The Claim (13 page)

“You owe me an explanation!” I demanded.

She whirled on me, a look of pure malice on her face. “I don’t owe you anything! You—you and your muddy aprons and uncombed hair. You were like a wild animal, always running around the streets with boys, playing your silly games.”

Sally stalked over to me, waving her fan like a sword.

“And your doting father,” she laughed contemptuously. “It was pathetic the way he talked about you all the time, acting as though he were proud of you throwing manure at carriages,” she said, but I heard the jealousy in her voice. “After all that, you had the nerve to attend Miss Hepplewhite’s as if you had a perfect right to be there.” She curled her lips and growled. “I was her favorite student until you came.”

I took a wary step back.

“Who do you think you are, anyway, Jane Peck?” she snarled.

“I—I—”

“When Father decided to come here, I had assumed that I would remain in Philadelphia. And then Father announced that I was to join him and Mother on the voyage,” she spit out furiously. “I told him Cora Fletcher was quite happy to have me stay with her. But no. He would not hear of it. And do you know why?”

“Why?” I whispered.

“
Sally dear, your friend Jane Peck will be there to keep you company!
” she said, mimicking her father in a singsong voice.

“But—”

“I was supposed to be Horace Fink’s wife!” Sally shouted. “He was planning to ask Father for my hand in marriage. But now, instead of being feted all over Philadelphia, I am stuck
here
,” she said, her voice scathing. “Where there is nothing but rain and mud and oysters! If I never eat another oyster again it will be too soon.”

“But it’s not my fault!” I protested.

“Of course it’s your fault. It’s always been your fault. You’ve always been jealous of me. You’ve always conspired to bring me down to your level.”

I stared at her in disbelief and confusion, and then she laughed merrily at me.

“Still, I admit it has been very enjoyable amusing myself with your sailor. For a man of the world, he is very gullible,” she said.

She grinned at me as I stood there speechless.

“You have ruined my life,” she said with a satisfied smile. “And I have every intention of ruining yours.”

I spent a restless
night replaying Sally’s words over and over again in my head. I kept hearing her say,
You have ruined my life. And I have every intention of ruining yours.

But what could I do? Everyone else thought Sally was perfect, especially Jehu. Like a devious spider, she had spun a clever web, and I was an unfortunate fly. As I watched the sun rise outside the window, I knew I had to make Jehu see the truth.

Immediately after breakfast, I went over to his cabin.

He yawned widely when he opened the door. “Come on in,” he said, his eyes bloodshot.

The table was covered in papers and melted candles, and I could hear someone snoring lightly behind a quilt at the other end of the room.

Jehu jerked his head. “Keer-ukso. We were up half the night working on this thing, and it’s still not done,” he said, shoving a hand through his hair. “It’s a lot harder than I thought.” He walked over to the stove. “Coffee?”

I nodded, and he poured two cups and brought them over to the table.

“See, Mr. Frink had some good ideas,” he said, tapping the papers. “He suggested that we figure out how much money it’ll take to run the mill for one year, and then ask Biddle for that, because what’s the point in just building the thing if we can’t afford to hire on men to run it? Keer-ukso and I are—”

“Jehu,” I interrupted him. “I need to talk to you about Sally.”

“Sally?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Sally’s not what she seems,” I said.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“What are you trying to say, Jane?”

I took a deep breath. “I’m trying to tell you that all this”—I waved at the paper-covered table—“this whole idea of her father financing the mill is—is—” I stammered. “It’s Sally’s idea of a cruel joke.”

Jehu regarded me for a long moment and nodded thoughtfully.

“Jane, you don’t need to be jealous,” he said.

“Me? Jealous?”

Jehu playfully tapped my nose. “You’re the only girl for me. Sally’s just being, well, helpful.”

“Helpful? Sally is just trying to get back at me. Don’t you understand?”

He looked bewildered. “Get back at you? But you’re friends.”

“We’ve never been friends! She despises me. She’s spent her whole life making mine a misery. Why, she’s the reason I left Philadelphia!”

“I thought you left Philadelphia to marry William.” He eyed me sympathetically. “Did you two have a spat?”

I groaned. I couldn’t believe my ears. He didn’t believe me!

He rubbed his hand through his thick black hair. “I’m doing this for us, Jane. For our future. You needn’t be jealous of her.”

