A Veiled Reflection

by Tracie Peterson

  Then, just when she figured things to be completed, Reverend Lister drew a well-rounded, short little woman to the pulpit with him.

  “Most of you know Mary Barnes. She’s been widowed now for nearly ten years, but she and her husband came to this territory a long time ago with a heart to work with the Indians. Mary is here today to join us for our church social and to gather used clothes and other supplies you might be willing to part with, to aid our Indian brother and sister. I hope you will give generously of your money and material wealth in order to help those less fortunate. Mary, why don’t you tell us a bit about what you’ve encountered.”

  Jillian immediately liked the woman. Her face held a look of serenity, despite being tanned and weathered. Her gray hair was pulled back into a neat little bun atop her head, but it was her smile that captured Jillian’s interest. It was most generous and sincere.

  “Folks, listen up,” the old woman said with a loud, clear voice.

  Jillian almost laughed that such volume could come out of such a small package, for the woman couldn’t have been over five feet tall—if that.

  “Mostly I’ve been workin’ with the Navajo. You’ve seen a good many of them sittin’ around the depot selling blankets and baskets. You’ve also known me to collect the same things in trade as I swap them for supplies and goods they can use. Those things you donate, I give freely. Those things I have to buy, I use monies I make in selling their trade goods. You know there’s been a lot of sickness going ’round. The Indian has been inundated with our measles and smallpox. There’s a good deal of need in the various villages, so I’m askin’ you to seek the Lord on this matter. I’ve used up most of the money on medicine and such to help them in their sickness. This makes it kind of rough when it comes to helpin’ them in other areas such as clothes, food, and household goods. I ain’t picky,” she added with a laugh. “I can probably find use for just about anything you want to donate.”

  She sobered and appeared to be studying each person to ascertain their heart on the matter. “The government agencies don’t come near to helpin’ as much as these folks need helpin’. I’d appreciate your donations of money or goods, and if you have a strong arm and want to help by donatin’ time, that’s just as good. Like I said, I ain’t picky. If you want to talk to me after church, I’d be happy to answer your questions.”

  After that, Reverend Lister dismissed the congregation with a hymn, and Jillian found herself moving with the crowd down the short narrow aisle. She heard their murmurs of disapproval.

  “Imagine, letting her in here. She’s lived with those savages, you know.”

  “Why Mrs. Barnes thinks I should turn over my hard-earned money to help heathen brats is beyond me.”

  The comments were not declared very openly, but instead ran through the crowd in a barely uttered undercurrent. Jillian felt a sense of frustration from their words. She had been brought up to agree with such thinking. So why did it seem so ugly and distasteful now?

  “Why, Miss Danvers, how nice to see you here.”

  Jillian startled at Mac’s voice. She turned to find that he was not but six inches from her side. “Dr. MacCallister,” she said with a nod. She supposed they were being formal because of the public setting, but since Mac had started the conversation in that manner, Jillian intended to follow suit. Besides, by calling her Miss Danvers, there was no chance of betraying her true identity.

  He took hold of her elbow and smiled. “May I escort you to the tables? There is going to be quite a feast. You’ve not attended one of our monthly church socials,” he said in an informative way, “but they are quite enjoyable.”

  “Dr. MacCallister,” a thin, pinch-faced woman declared as they reached the door. “I must say, you are looking quite well today.” She sneered down her nose at Jillian, then looked back to Mac. “Have you noticed my Davinia? I believe her to look exceptionally lovely today.”

  Mac grinned at Jillian, then gave the woman a curt little nod. “I’m sure she does, Mrs. Everhart. Have you noticed how well our Miss Danvers is looking today? She is the picture of health, despite a terrible mishap she endured last week at the Harvey House.”

