Laura Abbot (17 page)

When they arrived at their destination, the carriage drew to a stop and Lionel handed Lily down. The sidewalk bustled with people going home from work, and the street was crowded with carriages and wagons. The setting sun created a glare, and the cold caused Lily to gather her mantle about her. Across the way she noticed several former slaves unloading barrels and crates from a dray and carrying them into a dry goods store. Just then, their driver yelled, “Runaway, runaway!” Lionel grabbed Lily and pressed her against the side of the carriage.

The rattle of wheels, the cries of bystanders and the neighing of horses filled her ears. Careering down the street toward them came a wagon drawn by frightened, out-of-control horses, their nostrils flaring, their eyes white with panic. People ran for cover and other vehicles drew to the side. Now the wagon was upon them, and Lily felt the swoosh of the horses as they passed and heard the crack of the driver’s whip. Then she heard a sickening thump, and all the breath went out of her. The wagon was long gone, but lying on the street was a limp body. A barrel rolled and bounced in the silence that had fallen over the onlookers.

Without a second thought, Lily tore herself from Lionel’s grasp, ignored his “Lily, get back here now!” and raced for the victim, who had been unloading the dray. “Don’t touch him, miss!” cried one; “Leave him be,” yelled another. No one approached to help her. Heedless of her fancy gown, Lily knelt beside the man, feeling for a pulse. With a spasmodic jerk, he gasped for air. He was alive, but Lily didn’t like the looks of the head wound gushing blood onto his black skin. She lifted her skirt and ripped a strip of cloth from her petticoat, then folded it and applied pressure to the wound. “Call a doctor,” she shouted to Lionel. Instead, he rushed forward and tried to pull her from the man. “Come away, Lily. This man is beneath you. Leave him. Someone will attend to him.”

“He could die,” Lily muttered, squirming away and renewing her efforts to help the victim.

“Let him,” Lionel said. “This has nothing to do with us.”

Lily looked at Lionel as if she had never seen him before. “It has everything to do with us. He’s a human being.”

Lionel’s dark eyes burned with a banked fire. “
Now,
Lily. We’re leaving.”

Ignoring him, she leaned over her patient and spoke softly in his ear. “Stay with me. You’ve a nasty wound, but we’re taking care of you.”

Lionel backed away, and out of the corner of her eye, Lily noticed that still no one had come to her assistance. She glanced around at them. “What’s the matter with you people? Somebody help me.”

After long minutes, two strong lads approached. “Doctor’s comin’, miss. We’ll take him to the saloon, lay him out on a table. This is no place for the likes of a lady.”

She rocked back on her heels, uttered a short prayer for the victim and then stood. “Thank you. Keep pressure on the wound.”

Oblivious to the blood splattered on her dress and gloves, she watched the two carry the man off. Why had others ignored the situation? Didn’t they see his blood was as red as theirs? She nearly wept with the injustice of it all, and thoughts of Moses threatened to break her completely apart.

Finally, utterly spent, she turned toward Lionel, who waited stony-faced beside the carriage. “Get in,” he barked.

He helped her in, pulled himself up and gave orders for the driver to take them to the Duprees’. Hell would freeze before Lily would utter the first word to him.

After several miles, the silence unbroken except for the clop of hooves and the creak of leather, Lionel finally spoke. “What in the name of God were you thinking?”

“It was exactly in the name of God that I
was
thinking. A life hung in the balance.” She sighed sadly, knowing that nothing she said would touch him.

“Who do you think you are? Florence Nightingale?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I am a nurse.”

“Not here, you’re not. Do you have any idea how you’ve humiliated me? Demeaned yourself?”

“What? By trying to save a life?”

“Ladies of your social class are not nurses, and they most certainly do not touch strange men, especially of the ilk of that no-account.”

Why had she even tried to get Lionel to see reason? Was he really that caught up in status and prestige? Worse yet, were the social mores of his class such that human life was inconsequential? She could see no point in prolonging their conversation. She didn’t know with whom she was more disgusted. Lionel or herself. When had she lost sight of what really mattered? It certainly wasn’t finery and balls and palatial houses. Nor, God help her, one’s social standing.

Lionel held himself still as a graven statue until they mercifully arrived in front of the Dupree mansion. Stiffly, he did her the courtesy of escorting her to the door. There he dismissed her with one curt sentence. “You have gravely disappointed me, Miss Kellogg.”

