Mrs. Grey

by Rachel Wesson

  “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

  “Just watch me,” she replied softly.

  She waited until Wilma’s breathing settled even though her heart rate was still too fast. She drew a blanket over the woman and left her to sleep.

  Chapter 28

  Before heading to the camp, she wanted to check on her niece. She called into the restaurant to find it in uproar. The laborers had walked out from the hotel site and were blocking the entrance to the restaurant. Carmel had tried to send them packing but they were ignoring her. Robbie was nowhere to be seen. She slipped in the back door.

  “Carmel, I need you to keep Isabella here. Don’t let her go home alone. There is trouble on the streets.”

  “I won’t. She will stay here with us. Not like we can leave anyway with those louts outside. I ask you. What sort of mothers brought them up with them shouting at decent women?” Carmel sniffed indignantly.

  “It’s a few bad eggs. Just ignore them. I imagine Robbie has gone for the sheriff.”

  “Yes, he has. And some men—he said he was going to get Tommy and some of the others from the ranch. They are coming back armed. Oh, Lorena, I didn’t think I would see this kind of trouble out here. Reminds me of the draft riots in New York, and they didn’t end well.”

  “This is not New York,” she said decisively. “I will be back soon.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Doc Erin is getting some rest, so I am helping out at the clinic.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She was helping out by bringing those injured or sick back to the clinic, but if she told Carmel she intended going out to the camps the woman would stop her.

  Carmel looked at her shrewdly. She could tell the Irish woman wasn’t taken in by what she had said.

  “You be careful, Lorena. You don’t always think with your head from what I hear.”

  “Don’t listen to gossip, Carmel,” she lectured as she walked away. She might not always listen to her head, but she had never listened to her heart. If she had, she might still have David. They might have grown old together. They… what was she doing living in the past? She had work to do.

  Chapter 29

  She collected a couple of bags of supplies from the doctor’s office while checking Emer had everything she needed. She told Emer she was off to check on the restaurant. Emer was another one who would stop her from going to the camps. She drove the wagon out of town in the direction of the camp, thankful Wilma had told her where it was, and she hadn’t met anyone she knew. She wondered if Little Beaver or Sheriff Willis was already at the camps.

  She had only gone a little way when she saw signs of fire ahead. She urged the team forward, fortunately, the horses were well trained and didn’t rear up despite the noise ahead. A fight had broken out and by the looks of things, the camp was being burnt to the ground. She roared to the men to stop but nobody listened to her. Horrified, she saw women and children were standing too stunned to move.

  She parked the wagon, getting down, and tying the reins to a tree. Picking up her skirts, she moved swiftly to the women and children, eager to shepherd them to safety.

  “What you doing out here, missus? You is going to get hurt,” a grey-haired man stooped by age and hard work asked her.

  “I am not going to stand by and watch. I am a nurse. Get those women and children to my wagon. Go on” she gestured in the direction of the wagon and urged the women and children to it.

  “Mrs. Grey, what is you doing here?” Zack, Wilma’s husband, shouted at her.

  “Same as you, Zack. I have to help. Show me your wounded.”

  “You need to get back to town. Wilma will kill me if anything happens to you,” he insisted. She ignored his comment about Wilma, instead, her horrified gaze transfixed by the blood stain on his shoulder. As she watched, the stain grew darker.

  “You’re wounded, Zack.”

  “It’s nothing but a scratch. If you are insisting on staying, there are others that need your help more.”

  He led her by the hand to a clearing a little way off from the camp. She came to a sudden stop. There were so many of them covered in blood or burns. Some women were helping or at least trying to.

  “Right, we got to get a system going. You and you, get me some water and clean rags.” The women nodded and did as they were told. She grabbed a young boy—“Can you run to town to get some help?”

  “The road to town is blocked. Someone will kill him.”

