“If you don’t know, my name is Mrs. Nelson, and Pastor Nelson is my husband.”
Silence and wide-eyed staring. Had she done something wrong?
She cleared her throat. “Can you tell me your names?”
Silence and wide-eyed staring.
Starting to panic, she pointed to the girl directly across from her. Brown hair and eyes, light freckles across the bridge of her nose. “Your name?”
“Mary Ann.” Mindy had to bend forward to hear the girl’s whispered answer.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she said, “It is nice to meet you, Mary Ann.” Turning to the next girl, she smiled.
Silence and wide-eyed stares. What the hell was wrong with these kids?
“And what is your name?” She smiled sweetly, trying to ignore the sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip.
“Judy.” At least that is what Mindy thought she said. She gave her name to her lap in such a soft voice Mindy had to guess. “Welcome to bible class, Judy.”
The girl’s head popped up. “I said Julie.” Her voice was a bit louder, and had she said it that way before, she wouldn’t have made the mistake.
“I’m sorry, Julie, It’s nice to meet you.”
She turned her attention to the young boy, who shouted before she could ask. “Patrick.” Perhaps after the issue she had with Julie, he thought her deaf. Then he nudged the girl sitting next to him. “This here is my sister, Polly.”
Mindy smiled at the boy and his sister. Most of the four seemed to be around the same age. Not being real familiar with kids, she would guess the boy and two of the girls were around eight years, and the younger one—Patrick’s sister—she would take for five or six.
“First I want to tell you how happy I am that you are all here.”
“I won’t be here much, teacher.” Patrick spoke up. The only one, apparently, who was going to talk.
“Why?”
“Cause next week when I’m old enough, I’m going to work with my pa in the mine.” His young shoulders straightened and he looked quite pleased with himself.
Mindy was shocked. He was only a kid. “How old do you have to be to work in the mine?”
“Nine.”
She knew very little about mine work, but one thing was for sure. Nobody his age should be working underground. Growing up in Dodge City, she’d seen a lot of kids quitting school to go to work. In fact, many times her ma told her she didn’t need schooling, and why was she wasting her time there when she could be earning some money to help out.
How she would help out in a brothel was something she didn’t want to think too much on.
“Maybe we can do a lot of bible learning before you go to work.”
Now that they all knew each other, it was time for her lesson. She opened her bible to the passage Jed had marked for her and began to read. Since she’d never been a good reader, it was slow going, but Jed had made her practice a lot the last couple of days.
“Why do you read so slow?” Julie wanted to know.
Pulled away from her reading, she looked up at the girl. “What?”
Julie pointed to the bible. “You read so slow. Why?”
Shame at being caught by the girl, who probably could read better than her, she said, “If I read slow, then we can all understand the lesson.”
Silence and wide-eyed stares.
Taking a deep breath, Mindy continued, but soon slammed the book shut when she realized them all staring at her was making her so nervous, her reading was becoming worse. “Why don’t we talk about what I just read?”
Silence and wide-eyed stares.
With shaky hands, she picked up the paper her lesson was written on, but had a hard time reading that, too. Everything she had practiced flew out of her head. Trying her best not to cry in front of four kids, she shoved the paper at Julie. “Why don’t you read our lesson for us? Then we can all talk about it.”
The girl reached out and slowly took the paper from Mindy’s hand. She looked down, and in a clear voice, she read what Jed had written for her. The knots in her stomach lessened, and she was able to remember what she had planned to talk to them about. At least she could probably get through this lesson, and practice her reading more before the next one.
Rescued by a kid. How embarrassing.
***
Jed tried once more to explain to Mr. Monroe that having his young son working in the mines was not a good idea. The man was stubborn, and kept insisting the boy was old enough. “He needs to be a man. With eight mouths to feed, we need the money to help out.”
Realizing he wouldn’t change the man’s mind, and might, instead, cause him to turn from the church, Jed dropped his argument, and got a promise from the man that he would allow his son time to study at home. He provided Monroe with a couple of school books to help him along. With the hard work involved in mining, Jed doubted very much if the boy would have the energy at night to do more than gulp down his supper and sleep.
It had been a trying day. Mrs. Peterson had continued to drop in unexpectedly, always seeming to question him and Mindy, and everything they did. Knowing it was his Christian duty to be tolerant and kind, he’d been swallowing his annoyance all day. In fact, he was beginning to understand why the previous preacher had run off.
He’d had a stream of congregants in his office all day. One woman, a widow, wanted his help in disciplining her son who had begun to run wild once his pa had died. A young wife came with her baby and two other young ones, wishing to set up a baptismal. He’d been happy to do that, but she had effectively dodged his questions when he noticed a bruise on her chin. In the short time Jed had been in Trinidad, he’d already heard rumors—something his members were good at—that Mrs. Wayfair’s much older husband indulged quite a bit in drink, and was more than likely to use his fists on his wife after a few shots of whiskey.
Jed had always hoped the good Lord had a special place reserved for men who abused those entrusted to their care—women and children—who needed loving hands, not brutal ones. Since Mrs. Wayfair had no other family, there was no one to champion her. Perhaps one day he would visit Wayfair at the stable in town where he worked and have a chat with him.
