by Jane Steen
By concentrating hard, I could see Judah’s face as a pale blur in the darkness.
“They moved him to Abilene.”
“I know.”
“And what were you doing, wandering around the building in the dark?” I asked, unwilling to continue to talk about Reiner.
“In fact, I was wandering around outside the building. I was just beginning to wonder if I’ve left a trail of muddy footprints in the hallway—that will infuriate Mrs. Drummond. But with the professor murdered and all these reports of Indians and rough vagrants around the prairie, I felt restless and wanted to reassure myself that there was nobody on the grounds.”
“Without a lamp?” Judah had taken my arm, and I felt a change in the air as he opened the door that led to the staircase. Now I could see him in the light of the lamp that always burned at the foot of the stairs, placed over a pan of water in case it tipped over.
“I see well in the dark, and a lamp only lights one small area. If you wish to see best outdoors, starlight and moonlight are sufficient companions, and I’m sure-footed enough not to fall.”
Sure-footed he certainly was. And sure of himself, in every way—it was part of the attraction of the man, the air of assurance and authority he carried around with him. I shivered.
“Are you cold, Nell?” Judah’s arms came around me, barely touching, and if anything, the shiver intensified.
“No.” The word came out abruptly. “I’m frightened for Reiner. I wish I could have seen him.”
“He’ll be safe enough in Abilene’s stone jail, safe from the lynching element of Springwood. Until he hangs.”
I started violently at that, stepping backward out of Judah’s arms. The movement brought me perilously close to the top of the stairs, and I teetered for a second until Judah recaptured me—tighter this time. I had never been so close to him, I realized. I could feel his heart beating, slow and steady, and smell the peppermint on his breath.
“Hangs?” I choked out when I could draw breath. “But Judah, they can’t—he didn’t—“
“The evidence is against him.” I felt Judah’s lips brush my forehead, and my treacherous body flooded with warmth despite my agitation. “And yet, I’m inclined to think he didn’t do it either. I wonder what really happened?” Judah sounded merely curious, as if the affair were a newspaper item from far away.
“I must go to Abilene. I don’t—I can’t see what difference I’ll make, but I must do something to help him. I can’t stand idly by while a man is accused of something he didn’t do.”
“It’s not seemly for a woman to meddle in such matters. Do you really think the Abilene sheriff will listen to a seamstress from a seminary?”
Judah brought his hands round to mine, running his fingertips over my back and waist as he did so, and imprisoned my hands in his, raising them to his lips. I felt the tickle of his beard, surprisingly wiry, and his mouth felt warm on my chilled palms.
“But I will go in your stead, if you wish.” Judah’s cool, slim fingers curled around mine. “After all, I entertain hopes of one day being in a position to guide and protect you. As I’ve already said. Would you consent to make me your protector, Nell?” He raised my hands to his lips again and then kissed me on the mouth, somewhat harder than he had done before.
I closed my eyes but soon opened them again and drew back—it was so strange, him wooing me on the seminary’s staircase in the nighttime. Besides, my conscious brain had just caught up with what Judah had said.
“Did you just ask me to marry you, Judah?”
“I suppose I did.” The amusement was back in Judah’s voice, or had it ever left? “Your promise would mean a great deal to me, Nell.” He drew me closer to him again, and my skin warmed. I was so tired, and the night was so dark, and Judah’s very presence seemed overwhelming, as if it would be wrong to be thinking of anything or anyone else. For an instant, I almost gave in to the temptation to let Judah take control of my life—
But no. “It’s the wrong time to ask me, Judah,” I said, making a feeble attempt to free myself from his arms—where, in truth, my physical self was perfectly content to remain. “So many dreadful things have happened—how can I think of marriage?”
“The dreadful things have nothing to do with us, Nell.”
How I wished I could believe that. My mind was abuzz with emotions and sensations that seemed to be no longer under my control, but I still had an overriding sense that I dared not make a hasty decision.
