A Veiled Reflection

by Tracie Peterson

  Jillian shuddered uncontrollably. The thought of being anywhere near Cooper turned her stomach. “How can the people of Pintan tolerate him?”

  “Most don’t know, or if they do, they feel it acceptable to overlook. After all, it was just a Navajo girl. It wasn’t like it was anyone important.”

  “That’s unfair!” Jillian declared. “She’s a human being. She’s carrying his child.”

  “It’s not the first,” Mac replied sadly. “Two other women found themselves in the same situation. They’re dead now.”

  “Dead?” Jillian questioned.

  “They took their own lives. It was more honorable that way. Little Sister lives with Mary because her own people have disowned her. Cooper told Bear that she laid with him willingly and that when she tried to steal from him afterward, he punished her with a beating.”

  “Oh, Mac, don’t say any more,” Jillian said, lowering her head. “I didn’t think such people existed.”

  Mac lifted her chin with his finger. “We have to acknowledge it in order to rid ourselves of it. I’ve written three letters to Washington suggesting Cooper be recalled on the grounds that he is mismanaging supplies and totally alienating the Navajo people. I haven’t mentioned the situation with Little Sister because, frankly, I’m hoping the other things will be enough to see him removed.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Jillian replied sadly. She could still see the painfilled expression of the young Navajo woman, and her heart ached for all that Little Sister had been forced to endure. “She’s very brave,” Jillian said, thinking of Little Sister’s choice not to kill herself. “I wish I were brave. If I had been, I might have given Mrs. Everhart a piece of my mind.”

  “You’re brave, Jillian. A coward would never have come west in her sister’s place. A coward would never have desired to learn the truth rather than accept popular opinion. Now, stop being all gloomy. You can hardly be of any use to anyone if you give all your energy over to mourning what has already happened.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She thought about it for a moment, then asked, “What do you suppose I could do to help the most?”

  Mac shrugged. “I think Mary could probably tell you better than I can. I try to help Mary in whatever way I can. She’s come to me for medicine and such on occasion, but for the most part the Indians won’t use it. Can’t say as I blame them. However, they have a wonderful system using herbs. Mary’s been teaching me, and I’ve learned quite a bit. I’ve even used it on a few of the folks around here, but don’t tell them.” He grinned. “They wouldn’t be able to abide knowing they were healed with Indian medicine.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Jillian replied, smiling.

  “So tell me,” Mac asked, getting to his feet, “has anyone learned your secret yet?”

  “No. I’m happy to report that as far as the good and sometimes not so good folks of Pintan are concerned, I’m Judith Danvers and my Harvey contract is up in June.”

  “Hmm, little over two months. Do you suppose you can pull it off that long?”

  Jillian laughed. “Not if I have to deal with Mrs. Everhart too many more times.”

  “Oh, but that would be perfect,” Mac said, leaning back against the counter. “Judith would have spoken her mind as well.”

  Jillian frowned. “Why didn’t she say something about this, Mac? She never wrote about the problems. She only wrote about the good things.”

  “Maybe she didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Or maybe she just didn’t think I was up to the truth,” Jillian replied.

  “Either way, that’s in the past.”

  Jillian looked at Mac’s sympathetic gaze and nodded. “You’re right.” She contemplated the matter only a moment more before deciding she was ready for Mac to remove her stitches. “Well, let’s get this torture over with.”

  “What torture?”

  “The stitches,” she chided him. “Remember, you were going to remove them?”

  “I already have,” he said with a devilish grin. “You just weren’t paying attention.”

  She looked down at her hand and shook her head. “I shall have to pay particular attention when you are involved, Dr. MacCallister. You are too smooth for your own good, and I shall have to keep alert.”

  Mac laughed. “You’re more like your sister than you know. I think if you give yourself a chance, you’ll find out that you’re just as bold and brazen as she ever was.”

  Jillian couldn’t help but consider his words a compliment. “Thank you. Maybe I will.”

  That night, Mac settled into bed and picked up one of his many medical journals. He had allowed himself to get behind in his reading since Jillian’s arrival in Pintan. Funny how she could be the identical twin of Judith, yet be so different. To Mac’s way of thinking, they might share some of the same features, but there were things about Jillian that set her apart from her sister.

  Smiling to himself, Mac couldn’t help but remember the first moment he’d realized Jillian’s identity. She had been so afraid of his telling on her, yet he found the whole thing a delightful break in the monotony of a normally quiet town. Oh, there had been some trouble with the local cowboys, but now that there was a new sheriff in town, even those disputes had calmed. Drunk and disorderly folks were still to be found on the street corners most nights, but with Zack Matthews in place, there were fewer gunshot and knife wounds. It made Mac’s job a whole lot easier.

  Opening the journal, Mac tried to focus on the article regarding diabetes, but his mind drifted to images of Jillian. He frowned as he realized the depth of his interest. There could be no one in his life—at least not a woman in the capacity of wife. Shaking his head, he couldn’t help but think back in time. Back to his early days in Pintan. Back to her. It wasn’t fair or right that she had been so heartless.