I stared at him mutely.

“Now I have to get back to work on these plans,” he said, settling into his chair, already looking down at the papers. “Maybe you can help me draw them up later? Your handwriting’s much neater than mine.”

How could I tell this man I loved that Mr. Biddle would never invest in a business started by a sailor and an Indian?

Finally I said, “Just don’t count your gold before you get it. Anything could happen. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

He ruffled my hair good-naturedly. “You worry too much, Jane.”

  I grew increasingly worried that William’s dreams of becoming justice of the peace were not dreams after all. For as the days passed, he acquired the same luster as Mr. Biddle. Everyone wanted to talk to him because he was Mr. Biddle’s chief advisor. I tried to broach the subject with Mr. Swan, but he was not the least bit concerned.

“Baldt as justice of the peace? Absurd,” Mr. Swan protested. “I am one of the first men who arrived on the bay, one of the
original
pioneers,” he stressed. “This is a community that values the leadership of a dedicated man, and that is exactly what I am.”

“Well, it’s becoming a community that values a good coin!” I said, but he just waved me away.

My suspicions were soon confirmed by Willard, of all people.

“That Dr. Baldt’s gonna be the new justice of the peace!” the boy announced loudly one afternoon as we prepared supper. He was sitting at the table peeling potatoes.

“Where did you hear that?” Mrs. Frink asked.

“At Star’s,” he said. Star’s was his new favorite spot because Mr. Staroselsky gave him a candy every time he swept the floor. From all accounts the floors of Star’s fairly gleamed from Willard’s enthusiasm. “I’ve heard lots of men saying they’re gonna vote for Dr. Baldt. Everyone’s saying he’s the perfect candidate.”

A perfectly corrupt candidate
, I wanted to say.

“But that is so odd,” Mrs. Frink said, mulling it over. “Why wouldn’t they vote for Mr. Swan? He’s been here for so long and has helped so many of the pioneers. Dr. Baldt’s been here for only a few weeks.”

Willard took a vicious swipe at the potato peel. “’Cause Swan’s an Indian lover!”

Spaark went still.

“What did you say?” I whispered.

“He let Keer-ukso go.” He looked at Spaark and shrugged apologetically. “Everyone says Keer-ukso really stole that whiskey and some other feller got the blame. And now folks is saying that Swan ain’t proper judge material!”

Spaark blinked quickly.

I looked hard at Willard. “Willard, you listen to me. Those are terrible lies, do you understand?”

“If you say so, Miss Jane.” A look of shame crossed his face. “I always kind of liked Keer-ukso anyhow,” he mumbled.

“I do believe I shall take a walk down to Star’s. We seem to be running low on potatoes,” I said, and stood up.

“But what about all these?” Willard asked, pointing to the huge bag on the floor by his feet.

My eyes met Spaark’s. “I think we need a few more, don’t you, Spaark?”

She nodded firmly.

  As I expected, several oystermen were at the back of Star’s sitting around the stove when I stepped through the door, the cheery bell announcing my arrival. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to say to persuade the men to see reason, but I intended to say something—the very future of Shoalwater Bay depended on it.

“Miss Peck! How are you today? I have those dates you ordered,” Mr. Staroselsky said.

“How wonderful. And may I have some flour, please? And one of those candies for Willard.”

“Ahh, Willard. He’s a wonderful boy, isn’t he? So hardworking,” Mr. Staroselsky enthused, moving behind the counter.

“And how is little Rose?” I asked, as I casually walked the length of the counter as if I were perusing goods.

He grinned at me. “Sleeping through the night finally.”

“Wonderful,” I said. “I think I’ll browse a bit.”

“Take your time,” Mr. Staroselsky said.

I took a long, slow stroll around the store, pausing to feign
interest in a bolt of fabric near where the men were drinking whiskey.

“Way I figure, we need a man who’s looking out for us,” one of the men said.

“Swan’s a good fella, though,” the other man said, sounding reluctant. “He helped me with my claim when I first came here. Wrote it out for me and everything.”

“Times change,” the first man said in a hard voice.

“And Biddle’s got money to burn,” the third man cackled.

“Man like that will make us all rich. He knows how to get things done. Swan ain’t got a head for money.”

That was all too true, I thought dismally.