“And there’s so much more to talk about, Judah. Sarah and Tess—“
“Sarah and Tess will be guided by you as you are guided by me. They are children—they can have no say in their lot in life.”
“Tess isn’t a child.” I felt a stab of annoyance.
“Tess is an imbecile and must therefore be treated as a child.” Judah planted a final kiss on my lips and let me go. “But you’re right; this is neither the time nor the place to talk of such things. You’re tired, and you should go to bed. There’s nothing to fear, Nell.”
“There’s everything to fear.” I tried hard to focus on the essentials. “A man’s life is at stake, Judah. If there’s a possibility that Reiner might hang, I must do everything in my power to ensure that the truth prevails.” I climbed up a few steps and then turned round as a thought struck me. Judah’s face was in shadow, the faint light of the distant lamp touching the edges of his hair with an orange glow. “After all, I have money. Why shouldn’t I pay for a Pinkerton agent to investigate Reiner’s case—to find out what his rifle was doing out on the prairie, for example? I’ll go back to Springwood tomorrow and set matters in train.”
“Nell.” Judah’s voice was soft, caressing. “You’re too good. But would you let me talk to the Springwood sheriff first? I may not have your means, but I am a man. They will listen to me.”
I nodded wearily, too tired to argue. “Very well, Judah. But I won’t hesitate to take action if Reiner is still in danger by the end of the week.”
Judah was as good as his word. He set off into the next day’s frost and ice—for a cold spell had swept in overnight to freeze the rain-soaked plains into crackling hardness—to talk with the Springwood sheriff.
The visit culminated in the departure of both men for Abilene. The study of the Old Testament was sadly neglected at the seminary for an entire week until Judah returned, triumphant. They had not exactly declared Reiner innocent, but they had released him. The Abilene newspapers spoke of the doubts raised by his uncle’s legal skill, Reiner's protestations of innocence and general demeanor, and “information received.”
And yet—Reiner had not returned to the seminary. Judah was silent on exactly what had transpired, informing me with a smile that it wasn’t a woman’s province to inquire into such things. Yet I did discover that Reiner had gone to his father in Saint Louis after a promise not to return to Eternal Life.
And that was that. I would have set off to talk to Reiner’s uncle again if it were not for the early blizzard that swept in on the heels of Judah’s return. It blanketed the prairie with snow that, over the next few days, thawed and refroze into a treacherous carapace of ice that made excursions well-nigh impossible.
Life at the seminary settled back into its routine, punctuated by increasingly unvaried meals as the servants drew on the winter food stores. The topic of Professor Wale’s death was all too soon abandoned as a mere example of the dangers that roamed the frontier.
And I? I didn’t have the letter the professor had so wanted me to read. I had no way of knowing whether it even still existed or whether somebody had thrown it in the fire. I had no contact with Martin, the snow making the sending and receiving of letters impossible. I settled down for winter with the strange impression that I had nothing left to me—nothing except Sarah, Tess, and Judah.
Part IV
1875
25
Anticipation
“I’m not sure if you realize the amount of work involved in having a house built.”<
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Judah leaned over my shoulder to look at the unfolded plat I’d spread across one of the tables in the library. It showed an area near the center of Springwood. “This seems like a hasty decision, Nell.”
“I’ve been thinking of it all winter,” I protested. “Mr. Shemmeld put the idea to me just after Christmas when I visited his wife.”
And now it was March, and the notion of moving out of the seminary had begun to dominate my dreams. “Of course, he proposed a small house—he thought I merely had the money I’ve earned from dressmaking—but it does seem like a sound idea. And I don’t have to build right away. I can buy the plot of land and build at my leisure. After all, prices are rising all the time, so the sooner the better.”
“But if you married me, we’d live at the seminary.” Judah’s smooth eyebrows contracted. “As the Calderwoods do. I wouldn’t wish to live off the premises. I would want to oversee the daily life of the seminary.”
