Maddie started to close the door after her, then stopped. “If you need pen, ink and paper, Jaffery keeps them in the top right-hand desk drawer.”
“Thank you, Maddie.”
“Honey, thank me when you’re out of here and safely married far enough away that no one knows you.”
Erin did think about Maddie’s suggestion of placing a notice in the newspapers. She also thought of the lies she would be forced to tell. Lies that would go on and on.
Two incidents made up Erin’s mind. The first happened the very next night. Two drunken miners came into the parlor where she stood alone, arranging her sheet music. Scooping her up between them, ignoring her struggles and cries, they managed to get her halfway up the stairs before Jaffery came out of his office.
He didn’t order them to release her. He stood there, his unlit cigar hanging from one corner of his mouth, and finally, when Erin stilled, he spoke.
“You boys must be new to the city. Rules here say you pay up first, then have your fun.”
One of the men tossed him a poke bag. “There’s gold enough for four frail sisters, but this one’ll do for us. Ratail and me like sharing.”
“No! I’m not one of the—”
“Erin,” Jaffery snapped, giving her a warning look while he hefted the small bag.
She waited, knowing that Jaffery would do all he could to avoid a fight. She begged him with a look to hurry up. Panic began to close her throat. He wasn’t saying a word. She stared down at Jaffery’s dark hair with its thick layer of pomade that reminded her of the sleek wet coats of the seals that could be seen in the bay. Her heartbeat thudded until she heard its pounding in her ears. Both miners had firm, bruising grips on her arms. Their bodies, encased in new, stiff suits, but smelling as if months had passed without a bath, pressed tightly against either side of her.
A sweeping hot flush rose from inside her body. Sweat broke out on her brow and Erin began to gag. She couldn’t stop. Then she was chilled and nausea churned her stomach. Bile burned its way up her throat. She managed a strangled sound that caught Jaffery’s immediate attention.
“Don’t you dare!” he shouted. “Let her go, you damn fools!”
Erin got free and ran up the three double flights of stairs. She barely made it inside her room. Dry heaves kept her kneeling beside the honey bucket all night. It was almost dawn when Maddie came to check on her.
“I heard you had yourself a close call, Erin,” Maddie said, entering the room and flooding it with light from the kerosene lamp she carried. One look at the figure huddled on the floor and Maddie set the lamp aside, coming to her knees beside her. “Did they hurt you?”
Erin couldn’t speak. She shook her head weakly. She didn’t think about the bruise marks that would be livid on her arms. She had endured harder pinches, ones that left her skin purpled, from the home’s matrons, and the cooks, upper maids and housekeepers she had worked for.
“Let’s get you up and into bed.” Shaking her head and muttering about men, Maddie managed to strip off the sweat-drenched shapeless gown that Erin wore. The petticoat, chemise and drawers were so worn she could see Erin’s fair skin through the cloth. All were tossed into an untidy heap on the floor. Tucking Erin under the covers, she warned her to stay there until she came back.
Erin could do little else. Her hands still shook and she could feel her pulse beating at an alarming rate throughout her body. Shivers racked her, but they were from the deep feeling of despair that welled up inside her. What was she going to do?
Minutes later, Maddie returned with a cup of tea in one hand and a fresh pitcher of water in the other.
“Maddie, don’t,” Erin protested when she began to wash her face. “I know how tired you are.”
“Sure. I won’t deny it. But you’re weak as a kitten and about half as smart.”
“And you’re trying out for mama cat.”
“Don’t give me your sass. That’s a role better suited for you,” Maddie said, forcing Erin to sit up so she could drink the tea.
Erin closed her eyes in appreciation of the warmth stealing through her. She was thankful that Maddie held both her and the cup, for she didn’t believe she had the strength to do either one. But once the cup was empty, there was no way Erin could avoid Maddie’s probing gaze.
“Erin, if you want to tell me, I’ll listen. There was more reason than that bank clerk courting you that caused you to lose your job, wasn’t there? If you don’t want to talk, say so.”
