The Widows

by Jess Montgomery

  Lily has to choose on her own.

  If she’s going to go with the choice that means letting go of vengeance, she has to choose now. Just beyond these quiet, nearly still, deep and lovely woods, miners gather, ready to kill and to die. The forces gathering aren’t going to wait for her to mull over her options.

  Lily presses her eyes shut. She wants to see Daniel’s face, see him, all of him, one more time before she makes her choice.

  All she sees, though, are the others: Eula’s corpse in the filthy red-flowered blue dress, Alistair draped nearly lifelessly across her arms, Tom’s sorrow as he gathers his boy, Martin’s unseeing eyes, Fiona collapsing at the news.

  Lily opens her eyes and looks at Marvena.

  “There’s another way. If we let Luther live—”

  “What? No! After all he’s done—”

  “You know why I accepted being sheriff?”

  Marvena frowns. “I don’t see how this has anything—”

  “I wanted to use my role to see what I could find out about Daniel’s death. I thought if I found out who and why I could take my vengeance and find peace. But here’s what I’ve come to see. Luther, men like him, believe that there is only winning and losing. Only victory and loss. Only having power or kowtowing to it.” Lily shudders, from both fever and memory. “I’ve seen the evil in our community. But there’s also my daddy. Your John. Men trying to take care of their families. Trying to help their community. Eventually life gives us all up, Marvena, and death rends us flesh from bone.” The strains of “Pearl Bryant,” which Lily’d heard being hummed on her first trip to Rossville, drift to her mind. “Eventually, our faded past becomes the twilight tale of just an old ballad that people hum and sing while they sweep a porch. I don’t want Daniel’s death, Eula’s, the others’, to be only some ballad about vengeance. We have no choice about death. Maybe we have little choice about how we’re recollected. But we have a choice about how we live.

  “If we want to really help these people, here, have some hope, we have another choice. We can take vengeance. But vengeance doesn’t bring the dead to life. What if instead we let that go? Choose saving our people, our families—what will help the living?”

  “How?”

  “We put Luther’s life in George Vogel’s hands. And we tell Luther that he can either give his workers what they want—the right to unionize—and keep his life or I’ll give the word and George can have him taken out as easily as he did Daniel.”

  Lily draws in a great shuddering breath. Though her heart is riddled with doubt, as she knows it will forevermore be, Lily looks at Marvena and says, “We have to choose together. And I choose saving our people.”

  MARVENA

  For a long moment, Marvena stares past the Kinship Tree, at Coal Creek rushing by. Sees herself, twenty-two years in the past, just thirteen, thrashing and fighting for her life, and saved by the younger Daniel. He’d just been a boy, she thinks.

  Then she’d had Eula six years later. Maybe Daniel’s daughter, maybe not.

  And now she’s lost both of them. Lost so much. Her beloved John.

  All because of the greed and inhumanity of Luther Ross.

  Marvena recollects wanting to spit at Daniel for being a Ross. Now she wants to do the same to Lily for suggesting they let go of delivering upon Luther all the vengeance he deserves.

  In the distance, Marvena sees a red-shouldered hawk rising from the trees.

  Be alert. Carefully consider one’s situation.

  The hawk changes course, soaring to the east, over Devil’s Backbone. All those men who died in the first Widowmaker explosion of 1888. Then again, last fall. Then again, last week.

  Finally, Marvena looks back at Lily, meets her eyes. She realizes that Lily has been gazing at her this whole time, waiting. And she sees in Lily’s gaze that she was serious. She wants them to be of like mind, whatever they decide.

  They could, Marvena realizes, spin away the day talking the rights and wrongs of the choice before them. But she knows that what she really wants has nothing to do with personal vengeance. And yet letting go of that vengeance, what will it cost her heart?

  She takes a long, shaky breath and pushes the image of Eula, beautiful Eula, back, back into a box deep in her heart. And then, finally, Marvena nods.

  Lily gives a long, slow exhale. Sorrow and relief.

  “How is either of us going to get to either Abe Miller or Luther without being shot up?”

