Forgiving

by LaVyrle Spencer

  “I’m listening.”

  Noah studied his beer mug. Scratched its handle with a thumbnail. Met Robert’s eyes.

  “I think she’s scared to death of being touched.”

  “I told you she was moral, didn’t I?”

  “It goes beyond that. It’s all mixed up with what Addie was. Sarah says, ‘I don’t want to be like Addie.’ “

  “Can you blame her?”

  “I don’t expect her to be. What I mean is I... well, I got carried away once. Just once. I tried something with her and she made it very clear she wasn’t that kind of girl. So since then I’ve been what I believe is called a perfect gentleman. I don’t even kiss her very often and half the time she acts like she’s scared to death to do that. Now, dammit, Robert, that’s not natural. Not when two people are supposed to love each other. Saying goodnight should be torture, that’s how I see it.”

  “Are you sure you love this woman?”

  “I think about her day and night. She’s driving me nuts!”

  “But do you love her?”

  “Yes. Against my better judgment, yes.”

  “Then don’t worry about it. Women want a marriage certificate first.”

  “You want to know something funny?”

  “What?”

  “I thought for a while it was you she loved.”

  “Me!”

  “I was jealous as hell when you first came to town.”

  Robert laughed. “No, it was always Addie for me. Sarah and I were just friends.”

  “So what about you and Addie? You got any plans?”

  Robert settled back in his chair, drew a huge breath and blew it out with his cheeks puffed. “Addie’s still a mess.”

  “She’s scared as hell to go out of that house, isn’t she?”

  “Not only that. Believe it or not, I think there are times when she misses the whorehouse.”

  “Oh Robert, come on.”

  “I know it sounds ridiculous, but think about it. She lived the life for five years. She made good money. All her needs were taken care of. She didn’t have to cook, clean, work, worry. The men loved her. I think she was good at what she did—hell, you’d know about that better than I would.”

  “She was good.”

  “And you’re jealous of me?” Robert said wryly.

  “That was business, Robert. Nothing but, and I gave that up when I fell for Sarah.”

  Robert took a long swig of beer, studying Noah over his glass. “It’s a damned miracle you and I ever got to be friends, you know that?”

  Noah answered with a slow grin. When it passed he asked, “So do you love Addie or what?”

  “The truth is, I don’t know. I care enough about her to want her to have a decent life, but taking on a woman with her kind of past is scary. It makes you wonder if one man will ever be enough for her. Or if one man is too many. Because the odd thing is, though she might miss the life, she hated it, too. She hated the men all the while she pretended to love them, did you know that?”

  Noah had never thought about it before. The idea was mildly shocking.

  That night after supper while Sarah and Addie lingered over coffee, Sarah said, “I have something to tell you. I hope it won’t upset you.”

  “Upset me? Is it something bad?”

  Sarah’s smile dawned and set in rapid succession. “No, it’s not bad.” She leaned her elbows on the table and said, “Noah has asked me to marry him.”

  Consternation flitted across Addie’s features. At first she said nothing, then rose and went to the stove to get the coffeepot.

  With her back to Sarah, she said, “My goodness.”

  “What do you think, Addie?”

  “You and the marshal—I don’t know what to think.”

  “Addie, come here. Sit down.”

  Addie turned slowly and returned to the table, leaving the coffeepot behind. She sat down on the edge of her chair.

  “We haven’t set a date yet.”

  Addie nodded, her eyes fixed on her full cup.

  “But a telegram came in today with the news that Deadwood will be getting a minister in early April.”

  Addie’s gaze shot to Sarah. “Early April!”

  “I didn’t say I was getting married then, I said that’s when the minister will get here. But Addie, you must face reality. It will happen sometime and when it does, I’ll be going to live with him.”

  “Why can’t you live here?” Addie asked plaintively.

  Sarah touched Addie’s wrist. “I think you know the answer to that.”

  “Oh.” With the quiet word Addie dropped her gaze. “Then what would I do?” she asked forlornly.