“You know?”
Directing a piercing look at Erin’s pale face, Maddie met the startling clarity of her green eyes. “No. I didn’t know for sure. I figured that might be your problem.”
“Problem? That’s a fine word for what’s wrong with me.”
“It can be a fine thing, Erin. And maybe it’s true that you’re all Irish, but don’t try handing out any of that blarney to me. You care, don’t you?” Maddie set the cup and saucer down on the bureau top.
“Right now, I’m scared, Maddie. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want this baby, my baby, to grow up not knowing who its parents are. I want this child to have a home where there is love.”
“Did you love the father?”
“I’m not sure I know what love is. I’ve never had any, you see. I liked being with Silas. He seemed to care about me. But when I told him, he just laughed and said I wasn’t the first one to try to lock him in that cage. I think he told the housekeeper and that’s why they let me go. I never saw him again.”
Erin’s sad, pensive mood touched Maddie. She came to the side of the bed and sat down, fussing with the covers until she had Erin tucked tight beneath them.
“Do you see why you’ve got to get out of here? You’ll never find love in this place, Erin.”
“But to do what you suggested means I would have to lie.” Erin reached out for Maddie’s hand and squeezed it. “You’ve been a good friend to me. The first one I’ve ever had.”
“Why don’t you try to rest? We can talk again in the morning.”
Erin was only too willing to close her eyes, but her mind was in a turmoil now. She would never do to her baby what her mother had done to her. She would never allow her child to be raised the way she was, in an orphanage where the only woman who had time to be kind, to hug and kiss, had been fired for her mollycoddling. Her child must not know what it was like to fight over scraps of food, or to pray that when special treats were distributed by the church ladies, she would be deserving of one. And when she wasn’t deemed worthy, to stand aside and watch, longing for what others had.
Restlessly she turned on her side, wrapping her arms around her waist. Now she was warm, but she remembered when a too thin, too small blanket was all she had. No matter what she had to do, she vowed, her child would never feel the heavy weight of a brush three times the size of its small hands while being told to kneel and scrub floors already cleaned and so carelessly soiled by someone’s entrance to the home.
And the nights…She would never forget the nights when she cried herself to sleep, feeling unloved and unwanted, only to wake and have those feelings reinforced time and again.
Erin tried to block her mind to the images that formed. She tried to think of her precious dream—of a home, warm with laughter and love, the vague shape of a man beside her, children’s smiling faces looking up at her. But as morning came, the dream failed her.
She could only murmur over and over that she would find a way.
Three days later she was no closer to a solution to her problem. But when Jaffery refused to pay her, claiming that room, board and the charges for a bottle of whiskey she had broken left her with nothing owed, Erin knew she had to act.
With Maddie’s help, she wrote an advertisement to be put in the newspaper. Maddie wanted her to state that she was a recent widow, but Erin argued against that. She couldn’t lie while there was hope she might have many choices.
“Besides, Maddie,” she said, sealing the letter, “would you marry a
man who was looking for a wife immediately after the death of his first? We’ll see what response I have and proceed from there. Someone may be kind, and I won’t need to lie.”
So Erin prayed. It was not for a wealthy man, although she hoped he would be able to provide a modest home. She prayed for kindness and understanding, for a man who might come to love her and the child she carried. That was the man she wanted to answer her.
Chapter Two
“Mace. Mace! Where in tarnation are you?” Ketch yelled, entering the house. “You still sulkin’ over the turkey I burned?”
“Papa’s not here, Ketch,” Becky said, coming into the kitchen. “Tariko is foaling.”
“Say no more, little miss.” Ketch ran for the barn still clutching the newspapers he brought with him from Walla Walla.
Mace, all six foot two of him, was slumped against the big box stall when Ketch found him. “She all right?”
“Tariko is fine. Her colt is better.”
“Looks to me like you could do with a shot of whiskey,” Ketch suggested, peering at him.
