A Proper Pursuit

by Lynn Austin

  He was silent for so long that I began to believe he wouldn’t speak. But at last he started talking, hesitantly at first. His voice was very soft.

  “I was in Chicago that night with Philip. I found him in the saloon that he and Lloyd O’Neill ran together. Philip wanted to become an actor, and he enjoyed the theater and all of those other vices that our father railed against. I made a deal with Philip to come to Dwight Moody’s church with me—just once—so he could see how the Gospel was supposed to be preached. I kept telling him that Mr. Moody’s portrait of Christ was much different than our father’s. I convinced him to come, promising that I would never ask another thing of him if he did. And Moody’s sermon didn’t disappoint me. I remember they sang a song that night called ‘Today the Savior Calls.’ ”

  My father began to sing softly, surprising me with his beautiful tenor voice:

  “Today the Savior calls

  For refuge fly

  The storm of justice falls

  And death is nigh.”

  “We had no idea how true those words would be,” he continued. “Mr. Moody was still preaching his sermon when fire engines started thundering past and the bell in the old courthouse began to toll nearby. Everyone grew restless, and there was so much noise and confusion in the street outside that Mr. Moody decided to close the meeting. He didn’t invite the congregation to come to Jesus—so I never knew if Philip …”

  I took my father’s hand in mine, waiting until he could continue. He had suffered more losses in his life than I had ever realized.

  “Philip was worried about the saloon, worried that his friend O’Neill would be too drunk to get himself out of there with his bad leg. O’Neill had saved Phil’s life during the war, so I went along with him. The fire was spreading very close to the saloon, and we found it empty except for looters who were stealing as much liquor as they could carry. I told Philip it was time for both of us to get to safety, but he wanted to go to the theater first and make sure his friends had all escaped.

  “On the way we passed a building that had just caught fire. Your mother was leaning from a third-story window, screaming for help. Her father had locked her inside. Philip and I broke the door down and I carried her out. But then he went back inside to make sure no one else was trapped.”

  Father paused. I saw him struggling to compose himself.

  “Philip never made it out. I watched the place collapse on top of him.”

  “He sounds like a great man,” I murmured. Father nodded wordlessly, then cleared his throat.

  “Our church in Lockport was taking in refugees, so I brought Angeline home. I was grieving for Philip, and she helped me through it. She always said that I saved her, but she saved me too, Violet. I fell in love with her.

  “Looking back,” he said, after clearing his throat again, “I can see how hard it was for her to adjust to Lockport. She didn’t fit in. Her family were gypsies—thieves and rogues—and she didn’t know what a real family was supposed to be like. She loved you though. You and I were her life, especially after she stopped trying to find acceptance in town. I never knew that my father was the one who drove her away … just like he drove Philip away. She never told me what he’d said about our children dying. I wish she had. And I never knew that her brothers had found her… .”

  He turned to gaze out of the window at the flat prairie land we were passing. I could see his reflection in the window. There were tears in his eyes.

  “If I could offer you any advice, Violet, it would be to marry someone who comes from the same background as you do and has the same values. That’s why I want to encourage you to consider Herman Beckett. He’s a nice young man. Bright, capable … I offered him a job with me if he does marry you.”

  “You—what? When did you tell him that? Was it before the Fourth of July?”

  “Well, yes it was, in fact. He came to see me the day after he took you to the fair. He told me that the outing had gone very well and that he had grown fond of you.”

  “Don’t you see? That’s the only reason he proposed to me. He wants a job with you!”

  “Well, why not? I don’t have a son to inherit my business.”

  “Take away the job offer and see if he still wants me. Go ahead, I dare you.”

  He stared at me in surprise, then murmured, “You’re so much like your mother.”

  “And that’s another reason why I can’t marry Herman Beckett. I want more than a life in Lockport. Maybe it’s my gypsy blood, I don’t know, but Herman and I have nothing at all in common. Besides, I don’t love him. Please don’t make me marry a man I don’t love.”

  I was still holding my father’s hand, and he squeezed mine gently. “I know what it’s like to have a father who tries to control your life,” he said. “It’s just that I’m concerned about your future—but perhaps my father felt the same way.”

  We traveled in silence for several minutes. “You need to finish your story,” I finally said. “Tell me about Maude and Lloyd O’Neill.”

  Father exhaled. Again, he took a long time to reply.

  “O’Neill lost his leg during the war while saving Philip’s life. That’s why I wanted to help him, even though he was a drunk. He would dry up for a little while and get a respectable job, but he always returned to the city to start drinking again. Whenever he got drunk he would go after Maude and start beating her. She would send the children down into the cellar because he had a wooden leg and couldn’t manage the steps very well. That’s what happened the day he died. He was drunk, and he came after her and the children. She fled into the basement with them, and when he tried to follow, he fell and cracked his skull. Maude and her children have been through so much, Violet, and seen so much. I would like to provide them with a peaceful home.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “I married for love the first time. Now I simply want companionship.”