* * *

Lily waited until the door closed behind her, then sank to the cold marble floor, shuddering with the enormity of the events of the past half hour. The accident had happened in a split second, but the ramifications reverberated in her head like thunder. Anger, indignation, bafflement—it was all overwhelming. But in no corner of her brain could she rationalize that she should have acted differently. A human being was hurting and needed help which was not forthcoming from others. In no world could she have stood idly by and watched the man suffer. If Lionel was horrified, so be it.

In another part of the house she could hear the tinkle of goblets, the clink of silverware and the quiet shuffle of servants moving between the kitchen and dining room. Dinner. The aroma of roast beef wafted under her nose, and a spasm of nausea caused her to get to her feet and flee to her bedroom. There, she threw herself across the bed and lay in the dark, a whirl of questions giving her no peace. How could she have seriously entertained Lionel Atwood’s attentions? Today’s actions would surely dash Aunt Lavinia and Uncle Henry’s plans for her. She smiled bitterly. The much anticipated
alliance.
How would they react? Would they share Lionel’s disappointment in her? It seemed that her every basic instinct was at war with the society in which she found herself. The society she had coveted.

She rolled over on her back, shielding her eyes with her forearm. There was one silver lining. For the first time since arriving here, she had done something truly useful. She had once more become a nurse. In that same act, though, she had also been confronted by the bigotry that surely could play no part in God’s plan. Yet all in all, she felt more alive, more herself than she had in months.

There came a light tap on the door, and her maid called out, “Miss, are you all right? Is there aught I might do for you?”

Lily raised her head to be heard through the door. “Please ask my aunt to come to my room at her convenience.” It was best if Aunt Lavinia heard the story from her rather than from Lionel. Lily knew the conversation would not be pleasant, but better to get it over with as soon as possible.

She stood up, then glanced down at her dress, which bore mute testimony to the violent scene in the street. The maid had gone, but Lily had spent years dressing and undressing herself and managed to step out of the bloodstained gown and slip into a robe. Near the window were two chairs. Lily sat down in one to wait, all the time wondering what she had found so appealing about St. Louis society that she had left her family, denied Caleb and abandoned the nursing that gave her life purpose. She had some serious thinking to do.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear Aunt Lavinia knock and only roused when she heard, “Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

Lavinia moved to the bedside table and turned on a single gas lamp.

“I have something to tell you. Please, come sit with me.”

Lavinia, her brow furrowed quizzically, took the chair across from Lily’s. “Are you ill?”

“No.” Lily fingered the silken tie of her robe. “I have done something I believe to be right, but which I fear will be upsetting to you.” Then drawing a deep breath, she launched into details of the accident and her own part in tending to the former slave’s wound.

Lavinia listened without interruption, although Lily observed the sag of her aunt’s shoulders when she described the victim. “Oh, child” was all she managed when Lily concluded with Lionel’s unforgiving reaction. “I’m afraid you have jeopardized your chances with Lionel.”

“I have no doubt of it.” Lily raised her head in defiance, far more concerned about the fate of the victim than Lionel’s pique. “Mr. Atwood and I come from two different worlds, and I have concluded I have no desire to be any part of his.”

“But surely—” her aunt sputtered the words “—you understand that it is not merely Lionel of whom we speak. Hobnobbing with inferiors is just not done. Touching such a person, bloodying yourself—why, it’s unthinkable behavior. If word of this gets out, you will become a social pariah.”

Lily gritted her teeth. She had not realized how ingrained the mores of Lavinia’s class could be. “I know you’re disappointed in me. I am grateful for all the many opportunities you have provided, but I fail to understand people who put self-perceived propriety above human decency.”

Lavinia heaved a sigh. “My, you are your father’s daughter.”

“And proud of it.”

Lavinia sat back in her chair, hands folded in her lap, deep in thought. Finally she spoke. “Lily, I love you. I always will. Yes, you have embarrassed Henry and me, and I have no doubt rumors of your outrageous behavior will spread. However, we will hold our heads high and proceed as if nothing has happened. Perhaps other swains will appear. It will take time for gossip to die down. Meanwhile, I ask you to act with decorum and abide by the customs of polite society.” She leaned forward and fixed a piercing gaze on Lily. “Do I have your promise?”

Once again this day, Lily felt as if she were sacrificing an essential part of herself, but after all the Duprees had done for her, it was fair of them to ask. “Yes, Aunt Lavinia.”