  “With Ben Russo,” Lily says. “It’s too risky for me to drive the sheriff’s automobile at this point. But his is clearly marked ‘Bureau of Mines.’ You’ll have to spread the word to hold off on any action for a day or so among your men.”

  “I’ll do that,” Marvena says.

  “Very well. We’ll go to Abe Miller. And then we’ll go to Luther.”

  CHAPTER 28

  LILY AND MARVENA

  LILY

  Mr. Williams stares from behind the check-in counter at the Kinship Inn as Lily approaches.

  “I’m here to see Abe Miller,” she says.

  Marvena is outside in the automobile with Ben, waiting.

  The proprietor’s eyebrows lift. “I … I … think he doesn’t want to be disturbed—” Mr. Williams stops, blanches. He turns away from her, suddenly staring at something on the desk behind him.

  Lily feels the back of her neck prickle. She turns. Abe Miller stands behind her, too close.

  “You have failed utterly in the tasks I put before you, Sheriff Ross,” he says. “It is hard to imagine that product will resume flowing smoothly from this area anytime soon.”

  “Is it my fault that the new entrance to the Widowmaker blew up? Listen. You told me once that if I ever needed your help, I should come here to ask you.”

  “I meant with ensuring Mr. Vogel’s business is undisturbed. Apparently I wasn’t clear.”

  “Perhaps what I need from you will ensure that. You can’t know until you hear me out.”

  Abe’s gaze is coldly piercing, but Lily does not flinch or look away. Abe turns, strides though a door just off the lobby. Lily follows him down a service hallway and a flight of stairs, and into a speakeasy. Inside, people—men and women both—rush in panic through a door at the back of the dark room. Abe looks at a man behind the bar, starts to turn, but holds up two fingers, sits down at a table. It’s covered with used glasses, overflowing ashtrays. Abe swipes it all crashing to the floor with one sweep of his forearm.

  Lily sits down. Those who remain see that she’s alone—that this is not a raid—and the melee settles. The barman comes over, puts two glasses of clear liquid before Abe, who pushes one toward Lily.

  Abe picks up the glass, holds it up to Lily, a toast. “Here’s to the very legal Vogel’s Tonic.” He swallows the contents in one gulp.

  Lily does the same with her glass. It’s a shot of Marvena’s finest.

  And damn if the burn doesn’t feel fine going down.

  The man leaves a clean ashtray on the table and scurries away. Abe taps out a cigarette. “Talk.”

  “I’d rather have you read,” she says. She pulls the March 22 telegram from her pocket, along with the earrings, puts them before Abe.

  He reads the telegram without picking it up, flicks a look at the earrings, then looks back at Lily. The hardness set in his face, the contemptuous coldness of his eyes, make Lily’s heart thud so hard she can hear it in her ears.

  But she takes a breath, then says, “I thought that a Pinkerton in Luther’s employ, a man named Harvey Grayson, was Eula’s killer. That Daniel found out somehow and was going after him outside of the channel of law, and that Harvey set him up to kill him. But then I found these items in Luther’s drawer.” Lily taps the earring with the missing diamond. “There was a small diamond in a box of effects she left behind. It would fit perfectly in this earring. But the earrings weren’t on her body. They were in Luther’s drawer. I think that Eula and Luther were, all along, really lovers.”

  A look of
distaste crosses Abe’s expression.

  “I also found this.” She points now to the telegram. “So, I think Luther told Mr. Vogel something to make him think Daniel would turn on him. Duped Mr. Vogel into helping him do away with Daniel, knowing that Daniel would be merciless if he found out.”

  “As he should be,” Abe says flatly. He takes a sip of his drink. “Are you really here to accuse my boss of sabotaging Daniel?”

  Lily studies him, the bemusement flickering across his face. Suddenly she’s back for a moment in that cave, diving in the noxious water, unable to breathe, struggling to break free.

  She leans forward so suddenly that Abe jumps. A mild note of surprise flickers on his face. The room goes silent.

  “I have seen, firsthand, how your boss deals with people he doesn’t like, people he thinks have used or fooled him. Seen how he likes to control. You know I have. You were there in the alley—the first time I met you both. You may not remember, but it looms large in my mind and always will. You were there at the Sinton, when Mr. Vogel pressed Daniel into service. So, yes. Yes, I believe Mr. Vogel was part of Daniel’s sabotage, as you put it. But no, I am not here to accuse him. I’m not a fool.”