  He had loved her more dearly than anything—maybe even more than God. Perhaps that was why things had gone so wrong. Mac felt a dull ache build in his heart until the pain felt fresh. Why had it gone so terribly wrong? Why couldn’t she have loved him the way he loved her?

  With a growl he forced the memories away. “I won’t give in to that torture,” he told himself. But even as he said the word torture, he couldn’t help but think of Jillian. She had looked so frightened and helpless when she’d come to him earlier that day. She differed from Judith in that area. Judith had a way about her that suggested she feared nothing in life, while Jillian seemed afraid of a great deal.

  “Well, this is one person she needn’t fear,” Mac said, turning back to the article. “She has absolutely nothing to fear from me. I’ll be her friend, and when she’s gone there will be nothing more.” But the thought of Jillian leaving Pintan left Mac with a different kind of ache. He forced his gaze to the paper. “I won’t make the same mistake twice,” he promised himself. “I won’t.”

  SIX

  JILLIAN WAITED UNTIL HER next day off from the Harvey routine to see a bit of the countryside around Pintan. She contemplated asking to borrow Mac’s horse, but that would mean riding astride, and she didn’t have any riding skirts that would allow for such a thing. And, no doubt, Mac wouldn’t have a sidesaddle. She continued to consider the situation when Kate came into the room and tossed her a letter.

  “I had to come up to change me apron, and Sam had this letter for ya from the morning train.” Sam Capper, the Harvey House manager, was always good about getting the mail delivered in short order. He knew how important a letter from home could be, and he cared about the girls as much as Gwen Carson did. If she were their housemother, he was, indeed, like a father.

  “Thank you,” Jillian said, picking up the missive with great reservation. It could have only come from one of two places: Judith or her parents.

  Looking at the handwriting, Jillian immediately recognized her mother’s penmanship. Miss J. Danvers, Pintan, Arizona Terr., the address read. A wave of worry washed over Jillian. This letter would no doubt contain word from her father as to what he would and
would not tolerate. It might even declare what train he would arrive on in order to bring Jillian home.

  She waited until Kate had gone, then opened the letter and read. Her mother spoke of missing her dearly and of how the house was so very sad without her. She spoke of Judith’s marriage as one of life’s greatest disappointments, relating that her heart was completely broken by the missed opportunities for her daughter to be well established in society.

  I have only wanted the very best for my girls, Jillian read, and while your sister seems happy at this moment in time, I fear the day will come when she regrets her choice. Perhaps it is impossible for you girls to understand my concerns for your welfare, but marrying a man of little means will mean a hard life with great adversity.

  Judith seems content helping her husband put their business together. Why she should wish to soil her hands at such labor is beyond me, but I must find a way to resign myself to the matter.

  The issue of Judith now put aside, Gretchen Danvers went back to her old nature and spoke of a handsome young earl who would be arriving from England. He had come to see the wild American West and to hunt, and Gretchen had it on the best authority that he was even interested in finding himself a rich American for a wife. Jillian rolled her eyes in exasperation, then continued reading. He is said to be handsome and of good standing with the Queen of England. I think he sounds like a perfect match for you, darling Jillian.

  Jillian laughed. “Why, Mother? Because he’s in good standing with the queen?” She failed to see her mother’s logic. She finished the letter, then noted a smaller folded piece of paper. Her father’s bold, almost arrogant script blazed off the page at her.

  Jillian, I think you are six kinds of fool for having allowed Judith to coerce you into this ordeal. However, you make a good point regarding the business arrangement of this situation. Therefore, with reservation, I give my permission for you to stay on to finish out your sister’s contract.After that, I want you on the first train home.

  Jillian felt a moderate amount of relief. She had her father’s permission to stay, but her mother was still playing matchmaker. For the first time since Judith’s marriage, Jillian actually envied her sister. Their mother could no longer play matchmaker for Judith. It was while contemplating this situation that Jillian hit upon an idea. Perhaps if she took Judith’s example and began to stress the point of marrying for love, her mother would gradually change her mind. Maybe, if she saw that Jillian was truly happy, she would be content to let her daughter make her own choices.

  Taking up pen and paper, Jillian began to write.

  Mother,

  Life in Pintan is quite lovely. I’ve enjoyed my time at the Harvey House and find that working with my hands brings a great deal of satisfaction. I have made good friends, although they do not know my true identity. Please do not worry about me, and please do not try to arrange for me a husband. I am content to wait for love. In fact, I’ve met a wonderful man here in Pintan. He is handsome and quite civilized and charming. He is a doctor, and while I know you consider that to be beneath our social standing, he is quite wonderful. I have no interest in your earl, in light of my fascination with this man. I hope you will understand and let my heart judge who is best for me.

  She stared at the words for a moment, rather surprised at her boldness in expressing her feelings for Mac on paper. He was handsome and charming—not that she figured him to be anything more than a friend. In a few months she wouldn’t even be here, and Mac would forget all about her and the deception she’d made him a part of.

  Jillian reread the words and thought perhaps she should throw the letter away and start over. But a quick glance at the clock made her realize there simply wasn’t time. If she was to get a letter back to her mother in time to dissuade her from further matchmaking, Jillian would have to hurry. She jotted a few more tidbits of information regarding her life in Pintan, then signed her name and blew on the ink to dry it more quickly. With any luck at all, this letter would put her mother in her place and force an end to the constant parade of suitors she had in mind for her daughter.

