Deborah Camp

by To Seduce andDefend

  “I’m not sure how long we will have to live in town, Ollie, but probably no more than a week or two. Then we will move into our very own home.” She smiled at him, trying hard to be optimistic. “Our first house that is ours and ours alone. Isn’t that exciting?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess?” She jiggled his hand to make him look up into her face. “Aren’t you my cowboy? Don’t you want to ride the range?” The light of adventure entered his eyes again. She had been reading heroic tales of cowboys of the Wild West to him, anticipating the move to Indian Territory. Her biggest worries had centered on moving Oliver from his secure nest in St. Louis to living off the land. What worried her now was whether she would be able to move onto the homestead that should be hers.

  “I want to ride the range,” Oliver said, pulling her thoughts back to him. “But I don’t have a horse.”

  “You will,” she assured him, setting off again. “And cattle, too. We will have cows, pigs, chickens, and maybe a goat or two.”

  She wondered if it was right of her to promise him things that she was now not certain she could provide. Had she uprooted them from a safe life to one of worry and toil? Although she hadn’t been happy living with her in-laws, their life wasn’t terrible. They were nice to her, although there was always the undercurrent that she was living off their generosity. With Charles gone, they had shown interest in Oliver but very little in her. Their attitude had bothered her, making her feel that they wished she would disappear and leave Oliver to them to raise.

  They had certainly kicked up a fuss when she’d made her plans known about moving to Guthrie! Oh, the wringing of hands and dire pronouncements of her and Oliver having their throats slit by wild Indians or robbed and beaten by roving ruffians!

  Dismissing the memory, Jennie peered ahead at a two-story house with a sign out front. “I believe that’s the boarding house.” They covered the distance to stand before the sign. “Philpot’s Boarding House,” Jennie read aloud for Oliver’s benefit. “This is the place.” She bent forward to smooth down some unruly strands of Oliver’s hair and gave him a playful chuck under his chin. “Mind your manners now. Make Mama proud.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  They approached the white-washed house with blue shutters and went up the front steps to the shady porch where an older woman sat in a rocker, her knitting needles clicking busily. She glanced at them and nodded. “Step right in,” she said, then went back to watching people pass by.

  Jennie opened the front door and a bell tinkled above her. She looked up to see the tiny, brass bell attached to the door, signaling all callers. She and Oliver entered the high-ceilinged foyer. A wide staircase faced them, climbing up to the second floor. Quick footsteps sounded on the wood floor and a short, wide woman wearing a dove gray dress and bright red apron emerged from around a corner. She wiped her hands on a dishcloth.

  “Hello. What can I do for you? Looking for a room?”

  “Good day to you. Yes, my son and I are staying at a hotel, but we require other accommodations. What are your weekly rates?”

  “I charge five dollars a week.” She gave Oliver the once-over. “I don’t imagine he eats much, so I would count you both as one boarder. I have a room available if you want to see it.”

  “Yes, I would.” As they climbed the stairs, Jennie did some quick mental accounting. The hotel weekly rate was three dollars a week, but meals weren’t included and baths were fifty cents. She could easily spend eight or ten dollars a week when she included three meals a day and baths for her and Oliver two or three times a week. Oliver had an uncanny way of getting sweaty and filthy even when he was standing still.

  “Are baths extra?”

  “You each get one a week. More than that, I charge two bits per bath. Of course, you have your own basin for wash-ups. We have city water and a well.”

  “That’s good,” Jennie said.

  “The room is right here,” the woman said, opening the door. “By the way, I’m Gloria Philpot, the proprietor.”

  “Oh, forgive me! Where are my manners? I’m Mrs. Jennie Hastings and this is my son Oliver.”

  “Good to meet you. Go ahead in and take a look at it. The bed is sound, you’ve got a clothes rod over there in the corner, and this here dresser has a lot of drawers. Got your nightstand there, a good rocker, and an upholstered chair. I keep a clean house. Linens are washed every week. We air out the mattresses twice a year and give them a good beating.”

