Caught Between Love And Duty

by Clarice Mayfield

  The room grew quiet as she made her way to the podium and opened a small book. Georgia’s eyes scanned the crowd for a moment, showing them that she was not angry or bitter, then rested on the McCloud family with a gentle nod to acknowledge their suffering.

  “This is a poem by Walt Whitman,” she began. “As the Reverend mentioned, Whitman was one of Arthur’s favorites. It’s called Each Has His Grief.” She paused. “As Reverend Wilkinson also said, I hope that all of us will remember Arthur at his best...and forgive him for his sins. This is what my fiancé – his dear friend James McCloud – and I are going to do. It’s what the whole McCloud family wants to do, as well. Please join with us in doing that.”

  Georgia picked up the little volume on the podium and held it open in front of her. “Each Has His Grief, by Walt Whitman:

  On earth are many sights of woe,

  And many sounds of agony,

  And many a sorrow-wither’d cheek,

  And many a pain-dulled eye.

  Each has his grief – old age fears death;

  The young man’s ills are pride, desire,

  And heart-sickness; and in his breast

  The heat of passion’s fire.

  All, all know care; and, at the close,

  All lie earth’s spreading arms within –

  The poor, the black-soul’d, proud, and low,

  Virtue, despair, and sin.

  How foolish, then, with pain to shrink

  From the sure doom we each must meet.

  Is earth so fair – or heaven so dark –

  Or life so passing sweet?

  Then our long journey will be o’er,

  And throwing off earth’s load of woes,

  The pallid brow, the fainting heart

  Will sink in soft repose.

  Not only this: for wise men say

  That when we leave our land of care,

  We float to a mysterious shore,

  Peaceful, and pure, and fair.

  So, welcome death! Whene’er the time

  That the dread summons must be met,

  I’ll yield without one pang of fear,

  Or sigh, or vain regret.

  But like unto a wearied child,

  That over field and wood all day

  Has ranged and struggled, and at last,

  Worn out with toil and play,

  Goes up at evening to his home,

  And throws him, sleepy, tired, and sore,

  Upon his bed, and rests him there,

  His pain and trouble o’er.”

  Georgia looked up at the crowd once again, closed the volume of poetry and returned to her seat beside James. He gazed at her with tears welling in his eyes and kissed her on the cheek. Martha leaned forward and took Georgia’s hand for a moment. “Thank you!” she whispered. To the left of his Auntie, David leaned forward too and smiled in appreciation through his tears.

  Later that day James fulfilled his promise to Arthur. With the Reverend Wilkinson officiating, his old friend’s body was laid to rest in the Sonora cemetery beside the woman he had secretly loved.

  * * *

  After the funeral, the Sutton County Hotel closed down for a while, pending James’s inheritance of the property. He kept the staff on payroll, intending to bring them back to their jobs once estate proceedings had concluded. As of yet, he had no idea what they would do with the property after it became operational. Georgia suggested that if it could be sold to someone skilled in the hotel business, this would be a lovely way of continuing Arthur’s legacy of bringing fine culture to west Texas. James agreed. But who would that someone be?

  All of the Warton men were fascinated by the huge, ornate hotel set in the middle of a dusty cow town. A week before the wedding, they asked James if he would give them a tour of the property. He agreed and the following day a party consisting of Charles, Elias, William, Georgia, and James made a visit to the building in the afternoon.

  The place seemed eerily silent to James, quieter than he had ever heard it, and this made him miss his old friend terribly. The Warton men, however, were amazed at the opulence of the place. They walked from room to room commenting on the quality of the furnishings, artwork, and decor.

  Viewing Arthur’s office and living suite brought the tragic circumstances of the man’s end powerfully home to James. It was uncomfortable for him to be there so soon after the event. He tried to distract himself by initiating a conversation. “This here office was where Arthur gifted the hotel to me. I told him that I don’t know anything about how to run a hotel but he insisted on givin’ it to us. It was his way of makin’ amends for the trouble he caused the family.”

  “A very noble gesture,” Charles commented.

  “Yes, sir,” James replied, “that was the real Arthur. I miss him a lot.”

  “Even after what he did to your – our family?” William asked.

  “Yep, even after all that, William. He was my best friend since we was kids. We all get caught up in blind alleys in life sometimes. Arthur was no different, I reckon. Unfortunately, he just took it farther than most of us ever do.”

  A bittersweet expression was on Elias’s face. “Maybe he took it farther than most of us, but I’m not too far behind him in that department,” he said ruefully.

  “But with one major difference, son,” Charles added.

  “What’s that?”

  “You came to your senses before it was too late, my boy, and you’ve made a good start on turning your life around. Poor Mr. Richards only realized where he’d gone wrong at the very end – and that with a knife in his belly. Consider yourself lucky.”

