by Marian Wells
Amy chewed her finger and watched the customer leave the building. Staring at the vacant spot where Lizzie had stood, she picked up the paper and folded it with a sigh. “Poor President Lincoln. He’s in for a rough time.”
The miner who had just entered said, “Why’s Lincoln in for a rough time?”
She tapped the newspaper. “Can’t read it without getting the feeling that what happened at Fort Sumter in April is just the beginning of big problems.” She looked at the miner. We’re in war now. Our own country is fighting among themselves. A family fight. That’s bad.” The man was gnawing at a big plug of tobacco. Hastily she said, “Don’t spit on the floor; I just got it swept.” She held out her hand for his letter and watched him go out the door.
The afternoon was slipping toward dusk, and people hurried on past the post office, heading for home.
Amy sat down on her stool and reached for the Rocky Mountain News. As she thumbed to the back of the paper, a name caught her attention. She turned to the beginning of the article. It was about a Methodist Episcopal elder who had left his church at California Gulch and had accepted a commission to head the First Colorado Regiment. The article said his church had been taken over by a supply pastor, a newcomer.
Slowly Amy said, “So presiding elder John Chivington is going to be an army officer defending our territory against the Texans.” She read more. “It appears that a Daniel Gerrett has been appointed to fill his pulpit as the new pastor.”
As time came to lock the post office, Amy slowly got to her feet. Dusk shadowed the streets making them look as dismal as she felt. Locking the door, Amy started down the street to her barren attic room. The article had opened up the hidden place in her mind, and now her thoughts churned.
She whispered to the autumn sky, “I’m feeling like I’ve been yanked out of my covering. Left here in the cold.” Amy shivered and tried to find a nice warm anger to shove down between Daniel and her. It seemed the only way to handle the loneliness that unexpectedly invaded her isolation.
****
Daniel studied the line of books on the shelf built into the supporting cedar posts of his new home. “Mighty fine. Better library than I ever expected to have.” As he spoke, he realized the one-way conversations were becoming commonplace.
But he continued. “But these books that John Chivington left are going to be no more important to me than they were to him.”
He rubbed his unruly thatch of dark hair and sighed. Taking a quick pace around the one small room of his cabin he surveyed it all. The distance from the bunks built into the far wall to the fireplace was only three hard strides. Between the sheet metal cookstove to the table set in the middle of the room was another stride.
He turned around. The end wall by the door was covered with more shelves and pegs for clothing. Benches lined each side of the table, and a few cooking utensils and dishes were on shelves. But that was the extent of his newly inherited possessions. It was a church as poor as the new diggings they called California Gulch.
“Doesn’t look like there’s ever been a woman’s touch here, but I can’t blame his wife for not wanting to live here,” he muttered, trying to avoid thinking about Amy. His two windows were bare and black against the night. Their blank panes stared like curious eyes, and Daniel vaguely remembered that women did something about curtains.
He turned toward the stove just as a hearty thump resounded from the door. A voice shouted, “Open up, Parson, I know you’re there. I saw you through the window.”
With a grin Daniel yanked at the door, saying, “I recognize your sweet, gentle voice, Father Dyer. Come in!”
The stocky man marched in. Dumping his gear on the floor, he said, “Heard you’d been given the mission at California. Decided I’d drop past and see how you’re doing.”
He clapped Daniel on the shoulder. “Am glad to see you again! Since quarterly meeting I’ve been wondering about you. How are you getting along? Surprised me to hear you’ve been given an assignment so soon. That speaks well.”
Daniel winced. “I think it’s by default, Father Dyer. Many of the fellows have gone to soldiering with Chivington. It makes the preaching ranks mighty thin.”
Dyer sat down on a bench. “Mind if I drop here tonight? I’m pretty tired. Hiked over from Fairplay.”
“I’d be more than disappointed if you didn’t,” Daniel answered soberly. “I haven’t had a soul to talk to since leaving Fort Lupton. Hiked? Can’t the circuit support a horse?”