“I’ve never had a house of my own, Judah. I owned my mother’s house for such a short time before I had to sell it.” I refolded the plat. “Even if we get married, could I not pass the last months of my spinsterhood in my own house? My dressmaking business would be much easier to run if I were closer to my clients. And Sarah is four now, and Springwood has a little school she could attend—I’m a poor teacher, and she’s so fond of learning.”
“If you were my wife, you wouldn’t be a dressmaker.” Judah folded his arms with a frown but then gave me one of the dazzling smiles that always made me feel I should grant him any wish he might have. “Or at least you’d confine your sewing to dresses for yourself and clothing for our sons and daughters. You’d live the life of a lady, Nell, as you were born to do.”
I had other notions about whether I should give up my business, but I remained silent on that point.
“And you’re forgetting that Sarah’s illegitimacy does not fit her for a life in society, even the society of Springwood. She’ll be an unhappy outcast there if you’re not married.”
I felt my heart sink. Judah had a point—I’d given up on the hope that my unwed state could remain a secret forever. Indeed, I was pretty sure Mrs. Yomkins, that most intelligent of Springwood’s matrons, already suspected or perhaps even knew for sure. Kind as she was, there was a certain coolness in her manner whenever our conversations turned toward Sarah.
“Your clients are gracious enough toward you now. You pose no threat to the proprieties in Springwood because you live here, and not there,” Judah continued, his tone unemotional. “But if you live among them, a young, handsome, single woman with a doubtful past, they will begin to mistrust you.”
I was obstinately silent, but there was truth in what Judah was saying. My current life was beginning to chafe and irritate me like a badly fitting boot, but it was safe and predictable. Mrs. Drummond’s hard stares were the only reminder of my plight. The boys and the teachers neither knew nor cared about their seamstress’s life, and the Calderwoods’ affability toward me in those days had to be seen to be believed.
Judah caught my hand—it was early in the morning, and the library was empty—and turned it over, inspecting my long, blunt-ended fingers. The gold ring with delicately incised flowers that I wore on my left hand gleamed in the soft light that filtered in through the French windows. It was Emmie’s ring, the one that my late, unlamented stepfather Hiram had purchased for his first wife.
“Of course, you’d be safe enough if you had the protection of my name, and perhaps in time we could consider a house in Springwood. Sarah could certainly attend the school as my daughter—although she’d need a better school soon enough, in Saint Louis perhaps.” Judah ran his thumb over my ring. “After all, if we married, Sarah would become a prominent member of Springwood society as she grew. We must raise her accordingly, with all the little accomplishments that adorn a young lady.”
Sewing, painting, playing the piano, paying visits, and ordering the servants about, I thought. I tried to imagine Sarah as a society belle of the frontier. She would marry and live in idleness and have many children. And Springwood was growing into exactly the kind of town my own home, Victory, had been—staid, respectable, and prosperous.
“And the day is fast approaching when I may offer you marriage as a man with fine prospects, Nell.” Judah smoothed the wiry hairs of his beard. “Mrs. Calderwood has about had enough, especially after the events of Thanksgiving.” He nodded toward the black armband I still wore over my shirtwaist for Professor Wale. “Her thoughts have begun to turn to the delights of life in a large city.”
I wondered, for a fleeting moment, how much encouragement Judah was giving to the turn in Mrs. Calderwood’s thoughts. But my suitor was straightening his jacket, cuffs, and necktie in preparation to leave.
“I’m due to drum some understanding of First Chronicles into the younger boys. Will you accompany me downstairs?”
I tucked the plat under my arm and followed Judah out into the roar of young male voices. I nodded automatically as some of the young men heading to their first class of the day greeted me by name. It was well known by now that Judah was courting me. The boys seemed to accept the fact with no more than the occasional grin or whispered remark. Judah was too authoritative a figure to be the butt of jokes.