  Jennie crossed the room to the window which gave a view of the side of the property. She noticed a neat, white building with an arched roof sitting in the middle of a generous expanse of new green grass. A copper bell, positioned on a pole, sat in front of it. Children kicked a ball around the big yard and swung in rope swings hanging from the limbs of huge oak trees. “A school is right there, I see.”

  “That’s right. It’s the first one that was built in Guthrie. Even before the Land Run.”

  “When will school let out for summer?”

  “Last of this month. Some of the younger ones that don’t work as much on the farm or ranch go until sometime in June.”

  Jennie turned around to examine the room. It was large. In one corner, a large basin was plumbed into the wall. A drapery could be pulled across to partition off that corner for privacy. The furnishings were functional and appeared to be comfortable. To test her theory, she sat in the rocker. It almost felt like home.

  “I feed at seven, half past twelve, and six. Nothing fancy, but I don’t get complaints.”

  Jennie exchanged a quick look with Oliver to confirm that he had no objections. “I’ll take it.” She reached into her beaded purse and withdrew the appropriate coins for a week’s boarding. Standing up, she held out the money to Mrs. Philpot. “Here you go. May I have a receipt?”

  Mrs. Philpot raised her pale thin brows and batted a stray silver curl back off her forehead. “Sure. Come on downstairs and I’ll write you one.” She took the coins and dropped them into her apron pocket. “Did you come here for a divorce?”

  “No.” Jennie glanced again at Oliver, but he was busy making faces in the hall mirror. “I came to claim my inheritance. I am a widow.”

  “Sorry for your troubles,” Mrs. Philpot said. “My Hal went to glory four years ago next month. How long has it been for you?”

  “This February.”

  “Bless your soul!” Mrs. Philpot reached out her arms and gathered Jennie into a tight bear hug. Completely thrown off-guard by such a magnanimous gesture, Jennie’s eyes widened and she held her breath. Momentarily, the woman released her. “You are mighty welcome here, and if you want any special kind of food for your little boy, you just let me know. Mrs. Dandridge is boarding with us and she has a seven year old girl named Molly. I bet they will play together right nice.”

  “That’s … that’s nice.” Jennie smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt and gathered her composure. “You are most kind, Mrs. Philpot.”

  “Now don’t you speak well? Where are you from? Up east?”

  “No, we hail from St. Louis.” She and Oliver followed Mrs. Philpot downstairs and along a hallway toward the back of the house.

  “Here’s the dining room,” Mrs. Philpot said, motioning to her right.

  Jennie glanced in and spied a long table that would comfortably seat a dozen people. It was already laid out for the evening meal. A large light fixture with crystal prisms was suspended over the table. They passed a hall clock and Jennie saw that it was half past one. Mrs. Philpot pushed open a swinging door and the aroma of baked bread engulfed them.

  “It smells good in here!” Oliver piped up.

  Mrs. Philpot placed her hands on her hips and chuckled. “Doesn’t it, now? We’re having cornbread and beef stew tonight for supper. Does that sound good to you, young ‘un? It does? Guess what I’m stirring up for something sweet? Can’t guess? Then I’ll tell you.” She bent at the waist toward Oliver. “Sweet potato pie.”

 
“What’s that?” Oliver asked, his smile turning into a frown.

  “You’ve never had that before?” Mrs. Philpot straightened, saw Jennie shaking her head, and addressed Oliver again. “It’s so good it will make your toes curl! You just wait.” She looked at Jennie. “You’re moving in today, aren’t you? You will be joining us for supper?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. The boarders right now are Mrs. Dandridge and Molly, Colonel Anders, Mrs. Johnson, and Mr. Perkins.” She went to a tidy desk near the back door and took a pad and pencil from one of its drawers. Sitting down in the desk chair, she wrote out a receipt for Jennie’s payment. “Here you go, dearie.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Philpot.”

  She hoisted herself up to her feet again with a little groan. “Well, I best check on that cornbread.” She patted the top of Oliver’s head. “I’ll save you a place at the table.” Reaching into the desk drawer again, she pulled out some keys that were tied together with a length of yellow grosgrain ribbon. She untied the ribbon, slipped a skeleton key from it, and offered it to Jennie. “Room Five is yours. Don’t lose this or I’ll have to charge you to replace it.”