  Lily leans back, to take a breath, and in that moment Abe cocks an eyebrow and says, “Good. But you are here for your favor?”

  Lily rubs her eyes. “Yes. I want you to telegram him that I have figured out enough to know he was used by Luther to set up Daniel. I don’t know exactly how. Perhaps I don’t need to. But that I know. And you let him know as well that I know that Daniel was a man who kept his word. He was true to me. He was true to Mr. Vogel. You tell him that anyone who says or thinks otherwise is playing him for a fool. And I know Mr. Vogel does not tolerate being played a fool. That he would not want others to know they could get away with playing him for a fool. What would that do to his business? You tell him that I’m going to confront Luther—not to accuse or bring him in for Eula or Daniel’s death, but to ask him to listen to the miners’ demands. You tell him that I need some assurance that if Luther does what I want, Luther will be free of Mr. Vogel’s wrath, but that if Luther does not, then I want to be assured that Mr. Vogel will not hesitate to exact the cost from Luther that he foolishly exacted from my husband.”

  Lily stands up. “I will wait one hour for you to send the telegram and receive Mr. Vogel’s response. I will be in the automobile marked ‘Bureau of Mines,’ parked right out front.”

  With that, Lily walks out of the speakeasy.

  MARVENA

  Marvena takes in the changing countryside from the front seat of Ben’s automobile, the expanse of rolling pasture for dairy and buckwheat farms. Lily is lying down in the backseat, taking advantage of the time for rest that this ride allows.

  Earlier this afternoon, Marvena had watched Lily stride into Kinship Inn, then a half hour later come out with Abe Miller and go down the street to the telegraph office. While Lily was inside, Ben had pressed Marvena for the reason of this elaborate detour, but all Marvena would tell him was that it was necessary for negotiating with Luther. Forty minutes later, as they came out, Abe handed Lily a telegram, and then he walked back into Kinship Inn.

  And now here they are, near dusk, at the Ross family farm. Ben opens the automobile doors for Lily and Marvena, saying as they step out, “I’m not sure I’m all right with the two of you going in and talking to Luther, just yourselves. I should go in with you.”

  Lily starts to open the door he’d just shut. “Fine. We’ll go back. Let this play out—”

  “I’m with her,” Marvena says, stepping back toward his automobile.

  “Fine, fine!” Ben says. “I’ll be outside whatever room you’re meeting in.”

  Inside the house, Luther and several of his men lounge in the parlor. He looks up as they appear in the doorway, grins as if they’ve been brought there just for his amusement.

  “Well, look here,” he starts.

  “They’ve come to negotiate further, Mr. Ross,” Ben says. “You’ll take it seriously.”

  Luther looks at Lily. “I hope you’re here to say you’ve come to your senses and are willing to do as Daniel would have done in a situation this dire, whatever his personal belief—end all this before we have real bloodshed by supporting my right to run the mines as I choose.”

  “We’ve already had real bloodshed—or do you mean it becomes real when it’s your or your men’s blood that’s spilled?” Marvena snaps.

  Lily puts her hand on Marvena’s arm, quieting her. But she adds, “Don’t speak to me of what Daniel would have done. We are here to speak our own minds.”

  Several of the men snicker at that.

  “Say what you have to say then,” Luther says.

  “No,” Marvena says. “Alone.”

  Luther waggles his eyebrows and the men around him laugh.

  Marvena digs her nails into her palms to remind herself not to attack the son of a bitch. She waits for the laughter to fade, then says, “I don’t think you want anyone to hear what Lily and I have to say.”

  Luther scowls. “Fine. But I want their weapons taken.”

  As Lily passes her revolver to Ben, Elias steps into the room. “Lily? Is it all right if I join you, Miss Whitcomb, and Luther?”

  Marvena studies him. The tingling instincts that have served Marvena her whole life creep up now as she looks at Elias, sees the rigid lines around his mouth and the coolness of his eyes, hears the evenness of his voice. She looks at Lily, to see if she senses this, too, but Lily is looking at Elias with a mix of warmth and sorrow.