Even as she uttered the word, Lily knew the time would come when she could no longer stay in St. Louis. Worst of all, she was slowly coming to the realization that she had burned the only bridge that really mattered—Caleb.

Chapter Seventeen

L
ily slit open the envelope the maid had deposited on her desk and withdrew a card laced with pink satin ribbon. Beneath the words Happy Valentine’s Day, a rosy-cheeked cupid holding a bow and arrow smiled up at her. The verse read, “When Cupid’s arrows pierce your heart, / You’ll know my love though we’re apart.” On the back was a note in her sister’s spidery handwriting. “I miss you and hope you are finding true love in St. Louis.”

Lily clasped the card to her chest, a surge of homesickness and guilt sending an ache throughout her body. If Rose only knew. Lily had utterly failed in her ambition to become a sophisticated, sought-after young lady. It was no surprise that Lionel had dropped her, barely acknowledging his acquaintance with her when their paths crossed, and word of her serious faux pas had obviously spread. The only person now who could remotely be called a suitor was a doughy-looking young man with rosy cheeks and plastered blond hair whose father owned a brewery. As for her would-be female “friends,” now only their mothers called on Lavinia, always ready with an explanation why their daughters had been unable to accompany them.

Lily set the card back on the desk, acknowledging that essentially she was a social outcast. All the more reason why she longed for her sister’s comfort and reliability and her father’s steadfast devotion. Like a bird in a cage, she was without options. Her father had decided to leave the army in the upcoming summer and set up a small medical practice, but had not yet decided where to relocate. Until such time as those plans solidified, Lily was stuck in the luxurious prison of the Dupree mansion.

Odd. At one time she had thought of Fort Larned as a prison. She had chafed under the wilderness hardships, barely tolerating the extremes of weather, the wild winds, gritty dust clouds and vermin of all descriptions. Yet she couldn’t help thinking that instead of finding her niche here in the city, she had merely traded one wilderness for another—this wilderness characterized by snobbery, hypocrisy and indifference to human suffering.

She had never felt so alone. Oh, Uncle Henry and Aunt Lavinia cared for her, but they no longer sought out places to take her to show her off. The family’s social outings had been curtailed, and Lily knew she was the cause. It was Aunt Lavinia’s way of “lying low” and waiting for the gossip to subside. Lily shook her head. And all because of one humanitarian impulse on her part, an impulse she would act upon again in the same manner.

What would Caleb say about her actions? Would he, too, condemn her impulsivity, or would he join her to relieve another’s pain? In her heart, she knew the answer. The two of them had often discussed God’s role in human suffering. She was coming to believe that much of human struggle was self-inflicted. God didn’t start wars; mankind did. Nor did God create barriers between different kinds of people. It was up to each person to exercise free will and make loving, compassionate choices. For the first time that day, Lily smiled. Maybe, just maybe, by going to the poor man’s rescue as he lay in the street, she had pleased God.

* * *

Fierce March winds swirled around the ranch house and sleet clacked against the windowpanes. Seth rose from his chair to set more logs on the fire while Sophie and Pa bent over the chessboard, locked in fierce competition. Caleb moved closer to the flame, the better to read Mark Twain’s
The Innocents Abroad,
travel adventures that sometimes made him chuckle aloud. He had needed laughs during these short winter days and long nights when, more often than not, he fell into bed exhausted from his labors. His nightmares had subsided, perhaps as a result of fresh air and hard work. Between them, he, Seth and Pa were creating a cattle operation that held great promise. Yet while it was a blessing to be with his family, something was still missing, and he intended to do something about that.

“Mate!” Sophie cried in triumph.

Pa grunted. “Well, I’ll be hornswoggled if this pollywog didn’t beat me.”

“I would never count her out,” Caleb said.

“It doesn’t hurt that she has us menfolk wrapped around her little finger,” Seth agreed.

Sophie batted her eyelashes. “My, how you do go on.”

Caleb studied his sister, suddenly struck by the fact that she was no longer all tomboy. She still had a head of flyaway red curls, but her body was more womanish and her freckles seemed to have faded some. How had he not noticed? He figured soon they’d have to be protecting her from the area bachelors. How many such single men were even now clustered around Lily, beguiling her with sweet talk and showering her with extravagant gifts? He closed his book in disgust. He could not let himself think like that. He had to remain positive.