  Mrs. Everhart gave Jillian a look that suggested she thought her little better than a servant. Jillian immediately threw back her shoulders and thought to say something to the woman about her true position in life, but Reverend Lister’s sermon came back to haunt her, and she did nothing but smile blandly. It had never taken more effort to smile than it did in those moments, especially in light of Mrs. Everhart’s persistent nature regarding her daughter.

  “Davinia will certainly be disappointed if you don’t share your time at the social with her,” the woman stated quite seriously.

  Mac started to answer but never got the chance. About that time Mary Barnes came up and gave him a hearty slap on the back.

  “Why, Mac, you’re too handsome for your own good. I see once again you have the prettiest gal on your arm.”

  Mrs. Everhart harumphed her disapproval before storming off toward the churchyard, where tables and chairs had already been assembled. Mac grinned at Mary, and Jillian suppressed a giggle.

  “Mary, my dear, you always have a way of putting things right.” Mac dropped his hold on Jillian in order to embrace the little woman. “You’ve been gone so long, I figured I’d have to come out and find you.”

  “Been busy, my boy,” the woman said as Mac pulled away.

  While Mary spoke of her exploits, they continued out of the church and toward the picnic area. Jillian found the older woman’s tales to be most fascinating.

  “There’s been some trouble,” Mary admitted. “The government men are pushing the various tribes to put their children in school. It’s not going well at all.”

  “But why?” Jillian questioned. “Do they not want their children educated?”

  Mary smiled tolerantly. “Their children are educated, my dear. They’re educated in the way of the Navajo and Hopi. Their children are more capable of fending for and defending themselves than are most of the folks you see here today. They don’t need book learning to teach them how to plant and tend their sheep, and that’s how they provide for themselves—probably how they will provide for themselves for the rest of their lives. They aren’t looking to live back East in fancy houses or work in offices counting someone else’s money.”

  Jillian felt embarrassed for showing her ignorance. Her expression must have revealed this as well, for Mary patted her arm gently. “Don’t feel bad. Most folks would say the same. Somebody decided that everybody had to know the same thing in order to get by in life. I can’t say that I wouldn’t like to see the children learn to read and write English. After all, if they want to make a life outside of their village, they’ll need it. But most of them only want to live their lives among their own people. They don’t want our interference, and they don’t appreciate our presence in their lives.”

  “Sounds like some of the Indians can be as prejudiced as the whites,” Jillian said without thinking.

  Mac laughed. “See, Mary, there are intelligent women in this world, and I just happen to be in the company of two of the finest today. Now, what do you say I go and get you both a glass of lemonade?” “

  That sounds good,” Mary agreed. “And while you’re gone, Miss Danvers and I will have a conversation about you.”

  Jillian frowned. Mary had called her by name. She knew Judith. But how well? Judith had said nothing about Mary Barnes. She had commented on Indians and some of the trials concerning them and the people of Pintan, but she’d not said anything about this spitfire of a woman.

  “Let’s grab that table over there. We’ll have a nice shade from the church building,” Mary said, heading off to the table in question before Jillian could ever comment.

  Once they were seated, Jillian’s uneasiness made her tongue-tied. How could she say anything without appearing to have lost her memory as to the knowledge of their relationship? On one hand she could say too littl
e, and on the other hand she could say too much and presume upon knowledge and intimacy that did not exist.

  But as if God himself had understood her problem, Mary initiated the conversation and made their status clear. “I only know you through Mac, but I feel confident that we can be good friends.”

  Jillian nodded. “I felt rather curious when you called me by name.”

  Mary laughed. “Well, I saw you some months ago. It was that time you were heading out on muleback with a group of folks to go exploring the countryside. Since you were the only woman not being forced by some bullying husband to go on that trip, I asked Mac who you were. He told me, and there you have it.”

  Jillian smiled weakly. Judith and her adventures would be the discovery of her yet. “I was fascinated by what you had to say about the Indians. Do you work with them all the time?”