He pushed back his office chair and stared out the window. Although satisfied with his work so far, he had an uncomfortable feeling that all was not right in his church. There seemed to be a lot of discontent and downright nastiness. Hopefully, after he’d been here for a while he’d be able to address the issue. He was still feeling his way.
Maybe this is just not the life for me.
Early the next morning, shortly after Mindy had left for the green grocer, a knock at the front door drew him from his musings. A young girl stood on the doorstep. “Preacher, my daddy got hurt in the mine, and is doing real bad. The doctor is at my house, but my mama asked if you could come and pray.”
“Of course.” Jed reached for his jacket hanging on the hook by the door, picked up his bible, and left with the girl. “What is your daddy’s name?
“Mr. Stratford.” She had a slight lisp, and appeared to be about ten years old. As they walked, she slipped her little hand into his.
“And your name?”
“Betsy.”
Jed couldn’t recall a Stratford, but that didn’t mean they weren’t church members. After a few weeks, he was beginning to put names and faces together, but it would probably be a while until he knew everyone. Counting children, the rolls showed the church had about seventy members, which was a good sized group. He would love to hold on to those now attending, and gather more as time went on.
Though not as wild as Dodge City had been, Trinidad still had a need for comfort and spirituality. There were a few saloons, but since it was not part of the trail the cowboys took from Texas, they didn’t have the constant influx of trouble-makers. The school would need more space, and from what he’d learned, there were families in need that the church could help with.
The train had finally reached Trinidad, and with two trains passi
ng through each day, that would encourage more families to settle in the town, making it a more desirable place to live.
After about fifteen minutes, he and Betsy walked up the path to a small cottage. A well-tended garden took up part of the side yard. A ball, bat, and doll were scattered around the front yard.
Betsy opened the door. ”Ma?”
An attractive, but very tired-appearing woman hurried to the door, wiping her hands on her apron. Once he saw her, Jed recalled her from a few services. If he remembered correctly, she had two children, little Betsy, and a boy who he thought was around five years of age.
“Oh, thank you so much for coming, Reverend. We are in dire need of your prayers.” Mrs. Stratford pointed in the direction of a door on the right side of the main room. “My husband is in there with the doctor.”
“May I ask what his injuries are?”
The woman glanced at Betsy. “Please find your brother, I believe he’s in the kitchen drinking his milk. Take him outside to play in the front, please.”
“Is Pa going to be all right?” Betsy chewed her lower lip and regarded her mother with fearful eyes.
She touched her daughter gently on the head. “The doctor is with him now. We’ll see what he says. You go on now, and take care of your brother.”
The little girl left, and Mrs. Stratford turned to him. “Part of the mine where Mr. Stratford was working collapsed. He was the only one in the area at the time. They managed to pull him out, but he looks pretty broken up.” She crossed the room, leading him to the door. I’m waiting for the doctor to finish up his exam. Then we’ll know how he is doing.”
They both entered the room. The doctor bent over the unconscious man stretched out on the bed. He looked up when Jed and Mrs. Stratford entered. “Any news, doctor?” she asked.
“Your husband has a few broken bones, which I will set, but my main concern is his back. It was crushed when the ceiling fell in on him. We won’t know for a few days if it created permanent damage to his spinal cord.”
Mrs. Stratford pressed her fingers to her mouth and whimpered.
The doctor nodded at Jed. “Glad you’re here, Reverend. I’m a firm believer in prayer.”
Before he opened his bible, Jed turned to Mrs. Stratford. “Can you send a note to my house for my wife and tell her I will be here for some time. I don’t want to leave until I see Mr. Stratford awaken.”
***
Mindy gave the stew one more stir and then moved back to the kitchen table where she was struggling to cut out the pattern for a new shirt for Jed. She’d never made a stitch of clothing in her life, but she wanted to do this so she could surprise her husband. He’d been very patient with her—well, most of the time—and she wanted to show her appreciation, and also tackle another skill that she needed to learn.
The last two dresses she’d added to her closet had been bought by Jed at the mercantile in town. She knew it was expensive to buy clothes, as well as the bread they’d continued to purchase each day since her baking skills hadn’t improved much. At least she could cook a meal now. They’d had oatmeal for breakfast, and would have the stew for dinner at noon.
When she’d returned from the green grocer with the vegetables for the stew, Jed had been gone. He oftentimes left the house to visit a member, or take care of some church business, so it wasn’t unusual for him to disappear like that.
She studied the shirt pieces and was pretty sure they were all there. All she had to do now was sew them all together. If she got good enough at this, maybe they would be able to one day buy a sewing machine she’d seen at the Nelson’s house. Her spirits lifted at the thought of finishing the shirt, and the smell of the stew on the stove.
“Ouch!” She stuck her finger with a needle as a knock sounded at the front door. She laid the shirt piece down, and sucking on her finger, made her way to the door.
“Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Peterson.” She held in a groan when she saw the woman on her front steps. Lordy be, the woman never left them alone. Mrs. Peterson clutched a piece of paper in her hand, with a smirk on her face. Three other women stood behind her, one of them with a similar expression the two others staring at their feet.