“Naw, I’d rather eat. Besides there’s snow stacking up on Mosquito Pass early this year. I’ve made myself some snowshoes.” He paused to chuckle, “You’d have had a good laugh watching me learn to use them. But I’ll trust the snowshoes before a horse. That’s some trail in the snow.”
“So you intend to keep up the circuit during the winter months?”
“My conscience won’t allow otherwise. There’s only a handful of people across the camps, but they’ll see me as often as possible.” He paused and added, “You say you’re lonely? Don’t you even have a congregation yet?”
Daniel grinned. “Not much of one.”
“Daniel boy, I’m tempted to hang around and make sure you get some fire into you. These miners need to be stirred up. I’m finding out that most of them have a background of good, God-fearing families. But there’s an indifference to the Lord like I’ve never seen back home. It’s the latest in golden-calf worship, and a handful of gold is the start. We need to encourage these men to be getting into church. The real fire will come later.”
Daniel pulled forward a skillet and began cutting bacon into it as Dyer continued to talk. “A month or so ago I was over in Washington Gulch. ’Twas the Sabbath when I walked into a settlement called Minersville. You’d never have known it was any day except a workday. At sunup men were cutting wood and building cabins. They had a tent set up for a grocery store and men were going at it, cutting beef and selling it. I stretched my lungs.”
He paused to chuckle, saying, “Now, Daniel, I don’t want you to think I always do this, but it seemed they needed my attention. So I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled, ‘We’re having services! There’s to be preaching at the grocery tent.’ Well, they came and we had a good service. I tell you, I was as surprised as they were.
“Forty men came, leading their jacks and ponies. Some customers were continuing to do business at the meat counter, even while we were singing, so I called for prayer.”
Daniel stirred the beans and shifted the skillet to the back of the stove. “Did you preach?”
“Yes, and it went along fine until a mule stuck his head through the tent and made off with a loaf of bread. That was a little distracting.”
While Daniel served up the bacon and beans, Dyer said, “Later that night we had revival meeting around a campfire. There’s about a hundred men up there, but only one woman. The territory is a lonely place at best, and for womenfolk it’s worse.” Daniel saw his quizzical look but said nothing.
Dyer lingered on for another day, and Daniel apologized, “I know I’ve about twisted your ear off and nearly wrung you dry of words. But I need all the help you can give. It’s been good having you, come back again, Father Dyer.”
“Seems to me, listening to you talk, you needn’t worry. Just stay on your knees and don’t be afraid of laying it on the line. The Bible’s our only sure textbook and the Lord is our only Teacher.” He clapped Daniel on the shoulder. “We all have to learn the hard way. Remember, you preach soft and you’ll see men lose their souls. You preach hard and all you’ll lose is the kind of friends you can get along without anyway.”
Later while Dyer was tightening his pack, getting ready to leave he said, “Fella, I’ve done most of the talking. But I want to tell you, if you need a friendly ear, I’m willing to do some listening.”
He was adjusting the straps on his pack. Daniel studied his face, sensing more behind the words. His glib reply stuck in his throat. When Dyer lifted his head, Daniel sa
id, “Father Dyer, what do you mean?”
“Over in Buckskin Joe there’s a pretty little blonde woman who says her name is Mrs. Gerrett. I thought I saw her at quarterly meeting.”
Daniel could think of only one thing and it filled his heart with a rush of gladness: Amy was using his name!
Dyer waited. Looking into his troubled eyes, Daniel said, “Think you can stay another night? I’d like to tell you about it.”
They settled around the table. Daniel started at the beginning, telling Dyer about Central City and the events that had led up to the night at quarterly meeting when Aunt Maude had confronted Amy and himself.
After he finished the story, Daniel stared at his folded hands and added, “When I went to see Amy’s father, he seemed to think she had headed for home—back to Kansas. Eli said he gave Amy a gold piece for her birthday. He thought it might be enough for her to travel home. Her Aunt Maude is there now so she’d have a place to go.”