  “It’s your home,” Lily is saying, “though I don’t think you’ll want to know—”

  “I insist,” Elias says. He turns to lead them into the dining room.

  LILY

  In the dining room, Elias sits in his usual spot, at the head of the table, lighting his pipe. She sees, in his face, that sheltering Luther’s men has wearied him.

  Then she looks at Luther, his smug, self-assured expression, as he sits lazily in a side chair, pulled back from the table, so he can let his legs sprawl lazily.

  Hatred for him starts to distract her, but Lily reminds herself that she does not want more bloodshed, more death, and she knows this is the only way. She looks at Marvena, standing next to her beside the polished dining table. Marvena nods. Lily pulls the earrings out of her pocket and tosses them on the dining table.

  “I found these in your office.”

  “So? They’re a gift for Joanne. I just didn’t get around to—”

  “They go with the necklace Joanne said Eula stole from her. But I’ve talked with Joanne in the tent city—”

  “What?” Luther exclaims.

  “She says Eula only took earrings. A small diamond is missing from one. There was a diamond that would fit perfectly in this setting in the box Daniel found in Eula’s old room at the boardinghouse. And Joanne’s been wondering … just how did you get these earrings? The only answer is from Eula, before she died.”

  “You got my girl pregnant!” Marvena’s voice rises dangerously. “You killed her—”

  “What? No!” Luther says. “She got pregnant by someone else—Harvey Grayson.”

  “You went to the extreme of killing Eula and Daniel to protect Harvey Grayson? Why?”

  Luther stiffens. “You sound like a crazy woman. Hysterical!”

  Lily reaches into her pocket and pulls out the telegram she’d found in Luther’s office.

  “I found this telegram from George Vogel, sent to you March 22, in your drawer. Along with those earrings.” She doesn’t have to look at it to recite it. “‘Set for March 25. Send your best.’ You sent Harvey Grayson to our house on March 24, to get Daniel to head to Rossville on the twenty-fifth. But he never made it.”

  A snap of something falling against the floor; the sound draws Lily’s attention to Elias, who has leaned over to pick up his pipe. When he straightens, his face is rigid, his gaze upon Lily merciless. His hand trembles, though, and he p
uts the pipe on the table.

  Something in that tremble—it hits Lily that Elias is in on Daniel’s and Eula’s deaths. “Oh God, Elias, no. Why?”

  Elias sighs. “I tried to scare you both off after Marvena’s visit on the day of Daniel’s funeral.”

  “Shep—” Marvena says.

  “And Lily’s chickens. It was easier than you might think to find a miner willing to trade knowledge of Marvena’s whereabouts for some scrip, and to hire a Pinkerton to take care of the animals.”

  “What miner?” Marvena cries.

  “Don’t know. Got a Pinkerton to find one for us. Does it matter?” Luther says.

  Lily looks at Marvena, notes in her expression that in spite of all else, yes, it does matter, knowing who to trust.

  Elias shakes his head. “I knew Lily would start asking questions after you arrived. She’s always been too keen on questioning. First time I met her, she wanted to know the ‘why’ of amputating her toe, and an explanation of gangrene.”

  Lily clenches her fists so hard her nails dig into her palms. How dare he? As if, somehow, this is all her and Marvena’s fault.

  Elias looks at Luther. “And you? Why did you keep those items? Particularly the telegram? I told you to destroy it.”

  “I … I thought if we ever need to have something to hold over George—”

  “One doesn’t hold things over George!” Elias snaps.

  For a moment Lily is again in this dining room as a girl just turned seventeen, toes mangled. She hears dear Sophie’s voice trembling with the question about who to get to help with the amputation, Luther or Daniel?, hears Elias snapping, Don’t ask me to choose!

  Lily blanches as she realizes that he had, indeed, chosen. All these years, he’d chosen his nephew Daniel … until finally, now, he’d chosen his other nephew, Luther.

  Lily swallows hard as she stuffs the telegram back in her pocket, next to the one she’d received just an hour before from Mr. Vogel. “Oh, Elias. What … what have you done?”