Margaret's Quest

by Chapman, Muncy;

  ❧

  Over the next few weeks, Margaret continued to turn out bonnets as fast as her fingers could fashion them. Although her reticule was bulging with coins, her supply of fabric was rapidly diminishing. She had only two dresses left. If she cut these up and turned them into bonnets, what would she wear to cover her own body?

  When she had first arrived in Tampa, she had turned up her nose at the simple frocks the local women wore, but now she could see the practicality of them. The clothes she wore daily all bore watermarks around the bottom where she had tried to sponge away the inevitable dust that clung to their hemlines. Today when she went to the market, she would see about purchasing a calico dress for herself.

  She wished that she had asked Mikal to bring her some stylish fabrics and trims from Savannah—or better yet, from New York! But on second thought, when Mikal came back with news from her father, she might never have to worry about making bonnets again! She could return to Savannah and become a pampered debutante again. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? Then why did her stomach turn upside down every time she thought of giving up her present lifestyle and returning to her old one?

  Summer sun streamed through her bedroom window, and Margaret knew that very soon the heat would make her walk to the village unbearable. She wrapped the yellow bonnet she had just finished yesterday in one of her petticoats to keep it clean and packed it carefully into her sack. Meli had special-ordered it, and Margaret was sure she would be pleased. Tiny yellow roses bordered the brim, with green satin leaves tucked between the petals.

  She would always be grateful to Meli and Katherine, who had not only been her first customers but had spread the word of Margaret’s bonnets to all of their friends, so that she now had a hard time keeping up with their demands. Almost all of her designs now were made to order, sold before they were even sewn.

  As Margaret drew near to the village, she noticed that almost no women were on the street today, and men stood in serious clusters waving their hands and talking. She continued on to the corner of the steps leading into the general store and stood in the shade of the porch to watch for Meli. This was the spot where she usually met her customers, but today Meli was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was running late this morning. Margaret decided to go inside the store and look at their supply of dresses while she waited.

  Margaret chose a simple cotton frock made of brown checked gingham, cut with a square neckline and a full skirt that ended in a wide flounce. Then she purchased a five-yard piece of lavender dimity print sprigged with clusters of violets and green vines and leaves. This would make up into a cool dress that she could wear all summer. She also purchased enough unbleached muslin to make a pinafore to wear over her dresses to protect them from soil. She smiled, remembering her earlier firm resolve never to own such simple clothing. Now she looked forward with pleasure to the comfort and practicality they would offer her.

  She counted out her coins on the counter and looked around the store for her friend. Again, she could not help but notice the scarcity of women this morning. “Mrs. Bowden, I was hoping to see my friend Meli. Have you seen her in the store this morning?”

  “Ain’t she one of them ladies from Fort Brooke?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. She was supposed to pick up a bonnet from me today.”

  “Then I reckon you ain’t heard the news.” When Margaret arched her eyebrows in question, the old lady continued, “They was another Injun raid yesterday ’bout dark, right outside of town. Some soldiers was returnin’ to the base and got ambushed. They was a lot of bloodshed, and I hear the officers is all sending their womenfolk back home till things quiets down a mite. They say it’s jist too dangerous around here right now. They’s been a lot of outlaws roamin’ these woods, too. Me and Ezekiel jist tries to stay inside the store and mind our own business.”

  “Oh, my! That’s scary! Do you have any idea where I might find my friend today? I need to see her before she leaves town.”

  “Honey, I ’spect they done left already, or if they ain’t, they soon will be. Whatcha got? One of your fancy bonnets fer her? Lemme see!”

  Margaret unwrapped the yellow bonnet and handed it to the storekeeper. Mrs. Bowden ran her rough, gnarled fingers over the smooth fabric. “My, ain’t that the prettiest thing you ever did see? I’d shore like to have one like that for myself.”

  “I could make you one,” Margaret said hopefully. “Any kind you would like.”

