by Judith Stacy
“This way, miss,” Mary said with a little curtsy. “Follow me, then.”
They didn’t go up the elaborate main staircase. Mary briskly led the way back in the direction she had come, down one hallway and into another more narrow one, then to a series of steps going upward until they reached what must be the east wing. Eleanor could hear the murmur of voices from time to time as she passed closed doors, but she didn’t see anyone.
The girl finally stopped in front of a door and opened it with one of the keys she had on a ring in her apron pocket.
“This is it, miss,” she said. “What can I get for you?”
“If I could wash—a basin and a pitcher of water?”
“Oh, yes, miss. I’ll bring everything you need for that. And a tray for your supper. What would you like, miss?”
“Anything will be fine. I’m more dirty than hungry.”
“And tired, too, I’d guess. I remember how tired I was when I got here. Why, I could hardly put one foot afront the other. One of the boys will be bringing your trunk along. I’d wait for that, if I were you. They’re not so good about knocking first. Mrs. Selby and I try to teach them, but they forget. You rest. I’ll be back soon.”
She hurried out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Eleanor stood for a moment, then wearily took off her gloves and her hat. There was something disconcerting about a young woman who felt such a need to…scurry.
She looked around the small room, at the brass bed and a somewhat scarred oak dresser. There was a washstand and one chair and a small writing table with a tall lamp. The single window was large, but the sun was going, and already the room was growing dark.
Eleanor walked to the table and lit the lamp. Then she moved to the window to look outside. She was on the back side of the house now, and she could see a number of outbuildings and several barns and enclosures, but nothing she thought might be a school. She wondered if the schoolroom would be somewhere in the house.
After a moment, she could hear heavy scraping and muffled laughter. She walked to the door and opened it. Two young boys were struggling with her trunk and valise, and they grew immediately bashful when they saw her.
“This way,” she said to them as they pushed and shoved and half carried the trunk. “Thank you for your help. You are both very kind.”
“It weren’t nothing,” one of them said, and the other one giggled.
“Is this where you want it?” the giggler asked.
“That will be fine.”
“We’ll be going then,” the first one said, then poked his partner to get him to stop staring and come along.
Eleanor closed the door after them, smiling to herself. Someone knocked on it almost immediately. When she opened it again, Mary came in with a large can of hot water and a small tub and towels and soap. Two more girls followed her, one carrying a tray of food, the other a large pillow and blankets.
“You’ll need these blankets. It gets cold here at night, miss,” Mary said. “Mrs. Selby is back. She says she’ll see you tomorrow and you can sleep as long as you like. There’ll be lots of people coming here tomorrow. She wants you all rested for the party. Can I help you with your dress, miss?”
“No, I can manage. What sort of party is it?”
“No sort at all, miss. That’s how Mrs. Selby is. Sometimes she wants a party, so we have one. Mr. Warner and his people are invited to this one—he owns the land on the other side of the river. We’ve been cooking for days.” She shooed the other two girls out ahead of her. “The stairs at the far end of the hall will take you down to the kitchen if you need anything. There’s always somebody there,” she added as she closed the door.
Alone again, Eleanor began to undress. She took a long time to bathe, savoring the miracle of hot water and soap. She brushed out her hair and put on the nightdress she had yet to wear, then she ate the biscuits and jam and butter Mary had brought and drank some of the tea. And, for the first time in a long while, she lay down in an actual bed—without a gun in her hand, in spite of Ingram’s approval that she had it. And who was she supposed to use it against? Burley and those like him? The Indians? Wild animals? Perhaps, in this place—where men killed each other by appointment—her own pupils.
On the edge of sleep, she ignored for as long as she could the raised voices that suddenly came from outside the window. But her curiosity exceeded her fatigue, and she got up to see. The colonel stood down below with a woman, both of them bathed in the light from an open door.
“You meant to scare her away,” the woman said. “Don’t think for a moment I don’t see what you’re about. Unlike my late husband, I am not easily fooled.”