  “As much as I can. I’ve been fairly well accepted by the Navajo women and especially by the children. I respect them and show them consideration, and they do the same for me. I also buy a great number of their pots, baskets, and blankets in order to sell back East. There’s a man who comes to see me here a few times during the year. He takes the stuff with him and makes a tidy little profit on it by peddling it as authentic Indian goods.

  “Folks back East seem quite fascinated with the stories they’ve heard passed down through the years. Stories about Indians in war bonnets, scalping settlers on the open prairie, doing their rain dances and such. Having some trinket from the Indian world seems to satisfy their curiosity, and it helps the Navajo at the same time.”

  “What about you? Do you make your living this way as well?” Jillian questioned.

  Mary shook her head. “God provides for me, child. I use that money for the Navajo. I want them to know there is at least one white person in this world who isn’t trying to use them. They’ve suffered a great deal at our hands.” Her expression grew sad. “Many of their women were abused by our men. Men who most would consider to be upstanding citizens. But since the women are considered to be less deserving because they are merely Indian squaws, no one does anything about it.”

  “How awful,” Jillian said, shuddering.

  Just then a man of medium build stalked by the table. Rather nice looking, the man had an air of self-assurance that seemed to announce he was someone of importance. He appeared intent on catching the attention of another man in the congregation, but his presence made Mary Barnes’ look of sorrow turn to anger. “He’s one of the worst culprits. You have to watch him—he’s quite the womanizer. I hope he hasn’t already caused you problems.”

  Jillian noticed the man and recognition dawned. “Isn’t that Mr. Cooper, the Indian agent? He comes into the Harvey House all the time, and I do remember him being quite the rogue. The other girls seem to enjoy his attention.”

  “Indeed. I suppose that’s why he gets away with so much. But the Navajo are furious with him. He’s been trying to force their children into schools and has constantly harangued them to cut their hair and dress in white man’s fashions.”

  At that moment Mac returned with an apology and two lemonades. “I’ve just been informed that Mrs. Bennett is having trouble delivering her fourth child. I’m going to have to go.”

  “Do you want some help?” Mary asked, getting to her feet.

  “Nah, Mary. You stay here and have some fun. Mrs. Bennett’s mother is living with them now. If I need an extra pair of hands, I’ll grab her or Mr. Bennett.”

  Mary nodded. “God’s blessings, Mac.”

  He smiled and placed a worn black felt hat atop his head. “Take good care of our Miss Danvers.”

  With that he was gone, and Jillian felt a sense of disappointment. She’d not realized how much she was anticipating his company until that moment. There were times when Mac came to eat at the Harvey House, specifically seeking out her area, engaging her in conversation about everything from the railroad to the weather. And other times he caught her attention on the street as she was making her way to the dry goods store or enjoying a leisurely walk. But they never had long to talk, and Jillian found it pleasant to be able to just be herself around Mac. He was the only one who knew her secret, and that made him very special in her eyes.

  “He’s a good man,” Mary said, as if reading her mind.

  Jillian blushed. “Yes, he is. He has been most kind to me.”

  “Mac’s that way. He’s broken many a heart around these parts, however.”

  “Oh?” Jillian questioned, trying not to appear curious.

  Mary nodded. “Poor Mrs. Everhart has tried to get him hitched to her Davinia for some time now. He’s never shown the slightest bit of interest in her, however. Then there have been several Harvey Girls who found him to suit their desires. Only trouble is, Mac isn’t lookin’ for a wife.”

  “How interesting,” Jillian stated, toying with the glass.

  “Nope. Mac’s made it real clear that he likes bein’ a bachelor. ’Course, round here it’s probably best for him to stay single. It’s hard being a country doctor, and with all the distance and danger that sometimes comes on him, well, it would be plain hard on a woman to try to plan a life with a man like that.”

  Jillian nodded. She felt as if Mary were giving her a fair warning about Mac’s heart, and it made her uncomfortable that Mary should even think there was a need to do so. Quickly, she shifted the focus of the conversation back to Mary’s work. “I don’t have much in the way of possessions,” she told Mary, “but I would like to give you some money to help the Indians.”