  “Well, I’d like one jist like this, but I reckon it wouldn’t be too practical. And Ezekiel would plumb die if I spent the kind of money you git fer these things, but it shore is pretty.”

  “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mrs. Bowden. If you will hold this bonnet for Meli and give it to her next time she stops in, I’ll make you a bonnet from the remnants I have left after I cut out my new lavender dimity dress.”

  The old lady smiled a toothless grin. “Now won’t that be grand? I’ll take real good care of this here yeller one, and if your friend don’t show up, I’ll find somebody else to sell it to, and that’s a fact.”

  Margaret asked the question she posed every week. “Has Mr. Bowden found anyone interested in buying my pearls?”

  “Well, yes and no,” Mrs. Bowden replied. “Last week they was a gent in here that took a real likin’ to ’em. Didn’t even quibble about the price, but when he went to pay, he tried to pay in that-there paper money. Now you know them shin-plasters ain’t worth nothin’. Ezekiel warn’t born yesterday. He told that dandy to come back when he had some gold to offer. But you jist wait, honey. One of these days, one of them officers from Fort Brooke is gonna come in here alookin’ fer something special to give his lady, and your pretty pearls will be jist the thing that’ll please him.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bowden. I’ll try to finish your bonnet by next week.”

  The woman clapped her splotched hands together in delight. “I can’t hardly wait! Would you be awantin’ anything else today?”

  Margaret rubbed her chin and thought for a few moments. “Let me have two more of those tallow candles and a spool of white thread.”

  Margaret paid for her purchases and started toward home. Still she saw few women or children on the streets. Were the streets of Tampa village really becoming so dangerous, or was it just the summer heat that kept them all indoors? If the officers all sent their wives away, who would be left to buy Margaret’s bonnets? She had enough money to last for a while, but what would she do when her supply ran out?

  Oh, how much longer will it be before Mikal Lee returns?

  ❧

  As the Windsong tacked into Tampa Bay, Mikal stood on her deck and tried to summon the words he would use to tell Margaret the heartbreaking news. How would she react to this latest tragedy in her life?

  He had tried to offer her comfort when Allen Fairchild had died, but how could he hope to help her survive two such losses within so short a span of time?

  Mikal knew of only one source for the magnitude of comfort Margaret would need in the days ahead. If only she would turn to God in her times of trial instead of turning away from Him, He would surely lift her up and help her bear her burdens. But Mikal remembered how angrily she had lashed out at God when Allen was killed. Would this latest news drive an even deeper wedge between Margaret and the Lord?

  If only he could bring her just a little good news to temper the bad, he would find his job easier. But Cedric Porter had not only taken his own life, he had left behind mounds of unpaid bills so that his creditors were lined up to collect any money derived from the sale of his properties. The only thing that Mikal had been able to bring for Margaret was a note from her father, and he had even had to argue with the barristers over that. Mikal wondered whether the contents of this note would help to soften the blow or only make it worse. The note was still unread, secured with her father’s wax seal. Mikal thanked God that the investigating officers had finally agreed to allow her that last small semblance of privacy and dignity.


  Mikal pulled the note from his jacket pocket and turned it over in his hands. He wished that he knew its contents. He hoped that the words would not heap a burden of guilt on poor Margaret. She had all the sorrow she could handle without adding guilt to her grief.

  Although Mikal had previously urged her to return to Sav-annah, he was now glad that she was far away from the ugly accusations and legal entanglements her father had left as her legacy. Had Margaret been aware of her father’s gambling compulsion, or would this be just one more thing heaped on her pile of misery?

  He longed to see her; he had missed her so. Standing on the deck with the salty spray stinging his face, he could still imagine the way she had looked that first time when he saw her standing on the deck, the ocean wind swirling her dark hair around her face.

  Dear Father, help me to find words that will soften this shock for Margaret. Let me be Your instrument to bring some good out of all this tragedy about to be revealed to her. Give me strength, Lord, because I know I can’t handle this alone.