With that she turned and walked back into the house, leaving the colonel alone. After a moment, he, too, went inside. Eleanor frowned, realizing that she might very well be the person the woman had been talking about. It suddenly occurred to her that the colonel might have meant for her to be left standing when she arrived in Soul Harbor—only Ingram had unexpectedly come into town for his “personal business”— Lillyann’s funeral. If that were true, then Hester had been telling the truth about the contention between the colonel and his sister-in-law.
Eleanor gave a sharp sigh. She was too tired to worry about it. She fell back into bed and immediately went to sleep, waking to find the sun was up and the house and grounds full of activity. As she sat up in bed, she could hear all manner of commotion from both places. She noted immediately that the food tray of last night had been taken away and that her travel dress had been pressed and carefully draped over the chair.
Even so, she couldn’t bear to put it on again. She took her best dress—a somber gray merino with buff trim—out of the trunk instead. It was somewhat crushed, but it was very…respectable, perfect for a schoolteacher. She would at least look the part.
When she stepped outside the room, she met Mary in the hallway.
“Did you have a good sleep, miss?” she asked, smiling.
“Yes, thank—”
“Will you come with me, miss? Mrs. Selby is waiting. She wanted to see you the minute you were up and about.”
She turned and hurried in the direction she had come without waiting for an answer. Eleanor followed, almost having to run to keep up.
“In here, miss,” Mary said when they reached a pair of mahogany doors. She knocked softly, then opened one of them and stood back for Eleanor to go inside.
The woman Eleanor had seen last night was seated at a writing desk on the other side of the room. She was impeccably dressed in clothing the quality of which Eleanor hadn’t seen since before the war. Even the wives of the officers of the occupation army back home didn’t dress so finely. Mrs. Selby was also quite a bit younger than Eleanor had expected—which made the remark she’d overheard last night all the more significant. Mrs. Lavinia Selby did not let herself be intimidated.
“Journey’s end, Miss Hansen. Welcome to Wyoming Territory,” she said in her perfectly cultured English voice. “Do come and sit for a moment. How did you pass the night? Is there anything you require this morning?”
“No, nothing, thank you,” Eleanor said in spite of the persistent rumbling of her empty belly. She sat down in a fragile-looking chair near the desk. “I slept quite well, and Mary has been very kind.”
“Yes. Mary is one of my successes. Her living situation was appalling before she came here. I…regret there was no one to meet you when you arrived in Soul Harbor. Were you terribly inconvenienced?”
“No,” Eleanor said—unless embroiling herself in a near gun brawl and attending a funeral she ought not to have attended counted. “I should like to get started right away, if that’s all right.”
“Perfectly all right. We are having a gathering of the warring clans here today, but that won’t interfere. They’ve already begun to arrive, as a matter of fact.”
“Warring clans?”
“Livingston Warner and his people from across the river. A rival cattle operation, I’m afraid. I
’ve had enough of our men and their men antagonizing each other, and everyone looking the other way. I intend to see what can be done about it—something I learned in India. One should always keep one’s enemies close.”
“If he’s an enemy, is he likely to listen to…suggestions?” Eleanor asked, even though the question was inappropriate coming from someone in a newly hired position.
“I have something he wants—the stud service of a true Arabian stallion, a magnificent animal. I believe Mr. Warner will like my terms.
“There are people here you should meet today—and the children, of course. Then you’re free to go set up the schoolroom however you like. The school isn’t as close to the house as I would have wanted, but…we’ll make do,” she said, the determination apparent in her voice, a determination Eleanor recognized immediately that she was expected to emulate. “You understand that you will be residing there, on the premises, as will some of the children from time to time, when sudden weather changes don’t permit their travel back home. Two of them will be coming out from the military post, a good hour’s ride on a fast horse. I believe the wife of one of the Indian scouts will deliver and fetch them. I have been led to believe that you are not a fearful person, Miss Hansen, and that will come in very handy to us both. Now…” She got up from the desk with a rustle of heavy taffeta. “You and I shall go and break bread with our esteemed guests. I am most pleased that you’re refreshed and ready to begin.”