  Jillian felt a bit guilty for involving Mac. After all, he’d been very kind to her, and she hated for it to appear that she was using him. Maybe she should say something to him about it. She considered this, then cast aside the idea. It would be much too embarrassing to have

  Mac know of what she’d written. He might even get the wrong impression.

  A light knock on her room door brought Jillian’s thoughts back to reality. She carefully folded the letter and slipped it inside the envelope before opening the door.

  “Good morning, Judith,” Gwen said with a smile. “You have a visitor downstairs.”

  “Oh,” Jillian replied, not quite knowing what to think. “Who is it?”

  “Mrs. Barnes,” Gwen replied.

  Jillian smiled and nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

  She took up her sunbonnet, something Judith had advised her to always wear when going outdoors, and the letter and made her way to the visitor’s parlor. Mary sat waiting patiently, looking rather out of place in the artfully decorated room. Mr. Harvey not only had expensive taste but very particular taste, and the heavily polished English furnishings seemed rather misplaced in Pintan, Arizona.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Jillian announced, coming into the room.

  “Mac mentioned it was your day off,” Mary replied, getting to her feet. “I thought maybe you’d be free to help me.”

  “With what?” Judith questioned, surprised that Mac knew her schedule so intimately.

  “I’m taking a load of things to the Indian village. I’ll also be bringing a load back. Little Sister is too far along to help me, and I’d like to get back to my place before dark so that she won’t have to be alone all night. If we really push, we can make it.”

  Jillian felt a surge of fear at the idea of being out there among the Indian villages, but she shoved her emotions aside and nodded. What would Mary think if she refused to offer her a helping hand? “I’d be happy to help you. Just let me give Mr. Capper this letter to post.” She paused as a thought ran through her mind. “Am I dressed appropriately?”

  Mary’s chuckle assured Jillian that such matters were probably not of great concern. “You look fine. Just make sure your boots are good for walkin’ and your bonnet wide enough to keep the sun off your face.”

  Jillian nodded. “I had dressed in just such a manner. I suppose it was Divine Providence.”

  “God knew I’d need you,” Mary said, then winked conspiratorially. “And God knew I’d be in a hurry as usual, so He readied you before I got here.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Jillian replied, though she wasn’t all that certain. Mary talked about such things in the same way that Grandmother Danvers had always talked of her superstitions and omens. Was there really much difference just because Mary determined that hers came from God instead of stories handed down from family lore?

  After leaving her letter to be posted and explaining to Mr. Capper where she was off to, Jillian climbed up into Mary’s ancient wagon. Appearing more solid than she had expected, Jillian took a seat on the well-worn bench and waited for Mary to join her. Clarence and Dobbin hardly seemed concerned at Jillian’s added weight as Mary flicked the reins. They moved out in a sluggish sort of disinterest that Jillian was sure must be their normal attitude toward the task.

  “I was hoping to see more of the countryside,” Jillian told Mary as she tied her bonnet securely.

  “That mule expedition didn’t show you enough, eh?” Mary questioned. Jillian hated carrying on this deception. She had come to think of Mary as a friend, and maintaining her identity as Judith was causing her to lie to many people she had come to care about. Shifting uncomfortably, Jillian tried to think of something to say.

  “I suppose seeing a bit of the landscape has only encouraged me to view more.” There, Jillian thought, that wasn’t a lie. She had been fascinated by her views from the tra
in. Mile after mile of sage and tumbleweed, arid rocky mountains, and rugged pinon pine had drawn her attention all the way from Kansas City.

  The Arizona landscape spread out before Jillian in a bevy of colors. Red and yellow sandstone rock, wild scrub, and tamarisk trees dotted the vast open expanses. At first it appeared quite desolate and lifeless, but as Jillian looked closer, she found much evidence to prove her initial conclusion wrong. Rabbits, mice, lizards, and snakes could be seen moving among the rocks and sage, and wild flowers were growing in abundance wherever the sandy dirt would allow growth.

  “This is lovely,” Jillian stated as Mary urged the mules forward.

  “It is, isn’t it? Takes a special eye to appreciate it, though,” Mary replied. “Some folks just see the wasteland.”

  “Kind of like some folks just see the color of someone else’s skin?” Jillian didn’t know why she was compelled to bring up that subject, but it seemed appropriate, given their destination.

  Mary nodded. “Just the same. Only the land doesn’t get its feelings hurt if you say that it’s ugly and useless.”

  “Tell me about the Navajo, Mary. How do they live, and what do they do with their lives?”

  Mary laughed in a loud, guffawing way. Not at all the ladylike, almost lyrical laugh that Jillian had been taught as acceptable.

  “Oh, girly, that’s a loaded basket of apples. The Navajo are a fascinating people. They have many hidden talents and abilities, just like anyone else. You’ve seen their baskets and blankets, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, they’re beautiful. How do they make those blankets? The patterns are so intricate.”

  “They weave them on looms. Have you never seen someone weave?”