  “You would make a life of your own. You must start now, Addie, by leaving this house like a normal person, by going uptown and doing the shopping and seeing people again.”

  “I had a life of my own, but you and Robert took me out of it,” Addie retorted with a sudden burst of anger. “If neither one of you wanted me, why did you make me leave Rose’s? I was happy there, can’t you understand that?”

  “Addie, don’t say that.”

  “I was! Happier than I am here being a nothing. I can’t cook, I can’t write articles, I hate washing clothes and blacking stoves! I’m not even good enough to be Robert’s wife, because if I was he would have asked me by now. Instead he treats me like a pet sister. Well, I don’t want to be his pet sister and I don’t want to be your house slave, so just go ahead and marry the marshal and move wherever you want to!”

  Like a petulant child Addie ran from the kitchen, up the steps and slammed her bedroom door.

  Sarah remained behind, stunned. Of all the ingrateful, self-indulgent, moronic women in the world, her sister took the prize! Addie couldn’t see beyond her narrow concerns to what it was she and Robert had done for her. She wouldn’t make an effort to become self-reliant, to become proficient at anything that smacked of hard work. Instead she would blame them for not sacrificing themselves further so she could remain in her ivory tower, disdaining the rest of the world.

  Sarah rose and clanked her empty cup into a dishpan. She poured hot water from the teakettle, added cold, began washing their supper dishes with enough vehemence to be heard through the ceiling.

  Well, let her sit up there and bawl!

  Sarah felt like bawling herself. She loved Addie, had left St. Louis for her, had made the fearful trip out here into the unknown, had set up a business and a home and sprung Addie out of Rose’s meat hole and all she got for it was blamed!

  Well, so be it.

  When the preacher came she’d be the first one married and let Addie run back to Rose’s and stay there till the syphilis got her out once and for all!

  Of course the anger burnt itself out. By ten o’clock, when each of the two women had listened to the house noises for three hours, when their self-imposed exiles had begun to grow lonely, when antipathy lost its buoyancy and became a burden, Sarah extinguished the kitchen lantern and felt her way up the stairs. They creaked. At the top she paused to study the thin blade of light showing beneath Addie’s closed door. Sadly, she turned to her own.

  She had just lit her lantern when Addie’s door opened and she came to Sarah’s doorway, pausing one step inside.

  “Sarah?”

  Sarah turned.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  The two exchanged gazes across the quiet room. Sarah rose and the two rushed together to hug.

  “Oh Addie... I’m sorry, too.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. You have every right to marry the marshal, and you should. I’m just scared is all. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.”

  Taking Addie’s hand, Sarah led her to the bed and they sat down.

  “You’ll be fine,” Sarah said.

  “How? How can I be fine when no man will have me, not even Robert, who loves me? I know he does.”

  “Have you ever stopped to think, Addie, that Robert may be waiting to see th
at you don’t need him before he decides he does need you?”

  Addie looked puzzled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Sarah took her hand. “What man would want to marry a woman who believes she’s better off in a brothel? You’ve got to show him, Addie. You say you can’t do anything, but that’s not true. There are things you can do. You just don’t want to because most of them are hard work and you’ve never had to work hard before. You live in a town that’s ninety-nine-percent men, for heaven’s sake! There are dozens of jobs that women do better than men, or that men wouldn’t dream of doing for themselves. You could clean their houses, mend their shirts, launder their sheets, cut their hair—I don’t know exactly what it is. You’re the one who must decide. But I know one thing: there’s enough money in this gulch, and enough womenless men, that any woman has a distinct advantage when it comes to business. If you were to open up a shop and a man opened up the same kind right across the street, he’d probably go out of business because you’d get it all.”

  It was obvious Addie had never pondered the possibility before.

  “I’m asking you to use your head, Addie. Stop hiding behind the excuse that you’re not as bright as I am and find something you can do better than me. When you find it, my guess is that Robert will pop the question. He didn’t break you out of Rose’s for nothing.”

