Eternal Deception

by Jane Steen

  It was the thought of Judah that led me to push myself past exhaustion, hoping my reward would be dreamless sleep. I didn’t want to stay awake for one minute thinking of Judah, any more than I wanted to close my eyes only to see the snow whirling—

  “But I survived, Papa,” I muttered under my breath as I wrapped a shawl around my shoulders and went in search of Sarah. “And now I have a much better idea of what your end must have been like. Did you think of Mama and me as you lay down in the snow? Was your head filled with dreams and visions as mine was? I saw Mama and a beautiful shore—and I wasn’t frightened, not really. I think I might have lost my fear of the snow, even if I’ve learned to respect it.”

  As I shoved my feet into galoshes placed by the mission’s front door, I had a sudden memory of my father, one I had never encountered before. He sat in Bet’s large armchair by the fire, a favorite haunt of his despite my mother’s scolding that it was unsuitable to spend so much time in the kitchen. He had his feet propped on the hearth, and the summer sun set his red hair aflame in a coruscation of copper, auburn, and gold.

  He was reading, with the intentness that characterized everything he did. The sun should have bothered him, shining as it was on his face, but he ignored it, his large blue-gray eyes tender as he lived the story unfolding under his eyes.

  My memories of Papa had always been marred by the imagined picture of the frozen man under the bush, his lips blue and his hands crossed over his chest. I had overheard Bet’s description of him as I played in a corner of the kitchen, my small child’s heart still raw from missing him. The tears had run down my face as I built a picture that would never leave me, even as I grew out of childhood. A picture that had haunted my dreams.

  There were tears now, pricking at the back of my eyes and moistening their corners so that the bright patch of Sarah’s hair seen across the courtyard blurred and swam. But they were tears of joy and relief because somehow—I knew it for certain—I had given myself a new picture of Papa, one that would replace the frozen man in my mind. The snow had lost its power over my father and me.

  “So you’re free now.”

  Reiner was holding my hand but in a decidedly brotherly fashion. He had not said anything about Martin and me, but I had seen him glance at us often enough to surmise he understood—and, oddly, given his original reaction to Mrs. Drummond’s revelations, sympathized.

  “I’m free of Judah, at least.” My answer was an admission as well as a confirmation, and he squeezed my hand.

  “I should have stuck around to protect you, fool that I was. I always knew Poulton was a bad lot.”

  “But to die so horribly . . .” My voice trailed off, and I looked up at Reiner, suddenly realizing that Judah’s grisly death was in large part due to the young man in front of me.

  He met my gaze squarely, his eyes wide and his expression open. “Don’t think I haven’t dedicated a nightmare or two to my own guilt in the matter. If I hadn’t grazed that horse with a bullet, Judah Poulton would undoubtedly have lived to prey on someone else. I have very mixed feelings about that eventuality.”

  “If,” I said. “If I hadn’t provoked him to anger and sent him away—if I’d stuck to my original plan of turning him down here, where I could hide behind the protection of the Lombardis. If I hadn’t been so idiotic as to consent to travel with him in the first place . . . You know, Reiner, I think I’ll give up traveling across the countryside in any kind of horse-drawn conveyance. I set off in a cart once, and somebody died because of that. I came back to the seminary in a wagon, and there was the professor. And now this.”

  Reiner’s homely face lit up with mischief. “It’s a good thing Martin isn’t returning with you, then. And it’s an even better thing, as far as I’m concerned, that I’m traveling alone.”

  “So you’re not breaking your heart over me after all? Oh—that sounded more flirtatious than I meant it to be.” I was abashed but also grateful to Reiner for this lighthearted moment.

  Reiner grinned, catching my mood. “I’m in a fair way toward complete recovery from all my traumas, Nell, so don’t you worry. A certain Miss Amy Larke has something to do with that. She has magnificent dark curls and deep green eyes. I’m maneuvering a meeting between her and Pop just as soon as I can persuade him to leave his business for long enough. A career and a fine prospective wife should convince him I’ve finally attained the age of reason.”

