Steadfast Heart (11 page)

Selma shook her head. “I'm afraid Mr. Gibson thought it unseemly for a woman to learn such operations.”

“My beloved captain, God rest his soul”— Poisie paused momentarily for her companions'
amen
—“he carried a gun.”

“And did he teach you to fire it?” her sister asked.

“No, but he said it was an important part of keeping himself safe.”

“Well, I do not know how to handle such a weapon, either,” Aunt Miriam replied.

Abrianna felt the need to interject at this point. “It can't be all that hard. You point one end at the threat and pull the trigger at the other end. Goodness, we needn't make such a simple thing difficult.” Then a thought came to her. “I suppose we might not know how to care for a gun or how to load one, but I'm certain Wade or even Kolbein might teach us.”

“And could you truly take the life of a man?” Aunt Miriam questioned.

Thinking on this for a moment, Abrianna frowned. “No. You are right to question that. I don't suppose I could. However, the threat alone might cause the assailant to flee.”

“And if it doesn't?” her aunt pressed. “What if the attacker simply disarms you and then kills you with your own weapon? Or flees, now armed to kill in a manner even easier than beating a man to death?”

“Yes, you are right,” Abrianna said, remembering Wade's demonstration of her weakness.

“Perhaps, Sister,” Poisie began softly, “it is time to consider a relocation.”

“Move from here?” Aunt Miriam asked, as if the thought had never occurred to her.

“Not too far,” Poisie replied. “Perhaps on the hill. I wouldn't want to move away from the water and not be able to at least see it.”

Aunt Selma nodded. “You know yourself that this building is in the perfect location for a variety of businesses. Why, Mr. Fulcher himself might wish to obtain it. And then, of course, there's Mr. Welby.”

Aunt Miriam got up and moved toward the window. “I must say the same idea has been brewing in my mind. I can't imagine selling this building. It would be akin to losing Mr. Madison all over again.”

“But it doesn't need to be that way, Sister. After all, your husband never intended this to be your home.”

“But it became that because it worked out so perfectly with our business.” She turned to face them, and Abrianna could see the sadness in her eyes. “Perhaps our days are numbered.
Maybe this is God's way of telling us it's time to put an end to our matchmaking.”

“No!” Poisie declared adamantly.

“The sale of the building would bring in a most satisfactory sum. And that, along with our investments, would keep us for as long as we live if we used it wisely.”

Abrianna had never wanted to take over her aunts' bridal school and saw this as the perfect time to delay it again. “I think that would be the best solution. Just imagine . . . you could sell this building to Mr. Welby. He's always talking at the receptions about how much he likes it and how perfect it would be for his import business. Sell to him, and we can buy a little house on the hill where I can take care of you as you get older and . . . learn all that you desire me to learn about housekeeping and cooking.” She threw the latter in hoping it might tip the scales in favor of the move. She didn't so much want to leave this building as she wanted to put an end to her aunts' desire to have Abrianna take over the school.

“We'd be farther from Wade and Thane,” she pondered aloud, “but they wouldn't mind the extra walk to visit on Sundays.” Abrianna thought about her various causes: the poor old sailors who barely kept clothes on their backs and a blanket in their keeping. The orphans would still be close enough, as they moved around and would no doubt seek Abrianna out if she didn't look for them. As for the ladies of the evening who plied their trade in the Lava Bed, Abrianna would simply have to figure something else out. Perhaps if they had a carriage . . .

“I suppose it is something to consider.” Aunt Miriam looked first to her sister and then to Aunt Selma.

“Perhaps we could grow vegetables to sell,” Poisie said. “Or maybe get a cow and sell milk.”

Aunt Miriam didn't so much as acknowledge that comment. “Do you suppose I should discuss the matter again with Mr. Welby?”

“I do, Sister.”

“But do not be too eager, lest he reduce the price he's willing to pay,” Selma cautioned.

Abrianna thought this would be as good a time as any to discuss her desire to no longer attend the receptions. She had the distinct feeling that Mr. Welby's biggest interest was the building; otherwise, why should he ask so many questions about it.