  “Thank you. We will be back in time for supper. Come along, Oliver.” She tucked the key into her beaded purse and grasped her son’s hand again. She led him through the house to the porch. The older lady was still rocking and knitting.

  “Are you moving in?” the lady asked as Jennie and Oliver were going down the front steps. Her voice wavered, weakened by age.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m Jennie Hastings and this is Oliver.”

  “Molly will be glad to have another child around to play with. It’s a good place,” the old lady said. “Never any trouble here. I’m Adella Carter, Gloria’s mother.”

  Gloria? “Oh!” Jennie paused to take a better look at the woman. “So pleased to meet you, Mrs. Carter. Your daughter seems to have a fine establishment here. You must be proud of her.”

  “She’s always been a hard worker.” Mrs. Carter returned to her study of the passing wagons, horses, and pedestrians.

  Jennie moved on with Oliver scampering beside her. She didn’t want to be late for her appointment with the attorneys. She hoped that Mr. Polk would be there. As the senior partner, he would have more experience and be able to assist her in ironing out this mess Charles had made for them.

  She felt less encumbered now that she had secured a nice place for her and Oliver. With any luck, they wouldn’t have to stay at the boarding house for more than a couple of weeks. But if her affairs turned out to be complex, then she felt better about living at the boarding house instead of in a hotel. It was much better for Oliver.

  Bertha Polk was sitting at the desk in the outer office when they arrived. She smiled and crooked a finger at Oliver.

  “I have something for you, little fella.” She tapped a thin book lying on top of the desk. “The Ballad of Paul Revere with pictures! You ever heard it read before? No? Good! While your mama is in talking with Mr. Polk and Mr. Warner, we will sit over there in the window seat and I’ll read it to you. It’s a real good tale.”

  “That’s kind of you, Mrs. Polk,” Jennie said, giving Oliver’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It is a wonderful story, Ollie. And it rhymes.” She met Mrs. Polk’s gaze. “He likes stories that rhyme.”

  “You go on in. They’re expecting you. And I thought you were going to call me Bert.”

  “Well, I …”

  “If you don’t, then I’m forced to call you Mrs. Hastings instead of Jennie, which to my mind is so much friendlier and easier on the tongue.”

  Jennie smiled as she removed her gloves and tucked them under her belt. “Very well. Thank you, Bert.” She patted Oliver’s shoulder. “I’ll be right in there. Listen politely. No squirming!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Oliver mumbled as he climbed up onto the window seat.

  Jennie entered the other office to find a middle-aged man with thinning hair and owlish eyeglasses sitting at the desk where his law partner had been seated yesterday. Zach Warner sat in the chair he had occupied when he had rested his hands upon hers to stop her from wringing them. Both men sprang to their feet.

  Zach wore dark trousers, a white shirt, a brown leather vest, and brown boots with fancy stitching today. Adam Polk looked scholarly in a white shirt with sleeve garters, tweedy pants, and a fashionable necktie. A suit jacket hung over the back of the oak and leather office chair.

  “Mrs. Hastings, so good to meet you in person at last,” Mr. Polk said, extending his hand to her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be here yesterday.”

  “Don’t concern yourself with that, Mr. Polk. I’m glad to see that you are well again.” She offered her hand and he grasped it gently for a second before letting go. When he motioned for her to be seated, she sat in the chair that had been vacant and the two men returned to theirs. “I certainly hope you can sort all of this out, Mr. Polk. I am relying on your expertise.” She felt a quiver of worry when he exchanged a speaking glance with his law partner. Jennie looked from one to the other and knew she was in for more frustration.

  “I appreciate your vote of confidence, Mrs. Hastings, but my partner actually has more experience in matters such as yours. I am placing you in his most capable hands.”

  “Wh-what?” She felt her cheeks grow warm. From the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw a smirk cross Zach Warner’s face. “But I have hired you, Mr. Polk.”

  “But I would not give you adequate representation, Mrs. Hastings. Believe me, there is no better attorney in the divorce court than Zachary Warner. He has handled hundreds of these cases.”