Daniel shrugged and looked at the table. “Didn’t seem to be anything I could do about the whole situation.” He looked up. “I prayed, asked for guidance—for the next step.”
Father Dyer waited. Daniel wiped his hands over his face. “I have no idea why she would go to Buckskin Joe. I can hardly believe she’s still in the territory and hasn’t contacted her father.”
He dropped his hands and looked at Dyer, hoping the questions didn’t show in his eyes. John Dyer shook his head, “Daniel, I can’t offer you much, but I do know she’s working in the post office and living with the Tabors.
“From talking to her I get the feeling she’s a lonely, confused girl with a big problem. Tried to get her to come to services.” He reluctantly added, “Somehow I have the feeling your little lady is afraid of meetings. Is that possible?”
Daniel nodded. “It seems, from the little talking we’ve done about the past, that the fear goes back to her mother’s death. Father Dyer!” he cried out against his will, “she could have written a letter if she wanted to have anything to do with me.”
“Seems that way,” John Dyer said soberly.
“I need help. What do you think I should do? I don’t want her to feel I’m pressuring her to come back. I don’t want an unwilling wife.”
“Seems she needs to have a visit with you. Daniel, your marriage puts you in a new situation. You realize as her husband, you hold a special responsibility for Amy’s salvation. Right off, I’d say that’s so until she indicates she doesn’t want to continue with the marriage.”
“Isn’t that what she’s saying by leaving?”
“That’s for you to decide, Daniel.”
Chapter 19
[Late one afternoon, when the evening shadows were stretching across the street and Amy got up to light the lamps in the post office, Lizzie came again.
She breezed in with a wave and a smile. Amy nodded and went to count out money for postage charges. She handed the letter to her customer and watched him leave, but her thoughts were on Lizzie. That girl isn’t looking for a letter. Could it be she’s forgotten the slight that sent her flying out of here last time?
Amy turned with a brisk smile. “Now, Lizzie, what can I do for you? A letter?”
She looked directly at Amy, the expression in her eyes was frank, unwavering. Amy caught her breath. Their eyes met, and Amy couldn’t turn away. Lizzie was using some unseen scale to measure her. What does she see and why are Lizzie’s thoughts important to me? The woman had called her only a dance-hall girl.
Lizzie’s gaze still held Amy’s. Her voice was flat as she said, “The letters come care of the madame, if they come at all. Most of the ones we write stay unanswered. And most of us don’t peddle our last names for a good reason.”
Amy winced at the girl’s twisted smile. “Lizzie, I’m sorry. So you didn’t come to talk about the mail. What can I do for you?”
“You really mean that? You want to do something for me—us?”
“Well—” Amy hedged, beginning to regret the direction her impulse was leading.
Lizzie’s laughter was as clear and sharp as a bell. “Don’t worry! I don’t intend to put you on the spot. But I do have an idea, and you’ll be the one to benefit. Did you hear the Grand Hotel has a piano now? Just today it was delivered.”
“Oh, was that the commotion down the street? I wondered about all the excitement. I heard the wagon and saw people heading out like they were going to a fire.”
She paused, as the facts caught up with her, “Oh, Lizzie! A piano! How wonderful; will you be playing it?” She saw the shadow in her eyes and wished the words back.
Dryly Lizzie replied, “I don’t think I’ll be asked. But that’s the reason I’ve come. I hear they’re looking for a piano player among the respectable people in town. There was a fellow, but he’s left for California Gulch.”
She continued, “Amy, up Central City way you were anxious to play the piano—and running scared your aunt and pa would catch you at it. Aren’t you free to do as you please now? How about coming over to the boardinghouse and letting me teach you a couple of snappy tunes. A gal with a natural talent like yours shouldn’t be hiding it under a bushel.” She paused and added, “That’s Scripture.”
Amy leaned across the counter and thrust her fingers through the wire mesh of the cubicle, “Oh, Lizzie, don’t do this to me! You know I would love it more than anything, but I can’t. I don’t know enough.”
