Morning Sky (13 page)
He grunted. “ ’Cept for getting their cows back, didn’t do the farmers no good. Gotta have fences if we’s gonna keep them cows out. Breaking the law ain’t the answer.”
Lilly’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Were they arguing over cattle or crops?”
Ezekiel shook his head in disgust. “Both. The crops was being trampled, and there was an argument over water rights down at the river. When some of John Beyer’s cows was down there, the herders took ‘em. John retaliated by gettin’ Herman and a few other men to help him kidnap a few of the cattlemen. They held the fellas hostage until John’s cows was returned.”
“Then it
did
work,” Lilly said with satisfaction.
“The crops is still being trampled, ain’t they? You call that a victory?” Ezekiel didn’t give her time to answer. Instead he turned back to his discussion with Moses.
Lilly was quick to note Ezekiel kept his back to her and his voice low while he continued. Some things never changed. Ezekiel still didn’t believe women were bright enough to discuss anything more profound than cooking or cleaning. So be it. She stepped to the side of the buggy and patiently waited. Moses could answer her questions later.What she needed to focus on now was how to make Moses see that Jarena was the best choice of wife for him.
J
arena prepared Mrs. Boyle’s tea tray and tucked the mail beneath her cloth napkin. For the life of her, Jarena couldn’t decide exactly what ailed Mrs. Boyle. One minute the woman appeared to be fine, but the next, she’d take to her bed. The day after her arrival, Jarena had questioned Dr. Boyle about his wife’s condition, but the conversation proved futile. Either Dr. Boyle didn’t know the cause of his wife’s affliction or he didn’t care to disclose the information. Whatever the reason, it was difficult to anticipate exactly what would be expected from day to day. Jarena wondered how Truth had managed to help at the newspaper office with any regularity.
Balancing an ornate silver tray in one hand, Jarena knocked lightly before entering the bedroom, where Mrs. Boyle sat at a small circular table in front of the window. Without looking up, the older woman tapped on the table.
“You have a letter. Dr. Boyle asked that I bring it to you.” After placing the tray in front of Mrs. Boyle, Jarena backed away.
“Sit down and read it to me.”
Jarena sighed and dropped her hand from the doorknob. She sat down opposite Mrs. Boyle and examined the masculine script. “The letter appears to be from your son, Captain Boyle.” Jarena hesitated. Surely the woman wouldn’t want Jarena to hear the personal news her son had written.
Mrs. Boyle turned her gaze to Jarena. “Well, open the letter.” The woman was obviously impatient to hear the latest news from her son. And, truth be told, so was Jarena. It had been some time since she had received a letter from Thomas, and she hoped Captain Boyle’s letter would provide some insight.
Jarena stared at the address on the letter. “I didn’t realize your son had been promoted and . . . reassigned. He’s no longer at Fort Con-cho?”
“No. When he received his promotion, they sent him to Virginia— Fort Myer. I tend to think the promotion and reassignment were due in part to the letter I wrote Vice-President Wheeler.” Mrs. Boyle’s face suddenly sparked with life.
Jarena’s eyes widened and her jaw went slack. “You wrote a letter to the vice-president of the United States?”
Mrs. Boyle straightened in her chair and squared her shoulders.
“Indeed. I told him in no uncertain terms that I wanted my Carlisle sent back to the safety of civilization or he need not consider me among his friends. Of course, I didn’t tell my husband I’d written the letter until after it was posted.”
“Was Dr. Boyle cross with you when he found out?”
“Oh, he pretended to be upset for a short time, but deep down he was relieved. Samuel doesn’t want Carlisle out there fighting those Indians any more than I do.”
Jarena sobered at the older woman’s reply. Of course the Boyles didn’t want their son in some forsaken part of the country fighting Indians. She didn’t want Thomas there, either. But she wasn’t a friend of Vice-President Wheeler. Fact is, she didn’t know anyone important enough to bring Thomas home. Unless . . . She hesitated, but she knew if she waited any longer she would lose her confidence.