  “Oh, child, that would be wonderful help. Maybe you would even like to come with me sometime to meet some of the folks.”

  Jillian nodded. “Perhaps.” She wondered at the danger, imagining broad-chested, half-naked savage warriors standing guard at the entrance to some mythical village of tepees. Did Navajo people live in tepees? Jillian didn’t have a clue.

  Just then Mrs. Everhart passed by where they were seated with another woman at her side. They whispered and glared at Mary before moving on to join other women at another table.

  “Why are they like that?” Jillian questioned aloud without thinking. Mary shrugged. “A good number of folks can remember the old days when the Indian wars took the lives of those they loved. They never stop to think about the fact that the white soldiers took the lives of many of the Indians’ loved ones as well. Others just don’t like anything that’s different from what they know. It scares them.”

  Jillian could indeed understand fear. She had her own fears when it came to dealing with things foreign and new.

  “It’s like they can’t understand the Indians. Especially when they compare the various tribes to each other. The Navajo have their ways and manner of dress. The Hopi and Zuni have theirs. Some folks only remember the nomadic plains Indian tribes with their buffalo robes and tepees and find the adobe of the Pueblo and the cedar hogans of the Navajo to be strange.”

  Jillian smiled. “I have to admit I thought of tepees as well.”

  “Ignorance often breeds contempt and an air of superiority. We condemn what we don’t understand and assume it just naturally has to be evil and bad.”

  Jillian nodded. “Fear makes us do the same.”

  Mary smiled. “Mac was right. You are a mighty intelligent and insightful young woman.”

  After circulating among the church congregation, Mary felt it was time to head home. It would take her the better part of an hour just to reach her small homestead, and while she knew she had the option of staying over at the Pintan Hotel and Laundry, her own home beckoned her.

  Climbing onto her wagon, she smiled to herself as she thought of Miss Danvers and her obvious interest in Mac. Mac had become like a son to her in the last six years, and she didn’t want to see him hurt. He had suffered a great deal at the hands of a woman, and his heart, if not his entire being, had been seared by her deceit and cruelty.

  Still, she recognized the light in Mac’s eyes. It was a light she’d once known in h
er own husband’s eyes. It was a light of interest—of possibilities—of hope. She chuckled and clucked to her mules.

  Mac needed someone in his life. Someone who would love him and show him the loyalty he deserved. Maybe Miss Danvers could be that woman. She thought back on previous conversations with Mac and knew he highly esteemed the lady. He thought her witty and funny, as Mary recalled. She also seemed to have a sense for adventure, according to Mac. Of course, Mary had witnessed her setting off on her exploration of the countryside and knew Miss Danvers to show little or no fear in regard to experiencing life. Yes, maybe she was exactly what Mac needed.

  * * *

  Jillian spent the rest of her day and evening off exploring the town. She smiled to herself at the sight of Gwen Carson and Zack Matthews in deep conversation. It seemed those two had taken a quick liking to each other. As they strolled together, careful not to touch one another, Jillian found herself almost aching to know the same companionship.

  Funny, she hadn’t really longed for marriage—or even courtship, for that matter. She had been so inundated with her mother’s manipulations and good intentions that she’d always avoided having any entanglements of the heart.

  Up ahead, Gwen and Zack paused in their walk, and Jillian realized she would have to either walk around them or head in a different direction. She chose to turn down the alley rather than intrude upon their private excursion. Jillian would have felt like an uninvited guest.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you,” Mac said as Jillian emerged from the alley onto Main Street.

  “You have?” she asked curiously.

  He pushed back his hat and smiled. “Yes, indeed. I had to find out how the rest of the social went. Did Mary talk your arm off?”

  Jillian laughed. “She’s a wonderful woman. So knowledgeable about the Indians. Does she actually speak their language?”