“May we come in, Mrs. Nelson?”
Everything in Mindy shouted, “No! Go away and leave me alone.” Instead, she opened the door farther. “Of course.”
As they marched past her, Mindy got a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something was wrong, and she was sure this visit wouldn’t turn out well. “Can I offer you some tea?”
Mrs. Peterson raised her chin and sniffed. “No, thank you. This won’t take long.” She settled herself on the sofa and waved at the other women to take seats also. Unsure why, but feeling it was necessary, Mindy decided to remain standing.
“Well, Miss Cinnamon O’Brien, what have you to say for yourself?”
“What?” Mindy’s dry mouth could only whisper the word.
Mrs. Peterson waved the paper she held in her hand. “I thought there was something fishy about you, with your inability to perform common household tasks.” She pointed a finger at her. “I’ve been watching you.”
“Mrs. Peterson, I am not sure what it is you are accusing me of.” Although she felt like fleeing from the disapproval of the women sitting in her parlor, she refused to turn tail and run. And anyway, where would she go? This was her house, after all.
The woman’s eyebrows rose. “What are we accusing you of?” She glanced from one woman to the other. “Can you believe her nerve?”
The two women who had been starting at their feet, slowly looked up at her, but instead of righteous indignation, she saw pity, and uneasiness. Apparently, at least these two had been dragged into this by Mrs. Peterson.
“So you know my name before I married. What has that to do with your visit today?”
“Don’t get smart with me, young lady.” She shook the paper again. “I wrote to a friend of mine in Dodge City. We now know your own mother is a whore! And you were raised right by her side in a house of ill repute.” She stopped, allowing the words to ring off the walls.
Mindy took deep breaths, reminding herself it would not be considered good manners to fling herself onto the woman and yank her hair out by the roots. “I don’t understand what that has to do with me.” She was annoyed that her voice shook.
“Oh, don’t you?” She rose, and walked toward Mindy, forcing her to back up, or be plowed over. “You worked as a saloon girl, doing god knows what in the back room of the Lady Gay.” She snorted and turned to the other women who now watched her with horror. “Apparently the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of, Mrs. Peterson, but all I did in the saloon was serve drinks. Nothing else.”
“Oh really.” She walked in a circle, giving everyone time to consider her next words. “Then you don’t remember attacking a well-respected mayor of Dodge City, causing him serious injuries, and then ending up in jail?”
Mindy sat, her shaky legs no longer able to support her. Why was she surprised? She had known this was coming. She was not good enough to be a preacher’s wife, and certainly not good enough to have such a wonderful husband as Jedediah Nelson. It had only been a matter of time before her dreams had come crashing down around her.
“We are here, Miss O’Brien, to warn you that we will not tolerate you having anything to do with our church. And to think you, a fallen woman, thought to teach our children about the bible!”
Her accuser pulled on her gloves and motioned for the other women to rise. “We will be on our way now. Just remember what I said. We expect you will stay far away from the church. The likes of you are not wanted.” They all trooped to the front door. Not turning back, they left the house, closing the door with a bit more enthusiasm than Mindy would have thought necessary.
Mindy fidgeted with the piece of Jed’s shirt, numbness stealing over her. A lone tear dripped onto the piece of fabric.
She had no idea how long she
sat in the parlor, but once her mind cleared, she knew exactly what she had to do. She’d brought shame to Jed. The women who had invaded her home told her they would not allow her back into the church. No more bible classes with the children. She was a Jezebel, and her presence here only harmed her husband.
She wiped her face with the sleeve from the shirt she’d attempted to make for Jed. Glancing at the clock, she figured she had enough time to pack her few things and take the noon train back to Dodge City. Where she belonged. Not in a nice town, with decent people who wanted a church free of sinners, and a righteous person to teach the bible to their children.
Certainly not her.
Before she could give herself time to dwell on her decision, she hastened to the bedroom, threw her things into a suitcase, and struggled to write a note to Jed.
I’m so sorry, Jed. But I knew this wouldn’t work. I told you from the start I was not cut out to be a preacher’s wife. Please don’t hate me.
Love, Mindy
Love, Mindy. Yes, now that she was about to walk away, she realized her idea of keeping her heart safe from Jed had been a stupid idea. Of course she loved him. From the first time he’d taken up for her on the school play yard, she’d loved him. Being married to him, living with him day in and day out, having him love her each night with his body had only made that love stronger. What a fool she’d been!
She slipped her wedding ring off, and placed it on top of the note. With a quick look around their little house where she’d had such hope, she turned, gently closed the door and walked to the train station.
Chapter Nine
Jed left the Stratford house feeling a lot better than when he’d arrived. Once the man woke up, he insisted on sitting up in bed, relieving them all of any worries about injuries to his spine. He had a broken arm, and a broken wrist on the other arm. His legs had been crushed and battered, but no bones had been broken, so he would be on the mend in a few weeks.
He’d also suffered from a headache, but luckily his head had only been grazed when the ceiling collapsed, with most of the weight landing on his arms and legs. All in all, Jed felt as though his prayers had done a lot to comfort his wife.
Prisoners of Love: Cinnamon Page 8