“Mrs. Boyle, do you think you could . . . I mean, would you consider . . . that is, I’d surely appreciate it if you’d consider writing your friend the vice-president about Thomas. Thomas Grayson. He’s the man I’m going to marry. When he comes home, that is.”
“Oh yes, Thomas. I remember him. He went to Fort Sill with Carlisle, didn’t he? Was Thomas later assigned to Fort Concho, also?”
Jarena bobbed her head up and down. “Yes. And I’m worried, Mrs. Boyle. I haven’t had a letter from him in a long time.”
Mrs. Boyle patted Jarena’s hand. “That doesn’t mean anything bad has happened, my dear. For the most part, I find that men don’t enjoy letter writing.”
“But he’d been faithful to write at least once a month before. If you’d consider writing Vice-President Wheeler, I’d be willing to forego my wages while I’m here. I don’t expect him to reassign Thomas, but if he could find out if all is well, I’d be so grateful.”
Jarena couldn’t bring herself to say what she needed to know. Somehow she feared that speaking the words might make it so. A silly thought, but still she couldn’t help herself—she wouldn’t give voice to the thought that Thomas might be dead.
Mrs. Boyle studied her for a moment. “I’ll see what I can do. Now, why don’t you read me Carlisle’s letter.”
The letter was filled with tidbits regarding his new military assignment— the food was excellent, he regularly preached at a small chapel on the post, and there had already been two military balls since his reassignment. Mrs. Boyle beamed with satisfaction. Jarena hesitated as she began to read the final page. Carlisle’s letter told of his former company— Thomas’s company—heading off to take a stand against Indian renegades who had begun departing the reservation. He said casualties would likely be great.
Jarena tucked the letter back into the envelope. Tears rimmed her eyes as she handed the missive to Mrs. Boyle. “Thomas wrote that his company was going into New Mexico Territory. He said there were problems keeping Indians on the reservations. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Don’t you worry yourself. I’ll write a letter this evening to both the vice-president and Carlisle asking for information.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Boyle. If you’ll excuse me, I haven’t finished polishing the silver. I’ll return for your tray later this morning.” She wiped tears off of her cheeks as she scurried down the hallway.
A knock sounded at the front door as Jarena placed the final piece of silverware in the wooden case and closed the lid. Mrs. Boyle wasn’t expecting company. In fact, no one had come visiting since Jarena had arrived. Likely because folks never knew when the lady of the house would be suffering from one of her mysterious maladies.
Before she could make her way to the door, the knocking resumed in earnest. Jarena trudged forward, her steps weighed down by fearsome thoughts of Thomas off fighting in Indian Territory. The dull thud in her head kept time with the incessant banging. She wished the caller would depart; right now she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Neither a visitor nor a salesman was welcome.
“You look sour enough to eat lemons.” Aunt Lilly stood before her in a red and gray print dress, holding Alma by the hand. “What took you so long to answer the door?”
“I was polishing the silver out in the kitchen.” Jarena glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t have time to visit, Aunt Lilly. I need to fetch Mrs. Boyle’s tray from her room and begin preparations for supper. Shouldn’t you be doing the same? And where are the two boys?”
Lilly smiled broadly. “Mrs. Nelson prepares supper three nights a week. I don’t think Mr. Nelson is fond of my cooking.” Her eyelashes fluttered in an exaggerated wink. “The boys were naughty and they’ve been confined to their room, so Alma and I thought we’d pay you a visit. I told Alma you might offer us some lemonade and cookies.”
Jarena couldn’t refuse Alma’s pleading blue eyes. “Once I pick up Mrs. Boyle’s tray, I’ll return and set out some cookies.”
“And lemonade,” Lilly added as Jarena departed the room.
After retrieving the tea tray, Jarena shepherded her guests into the kitchen. Perhaps if she served them the obligatory cookies and lemonade they would be on their way.