  “A respectable wife—unlike me.” I grinned, my spirits lifting even higher as Reiner’s face pinkened.

  “Land sakes, Nell, you don’t have to be so hard on a fellow.” The beginning of a frown turned to a rueful laugh. “I should have trusted you better instead of being a barnburner, shouldn’t I? I let us both fall into Poulton’s hands, and I’m sorry for it.” He held out a hand. “Forgive my mistakes?”

  “If you’ll forgive mine.” I put my hand in his, and we shook hands heartily.

  “So you like being an attorney?” I continued. “I’m glad you’ve found a job you can truly believe in.”

  “You’ll be a sight gladder once I’m a judge, then.” Reiner smiled, but then his face became sober. “That’s no blarney, Nell. Sitting in jail thinking I might hang and knowing the real killer might get off scot-free gave me a whole new set of ideas about justice. The frontier needs proper, organized law enforcement. Right now any man who thinks he’s one heck of a curly wolf has plenty of ways to evade the law and keep robbing banks and stagecoaches as the fancy takes him. Look at the James brothers—why, Missouri came close to welcoming them with open arms. It’s a flat-out disgrace.”

  The thought of Reiner taking on the James brothers gave me a momentary qualm. “Be careful,” I said. “Don’t give Miss Amy Larke cause to regret your career choice. But I think you’ll make a fine judge, Reiner.”

  “And you?” Reiner asked. “I suppose you’ll be thinking of leaving the seminary now.”

  I nodded, looking out of the window where the early morning sun had turned the snow golden. “I don’t see how or why I’d want to stay, even after the pastor has made sure the Calderwoods get what’s coming to them. Why, they even have a replacement seamstress already. I came to Kansas looking for a new life, Reiner, but I feel like I’ve reached a dead end.”

  I said as much to Catherine as we watched Teddy—hindered more than helped by Sarah—unload the last of our boxes from the wagon, which had been retrieved from the prairie. “I may not know where I want to go, but I do know the time has come to leave.”

  “Yes, it’s a wise woman who listens to her heart when it comes to doing what’s best for her family.” Catherine’s face settled into grim lines as she watched her son. “Even if that sometimes means reneging on a commitment.”

  “That sounds ominous.” I stared at Catherine.

  She was thinner than ever. Vertical creases had appeared in her cheeks, and when she smiled—which she did a lot less than she used to—it alarmed me to see a molar was missing from her white, even teeth.

  “You’ll be traveling in the spring, I suppose, as long as the weather isn’t too wet. Well, we’ll be traveling too—later in the year, when we can. Roderick has finally listened to me.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Wherever we can find a physician for Lucy.” Catherine’s mouth thinned into a stubborn line. “I will not stand by and watch my child die, Nell. And even Thea is willing to cooperate with my plans if it means she has a chance—when she’s old enough, of course—to hunt for a husband who isn’t a farmer or missionary. Teddy might stay on here though. He likes the frontier—and he’ll be sixteen in February. Old enough to make his own decisions.”

  I watched the lanky youth stride toward the house with a trunk balanced nonchalantly on one broad shoulder, Sarah at his heels. “Is this causing strife between you and your husband?”

  “Not anymore.” Catherine’s voice was not entirely steady. “Roderick has conceded that my duty to God might be a little different from his. As a woman—as a moth
er—I’m entitled to answer the overriding call of my duty to my children. He says he can bear a little disappointment for our sakes.”

  I put my arm around my friend’s waist, obliging her to turn and look at me. “You’ll accept a gift of money from me—you won’t even think of refusing it. That physician will charge a high fee, and Lucy will doubtless need nursing—nourishing foods—a salubrious place to live. A sanatorium, even. You won’t deny me the privilege of helping you.”

  Catherine did not speak for a few moments, and when she did, her voice was husky. “For Lucy’s sake, I will not. After all, I’ve been praying for a miracle. And God has answered my prayer—through you.”

  And then a hint of merriment crept into the fine hazel eyes that were now more than ever her best feature. “When you climbed out of the carriage that cold day, I little realized that the disgraced and friendless girl I saw before me would one day be our benefactor. Roderick’s always saying the Almighty has a strange sense of humor, and I believe He delights in turning the tables on our pretensions.”