“Heard you yelling, old-timer. What’s got your tail afire?”
“Think I found you a woman, old son,” Ketch snapped back, but he was smiling as Mace pushed himself up and stood to tower over him.
“A woman, huh? Figures you’d come back plaguing me. Well, don’t stand there. Tell me.”
“Come on up to the house with me, Mace. I could use a cup of coffee to warm my bones.” Ketch didn’t wait for him, nor did he leave the newspapers behind.
When he and Mace settled at the table with coffee laced with whiskey nearly gone, Ketch presented the ads he had circled.
Mace’s lips twitched beneath his mustache as he began to read, then toss aside without comment each of the papers. For the past three weeks, Ketch had gone to town on Friday afternoons to get the local paper along with any others he could beg, borrow or steal. When he was finished, Mace leaned back in his thick oak chair and rested his folded hands across his stomach..
“Well, ain’t you got somethin’ to say? Can’t be tellin’ me there ain’t a one that sparks some interest.”
“Ketch, that about sums it up.”
“You’re a hard man.”
“So I’ve been told. I agreed to this fool scheme of yours, but I aim to please myself, too. Widows with their brood won’t have time for Becky and Jake. They’d likely be siding with their own every chance they could and make more trouble than I’ve already got.” With a sigh, Mace leaned forward and enclosed his cup with his hands. “I don’t think this is going to work out. I’ll have to think of another way, Ketch.”
“Well, jus’ hold on there, son. I’ve been savin’ the best for last.” He produced a folded copy of the Spirit of the West, Walla Walla’s own newspaper. “Now, look right here, taken out of the San Francisco paper.”
Mace looked where Ketch pointed and began to read aloud. “‘Wanted, gentleman of honorable intent to enter into correspondence with woman of modest manner, home educated, excellent cook and seamstress, of trim figure and of good nature. In good physical health.’” Mace stopped and looked at Ketch’s anxious expression. “She’s so good, I’m getting queasy reading this.”
“Hush up and finish. You ain’t got to the good part yet.”
“Good, huh?” Mace shook his head and glanced down to find his place again. “‘Children welcome and wanted. Desire to make home away from city. Serious inquiries only. Object matrimony. Erin Dunmore.’”
“Well, ain’t that a right one?”
“Ketch, all the riding back and forth you’ve been doing has scrambled your head. What’s right about this one?”
“She can cook. She likes children. She don’t want to live in no city. She sounds right pleasing to me.”
Mace drained the last of his coffee and set his cup down slowly. “Good. You marry her.” He scraped back his chair and stood up. “I’ve got work to do. You’ve got supper to cook.”
“Don’t be so blamed ornery, Mace. You can’t be puttin’ this off. She’s the best one yet an’ you know it, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
Mace settled his new flat-crowned Stetson on his head. “I know you’re disappointed, Ketch. But if you think about it, she didn’t even mention how old she was. She could be thirty.”
“From where I’m sittin’ that ain’t so old. ’Sides, I got the feelin’ that didn’t matter all that much to you. Noticed how you don’t mention it don’t say here what color eyes or hair she’s got. ’Course, that wouldn’t interest you none.”
“You won’t let up, will you?”
“Nope.”
“All right. I’ll write to her tonight. Leave the paper on my desk.”
“Right, boss. An’ I’ll even fix fried chicken for your supper.”
Mace started to walk out then backtracked. “Gravy, too?”
“Yep. An’ biscuits.” Ketch waited until he heard the door close behind Mace, then he called out, “All right, you young ’uns can come out.”
“Is it true, Ketch?” Becky asked, eyes alight as she pulled aside the skirt that covered the dry sink. She stood up and held it aside while Jake crawled out after her.
“You ain’t supposed to be hidin’ an’ listenin’ to men’s talk, Becky.”
“But how will I ever find out what is going on around here?”