“Gentlemen,” I said.

“Howdy, Miss Peck,” one of them said.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. And while I grant you have the right to your own opinions, I must tell you that I think Dr. Baldt is a very poor candidate compared to Mr. Swan,” I said.

The men stared at me as if I had two heads.

“What’s so great about Swan?” one of them said. “He let that Injun go free.”

“I’m tired of hearing this terrible rumor,” I said. “Keer-ukso did not steal that whiskey! And if you want to continue to enjoy your meals at the hotel, you would all be wise to remember that. Understand?”

They nodded their heads quickly.

The door to the back room opened, and Sally emerged, laughing. Mrs. Staroselsky followed behind her, juggling Rose. Sally was clutching a pie tin.

“Now, you must let me have a slice of that pie when it’s finished,” Mrs. Staroselsky said.

“But of course!” Sally trilled. “And thank you so much for your good advice.”

Mrs. Staroselsky noticed me standing there. “Oh, hello, Jane.”

I smiled back, feeling unsettled. What was Sally doing borrowing pie tins?

Rose squirmed and Mrs. Staroselsky nodded to her husband behind the counter. “Boris will help you with the ingredients, Sally. I have to put this one down for a nap.”

Sally walked over to the counter and removed a small list from her reticule.

“What can I help you with today, Miss Biddle?” Mr. Staroselsky asked.

“Let’s see,” Sally said, consulting her list. “One pound each of flour, sugar, salt, lard, and preserved cherries. Oh, and some cinnamon as well, please.”

That was my receipt for cherry pie!

Mr. Staroselsky nodded. “Let me just go fetch that flour for you. I believe I’ve got more in the back.” And he disappeared into the back room.

“Sally, what are you playing at?” I demanded without preamble.

“Why, Jane! How lovely to see you.” She raised her basket and said innocently, “Just doing a little shopping.”

The bell on the front door chimed softly behind me.

“For flour and lard?”

“Mrs. Hosmer has very kindly offered to teach me how to bake a cherry pie this afternoon,” Sally said.

I stared at her in disbelief. “Mrs. Hosmer can’t boil a cup of coffee, and you expect me to believe that she’s going to teach you how to bake a pie?”

Sally’s eyes focused somewhere over my shoulder. I turned around slowly.

Mrs. Hosmer stood there, her eyes wide.

Mr. and Mrs. Hosmer
stopped taking their meals at the hotel.

Word soon spread, and I noticed a marked difference in the other ladies. They went out of their way to avoid me. I received more than one strange look from an oysterman at supper.

“What’s this I hear about you down at Star’s?” Millie asked curiously.

“What did you hear?”

“I heard that you attacked Mrs. Hosmer with a pie tin.”

I groaned.

Red Charley came up to me after breakfast. “Now, Miss Peck, what’s this I hear about you stealing a pie from that sweet Mrs. Hosmer? Her husband says she’s been crying her eyes out.”

The story was clearly growing worse and worse as it was passed from person to person. But it was Mrs. Frink’s reaction that stung the most. She was my oldest lady friend on the bay.

“I didn’t mean to hurt Mrs. Hosmer’s feelings,” I tried to explain. “It’s just that Sally, Sally—” But the look on her face stopped me from continuing.

“Jane,” she said, a hint of reproach in her voice. “I really don’t think Sally has anything to do with this. And you don’t have to apologize to me. It’s Mrs. Hosmer you should be apologizing to.”

“But Matilda—” I said desperately.

“I’m just a little disappointed, that’s all.” She sighed. “It’s clear that you harbor some jealousy toward Sally, and it’s hurting your friendships with the other ladies. Your jealousy of me almost kept us from being friends, remember?”

I winced at the truth. Mrs. Frink’s effortless charm had threatened me so greatly when she first arrived that I had lashed out at her, jealous that she was stealing the affection of the men away from me. Even now, I felt some lingering shame at my past behavior.

In the end I decided to take Mrs. Frink’s advice, and I brought a pie over to the Hosmers’ cabin to try and mend the damage my words had done.

When Mrs. Hosmer opened the door, I saw Sally sitting at the table, a smirk on her face.

“I find that I’ve quite lost my taste for your pies,” Mrs. Hosmer informed me stiffly, and closed the door before I was able to say a word.