  “What pretensions do you have?” I asked. “I haven’t noticed any.”

  Catherine smiled, but her eyes turned sad. “I hide them well. But I’ll admit to you now that when we came to Kansas, my heart was filled with pride. I was sure our mission would be a resounding success, and we’d be renowned throughout the frontier. I’d been a good matron at the Poor Farm—I knew it well—but it hurt my pride to know that it would be Mr. Schoeffel, not me, who would be superintendent. That the mere suggestion a woman could be eligible for such a high post would elicit stares of amazement if not outright laughter. I thought I was remarkable—and it galled me to realize nobody else shared my elevated assessment of myself.”

  “You are remarkable.” I grasped Catherine’s hand and squeezed it. “And I’ll make sure you have enough to feed, clothe, and house you for quite a while. Don’t see me as a benefactor, Catherine. This is merely a little of the excess from the pile of wealth Martin has built for me. I did nothing to deserve or earn it.”

  “None of us deserve wealth or fortune,” Catherine said. “And you work hard enough, don’t you? But Martin—“ She stopped short, hesitating over what to say next. I braced myself.

  “I believe he’s a good man,” Catherine said slowly. “But—I worry when I see him looking at you. And when I see you looking at him.”

  What was it Judah had said? Love and a cough cannot be hid. I felt my cheeks flame, but I refused to cast down my eyes and stared steadily at Catherine as I spoke.

  “There isn’t—and won’t be—any wrongdoing between us, Catherine. I swear it. It appears we can’t help our feelings for each other—or hide them—but you’re right, Martin’s a good man. And I’m not that girl who came to the Poor Farm, not any longer. Yes, I must move on—but it won’t be out of the frying pan into the fire.”

  48

  Chicago

  Always an early riser, on the morning of Martin’s departure I was up well before dawn. The weather had warmed a little, and a light mist hung in the air, seemingly lit from below by the snow that nestled between the prairie grasses.

  Closer to the house, the snow had mixed with the dirt of the yard to form a viscous, pale mud. It clung tenaciously to the hems of skirts and trousers and splashed the mules that tossed their heads and brayed at the activity around them.

  The first item loaded on the cart was a plain coffin of pale wood. The mules caught the scent of—Judah—and shifted uncomfortably, but no doubt they had pulled many a load of slaughtered meat. Would this seem so very different to them? I felt a little sick as I watched the men work, lit by a pale sun fighting to burn away the shreds of cloud that diffused its light.

  After a while, I could bear it no longer and headed for the kitchen, sighing with relief at finding it empty. Someone had raked up the stove and disposed of the night’s ash, so the flames burned hot and fierce, and it didn’t take me long to boil coffee.

  I sat sipping the bitter, scalding brew, my mind a blank canvas on which a deranged artist was throwing thoughts at random. Martin—Judah—Sarah—Catherine—Tess . . .

  Tess had borne our adventure better than anyone, I recalled with a smile. When the mission’s cart finally reached the cabin, Sarah was clingy and inclined to whine, but Tess was positively exultant. She boasted to anyone who would listen of her mastery of the rifle and her success in fending off Judah. They had had to pry the rifle from her hands.

  I was still laughing to myself over Tess when Martin entered the room. I rose and poured coffee into an enameled mug, which I pushed across the table to him. He nodded his thanks, and we sipped silently for a few minutes, reassuringly companionable.

  It was Martin who broke the peace of the still air, his voice drowning out the faint sizzle of the wood as it burned in the stove.

  “You’ll come to Chicago, won’t you, Nellie? Just for a few weeks. You need time to consider—to make plans—and I’ll help you. For heaven’s sake, don’t give me cause to move to Kansas.” The laughter lines gathered at the corners of his eyes as he said that, and I smiled in response, but my mind was whirling.

  “But after what you said—about the lawyers—“

  “I know. I’ve been thinking about that.”