  As the ship eased against its moorings, Mikal whispered his final Amen and began preparations to disembark. What he had earlier thought would be a day of joy for him had now turned into a day of utter despair.

  eight

  Margaret sat on the porch in a cane-backed rocking chair, her Bible spread across her lap. The midsummer heat had been stifling in her room, but now a cool breeze lifted the hair from the back of her neck and dried the perspiration on her forehead. The air was fresh, blushed by the soft haze that follows sunset.

  The days were growing longer now, and for an hour or two after supper each night, Margaret was able to read without the aid of her candle. By sitting on the porch, she could extend that time by as much as half an hour.

  She had read through the Gospels, and she was now well into Romans. Begun as a chore performed to fulfill a promise, her daily reading had now grown to be the favorite event of her day.

  Although she had not yet come to the point of making a full, personal commitment, she had begun to give the matter some serious thought. She just wasn’t sure she could live up to its demands. Being a Christian was well and good for people like Mikal, but in spite of all that she had read in the Bible, Margaret found it hard to believe that God could accept someone who had turned against Him and lashed out at Him as she had.

  And there was another point that gave her some difficulty—the part about forgiving others. She still had not been able to find it in her heart to forgive the red savages who had murdered Allen and other fine men like him, and she did not think she ever would.

  With her eyes focused on the fine print of her Testament, she did not see Mikal’s approach until he stood at the bottom porch step.

  “Mikal!” She almost tripped on her skirts as she hurried to meet him, but when she was halfway down the steps, she realized by the expression on his face that something was terribly wrong. She looked at his sober, strained countenance, and her stomach did a flip-flop. She was not at all sure she wanted to hear this news he had come to tell her. Had her father completely disowned her because she had gone against his wishes? Did he refuse, not only to send her money, but to even welcome her back into his home? “Mikal, what is it? What is the matter?”

  Mikal wrapped her in his arms. “Margaret, I have bad news. Let’s go inside where we can talk.”

  When he released her, she reeled and stumbled against him. He put an arm around her waist and supported her up the steps and into the parlor. The drapes were drawn so that the room was dark and musty. Again he drew her into his arms and told her the whole sad story of how he had gone to her home, talked with the barristers and investigating officers, and discovered the devastating news of her father’s death.

  “The only thing they would allow me to bring you is this note, probably the last thing that your father ever wrote.” Mikal continued to hold her while she soaked his shirt with her tears.

  Trembling as though it were mid-January instead of a warm day in June, Margaret pushed him away and reached with trembling fingers for the letter.

  “Shall I light a candle so that you can see to read?”

  “No, not yet. I–I don’t think I can bear to read it just yet. I’ll save it for later. Right now I, well, uh, I just want to—Mikal—would you pray for me?”

  Her startling request caught Mikal by surprise. Out of such a dark moment, her words were like a ray of sunshine to his heart. While God was closing one door, he seemed to be opening another. “Of course I will.”

  He took her hands in his and dropped his head. “Dear heavenly Father. . .”

  As Mikal’s strong, deep voice resonated in the high-ceilinged keeping room, Margaret’s sobs began to subside. At last, when Mikal said “Amen” and lifted his head, she raised her reddened eyes to look into his face. “Thank you so much. I know what a difficult job this must have been for you, coming here to bring me such sad news. And I wish that there was some way I could tell you how much your friendship means to me. . .”

  “Margaret, you don’t have to. . .”

  “But just now, Mikal, if you don’t mind, I think I want to be alone for a while.”

  “Are you sure? Because I’ll stay here with you for as long as you need me.”

  “Thank you, but no. I want to go upstairs and read my letter, and then I’m going to read my Bible and pray. The Lord will be with me, and I will be fine.”