As a reason, even Ketch couldn’t argue with her. But he knew he should not let it pass. “Jus’ ain’t a right thin’ to be doin’. Now, wash up an’ help me get supper.”
She pulled the small stool over to the pump and helped Jake to stand on it. “Papa really is going to find us a mother,” Becky explained in her best grown-up manner. “Now, when she comes, you have to promise to be extra good.”
Ketch listened as he cut up the chicken he had killed and plucked before he went to town. He didn’t have the heart to tell them that it wouldn’t be any time soon. If Mace had his way, it wouldn’t happen at all.
“Tell us what modest manner means, Ketch? Do we have it, too?”
Ketch answered their questions as best he could, but he was swearing to himself the whole time. And when Mace came in for supper followed by Cosi Sawtell, Ray Heppner and Dishman, his mood resembled that of a surly bear wakened too early from his winter’s sleep. He served up supper, grunting whenever anyone asked him to pass a dish, grunting when they all sat back, full and pleased and praised his cooking, grunting when Cosi mentioned that there was a Grange meeting in town that night.
His grunting turned to sputterings when Mace said he was going.
“You got a letter to write first,” Ketch reminded him. “Do it right now an’ post it.”
“You know something, Ketch?” Mace said, glaring at him. “A woman’s henpecking might be a sight easier to take than listening to you.”
“Remember that when you write up your sweetness in that letter, Mace Dalton, or you’ll be eatin’ your own fixin’s again.”
The men’s laughter followed him outside, but Ketch didn’t care. He knew he had needled Mace into doing what he wanted, even if the stubborn bull couldn’t see clear for himself.
With any luck, come the first of the new year, Mace would have himself a wife and Ketch would never see the inside of that damn kitchen except to set himself down for meals.
Thanksgiving had come and gone with little to mark the day for Erin. She had one reply to her advertisement, and even now, as she reread the letter, she did not feel encouraged to answer it.
Dear Miss Dunmore,
I reply to your advertised request to enter into correspondence with a view toward matrimony. I am a widower, own a ranch in the Washington Territory outright, and have two children. My daughter, Rebecca, is eight, and my son, Jacob, is five.
Walla Walla is a thriving town, but my ranch is in an isolated area east of it. We have no neighbors. The work is hard. A woman must be of strong physical and mental constitution to withstand the demands made upon her.
You did
not state your age or give details of your description. Should you reply, I expect to have some knowledge of these.
I will consider further correspondence with you once I have your letter in hand.
Mace Dalton
Diamond Bar D
Walla Walla, W.T.
“Erin, are you reading that letter again?”
“Yes, Maddie. There is something about it…almost as if this Mr. Dalton wished to discourage me from replying.” Erin shrugged and folded the letter, placing it on the bureau. “Did you want something?”
“Not me. But Jaffery does. He sent me up here to get you.”
Erin smoothed her apron. She quickly thought of all she had done today, wondering what he had found to fault her with this time.
Almost as if she had surmised her thoughts, Maddie said, “He seems pleasant enough, but that’s when I trust him the least.”
“I’ll keep that warning in mind.”
Jaffery’s office was set beneath the staircase, so he could hear the comings and goings of everyone. The room was large, sparsely furnished, with his wide oak desk dominating the far wall. Erin knocked on the open door, nervous as she always was when summoned by him
She wished he would let her open the window, for his cigar smoke hung in a thick, suffocating cloud in the room, even when he was not smoking. She tried to breathe through her mouth to keep the smell from upsetting her stomach.
“Come in, Erin. No need to fret. I’ve got news to share. Good news for you.” He smiled, revealing a gap where his eyetooth should have been, while he took a leisurely survey of her. She was slender and young, and he derived pleasure from seeing the tremor in the hands she held stiffly at her sides.
Her looks did not matter, although she was passably pretty with her black hair, green eyes and pale skin. Her breasts were too small for his taste, her hips too narrow, but he knew he had to supply a variety of fresh merchandise to his customers or they would take their business elsewhere.
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