  He smiled again, and my heart gave a funny little jump in my chest. “You’d find it hard to believe how much time I dedicate to thinking about you, Nell. Even before I realized I was in love with you, thinking about you was one of my favorite occupations. Now, you fill my days—and nights.”

  I blushed at that, and we both looked down at our mugs, seeking normality in the simple action of enjoying our morning coffee. Martin drew a deep breath.

  “I’ve told you before, the reason I’ve worked so hard to give you all the money you need, and more, is to ensure your freedom. To make it so you can live your life in a way few women experience—give you horizons too often reserved only for men. I know well enough that you never wanted to marry. If I were free—well, I’d be on bended knee right now asking you to marry me. But if you refused me out of aversion to the wedded state, I wouldn’t think you any less womanly because of it.”

  I swallowed to rid my throat of the lump that had grown in it. “Don’t talk of what might have been, Martin. What good does it do?”

  And it did no good to tell him that if he were on bended knee before me, my aversion to marriage might just collapse like a castle in the clouds. That the notion of spending the rest of my days—and nights—with one man, running his household and having his children, didn’t seem nearly so bad if it were Martin’s face I would see smiling at me when I awoke. If only I’d realized that sooner.

  “No. Well, the money.” Martin spoke briskly now, as if resolving to stick to practical matters. “Isn’t it time you took your place in society? Or are you going to hide from it forever because of Sarah? Chicago isn’t a small gossipy town like Victory. There are women—and mark you, I’m not trying to draw a comparison—there are women of ill repute who arrive at my store in elegant carriages and order their gowns with the manner of a duchess. With wealth, a woman can be anything she pleases. Lucetta knows that well enough.”

  I looked up in time to catch the wry twist to his mouth, the fleeting cynicism that told me better than anything what his marriage was doing to him.

  “I don’t want to stay at the seminary,” I admitted. “I’ve been thinking about where we should go. Don’t forget that Tess and Sarah will have opinions about that too.”

  “Then use Chicago as your starting point,” Martin said. “I want to introduce you to your banker. He’ll instruct you how to draw on your funds and decide on investments if you want to handle your money yourself. I’ll make other introductions—I can give you access to a vast network of people who have interests all over the country. Be a society dressmaker if you wish, or a society grande dame, or travel the length and breadth of Europe—it’s all open to you. Let me help you get started, and then—if we have to part, we’ll do so a
s friends who each have a place in a wider world.”

  “So you’ll accept whatever decision we arrive at?” I asked. “If I decide to leave Chicago after a month, you’ll not prevent me from going?” I wrapped my fingers tight around my mug to stop their trembling.

  “I’ll cling to the hope of a future with you until the very last shred of hope is gone,” said Martin soberly. “I’ll work to free myself from Lucetta, whatever the cost may be to myself—as long as it is just myself, and not you, who is harmed. But I will hope. And yet if you tell me, with absolute conviction, that we’re finished—I’ll let you go. Your freedom is yours, Nell. It was your money in the first place—I simply made it grow. Yes, I’ll suffer—from anxiety on your behalf, from jealousy—I admit to that. But I will let you go.”

  He spread his hands in a gesture of release, and I squeezed my fingers tight against the urge to capture his.

  “Supposing I meet another Judah?” I asked softly. “One I want to marry?”

  Martin clamped his palms over his eyes so only his mouth and nose were visible. “Eleanor Lillington, if you get yourself mixed up with a murderer for a third time, I will disown you altogether. First Hiram and then Judah—no, it’s not possible it could happen again.”

  He slid his hands down his face and opened his eyes wide. Suddenly, we both dissolved into laughter, our hands reaching out and locking with each other in acknowledgment that all we had been through in the last two days was over. We were alive, and Martin was right—the unknown future held boundless possibilities. I felt a tiny bubble of optimism expanding inside me into a buzz of excitement.

  I gave Martin’s hand one last squeeze and then let it go as shouts from the yard outside penetrated through to the kitchen.

  “It’s full dawn,” Martin remarked. “Time we were going. Give Sarah and Tess a kiss from me.” They had said their good-byes the night before, as Tess and Sarah were so tired from all their adventures it was unlikely they’d rise early.