And this place would belong to me—to us—I thought, watching the throng of boys part before us as we made our way down the broad, ornate staircase. I would be a respectable woman with no need to worry about the future because the future would be fixed. I would belong—to Kansas, to the Eternal Life Seminary. To Judah.
Given my hesitations over Judah, I was glad he was not what you might call an ardent suitor. He was, as I was learning, a man who played a long game, waiting with the patience of a cat at a mousehole for the right moment to strike.
His remarks about the perils of moving to Springwood as a quasi-widow had been enough to cast a shadow of doubt across my mind. I let the weeks slip by without making the decision to move.
Judah’s position in the seminary seemed unassailable. Moreover, I noticed my own status among the faculty and staff growing more prominent in those weeks of early spring. The transition was almost imperceptible at first, and then came much clearer signals, which sat oddly with my position as seamstress. Change, it seemed, was in the air.
“An hour’s notice really isn’t enough time to dress for dinner,” I grumbled as quietly as I could when I spotted Judah. Breathtaking in evening dress, he was waiting for me on the stairs. “Why am I invited?”
“Because I wanted you here.” Judah held the door open as I maneuvered my way through, a dress with a train not being well adapted to doorways. “Mrs. Calderwood invited you at my express wish, although to look at you, no such intervention should be necessary. You belong in a drawing room, Nell, and in dresses like that.”
I suppressed a grin. The one extravagance in which I could not help indulging, for Tess, Sarah, and myself, was new dresses, and I was particularly pleased with this one. I hadn’t thought to find many occasions on which to wear it, but I had justified the expense to myself on the basis of its utility as a sample. Its base was pale gold silk faille of a glorious richness. I had trimmed it in a thin crimson cord of braided silk, with a squared bodice from which a ruffle of lace peeked. Martin had once complimented my neck and said it looked its best with a little lace, and I had to admit he had—as always—been right.
Several people recognized me as we entered the library, where the servants were distributing whiskey to the men and cordials to the ladies. They had transformed the room by the removal of several of the tables and desks. The extra space was necessary for the ladies’ trains, as fashion dictated that evening wear perform the double duty of looking magnificent and sweeping the floor free of dust and debris. We ladies looked like splendid ships in full sail, and I noted with pleasure that I'd sewn several of the dresses myself.
Next to their wives, the gentlemen looked like plain hen birds. Most of them were stiff and uncomfor
table in their winged collars and tailcoats and stepped carefully lest they tread on their wives’ trains and incur their wrath. Judah looked as if he were born to wear good clothes and picked his way through the company with automatic precision.
“Mrs. Shemmeld, how nice to see you. Mrs. Mortimore, Mrs. Addis.” I felt quite at ease now among Springwood’s leading ladies. After all, I was intimately acquainted with the color of their money and the measurements of their waists.
There were about six couples I did not know. A round of introductions ensued, and not one person who knew me made any reference to my role as seamstress. That was due to Judah, of course. Yet I felt a stab of irritation that I, now a wealthy woman in my own right, needed a man to elevate my status. It also grated on me that Tess was never, and would never be, invited to such parties.
Bella, who’d brought round the cordials, gave a respectful murmur of greeting as she handed me the tiny glass. The sparkle in her dark eyes—that would have been a wink were she not so reserved in such company—was the only reminder of the help she’d given me during my frantic hour of preparation. We'd had a lighthearted argument about whether she should cut my front hair into modish bangs and frizz it up with the curling tongs. I had won, and my hair remained as I liked it.
“Good evening, good evening, my dear Mrs. Lillington.” We had reached the Calderwoods, who were at the heart of the largest group of guests. Dr. Calderwood’s shirtfront, teeth, and hair were all resplendent, and he was bowing and smiling with evident pleasure. In company, Mrs. Calderwood deferred to him with a wifely submissiveness that he clearly relished.
As for the Mouse, she was wearing the emerald satin I had just made. Her beady dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she gazed at the wealth on display. I gathered that all present were to be solicited either to make a donation to the seminary or to send their sons here.