  “You really believe that, Sarah?”

  “Yes, I do. Robert loves you as surely as trees are green. He’s just waiting for you to become worthy of him.”

  “Oh Sarah, I love him so much, but he’s never even kissed me since the night he took me out of Rose’s.”

  “Give him time. But more importantly, give him a reason to.”

  Addie’s countenance remained sober. After lengthy thought she said, “All right. I’ll try.”

  It seemed there would be a church raising. The next issue of the Chronicle announced not only the hiring of the minister, but the fact that lumber was needed, and each mine- and landowner was requested to donate one tree, delivered to the Beaver Creek Sawmill. The mill donated the cutting time to the cause while the butcher shops donated venison to feed the crew. Teddy Ruckner said he would cook it, and the Ladies’ Society, which had already held several weekly meetings, volunteered to serve it.

  The event was planned for the first weekend in March.

  “Are you coming with me tomorrow?” Sarah asked Addie the night before it.

  Addie took a deep breath and answered, “Yes.”

  Sarah smiled. Addie smiled, though not as confidently as her sister.

  The day of the church raising dawned clear and warm. As if the project were blessed by some omnipotent force, the chinook winds came over the Rockies and turned winter to spring. The morning temperature was just below freezing, but by noon it had reached the sixties.

  Everyone turned out—merchants, miners, men, women, children and one ex-prostitute, wearing a scarf tied backward over her gray and blond hair. When Addie showed up beside Sarah, she brought more than one person up short. Some of the men, after jolts of recognition, mistakenly greeted, “Hello, Eve,” to which she replied, “My name is Addie now.” Most of the women stiffened, but out of respect for Sarah offered perfunctory greetings when Addie was introduced. Emma, of course, led the vanguard of acceptance, thumping an arm around Addie’s shoulders and ordering, “Come with me. I need someone to help me carry bread over from the bakery.”

  On their way they ran into Noah, heading toward the church lot dressed in dungarees and a red flannel work shirt, carrying a wooden toolbox.

  “Addie!” he exclaimed in surprise. “You’re helping today?”

  Addie offered a dubious smile. “Sarah talked me into it.”

  “That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, beaming.

  “So you’re going to marry my sister.”

  Emma exclaimed, “What!”

  “That’s right. Soon, I hope, now that we’ve got a preacher coming.”

  “I guess that’ll make us relatives.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, I can stand that if you can.”

  He laughed. She followed suit, and they stood awhile facing each other in the street, aware that the situation could be awkward if they’d let it, determined they would not let it.

  “Congratulations,” Addie said.

  “Thanks, Addie.”

  “Why hasn’t Sarah told us?” Emma put in.

  “It hasn’t been official very long. My family doesn’t even know yet.”

  Emma thumped him on the arm. “Well, that’s just grand news, Marshal, just grand.”

  “I think so, too. Well... I’d better get up there and lend a hand. I hear hammers pounding already.”

  They parted, Noah to pitch in with the carpenters, Emma and Addie to get the bread. Upon their return to the church site, Robert found them. He, too, held tools and wore rough work clothing.

  “I heard you were here today,” he said to Addie. He looked pleased. “You keeping her busy, Emma?”

  “You bet. No slackers allowed in Deadwood when there’s a church to raise. Where’s Sarah?”

  “Over there, making coffee.”

  Emma climbed onto a nail bucket and spied Sarah working with the women while nearby Noah helped the men. Emma formed a megaphone with her hands. “Listen, everybody! Let’s get this thing built right ‘cause the first ones married in it’s gonna be the marshal and Sarah Merritt!”

  Sarah and Noah were separated by fifty feet, but their heads snapped around and their eyes met. The resulting hoorah put color in Sarah’s cheeks.

  “Noah Campbell, you old sonofagun you!” Somebody banged Noah’s shoulder blades.

  “Had to throw her in an abandoned mine to get her to say yes though, didn’t you, Marshal?”