  She stared at Zack but saw he was serious. She gestured to the boy—“See that big house over there? That’s my friend’s ranch. Get to Davy and tell him that Mrs. Grey needs his help. You got that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The boy went running. She turned to Zack who had gathered a couple of the more able-bodied men and together they were carrying the wounded out of the now decimated camp. The Irish had ridden off, possibly aware she was likely to have brought the law with her.

  “There are so many of them, Mrs. Grey, where do you want to start?” Zack asked.

  “With the worst injured. You were in the war, Zack, you know how to tend wounds. There must be others like you. I want to see to that shoulder before we do anything else. Don’t look at me like that. Wilma needs you alive and strong. She has enough to contend with.”

  He didn’t argue but stripped the shirt from his back. She flinched, seeing the telltale scars on his back before turning attention to the wound. As he had said it was relatively minor.

  She took some salve from her bag as well as a bandage. As she worked, she gave orders to Zack’s men who were standing, looking at him as if waiting for him to tell them what to do. Some former slaves didn’t seem to realize they were now in charge of what they did. But she guessed a lifetime of conditioning was difficult to shrug off.

  “I need someone to get the rest of my supplies from the wagon. The women can help. Get the children out of here. They don’t need to see this. Send them over to those trees where we can keep them in view.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Only when Zack’s shoulder was bound to her satisfaction did she let him help but she insisted he supervise.

  “I don’t want you busting the stitches. You can tell the others what to do, but you are not to carry anyone or anything in that arm.”

  When he didn’t answer, she glared at him.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She toiled for what seemed like hours, stitching head wounds and cleaning burns. The people were grateful but the more she saw the angrier she became. How dare anyone do this to another person.

  Davy Sullivan arrived with some of his men. Thankfully, Cookie was with them.

  “Can you help me, Cookie?”

  “What do you want me to do first, ma’am?”

  She looked about her. She gestured towards a couple of wounded men. She had checked to make sure their injuries weren’t serious before she concentrated on treating those that most needed help.

  “Cookie, those men need bandaging. I have some of Nandita’s salve in my wagon. It is wonderful for warding off infection, but it stings like a wasp sting, so they won’t be happy.”

  Cookie shrugged as if to say what else was new. “How many injured, Mrs. Grey?” Cookie asked.

  “At least thirty,” she answered. “I don’t think anyone will die but some won’t be working for a while.”

  “What will it be next? A man is beaten up in town and now this,” Davy said.

  “There’s trouble in town. The laborers stopped working on the hotel. Last I heard, the sheriff was headed to the Irish camp,” she said.

  “Someone said Dawson had left and taken the wages with him,” Cookie added.

  “What has our town come to, Davy?”

  “I have no answer to that, Mrs. Grey.”

  Chapter 30

  Ruth’s Diner, the name the Dohertys chose for their restaurant, opened on a high despite the happenings in town. Robbie had placated the laborers on both sides. He had insisted the injured men be paid
while they were recovering, and he had replaced the wages stolen by Dawson. An uneasy truce hung over Clover Springs. Mrs. Grey was upset nobody had been held responsible for the attack on the black camp but, with everyone refusing to give evidence, the sheriff’s hands were tied.

  At least it looked like Ruth’s Diner was going to be a success. The place was packed with friends and family. Ruth and Carmel roped in just about as many helpers as they could and still they struggled to keep up with everyone’s orders.

  “Busy, isn’t it?” Sheriff Willis said.

  “It is. It’s wonderful. Carmel and her family really need this to work.” She looked up to find her friend flying around, acting like a woman half her age. Mrs. Grey smiled to herself. Carmel would end up with her feet soaking in hot water by the end of the night. But she guessed the Irish woman would think it was worth it.

  “You have become very close friends with Mrs. Doherty, haven’t you?”

  She looked at the woman they were discussing. Was it only a couple of months since she, her son, Joe, and daughter-in-law, Ruth, had moved to Clover Springs from New York? It seemed much longer. The friendship she shared with Carmel was like one that had begun years ago.