  “Well, I want to marry for love. I want to fall madly, passionately in love with someone, and I want him to love me the same way in return, and—”

  I had to stop or I was going to cry. We were nearing Lemont, where Silas McClure had boarded the train and I’d seen him for the first time. Father wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.

  “I won’t make you marry Herman Beckett—or any other man— unless you want to. But please think about what I said. Two people need more in common for a good marriage than passion.”

  “I know. I’ve learned a lot in these past few weeks. I’m not the timid, fragile girl I used to be. When I first arrived in Chicago and no one was there to meet me at the train station, I had no idea what to do. Madame Beauchamps’ School for Young Ladies never prepared me for real life. I was scared and foolish and much too sheltered.” I recalled how I nearly had gone off alone with Silas that day and shuddered. “But I’ve grown up since then. I don’t need to be protected and sheltered from bad news anymore. And I don’t want to hide away in Lockport living a safe, comfortable life. I want to live. I want to discover new things about myself and see new places.”

  “I wish you would take time to get to know Maude since she’s going to be your stepmother.”

  “All right, I will.” I finally accepted it. “But then I want to go back to Chicago and find my place in life. I don’t want to look for a husband right now. I won’t be twenty-one for nine more months. Just give me some time to figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life, okay? That’s what we’re put on earth for, isn’t it? I need to serve God in my own way, just like you and Uncle Philip had to find your own way.”

  “Are you going to see your mother again?”

  “I want to see her, if she’ll let me. Someone needs to tell her that all those things Grandfather said were wrong. I think she should know the truth—even if she never does come home to us. Maybe she and I can learn together.”

  “You’re so much like her,” he said again. “So lively and dramatic. That’s why I worry so much about you.”

  “I don
’t want to be an actress,” I said, smiling. “And I’m not going to marry one of Grandmother’s religious zealots or be brainwashed by Aunt Matt. I want to be my own person. I know that worries you, but remember how your father tried to put you into a box that didn’t fit? Remember what it did to Philip? And to Mother? Let me find my own box. I’ll be okay—I promise.”

  He tightened his grip on my shoulder.

  “I’ll stay home with you for a few months,” I told him. “I’ll be nice to Maude and her children. I’ll stay until after the wedding. But please let me go back to Chicago in the fall. I have so much more to learn.”

  “All right, Violet,” he said with a sigh. “You can go back.”

  Chapter

  38

  Saturday, September 9, 1893

  On the second Saturday in September I stood in the train station in Lockport, saying good-bye to my father once again. He was allowing me to return to Chicago with his blessing, as he’d promised. Maude and her imps were at the station too. Her wedding to my father had been simple and brief, and she had moved into our house on the same day. I no longer resented her for coming between my father and me now that I had my own life to look forward to.

  I settled comfortably in the seat as the train began to move, excited to be on my way back to the city. I would have two more months to revisit the World’s Fair before it closed, to see all of the sights I had missed. I was especially eager to attend the festivities on Chicago Day, October 9—the anniversary of the Great Fire. It still amazed me to realize how quickly the city had risen from the ashes after that tragedy twenty-two years ago. It was a good lesson for my own life. Tragedies can mean a new beginning as well as an ending.

  Within minutes the train was moving fast, chugging past the boring Illinois terrain. Some of the leaves had begun to change colors, but not enough of them to make the view a scenic one. I had a book to read in my satchel, but my thoughts were racing much too quickly to be able to concentrate as I anticipated all of the new discoveries that lay ahead for me. I would visit my mother again—of that much I was certain. And I would try to discover what God wanted me to do with my life.

  Some time later, I felt the locomotive slowing down as it prepared to stop at the station in Lemont. Silas had boarded the train here the last time I had traveled to Chicago, wearing his garish plaid suit and hauling his satchel full of elixir. I closed my eyes to erase that image of him, preferring to remember Silas the way I last had seen him, wearing a tuxedo and bow tie and white satin vest.

  “Is this seat taken, Miss Hayes?”

  I opened my eyes, and there he was! Silas McClure! I blinked, wondering if I was dreaming.

  His grin was as brilliant as the electric lights at the White City. My heart began thumping. I stared up at Silas in surprise, then quickly looked away, remembering the kisses we had shared. He was a rogue, stalking me, hoping to seduce me into kissing him again. I never would have asked him to kiss me in the first place if I had known we would meet this way. I had been certain that our paths would never cross again.

  He stood beside my seat, waiting for me to answer his question. But first I had one of my own.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m going to accompany you to Chicago.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. McClure, but my father would never allow you to do that.”

  His brow furrowed in confusion. “Violet, your father is the one who hired me.”

  “Hired you… ?”

  “Yes, just like he hired me the first time. Well, not me specifically—either time—but since I ended up with the assignment last June, I was able to arrange things so I could accompany you again.”

  “What are you talking about?” The train lurched as it pulled out of the station. Silas gripped the back of the seat to keep from losing his balance.

  “May I sit down?” he asked again, gesturing to the seat beside mine. I nodded. My heart raced much faster than the train. “Violet, you said you knew the truth about me.”

  “Yes, that you’re a thief.”

  “A what?”