Eleanor followed after her, expecting to be led to a dining room somewhere. But the meal had been set up outside—on long tables placed between two lines of canvas that had been hung on ropes strung post to post, then anchored by more rope and staked into the ground. The canvas shook in the wind, but it did an adequate job of blocking the worst of it. Women young and old either stood expectantly or bustled around the tables, setting platters and bowls of food anywhere they could find room. One manned a huge enameled coffeepot and a stack of tin cups. The serving plates were tin as well, but there were crisply starched napkins and wooden-handled forks and knives and spoons. Children ran and played in the background, and two distinctly separate groups of men—all sizes and ages—seemed to be standing around waiting. Apparently there was no dress standard for ranch workers. They wore all manner of hats, some wide brim, some not. Two even had dandified “city hats.” Some wore coats, the kind that had once been part of a man’s suit. Others had on what was left of a military uniform, blue and gray. Those not wearing coats had on vests, some made of a kind of furry hide and some the formal kind that seemed, like the odd jackets, to be missing the rest of the suit. She noted immediately that there was only one white shirt among them and Ingram was wearing it.
She could feel the stares and the buzz of interest as she walked along. Apparently, they had been waiting for Mrs. Selby’s arrival and her permission to eat—and Eleanor Hansen was considered the entertainment.
Dan Ingram stood back from the others, and on the opposite side, so did Lillyann’s Karl. Ingram nodded and touched the brim of his hat as Eleanor passed, something the other men noticed and seemed to find both interesting and humorous.
Lavinia Selby walked toward a tall man with long white hair who stood with the colonel, stopping short of actually greeting him so that he would have to come to her. Eleanor thought for a moment that he wouldn’t do it, but after an awkward delay, he abruptly smiled and stepped forward with his hand extended.
“Mrs. Selby,” he said graciously.
“Livingston,” she answered, shaking his hand. “Welcome—and do please call me Lavinia. We are neighbors, after all, and have been for a long while now. May I present Miss Eleanor Hansen, who has just arrived from North Carolina. She will be teaching at the Selby school.”
“Miss Hansen,” he said, briefly taking her offered hand. “I reckon we are making real progress out here if the schoolmarms are arriving. Tell me, what do you think of our country so far?”
“I think it’s no place for sinners,” Eleanor answered, and he laughed out loud.
“And why do you reckon that, Miss Hansen?”
“It’s very high and it’s very open. There’s no place to hide from God’s ever watchful eye.”
“That is so—but I have to say I never noticed it before. Maybe I better be mending my ways. Did you hear that, Reverend?” he asked a man standing a short distance away.
Eleanor recognized him—and the woman with him—immediately. She gave an inward sigh. Perhaps she should have taken Ingram’s advice and told Mrs. Selby that she had attended Lillyann’s funeral.
It was too late now, however. The reverend took the remark as his cue to preside. He called the group to order and offered up a lengthy blessing for the food and for the distinguished company. As soon as he’d finished, two lines of hungry men formed, on each side of the tables, more than ready to sit down and partake of the mounds of meat and potatoes, bread, boiled eggs, pies and cakes. The colonel and Mr. Warner went first, followed by Lavinia and the reverend, then his sister and Eleanor.
The reverend’s sister made it perfectly clear that she was not receptive to any polite conversation from the likes of Eleanor Hansen, and Eleanor had to fight hard not to annoy her. “Nell” would have done it and gladly. It was too bad she hadn’t been invited.
Eleanor was surrounded by unrestrained appetites, but she herself scarcely had the opportunity to eat. After a few random introductions, she took the place Lavinia indicated in the shade and shelter of one of the canvas screens. All the remaining women present and some of the men came to introduce themselves without Lavinia’s escort—some to present their reticent children, most just to see the new schoolteacher up close.