Sophie set the chess pieces back in their box and then turned her chair to face Caleb. “I reckon now that spring is soon upon us that it’s time we told Pa and Seth about our plan.”

Caleb’s stomach churned. To say it out loud might sound foolish and make him out to be some wild-eyed Don Quixote on a futile quest. “Maybe.”

“No ‘maybe’ about it. We are all in this together.” She glanced around at the men, then grinned impishly. “Raise your hand if you want to make Caleb happy.” She glared at Pa and Seth until slowly each raised his hand. “And in one word, what will it take to accomplish that?”

Caleb blushed mightily when all three shouted, “Lily!” He had hoped that, by and large, he had concealed his longing for her.

Then Sophie launched into the details of their scheme, which filled Caleb with hope while at the same time scaring him with its finality.

Sophie leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee. “Truth to tell, we’re doing this as much for ourselves as for you. Your hangdog lovesickness needs a cure. Sometimes you’re not exactly pleasant to be around.”

Seth nodded vigorously. “I love you, brother, but sister has the bead on you. I met your Lily, you remember, and I can understand how you could be right fond of her. But you’re a soldier, so forward, march!”

Pa got to his feet. “Gonna check on the livestock,” he said, putting on his coat.

“I’ll come with you.” Caleb needed air...and the reassurance of his father’s counsel. As they strode toward the barn, trailed by a pair of mixed-breed ranch dogs, neither said a word for the howling of the wind.

Inside, the odors of hay and warm animal flesh greeted them. Holding his lantern high, Pa moved from stall to stall, Caleb trailing him. “All’s well,” he said, coming to the end of the barn.

“Is it?” Caleb faced his father. “Is what Sophie and I are proposing crazy?”

Pa set the lantern on the floor, sat on a wooden crate and gestured at a nearby hay bale. “Sit.”

Caleb did as he was told, then waited for his father to speak.

“When I first met your ma back there in Missouri, I was barely eighteen, wet behind the ears and awkward as a newborn calf. Everytime I saw her, my throat would get all tight and I couldn’t get a word out. Even then I knew I was meant to be with her, to be her man. So I kept hangin’ around. To this day I don’t know what she saw in me, but together we were somethin’. More than either of us could have been on our own. That kind of completion, son, that’s love. That’s what your mother and I had, and that’s what I want for all you children.” Then he stood and led the way to the barn door where he paused and turned to Caleb. “I love you, son.”

Caleb embraced his father, so choked up he could barely get out the words. “I love you, too, Pa.”

* * *

Lily stepped around the piles of dirty snow lining the sidewalk outside the church. A charcoal haze hung over the city, and looking around, she noticed the bleak window-eyes of the brick row houses across the street. An unseasonal late March storm had taken the city by surprise. It was hard to believe spring was just around the corner. Sometimes she doubted that even flowers would perfume the air, so often befogged with smoke. St. Louis was not the alabaster city of her dreams, but a gritty, noisy mecca of commerce.

“Lily, dear, do come on. We shall be late for the restaurant.” Aunt Lavinia stood by the carriage, her expression one of disapproval.

Lily hurried toward her, aware that once again she had disappointed her aunt. No matter what she did these days, she seemed to fall short. Just an hour ago as she was entering the church, Lionel had cut her dead and behind her she had heard Aunt Lavinia’s tsk-tsk. Throughout the service, she was aware of thin-lipped dowagers studying her from beneath their bonnets and prissy young ladies studiously ignoring her. How long could these people censure her? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

Somehow Lily endured lunch at the highly touted restaurant, where elegance of food presentation outweighed taste. Other than these Sunday outings, she contented herself with the piano, needlework and reading. Although Aunt Lavinia had never again spoken to her about the sanctity of Uncle Henry’s library, by tacit agreement, Lily was permitted to peruse the volumes stored there. With each advancing day, her restlessness grew, akin to that she had experienced at Fort Larned. Then, that restlessness had had a foreseeable end—her visit to St. Louis. Here? Nothing. At least not until her father and Rose were settled and she could join them. She steadfastly refused to name the other cause of her restlessness. Even saying Caleb’s name filled her with fierce longing and unutterable regret.

Riding back home in the stuffy carriage, Aunt Lavinia and Uncle Henry were silent. Lily studied them, noting how apart they seemed—like a pair of bookends separated by their individual busy lives. They were civil to one another, and each seemed proud of the other, but where was the joy? Why, even their bedrooms were separate. Was this what marriage was like? Giddy first love replaced by tolerant acceptance?