  “Thanks,” Elias said quietly, “I appreciate that, Dad.”

  “Better late than never for poor Arthur,” Georgia said.

  “Yep. I reckon,” James replied. “Now we got to find someone to run this place ‘til we figure out what to do with it. Like I said: I don’t have a clue how to run a hotel or even how to find someone that’ll give it a go.”

  “I can do it!” William chirped up.

  Elias chuckled and Charles looked at the younger boy in surprise at his sudden outburst of confidence.

  “You done that type of work before?” James asked.

  “Yes, sir,” William replied firmly, “I worked in a hotel kitchen for three summers – supervised the junior wait staff for the last two summers. Then I studied business economics in first year college.”

  James looked over at Georgia in surprise. She smiled and nodded as if to say “yes, it’s true.” James turned his attention back to William. “Well, I like your spunk, young man. How old are you now?”

  “I’m going to be eighteen in October,” he said, “a full-grown man. I can handle the job, James. Let me have a shot at it for a while and if I don’t have this place up and running great in a few weeks, I’ll step aside for someone else.”

  James looked at the boy’s father. “Any reason why we shouldn’t give your son a chance to manage this place? Seems like he’s got a hankerin’ to prove himself the man for the job, Charles.”

  “I don’t see why not. It’s true what he said: William did very well at the hotel for several years and has some business education. He’s very good with figures and knows how to work with people.”

  “Well let’s do it then,” James concluded. “I accept your offer, young man. You have a go at managing the Sutton for three months and if the place is doing well at the end of that time, we’ll hire you on permanent.”

  “How much does it pay?” the boy asked.

  “Let’s talk about salary later – soon as I can find out how much a hotel manager makes.” They shook hands on it.

  “Thanks, James!” the boy grinned. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

  “No problem, William,” he replied. “You just took a load off my mind. There’s a certain wedding dinner the Sutton is booked to provide on September 27th. Are you up for that?”

  “It will be my pleasure,” William said, looking at Georgia with a
beatific smile. She walked over and gave him a warm hug.

  “I’m proud of you, little brother,” she said. “You’ve got courage, I’ll grant you that.”

  “Thanks, sis – and spunk, don’t forget spunk.” Georgia shook her head and chuckled.

  Elias and Charles both stepped forward to shake hands and congratulate the youngster on his new job opportunity.

  “Wait until your mother hears about this, William,” Charles exclaimed, “she will be very excited for you, son.”

  “Not as excited as I am!” William said, plopping down in the hotel manager’s chair. The rest of the party laughed as he put his feet up on the desk and clasped his hands behind his head with a look of beaming confidence. James laughed too for the first time since Arthur’s passing. He let out a big and loud, stress-relieving guffaw as he watched the young man’s antics.

  * * *

  “I like the boy, but you sure he can run a place like the Sutton?” David asked his brother as they sat their horses at the Golden Lane lookout that evening.

  “I’m double-sure he can run it better than I could,” James replied with a grin.

  “A one-armed baboon could run the place better than you, brother,” David laughed. “Being a hotelier just ain’t your gift... or mine.”

  “I like the boy’s spunk and confidence. Charles says he’s got some business education and hotel experience under his belt. So why not? Good to give a young man a chance to prove his mettle, don’t ya think?”

  “Yep, sure do. I recall a certain... slightly older youngster being given the job of managin’ this ranch. The poor feller had just weaned himself off o’ the bottle and was a might shaky; didn’t even know if he could handle it or not,” David remembered.

  James nodded. “And as it turned out it was just the thing for him, weren’t it?”

  “Yep. Did him a world of good. Sure glad you and Auntie gave me the opportunity, James.”

  “No problemo, amigo. I had a job offer for sheriff, needed somebody to take over here and run the place,” he smiled. “And you done a bang-up job at it over the years, David.”

  “Thanks, brother. I’m lookin’ forward to workin’ together on the new spread too. When we gonna get started?”

  “After the weddin’s over and our guests head back east, I reckon. No rush, seein’ we already made the down payment on it. Hey, I got a favor to ask you, brother,” James said.

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “You know I’d asked Arthur to be best man. I’d be much obliged if you’d step in and take over the job.”

  “You bet. It’ll be my pleasure,” David said and he began to chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” James asked, perplexed.

  “Well, in the old days the best man used to have the job of guardin’ the bride before the weddin’ just in case her father or an old beau tried to steal her back again. But in this case the ‘best man’ was the one who kidnapped the bride! Ain’t that ironic?” David slapped his knee and shook his head at the thought of it.

  James wasn’t amused. “Yeah. I think we’ve had enough kidnappin’ around here for a lifetime.”