“You do. More’n once I’ve heard you sit down and pick out a tune after hearing it just once. You’ve got a rhythm too, a real good beat. That’s important. And you can sing. Learning the words will be harder than learning the notes of the music.”
Amy was still clinging to the enclosure, feeling as if her heart would burst with longing. Lizzie’s eyes were gentle now, and she patted Amy’s hand. “Come on. Let me teach you what I know; then if you keep your nose clean and stay away from the likes of us, you’ll make it in big time. Who knows? The way Denver City is booming, in another year or so, you could be earning your keep in a respectable hotel.”
Amy forced the words. “You’re forgetting my husband.”
“I know you’re here alone. Word gets around. I thought you’d already forgotten him.” Her smile was mocking. “Come on, Amy, you aren’t the first gal who’s had a change of heart.”
Amy watched Lizzie turn quickly and head for the door. Her voice was muffled as she called out. “Come up; I’ll teach you. Just ask for Lizzie.”
During the days that followed, Lizzie’s voice continued to ring in Amy’s ears. It wasn’t just the words. It was the mocking challenge in her eyes. Could Lizzie be lonely too? Was this a test? Is she asking me to prove my friendship by going up to that place?
One day, while musing over the invitation, Amy watched the new grandfather clock in the Tabor parlor. Deeply conscious of the measured ticking, it seemed every swing of the pendulum gave a secret message. Act now while there is time.
Amy knew she had decided. No matter what, this was her opportunity; it was the secret dream come to life. Secret dream? I threw that away that night when I married Daniel. Or did I?
Amy shivered. Just this, just the piano. Father can’t be hurt—he won’t know.
Later that week Amy realized the advantage of the fast-approaching winter. In the evenings when she locked the post office, darkness had cloaked the town of Buckskin Joe.
Safe from the probing of curious eyes, Amy could cut through the dry brown grasses of the meadow leading to the boardinghouse snugged at the base of the mountain.
These evenings Lizzie would be waiting in the parlor with a plate of pastry or a bit of meat and bread. While Amy ate, Lizzie would sit at the piano and pound out the notes and explain the curious signs and words on the sheet of music.
Soon after the sessions began, Amy made several new discoveries. The first was that often she detected the odor of liquor on Lizzie’s breath. She wondered, Why, Lizzie? You’ve always been the happy and carefree one. Why drink? There was no answer t
o the unasked question, but Amy continued to watch Lizzie, trying to dig out a deeper understanding of the girl.
She also discovered that in this house it was impossible to keep her secret. The dance-hall girls were there to grin through the doorway and cheer her on as she played the piano. She was the stranger, the outsider, but they accepted her without question.
As time passed, Amy began to realize those secret sessions at the boardinghouse in Central City had only whet her appetite. Piano became her passion. She plunged in, studying everything Lizzie could teach her.
Soon she began to feel confident. Lizzie was right—for her it was easy. Her fingers rippled across the keys as if they were born to produce music. Now before the evenings ended, the dance-hall girls began slipping into the room. Amy was only vaguely conscious of them dancing, swaying, and singing in the darkened parlor behind her.
After several weeks, on an evening when Amy had played until she felt her fingers would drop off, Lizzie brushed her hands away from the keys and cried, “Enough! Amy, you’ve about worn out this piano. The girls have waited patiently, and you shan’t have my job. Be off now, go down to that hotel and tell them you’ll play. Do it quickly before someone moves to town and snatches up the job.”
Amy took a deep breath and said, “I’m just now realizing that there’s something I need to do before I can go looking for that job.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve never told Augusta Tabor about the lessons, nor my desire to play the piano at the hotel.”
Lizzie followed Amy to the hall as Amy wrapped herself in a shawl. In the dimness she peered at Lizzie’s face. Her friend shuddered. “I know what you’re thinking. No one dares do something like this behind Mrs. Tabor’s back. Yes, go tell her immediately.”
“I’d like to thank”—Amy stumbled over the title and all it implied—“the—your madame for letting me use the piano.”