  “Hundreds?” She turned to give Zach a look of disbelief. He shrugged, but didn’t dispute the grandiose assertion. “But my problem is not simply a divorce, Mr. Polk. I am here to claim my son’s inheritance. That land my husband purchased should be mine. It was paid for from my dowry money.”

  “It was his money by marriage and you consented that he travel here to purchase an acreage with it,” Mr. Polk said with a gentle smile. “I understand this is an unusual case, but all the more reason why Zach should take the lead. If there is a loophole to be found, he will find it.”

  “And if not?” Jennie asked, although she knew she wouldn’t like the answer.

  “We can only do what the law allows, Mrs. Hastings,” Adam said with a shrug.

  The room fell silent. Jennie could hear Bertha Polk’s sing-song telling of the ride of Paul Revere in the adjoining office. For a few moments, Jennie felt ill. Her stomach clenched and she felt beads of perspiration dot her forehead. Fighting back the weakness trying to conquer her, Jennie squared her shoulders and swallowed hard.

  “I want to have a meeting with the woman Charles married. I want to speak to her in person.”

  Adam patted the air in a placating gesture. “Yes, of course, but we shouldn’t rock that boat until we have both oars in the water.”

  Jennie scowled at him. “I have no idea what that means, but I will meet the woman and talk to her about this tragic misunderstanding. Surely, if she cared enough for Charles to marry him then she will also be concerned about his son and his son’s future.”

  Adam looked to Zach, flinging out a hand as if he wanted his partner to throw him a lifeline. Zach heaved a sigh.

  “I went by Luna’s place yesterday, but she wasn’t home. I was told she is visiting relatives and won’t be back until … later. I will contact her first, Mrs. Hastings, and explain the case to her. Then, if I think it would do any good whatsoever, I will arrange a meeting between the two of you.”

  “If you think it would do any good!” Jennie inhaled deeply and told herself not to raise her voice. She felt as if she had wrapped herself tightly, but the bindings were beginning to unravel. What she needed was a good cry, but that was out of question in front of Oliver. She had to remain in control for her son’s sake. She exhaled slowly and balled her hands in her lap. “This woman married my husband and she has control of my
future. Don’t you think it wouldn’t behoove both of us to talk about it?”

  “Look here, Mrs. Hastings,” Zach said. “Luna can be – contrary. You don’t want to barge in and make demands or you will just be stirring a hornet’s nest. Let me talk to her and see how she reacts. If she doesn’t fly into a spitting rage and tell me to go shake hands with the devil, then I will suggest a meeting.”

  “I’m not planning on making demands, so what has she got to be contrary about?” Jennie asked. “She is holding all the cards, as I see it. And you two gentlemen almost seem to be afraid of her!”

  “I’m not afraid of Luna,” Zach drawled. “I’m being reasonable and keeping a cool head, which is what I’m asking you to do, as well. Let me handle this my way and we should have some kind of resolution by the end of the week. I know you can’t remain in limbo here, Mrs. Hastings. You and your son deserve a swift answer so that you can either claim the land or go back to Missouri.”

  “We aren’t going back there,” Jennie said, casting him a cool glare. “We have taken a room at the Philpot Boarding House and I will be looking for work in Guthrie.”

  “What?” both men exclaimed in unison, although Adam Polk’s voice was an octave higher than Zach Warner’s.

  “That’s right.” She retrieved her gloves and slipped them on, smoothing the soft lace over the back of her hands and between her fingers. “I still intend to take residence on the land Charles purchased. However, in the meantime, I can’t spend every dollar I have while I wait for Polk and Warner to untie all the knots left by my hus — Charles. I do want you to make quick work of this, Mr. Warner, but I’m not going anywhere.” She turned slightly in the chair so that she could bestow a knowing smile on him. “So, don’t get any ideas about sending me packing so that you can put this business behind you and get on with your next dissolution of marriage. You’re stuck with me.”

  You’re stuck with me.

  Those words buzzed in Zach’s head as he rode Mercy slowly along the streets of Guthrie. He didn’t mind one bit being stuck with Jennie Caldwell Hastings. Any man in his right mind would be glad to be in her company. She was a beauty; smart and spirited. What Charles Hastings was thinking when he petitioned to be shed of her was anybody’s guess.