  “You know … the robbery at the fair, your trial at the courthouse, all your underworld connections to find my mother—I know that you’re a thief.”

  “Violet, I work for Pinkerton’s.”

  His words seemed to hang suspended in the air between us. I couldn’t comprehend them.

  “The … the detective agency?”

  “Yeah. You said that you knew.”

  “You mean … you don’t commit crimes? You … you solve them?”

  “Well, we do a lot more than solve crimes. And some of our work is pretty routine. A law firm might hire us to conduct an investigation or serve a subpoena. And I’ve also been hired to guard payrolls or to travel by train undercover to watch for thieves. That’s what my salesman garb was for. It was pure chance that I got picked to accompany you that first day… . And I have to say that I never expected you to be so beautiful. I figured I’d be accompanying an ugly old spinster— not you. That’s why I couldn’t stop staring at you that day. And why I was horrified to be seen wearing that corny getup and—”

  “Wait a minute. Back up… .My father hired you to spy on me?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to call it that. Our company has done security work for your father in the past and—”

  “That’s outrageous!”

  “Hey, don’t get mad at me,” he said after I punched his arm. “He cares about you. He wanted to make certain you arrived safely. He was afraid you’d meet up with someone unsavory or unscrupulous.”

  “Like a sleazy elixir salesman?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And now my father hired you to keep track of me again?”

  “If not me, then it would have been someone else,” Silas said with a shrug.

  “Were you being paid to follow me all around Chicago too? Is that why I kept running into you and—?”

  “Hey, no! Not at all! Just to the train station. After that, it was my own idea to keep track of you.”

  “Then the robbery at the fair … Your two friends must have been the guards, not the thieves!”

  “Right. Joe decided to pose as a woman to try to catch the thieves who were snatching purses at the Woman’s Pavilion. Robert caught one of them and had to testify in court the day I met you downtown.”

  “So that’s how you were able to find my mother. You’re a detective!”

  “A pretty good one, eh?” He couldn’t help grinning.

  “What about the night at the casino, with Nelson? Were you working then?”

  “The fair administrators knew about the gambling and suspected a scam, but the room was rented privately. Admission was by invitation only, so they couldn’t gather any proof. Thanks to your friend, we were able to get inside and check it out for them.”

  “I understand the dealers were all arrested. I read about it in the paper.” When I saw his look of surprise, I added, “I read the newspaper every day now. My aunt Matt is right. You can learn a lot about the world that way.”

  “Well, thanks to you and your gambling friend, I got a nice bonus from the fair’s administrators for my night’s work.”

  “Does that mean you won’t have to sell Dr. Dean’s Blood Builder anymore?”

  “That’s right—and it’s a shame too, because our specially patented formula is made from the highest quality beef extract, fortified with iron and celery root. If you’re suffering from extreme exhaustion, brain fatigue, debility of any kind, blood disorders, or anemia, our blood builder will enrich your blood and help your body throw off accumulated humors of all kinds. You should try it, Miss Hayes. It’s guaranteed to stimulate digestion and improve your blood flow or we’ll give you your money back.”

  I laughed and laughed—so hard that I could no longer sit up straight. Silas laughed with me. It was a wonderful sound.

  “May I ask you a question?” I said when we finally paused for breath. “When you comforted my Aunt Birdie and you t
alked about heaven and Jesus … do you … are you… ?”

  “I’m a believer, Violet. My saintly mother made sure of that.”

  “I see.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “Me too. And one more question? What does the A on your monogrammed handkerchief stand for?”

  “It’s an A for agent. It’s so we can recognize each other when we’re working undercover. It’s less obvious than P for Pinkerton’s.”

  “But suppose there’s an innocent bystander whose name just happens to begin with an A and he—?”

  “You’ve asked enough questions,” he said, putting his fingers over my lips. “Now it’s my turn. Tell me, if you loved someone, and you had never fallen in love before, and you couldn’t stop thinking about her day and night, would you let her walk out of your life or would you follow her to the ends of the earth and fight to win her hand?”

  I didn’t think my heart could pound any harder or faster but it did. “I-I’d fight to win her hand.”

  “I was hoping you would say that.” He grinned and took my hand in his, twining our fingers together. “Okay, now it’s your turn to ask me one. I love your questions, you know.”

  I was so rattled I couldn’t think. I asked the first one that came to mind. “If you could choose, would you rather be a butterfly or a firefly?”

  “I’d rather be a moth.”

  “Ugh!” I shuddered. “I hate moths.”

  He leaned his head back and smiled. “Now that’s a mystery I’ll never understand. A moth is just a butterfly without the fancy clothes, isn’t it? But if a moth flutters around your head, you women scream and shoo it away like it was some kind of monster. If a butterfly does the same thing, you’re entranced. You say, ‘Oh, how lovely!’ and you stick out your finger and try to get it to land there. It’s the same insect, isn’t it? Except for the color?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” I said with a smile. “So why would you choose to be a moth?”

  “Because I’d like to make my way in life without all the fancy colors and be judged by who I am, not by what I look like from the outside.”