  “Amen to that, brother,” David replied. “Let’s head back to the house. I don’t wanna miss supper.”

  As they turned their horses to leave the lookout, James felt intensely thankful that no one in his family had been killed during the desperadoes’ abductions and attempted kidnappings. As a lawman, he knew how easily it could have went otherwise, how the smallest and seemingly random events can sometimes make the difference between life or death.

  He wasn’t a man often given to prayer, but in that moment James’s heart lifted to his creator in praise.

  Thank you, Lord, that Georgia, David, and Auntie made it through alive.

  26

  Five days before the wedding Aunt Martha made good on her suggestion to Georgia and convened a quilting bee to help the young woman refresh her sewing skills. It would also be a social occasion, of course, to help the women from both families get to know each other better. The small, informal event was held at Biddy Logan’s house in Sonora and was attended by Emilia Warton, Georgia, Martha, and the hostess.

  The women from the Golden Lane arrived at six o’clock in the evening in a two-horse carriage, which also carried Aunt Martha’s historic and antique quilting frame. She carried the four long, thin boards carefully into the house as Georgia held the door open for her. Biddy’s husband brought the horses over to the watering trough and then made himself scarce so the women could enjoy their special evening together.

  They gathered in the Logan parlor and discovered that Biddy had already set four ladder back chairs in the middle of the room to hold the quilting frame. Aunt Martha adjusted the chair backs so they sat in a square pattern about four feet apart. Then she set the quilting frame on top of them. Biddy admired the boards that had been worn smooth by decades of use and ran her hand over the wood, feeling the texture on her fingers. “Martha, this is an absolutely wonderful frame. How long have you had it?”

  “It was my Mama’s frame,” Martha said proudly, “and her mama’s before that. There’s been many a pioneer woman sat around it sewin’ quilts.”

  “It’s lovely,” Emilia complemented her. “A family heirloom – no pun intended.”

  “Oh, we had many a loom down through the years too!” Martha chuckled. “They never lasted as long as the quiltin’ frames though: too many parts. Do them Boston society dames go a-sewin’ too, Emilia?”

  “Yes, occasionally. I’ve sat in on a few quilt tops back home. But it’s been a long, long time for me, Martha. I’m so glad to be here this evening.”

  “We’re glad that you came to join us,” Biddy said warmly.

  “Yes, Mama,” Georgia smiled, “I’m really happy that you came too.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for anything, my dear! What kind of block pattern will we be working on this evening, ladies?”

  “Well, since I convened this bee specially for Georgia’s weddin’,” Martha said, “I was thinkin’ that a friendship quilt might be a good way to mark the occasion. You know, to remember the joining of our two families together – and our dear friends too,” she said, looking at their host. “By the way, Emilia, it’s Biddy here is gonna be the one to help Georgia deliver her babies. She’s the local midwife; and a fine one at that.”

  “Well, I’m pleased to meet the woman who will help bring my grandchildren into the world,” Emilia smiled.

  “My pleasure, Mrs. Warton,” Biddy said, “and don’t you worry none, I delivered hundreds of babies over the years. Ms. Georgia gonna be just fine.”

  Georgia blushed as the women smiled at her. “Hey, we’re not even married yet, ladies. Let James and I enjoy our honeymoon first, will you?” she joked. Everyone laughed and agreed to the design that Aunt Martha had proposed.

  “Okay then. A friendship quilt it is, ladies,” Biddy said enthusiastically. “Great idea, Martha. Can you refresh my memory on how to do the block pattern for it?”

  “Sure can. It’s real simple,” the older lady said, “the only rule is a six-by-six square in the center of the block. Each of us embroiders our name in the middle of the square on our block: four blocks, four names. The rest is up to our imagination, gals – and whatever materials we was able to scrounge up for tonight.”

  The women each reached for a bag containing assorted pieces of fabric material which they had gathered together from various sources. They had pieces of old shirts and dresses, blankets, previous quilts, anything around the house which had worn out but still had good material which could be used.

  Each took a seat on one of the four corner-chairs that held up the quilting frame and brought out their sewing kits. Or, if they preferred to work that way, the women pulled up a stool or another chair to make accessing the sewing area easier. It was a simple but efficient way of quilting that was practiced across America.

  Once everyone had threaded their needles and got a start on the pa
ttern blocks, Biddy asked, “So how are you ladies doing? It’s been quite difficult for the whole town lately with Arthur’s passing. Is everybody okay out at the Golden Lane?”

  “James took it hard, Biddy,” Georgia said. “He loved that man like his own brother. They grew up together, as you know. He just had no idea at all how Arthur felt about his late wife, much less that he was behind the gang.”