“He plans to attend the reception on Saturday,” she told her aunts. “That would be a good time to take Mr. Welby aside and discuss the subject. Of course, you might want to have Mr. Fulcher present, but I don't know when they plan to return from San Francisco. Lenore thought it would be right away.”

“I shall take it under consideration,” Aunt Miriam said, brushing a piece of lint from her dark blue dress. “And we should all pray about this.”

A knock at the door sent Abrianna flying down the hall. She was glad for the excuse to leave the meeting. Goodness, but it seemed to take forever for her aunts to make even the smallest decision.

This
really isn't a small decision
, she admitted to herself.
But it is just one simple decision. Either they should
sell the building or they shouldn't. It really is
just that easy.
She opened the door to find Kolbein Booth. He was smiling and seemed most at peace.

“Good day, Abrianna,” he said. “Do you feel up to a bit of searching?”

“I do. Let me tell Aunt Miriam our plan.” She stepped back so he could enter the room. “Just hang on to your hat,” she added. “This needn't take long.”

At least that was her hope. Since the killing of yet another person, Abrianna had thought of nothing but warning the orphan boys. “While we're out,” she said, looking back at Kolbein as she led the way down the hall, “I have something to attend to, as well.”

Abrianna hurried to secure a flour sack and load it with food for the boys. She had just put in a couple dozen cookies—ones she'd managed to bake without burning—when Aunt Miriam came into the kitchen with Militine.

“I told Mr. Booth that you could go searching with him, but I want you to take Militine along. It would hardly look right for the two of you to always be seen alone.”

“I don't really care what anyone thinks,” Abrianna replied, “but I certainly don't mind Militine's company.” She looked down at the sack in her hands and then met her aunt's questioning gaze. “I thought we might . . . well, we could meet up with someone who's hungry.”

Aunt Miriam's expression didn't change, but she gave the briefest nod. “Very well.” She turned and left the room, leaving the girls to conspire.

Abrianna hurried to finish loading the sack and then motioned to Militine. “Let's find Kolbein and get out of here before anyone changes their mind. Are you sure you don't mind accompanying us?”

“I am so happy to have a day away from lessons,” Militine exclaimed as they took up their shawls by the front door. “I would work at just about anything else.”

“Surely your lessons aren't that arduous,” Kolbein said, joining them. “Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear.”

Militine Scott smiled. “I don't mind. The lessons aren't so arduous. Well, the French is. I don't think I'm meant to speak
another language. But the constant messes I make are most arduous. She understands.” She looked to Abrianna. “Don't you?”

“I do indeed. However, I know it's best that we discuss such matters on our way. Aunt Miriam may reconsider our excursion as she ponders yet another murder in the area.”

“I just heard about that,” Kolbein said. “Did you know him?”

“No. He was much younger than the old men I care for,” Abrianna said as they headed downstairs and out of the building. “And a wee bit old to be considered an orphan boy. Even so, it's a terrible thing. Aunt Miriam is finally considering concluding her work as a matchmaker in order to move us elsewhere.”

“I'm certain she will need some solid legal advice,” Kolbein said, thoughtfully. “That's another reason I came today. I wanted to let you know that I've accepted a position with a local law firm.”

“You're moving here?” Abrianna asked, unable to contain her excitement. “Lenore will be so happy.”

Kolbein raised a brow and laughed. “Only Lenore? And here I thought we were friends.”

“Well, she's the only one who matters in this,” Abrianna assured him. “She wants very much to . . . to know you better.”

“And I hope to give her that opportunity. However, I won't close out my house in Chicago just yet. I will find a place to rent here or continue living at the hotel until I am able to locate Greta. After that, I will decide what to do.”

Abrianna took them down one street and then another. There were a great many people moving about the town, and the streets were filled with carriages, wagons, and horses. At the overbearing smell of sewage, Abrianna thought that the sewers were backed up once again, just as her aunts had predicted.

Within half an hour, Abrianna managed to locate the boys. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of them, all wearing
“new” shoes. She handed Toby the flour sack of food. “Just keep it. I'm sure we have plenty. Aunt Miriam has us turning the sacks into dish towels, so there must be an abundance. Of course, it could be that we've simply worn the others out and are in true need of dish towels, but that really doesn't affect you, does it?” She paused and collected her thoughts.