  “Yes, we have. She is a lovely woman and the stories she tells. She could keep me entertained for hours.”

  “I like her. Nothing fancy, just straightforward common sense. Wish all the newcomers were like her,” he commented, before eating the last segment of his pie with unconcealed relish. She knew various women in town invited him to Sunday dinner, him not having a family of his own, but she guessed he didn’t get to eat pie as nice as Ruth had made every day.

  She stared at him, seeing fresh lines around his eyes. “You’re worried about the laborers, aren’t you?”

  “I shouldn’t ruin our evening talking about work,” he said, but something in his eyes told her he wanted to talk.

  She rested a hand on his arm. “Tell me. I won’t say anything, and maybe I can help. You know, a second opinion and all that.”

  “I really think Robbie and Zack have got us into a situation that isn’t going to have a happy needing. Folks just aren’t ready to mix together.”

  She took her hand back, surprised at his attitude. She’d always believed he saw people as equals.

  “We work well together in Clover springs. Wilma is my closest friend and I work for an Irish doctor.”

  He took her hand and placed it back on his arm.

  “Lorena, I can call you that, can’t I?” he asked softly.

  She nodded.

  “I know Wilma and the Irish women have settled into Clover Springs and made it into the town it is. But these laborers aren’t like those women. They are rough around the edges and some hold grievances going back years.”

  “The former slaves, you mean? They can’t hold the Irish laborers responsible for slavery. Can they?” She hated the doubt in her voice. She preferred to be sure of what she was saying.

  “Not exactly, but they resent them. A couple of Zack’s men remember the draft riots in New York.”

  His eyes looked troubled. She hated to see anyone unsure of themselves but especially this man. When had his happiness become so important?

  He fingered his whiskers.

  She sensed he was craving his tobacco, but he had made a pledge to give up what she called his disgusting habit and, to date, he seemed to be winning.

  “Most of the Irish laborers weren’t old enough to be far away from their mothers when all that stuff happened.” She spoke firmly but wasn’t sure which of them she was hoping to convince. She had seen the distrustful looks between the two groups of men. The atmosphere was testing—ready to flare up at any minute, similar to a drought-starved field and a carelessly thrown away match.

  “What’s the solution? The hotel must be built. Do we send the Irish back to New York or the blacks back to Denver? I’ve seen how both parties live and it isn’t pleasant. At least here, most people aren’t as outspoken as they are in Denver. There a man asked Wilma to leave and, in the hotel, they didn’t want to serve us in the restaurant,” she asked.

  “Yes, I know. I heard all about that. I heard you ran him off with his tail between his legs.” He grinned at her, approval in his eyes.

  She shifted. She hadn’t acted much like a lady that time.

  “I really admire you, Lorena. You are always so strong. So sure, of your footing.”

  “Me? I doubt myself every day. Back when the girls first arrived I often sided with Mrs. Shaw and Charlie Upton.” At his shocked look, she continued. “I can see you don’t believe me, but I did. Sheriff Matthews was here at that time. I gave him an earful every day about what he was doing to our town letting the Irish rule it. Martha Sullivan put me in my place and Katie and Ellen kept me there.”

  He guffawed, drawing attention to them, but he didn’t seem to care.

  “Now that I would like to see. I don’t believe I have ever seen anyone put you in your place.”

  “Well, believe me, they did. They showed me the error of my ways. I was a hard-hearted old witch back then.”

  He took her hand and held it in his. She felt strange, somehow smaller, and more fragile. She looked into his eyes. He stared back at her with what she fancied was interest.

  “I don’t believe you could ever be like you describe. The stories I have been told about you, not only recently, but back in the war. And before. You were, I mean, are, a wonderful woman.”

  She wanted to believe he meant it, but he didn’t know her. Not her whole story. Sure, he had heard the good bits, but she had done some awful things. Because of her, better people than she could ever hope to be, were dead.

  She disengaged her hand and moved away slightly.