“You ain’t got a husband, I guess,” one of the woman said bluntly. Her face seemed to have sunk into a permanent and suspicious frown.
“No,” Eleanor said.
“It’s a shame when a woman can’t get herself married,” the woman said.
“My fiancé was killed at Gettysburg,” Eleanor answered quietly. “And yes, I suppose it is—according to some. I always thought a woman should have standards. I have never believed she should marry a man simply because he asked.”
The woman moved on—quickly—and went to eat with the reverend’s sister. The two of them began whispering immediately, sharing the tidbit of personal information Eleanor should have had more sense than to give. She didn’t want people to know about Rob. Inevitably, it led to the need to offer condolences, and even the most well meaning ones were like a knife in her heart.
She continued to smile and converse with people until her face hurt—then she smiled some more. She had seen Ingram pass through the line to eat, but he was no longer anywhere in view. Not that she was looking for him. It was simply that he was the one person here she felt she actually knew.
Someone began playing a fiddle and someone else joined in with a concertina—perhaps the same one she’d heard in the saloon. The approachable women present were all busy, but that seemed not to deter the kind of men who worked for cattle companies. Soon all the serving girls were engaged in what might, in sheer desperation, be called a waltz, around the dirt space that served as a dance floor.
Eleanor realized suddenly that Karl Dorsey was coming purposefully in her direction. She had seen that expression on a man’s face more times than she cared to count, and she looked around for a way to escape. There was none save crawling under the canvas. He was halfway to where she sat when Dan Ingram suddenly intercepted him. She couldn’t hear what he said because of the taut flapping of the canvas in the wind. She could only see the change in Dorsey’s expression when Ingram said it. Conversations around her stopped. Every eye was on the two men, who stood staring each other down.
Eleanor abruptly got up and headed toward Mrs. Selby, deliberately walking between the two.
“Gentlemen,” she said quietly as she passed.
She didn’t stop. She simply removed herself as an excuse for an altercation.
“Here you are,�
�� Lavinia said, as if nothing was happening among her guests. “I don’t know about you, my dear, but I am in desperate need of respite from all this untrammeled male society. Shall we go now, and I’ll show you your new home.” She made no excuses to anyone. She simply left the group with Eleanor in tow.
Eleanor looked over her shoulder once. Thankfully, the confrontation between Ingram and Karl Dorsey seemed to be over. She walked with Mrs. Selby to the other side of the house, where a horse and buggy stood waiting.
“I understand you don’t ride,” Mrs. Selby said as she got into the wagon and made room for Eleanor.
“No,” Eleanor replied, wondering if anything of her conversations with Ingram had been left unreported. Or if he would be the one to mention the incident with Burley and her presence at Lillyann’s funeral.
“What would you like to know?” Lavinia said as they left on a narrow road that seemed to go nowhere.
“About…the school?”
“No. About Dan Ingram.”
“I don’t think—” Eleanor began, startled.
“Don’t get attached to him, my dear,” Lavinia interrupted. “I’m saying this as your employer and as a…woman. I believe he already sees himself as a champion where you’re concerned, so it would be an easy thing for you to do, especially in a strange new place. It isn’t wise for you to encourage it, however—for your sake. He’s very apt to get himself killed. This thing with Karl Dorsey can’t be stopped.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, it’s become a matter of the Wyoming version of honor. Dorsey does have a long list of sins, and Dan has said he’ll kill him for his latest one. So now he has to—or be killed himself.”
Eleanor didn’t say anything. It made it more ominous somehow, that Mrs. Selby was as matter-of-fact about the situation as Hester had been. Eleanor looked off at the horizon. She didn’t know Dan Ingram well enough to be this bothered that someone might kill him, but she was, and it wasn’t a happy realization. She couldn’t let herself become concerned about yet another man who deliberately put himself into harm’s way. Not again.