“There's another, more pressing, reason we've come today. News most grave.”

Toby handed the sack back to one of the other boys. “What's wrong?”

“There's been another murder near our building.”

“Murders happen all the time,” Toby said, shrugging. “Especially in Skid Road.”

“Yes, but we aren't in Skid Road,” Abrianna countered. “We're close to the docks, true enough, but our location was, until late, a very decent area of businesses. Now my aunts are considering selling the building and moving us to a small house on the hill.”

Toby looked at the other boys. “Well, if you're worried about us, don't be. We can defend ourselves, and we all just got jobs.”

“Jobs? Truly?” Abrianna asked.

“What kind of job, boys?” Kolbein asked. “Nothing illegal, I hope.”

Toby still appeared uncertain of Kolbein. “No, sir, nothing illegal. We're cleaning up at the theatre. It's the one over by Marley's Hotel and that bunch of eating places on the north side. Owner has a new troupe in and said he'd pay us each twenty cents a week to come in and clean up after the shows.” The other boys nodded.

“And he said that if we didn't make trouble, he'd let us sleep in the room where they keep the things they use in the play,” eleven-year-old Bobby declared.

Toby nodded in affirmation. “It's like God is answering your prayers, Miss Abrianna.”

“God is good to do that,” she replied. “I'm so glad that you boys have somewhere safe to stay at night. I worried about you, what with a killer loose on the streets.”

Toby smiled. “Like I said—we can take care of ourselves.” He turned toward Kolbein. “We been askin' around about your sister. Lookin' for her, too.”

“I appreciate that.” Kolbein's expression betrayed his worry. “Have you had any leads?”

“Not a one,” Toby said. “But we're gonna keep lookin'.”

“Thank you. I really am grateful.”

They didn't stick around long to chat, and Abrianna felt a sense of relief as they turned their attention to looking for Greta.

“I'm so glad God is watching out for them. They're only a few of the many who need homes and help.”

“You can't save the world, Abrianna,” Militine said, squeezing her arm. “But I do so admire that you are able to care for even these few.”

“One day,” Abrianna said, “perhaps I will have a place with nothing but beds and a kitchen. Oh, and bathing facilities, of course, and maybe a place for reading. And an infirmary where a doctor can come and treat injuries and sickness. One day I would like to have a place where I can feed as many as are hungry and then let them bed down for the night in safety.”

“You have a big heart, Abrianna,” Kolbein interjected, “but that's hardly acceptable work for a woman. Especially a single young woman.”

“So everyone tells me, but I feel it is God's calling on my life. I am here to help the poor, just as I was helped.”

“But how will you finance such an endeavor?” he asked.

Abrianna smiled. “That's the easy part. God will provide what we need. I just have to be willing to work.”

“Speaking of God,” Kolbein said with a grin, “I had a long talk with that friend of yours, Wade, and I finally feel that I am able to pray and God will hear me. I needed to make things right with Him, and Wade helped me see how to do it.”

Abrianna clapped her hands. “I'm so happy for you. I know that must be a tremendous weight off your shoulders. Or maybe your soul.” She shook her head. “It doesn't matter, does it? I'm sure it was a great relief, either way.”

He laughed. “Indeed it was.”

“I don't know what God's calling is on my life,” Militine said, as if Kolbein hadn't said anything at all. “Do you suppose everyone gets a calling? I don't know if God even remembers I'm here.”

“Of course, Militine,” Abrianna replied, surprised by the young woman's question. “God has a calling for each and every person. It starts with our honoring Him and listening to His direction. After that, who can say where God will lead. I once heard the pastor say that God put a calling on his life to dig for the railroad back east. He said he was able to share the gospel with many an anguished soul.” She put her hand to her breast. “I marveled at that. Just imagine having all those rough and rowdy railroad workers listening to the Word of God and changing their lives. I can't help but think it would make their hard labors seem much easier. Don't you?” She looked to Kolbein.