  “And she give him a black eye for it, as I recall!”

  “I’d treat you better than that, Sarah! You wouldn’t have to give me no black eyes!”

  The jovial ribbing went on and on until Sarah spun away to help the women make coffee over the open fire.

  At midmorning a wagonload of Spearfish Valley farmers arrived, among them Noah’s family. They heard the news before they reached the heart of town. Carrie was the first off the wagon.

  “Where’s that son of mine? I want to hear it from his own lips!” When she found Noah she bellowed, “Is it true? You marrying that young newspaper gal?”

  “It’s true, Ma.”

  “Where is she?” Louder she hollered, “Lead me to my future daughter-in-law!”

  The crowd produced Sarah, nudging her forward while Carrie bore down on her from the opposite direction with her son in tow.

  “Gal, you’ve made a mother happy! When’s the glorious day?”

  “I... I’m not sure.” Sarah barely got the words out before she was enarmed by Carrie and found herself confronting Noah over her shoulder.

  “Well, it can’t happen too soon to suit me. I’m just mighty happy about the turn of events. Kirk, Arden, here she is!” She heralded them over. “Here’s Sarah! And Noah, too!”

  Kirk arrived with Arden trailing. Noah’s father gave Sarah a bear hug that nearly popped her spleen. “Well, this is something,” he said, “this is certainly something. You have our blessings.” He released her and shook Noah’s hand. “Congratulations, son.”

  It was Arden’s turn. He tried for a smile but it barely bent his lips. “You broke my heart, Sarah,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I asked you first.”

  He did the correct thing, however, with Noah: shook his hand and said for the whole town to hear, “I guess the best man won.”

  Noah and Sarah found no privacy until sometime later when she came by offering him a cup of coffee. He held a cup while she poured.

  “I guess everybody knows now.” His statement assumed the unasked question, And what do you think of that, Sarah?

  She righted the coffeepot, gave him a smile and caught him by surprise by saying, “Then I guess it’s time we set a date.”


  The church went up with the grace and precision of a staged dance. The floor first. Then one wall, and another and two more, followed by the roof joists, white as bone china. On the ground an eight-man crew was designing a belfry with a pointed steeple. At another station a crew was building a pair of matched doors. Nearby some older men were riving shingles while the children bundled them twenty to a pack and tied them with twine for easy lifting up to the rafters. Soon the carpenters appeared in silhouette against the blue March sky, balancing on the skeletal building, plying braces and bits and joining the sturdy structure with pegs. Meanwhile the women kept the coffee coming.

  At noon the venison was carved over the open pit where it had cooked, and served with fresh bread, baked beans and corn cakes at tables made of planks and sawhorses. Afterward, the women worked on the cleanup while the men returned to their labors. In the late afternoon, with the structure framed and enclosed, the belfry was hoisted up and set in place to the accompaniment of cheers. At suppertime platters of cold venison sandwiches appeared, accompanied by more hot coffee and dried-apple pies.

  At twilight the tools were stored for the night, lanterns came out and a keg of beer was tapped. Someone produced a fiddle, someone else a mouth organ, and an impromptu dance began on the fragrant, freshly milled floor of the church. Every woman was pressed into service as a partner, but still there weren’t enough. A number of good-natured men played the parts of women by appropriating the ladies’ aprons and tying them on while dancing to “Turkey in the Straw” with partners of their own gender.

  There was much laughter and camaraderie. No females were allowed to play favorites, but were whirled and swirled from one man to the next.

  Passing through Arden’s arms, Sarah heard, “If he doesn’t treat you right, you know where to come!”

  Passing through Noah’s, she heard, “I’m going to walk you home when this is over.”

  Only one clinker spoiled the night. When Addie was reeling from the dance floor, breathless, at the end of a number, she was confronted by Mrs. Roundtree, who hissed in an undertone, “You have your nerve, mixing with honest, God-fearing folks in this building. Go back to the whorehouse where you belong!”