  “Excuse me, I must check if Carmel needs any help.”

  “Now? But we are her guests.”

  “I know but she is my friend. I won’t be long.” She walked away resisting the urge to pick up her skirts and run all the way home. She liked him liking her, but if he got to know her better, he would hate her. A decent man like him didn’t need a woman like her in his life.

  Tears pricked her eyes, but she kept them at bay. One thing she was an expert at was putting on a show. She knew how to behave at a public function, the perfect southern belle. Her mother and her mammy had battered those skills into her almost before she could walk.

  Chapter 31

  He watched her walk gracefully across the room. You wouldn’t guess she was upset yet he had seen it in her eyes just before she had stood. He ran back over what he had said, but he couldn’t think what would have upset her. Darn it anyway. He was a klutz. He was more suited to being around jailbirds all day than a lady. Especially the formidable Mrs. Grey. Although she wasn’t that frightening anymore. He enjoyed her sense of humor although some would judge it to veer too close towards sarcasm. He had yet to see her hurt someone on purpose. Sure, she had used the sharp edge of her tongue to keep some in line. He smiled in amusement thinking of all the times Charlie Staunton had been the victim. But that man deserved it. If you could be jailed for being a racist, small-minded, sexist beast, he would take up permanent residence in the jailhouse.

  “Sheriff, are you okay, or would you like another slice of pie?”

  “Mrs. Doherty, when have I ever said no to pie? Your Ruth gives Mrs. Higgins a run for her money, but don’t go telling Mrs. H. I said that.”

  “I won’t, Sheriff, your secret is safe with me. Mrs. Higgins has offered her help a few times. She is a wonderful cook.”

  “That she is.” Then he remembered his date. “Did Mrs. Grey find you?”

  “Lorena? No. Why?”

  “She said she was going to ask if you needed help?”

  Mrs. Doherty rolled her eyes. “That woman would try the patience of a saint. It’s her night off. She has done more than enough to help me. Wait till I find her. I will send her right back to you.”

  Carmel Doherty bustled off before he could stop her. Maybe Lorena had
just used that as an excuse to leave? Was his company too boring? She was an educated woman, used to the company of genteel men. Wasn’t her first love a doctor and her second a businessman. He’d heard all about Mr. Grey from various townspeople. Not much of it was pleasant, but he tended to judge people on face value, not by hearsay, and the man was no longer around to defend himself.

  He sat, literally twiddling his fingers while the seconds, then the minutes, passed by. The conversation and laughter around him only served to heighten his discomfort. He was sitting like a lemon on his own. He tugged his collar away from his neck, was the material shrinking in the heat? Or had he put on a whole lot of weight in the two hours that had passed since he got dressed up in his new clothes. The cotton shirt was of the highest quality, far better than his usual wear, but it was scratching in all the wrong places.

  Chapter 32

  “Sheriff, there you are? Having fun? Would have thought you were more of a saloon man than all this?” Samuel Higgins asked.

  He opened his mouth to retort but, before he could say a word, Samuel Higgins gave him a wink. Cookie grinned, and Aaron and Davy looked amused.

  “Ha, ha. Enjoy yourselves, boys.”

  “We will, Sheriff. So, what have you done with her? Scared her off already?” Aaron Higgins teased.

  “Scared who off, Mr. Higgins?”

  Aaron’s face turned purple as Mrs. Grey joined the group. Sheriff Willis had to turn his head, so she wouldn’t see his smile. He didn’t want her turning her wrath in his direction.

  “Oh, there’s Alicia over there. Excuse me. The wife wants me.” Aaron ran, closely followed by his brother, Cookie, and Davy. Suddenly, it was just the two of them again.

  “Sorry about that, Mrs. Grey. I guess the boys thought it would be fun to tease me.”

  “The temptation was too strong for them to resist I believe. It is not your fault. But perhaps it is time for us to leave.” She hadn’t taken her seat.