Lilly directed Alma to a chair and then stepped to Jarena’s side. “What’s wrong with you, Jarena? If you’re concerned the Boyles won’t want you entertaining visitors, you just forget that notion. After all, you’re doing them a favor by filling in for Truth. They have no reason to complain.”
Jarena halved one of the lemons and squeezed a stream of juice into the glass pitcher before looking at her aunt. “They are paying me to perform household duties and care for Mrs. Boyle. Whether I am here for a day or a month is of no consequence. I was taught always to give my best, Aunt Lilly.”
“When you get out in the world, you’re going to find it’s best to save yourself for those times when the reward is greatest.” Lilly lifted her hand and turned an open palm toward Jarena. “No need to start quoting the Bible. I heard all those verses years ago. Life has taught me I’m the one who’s correct on this topic—and many others, also.”
After arranging a small plate of cookies, Jarena poured lemonade into three glasses. She handed Alma a napkin and offered the child a cookie before sitting down. “Are the Nelsons pleased with you—despite your inability to cook?”
“Obviously you weren’t listening to what I said. I can
cook
, Jarena. But unlike you, I’m saving my talents for the proper time. Now, tell me what has disturbed you. I can see there’s something beyond my unexpected visit that’s troubling you.”
Though Aunt Lilly wouldn’t have been her first choice of confidantes, Jarena’s thoughts had been running rampant since reading Carlisle’s letter to Mrs. Boyle. She needed reassurance—a few words that would settle the unrelenting sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Besides, who else would listen to her tale of woe? Carefully choosing her words, Jarena explained the contents of Carlisle’s letter. Her aunt listened attentively until Jarena finished her story.
Lilly covered Alma’s small ears. “I tried to tell you about men serving in the army. If Thomas is still alive, he’s likely taken up with one of the female camp followers. Those trollops will even go into Indian Territory to service the soldiers. Most of them are hoping to find a husband, but they’ll settle for less.”
Jarena gasped. Fearing she might faint, she folded her arms around her waist and leaned down to rest her forehead upon her knees.
Lilly moved closer and rubbed Jarena’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me. No doubt, Thomas is fine.” She flapped her fan in front of Jarena for several minutes before bringing the feathered accessory to an abrupt halt. “I know! You must go and visit with Moses. The newspapers always receive information before the rest of us. He may have some news; if not, he may know someone who can gain access to such reports.”
Revived by the suggestion, Jarena sat up straight. “That’s a wonderful idea, Aunt Lilly. I’ll go and visit with him on my way to the general store tomorrow. Thank you.”
Lilly smiled and nodded as she grasped Alma by the hand and led the young girl toward the front of the house.
Jarena stood in the doorway until her aunt and little Alma were out of sight. Perhaps she had misjudged Aunt Lilly.
E
arly the next morning, Jarena hurried off to the newspaper office. Her palms were sweaty and her heart beat wildly beneath her cotton shirtwaist. Moses was operating the printing press, and though a small bell rang when she opened the door, he didn’t look up. She waited a moment and then waved her handkerchief in the air. He smiled and pointed at a chair beside his desk.
She wanted to place her hands over her ears to muffle the noise but decided such behavior would appear unseemly. Instead she folded her hands in her lap and occasionally leaned forward to peek at the clock. Perhaps she should have gone to the general store before coming to the newspaper office. After all, Dr. Boyle was awaiting her return before departing for his office.
Five more minutes and then I’ll leave
. She stared at the clock, watching the small pendulum swing back and forth. As the final minute ticked off, the clamor of the printing press quieted.
“I won’t keep you long,” Jarena explained. “I can see you’re very busy.”
“Never too busy to visit with family. Well, almost family.” He grinned as he dropped into the chair behind his desk. “How are things going with the Boyles? I’ve been meaning to stop by and check on you, but without Truth to help here at the newspaper office . . .”
“No need to apologize. I understand. Working for the Boyles has been satisfactory, though I wouldn’t want to remain indefinitely. However, I’ll be fine until Truth returns. If you have a moment, there’s a matter I wish to discuss with you.”