”

“Almost,” Colonel Blair directs me back to the main display room. He points to a final item. “Edmund, have that dressing table and its contents delivered to my mansion as well,” he says.

*     *     *

Several hours later, I’m more than ready to go home. Colonel Blair has spent a ridiculous amount of gold on new items for his house, and I’m still tired from the night before. Being dragged all over town hasn’t helped matters at all. In addition to the furniture, he purchases new china, silverware, towels, tablecloths, and expensive handmade lace. He tries to sneak a few pipes in his order, but I catch him and put a quick end to it.

“Can you think of anything else I might need?” Colonel Blair questions as we leave our final stop.

“How could I possibly think of anything else?” I ask.  I gesture around at the many miners walking by. “You just spent more money than most of these men will make in a lifetime.”

“Miss Harris, I must get my household in order. How can I do that without the proper supplies?”

“They are very expensive supplies…”

“How many men have you known?” a cackling voice interrupts vulgarly. Samuel’s Cassandra steps on the boardwalk, barring my way. “There are only two types of women in Virginia City, and they are in the same profession. There are the prostitutes like me and the hypocrites like you! I prostitute myself by the night; you prostitute your entire life!”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” I retort.

Her cackling increases in volume. “Everyone wants his gold, but you are the only one willing to pleasure him in order to get it! There are dark secrets in the Blair Mansion, aren’t there,
Colonel Blair?”

“Go back to your brothel, you vile creature!” Colonel Blair puts himself between Cassandra and me.

She scratches his face with her fingernails, drawing blood. “Do not talk to me!”

She prepares to scratch him a second time. I stop her by grabbing her arm.

“You know nothing!” I demand. “I pity you because you don’t understand that the greatest motivation in life isn’t greed. I did not come to Virginia City for fortune.”

She tries to pry my hand off her wrist. My sleeve pulls back and the moment her skin comes in contact with mine, her eyes open wide and she falls to the ground, withering and hissing.

I take a stunned step backward.

“It is not possible,” she whispers in agony.

Colonel Blair pulls me away from her as a group of soldiers run to investigate the commotion in the street.

“This woman is mad! Take her back to her madam,” he orders them.

“This is not finished! I will win this battle!” Cassandra cackles as the soldiers lead her away. “I will destroy you both!”

She is hauled into a saloon.

“Are you hurt?” Colonel Blair asks, looking me up and down for injury.

I shake my head, gesturing for him to bend down. I take the handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wipe the blood from his face.

“Who knows what kind of filth is underneath her fingernails,” I say. “We need to wash the scratches so they don’t become infected.”

*     *     *

I’m surprised to find my room empty after we return home. Not that I expect them to, but Ida or Clara are usually waiting patiently to help me with my things. I shrug it off, thinking they’re busy helping Rose.  I take off my gloves, hat, and cloak before I hear a noise through the wall.

“Please, Massa Samuel!” Ida pleads fearfully.

I hear a slap before Samuel speaks. “Shut up you little nigger, and get back here!”

“No, Massa Samuel!” Ida cries, and I hear a scuffle.

I dash out of my room and into Samuel’s. What I see when I open the door sickens me beyond anything I’ve ever seen before. Samuel is trying to force himself on the young girl. Her face is bruised and swollen. Her blouse is ripped.

I fill with adrenaline and angrily push him off her. He violently hits the floor. I pull the whimpering girl off the bed and place myself between her and the vile man.

“You are going to regret that, nigger loving whore!” he spits. There is the smell of alcohol on his breath as he gets to his feet.

I push Ida further behind me.

Samuel raises his hand and strikes me across the face. I cry out in pain, but I do not relinquish my protective stance in front of Ida. He doesn’t retreat.  I cringe as he raises his hand a second time. The hit never comes.

A gunshot rings in my ears.

Samuel recoils, cradling his bloody hand next to his body.

“I am no longer warning you,” Colonel Blair says quietly from the doorway. “You have been told to leave the help alone.”

“Niggers are made to serve whites!  It is God’s will! It is the damn Yankees who have distorted the truth!” snarls Samuel. “My brother was an idiot not to see it!”

“I’m not a fan of the Yankees or what they did to the South, but I’m certain God does not endorse terrorizing women and children. If you attack any of my help again, I will aim lower.”

I jump as Colonel Blair’s pistol sounds again. Samuel grabs his left ear.

Colonel Blair’s pistol remains firmly on Samuel. “Also, I suggest you refrain from ever touching Miss Harris. My patience is disappearing.”

Samuel glares at him before storming from the room.

I grab a blanket from the bed and wrap it around Ida. The little girl trembles in my arms.

“It’s all right,” I whisper to her. “He’s gone. You’re safe.”

“Ida,” Rose says, cautiously approaching us from the doorway. “We’re a- gonna get you changed. Dere be a warm piece of pie just waitin’ in da kitchen for you.”

Ida begins crying. Rose wraps her arms around her, ushering her from the room.

“What happened?  I heard gunshots!” Gabe runs into the room.

“I will share the details with you, later,” Colonel Blair says, inspecting my face. “Rose will need your help. I will be down in a moment.”

Gabe nods, dashing from the room.

Directing me into my room, Colonel Blair stops to inspect my face. He moistens a cloth and gently puts it to the stinging skin.

“You should have come for me,” he chastises.

“It is better for me to take the hit than you.” I trace the scratches on his face.

His brows furrow. “Miss Harris, you are so petite the wind could blow you away. I believe Samuel has learned his lesson. However, you need to come for me if you are ever in danger.”

“Colonel Blair, don’t you see? I’m here to save you.”

He smirks, and I feel like the mouse telling the lion I will be of some use to him. However, his next words surprise me, “Then you have already succeeded.”