Fortunately when they returned home, Aunt Lavinia withdrew to her boudoir with a headache, so Lily was free to curl up in her room with the delightful new book she had just started,
The Innocents Abroad.
Mr. Twain had such a droll way of poking fun. She almost laughed aloud as she read about the ignorance of the smug, ill-informed tourists. She had just finished a chapter and moved to the window to note with pleasure that the clouds had been replaced with sunshine when her maid knocked and entered. “Miss, you have a gentleman caller.”

Please, not the brewmaster’s son,
she thought to herself. “I am not expecting anyone.”

“He said as much.” The girl screwed up her face. “But then he added the strangest thing.”

“What was that?”

“Well, miss, these are his very words. ‘Ask Miss Lily if she needs to be saved from snakes.’”

Lily’s hand flew to her heart and fireworks exploded in front of her eyes. “Caleb? Caleb?” She nearly knocked the maid down as she ran past her, into the hall and down the stairs to the foyer, where she stopped cold, questioning the evidence before her eyes. There stood a handsome young man with warm hazel eyes, curly hair and broad shoulders dressed in a dark brown suit. Once more she croaked, “Caleb?”

He never stopped gazing at her as he crossed the floor, took her in his arms, folded her against his chest and whispered, “Lily, my dearest Lily.”

* * *

So long as he lived, Caleb would never forget this moment. Holding her, breathing in her lilac scent, feeling the wisps of her gold-spun hair tickle his cheek, hearing her whisper his name over and over again, he gave a mental nod to his father. Lily Kellogg completed him.

After moments when nothing sounded but the steady ticktock of a grandfather clock from the next room and the two remained locked in an embrace, Lily finally stepped back, her blue eyes luminous with tears. “I can’t believe it.” She clasped his shoulders as if to assure herself he was real. “How did you get here? When? Oh, my, I’m flustered with so many questions.”

He looked about, then said, “In a house this big, could we locate a quiet corner where we might talk?”

A joyful giggle escaped her. “I imagine we could find one.” She pulled him along after her. “Oh, Caleb, there’s so much I want to know.”

“And so much I want to tell.”

After they were settled on the love seat in the parlor, she covered his hand with hers. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I, you.” He wanted a few minutes to savor his welcome before he presented his case, so he bought time by telling her about the ranch and giving an account of his travels.

When he finished, Lily said, “This is a delightful surprise. Are you here on business?”

“Yes, but not the kind you mean.” With one finger, he reached out and tilted her chin, so she was looking straight at him. “I’ve come for you.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”

“Every hour without you has been torture. That day you left me on the wharf and climbed into your aunt’s carriage was the lowest point of my life. Yet I knew you had to come here—” he gestured around the opulently appointed room “—and see for yourself. What I’m hoping is that your curiosity has been satisfied in a way that has given you much pleasure, but that you might now be ready to entertain a marriage proposal.”

Her hand fluttered to her heart. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Hear me out, dearest. I cannot give you what you have here. If it is culture, fine clothes and posh society you crave, then you must deny my suit. What I
can
offer is a promising young cattle business, a welcoming family and...my heart. We once talked of dreams. Here is mine. You by my side, a home of our own and children to cherish.”

“You honor me. I don’t deserve a second chance.” She threaded her fingers together in her lap.

“I sense some reservation.”

She nodded almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know where I fit. I’ve learned I’m not cut out to move in these rarefied circles, but I don’t know where I
do
belong.” She raised her head and in her eyes, he read both pain and honesty. “Kansas was difficult for me. The constant spring winds grated my soul and there was no keeping up with the dust. The scorching heat and the freezing cold brought unrelieved misery. I don’t know if I can go there again, even with you.”

“You forgot to mention the snakes,” he said dryly. He slumped. There was no way he could alter the forces of nature. “That’s the choice, isn’t it? I’m committed to the ranch and, frankly, to what I see as the beauty of the Flint Hills. I love you, but I don’t want you to marry me because you have no other options. Even though I didn’t want to lose you to St. Louis, I knew you had to have the experience so that if we got together later, you wouldn’t resent me for holding you back. I feel the same way about our potential marriage. If you say yes, you must say it with the conviction that you will never blame me for the place we live.” He paused to get a breath. “It’s all or nothing, Lily.”