  Mikal said, “It seems almost sinful for me to call this a moment of joy, Margaret, and it doesn’t take away any of my sorrow for your grief, but you’ve just made me a very happy man. I’ll respect your wishes and leave you alone for now, but I’ll be back to see you in the morning.”

  “Look, Mikal, I know what you must be thinking. But remember what I told you last time we were together, and don’t expect too much from me. I’ve come a long way, but there are still a lot of things I have to work out yet. I’m not sure that I ever will.”

  “It’s all right, Margaret. I have a lot of patience, but God has even more.”

  ❧

  The Windsong stayed moored at the docks of Tampa Bay for three days, unloading supplies brought from the northern markets and refueling the ship.

  On the morning of the third day, Mikal came to the boardinghouse early and asked Margaret if she felt up to a small picnic in the clearing where they had stopped once before. “I know you have a heavy heart and don’t feel like making long-range plans, but we do need to talk about your future before I sail.”

  “Yes. Yes, I think I would like that,” Margaret said. “I have things I want to discuss with you, too.”

  Izzy packed them a bag of food, and they set out on foot along the road that led away from the village. Soon the road became a narrow, winding trail through tall pines, majestic oaks, and palmettos. The early morning air was pleasantly cool, and the silence that lay between them was comfortable, the way it can only be between close friends.

  When they came to the familiar clearing, Mikal picked a bouquet of wildflowers and handed them to Margaret. “Flowers for milady,” he said, bowing in mock formality.

  “Why, thank you, sir.” Margaret accepted the bouquet and curtsied. Then, laughing, she knelt in the tender green grass and arranged her skirts around her.

  Mikal slumped down beside her and reached for her hand. It was good to hear her laughter again, even though he knew that she carried a heavy pain in her heart. “Margaret, I wanted to come here today so that we could have a very serious conversation. I know that my suggestion is going to sound rather abrupt under the circumstances, but from everything I’ve heard, Tampa is getting to be a much too dangerous place for a lady. I want you to consider moving away from here.”

  Margaret’s green eyes widened with surprise. “But Mikal, I have nowhere else to go. You yourself told me about the im-possible situation in Savannah. Going back there now would only mean trouble for me. I have my bonnet business here in Tampa, and I have no intention of moving away.”

  “But you told me
yesterday that your bonnets weren’t selling as well since the officers sent their wives away from Fort Brooke. For all we know, those women may never return to this wild and lawless land, and who could blame them? And the poor people of the village don’t have the kind of money your fancy bonnets are worth.”

  “Lately I’ve been sewing sunbonnets from the cheap calico I can buy at the general store, but you’re right. I’m only able to ask a dollar for each one, and they take almost as much time to make as the fancier ones. The women insist that I attach a bavolet at the back to protect their necks from the sun, and that takes extra fabric as well as time. Don’t you think the military wives will be returning to Tampa soon?”

  “Margaret, Andrew Jackson is determined to move all the Indians to Oklahoma, and the tension between the Seminoles and the army is only going to intensify. This area is no fit place for a lady. I have what I think is a better suggestion.”

  “I’m certainly willing to listen.” In truth, Margaret wished that she could listen to Mikal all day long. Listening to his tender voice, watching the kindness reflected on his face made her wish that he would never leave. But of course that was one wish that she knew could never come true.

  “When the Windsong leaves Tampa tomorrow, we’ll be headed for a town in the northwestern part of the territory called Apalachicola. That’s where we go to pick up the bales of cotton brought down the river by farmers from Alabama and Georgia. Apalachicola is one of the busiest ports in the territory, and I think your bonnets would be much in demand by the ladies there. You could leave with me on the Windsong when we sail out of here tonight, and when we get to Apa-lachicola, I’ll have a few days in port to help you get settled. I have friends there who could help you, too, and I think you’d be much safer and happier there.”

  “But Mikal, I can’t just leave tonight. I—I’m not ready to make such a decision! So much is happening so fast! I have to have time to think about this.”