by Ann Shorey
Once the tickets were purchased, he found seats toward the rear and gazed around the spacious meeting hall. It resembled the interior of his church, in that benches were arranged in rows facing forward toward a raised platform. However, it probably held twice as many people, and the stage area was curtained off by burgundy velvet draperies, trimmed in gold braid. The sound of muffled voices came from behind the curtain. Matthew checked up and down the side aisles, where some people stood under lighted sconces. Could Ruby be one of the brightly dressed women he saw? Trying not to stare, he studied their faces but didn’t recognize Ellie’s aunt. Graciana squirmed next to him, trying to see past the people on benches in front of them.
“When it starts, you can sit on my lap,” Matthew said, and she stopped wiggling.
The curtain opened, the audience quieted, and the play began. In spite of himself, Matthew soon became absorbed in the story of Macbeth and his ambitious wife. Horror engulfed him when Macbeth emerged from the king’s bedchamber carrying a bloody dagger. He startled when he heard knocking at the door of the castle and inched forward in his seat, completely captivated by the plot. To his shock, the actor who next appeared on stage was Sorrel Forsythe, playing the role of Macduff. Matthew jerked upright and looked around the hall. Ruby had to be somewhere in the building.
He lifted Graciana off his knees and stood, intending to search for Ruby, when the person behind him hissed, “Siddown! I can’t see.”
Matthew dropped back onto the bench, resettling Graciana on his lap. Once the drama played itself out, concluding with the rightful king of Scotland being acclaimed, Matthew took Gra-ciana’s hand. He slipped out of the row and led her to the area behind the stage.
Players in the troupe jostled each other as they pulled off headgear and removed their outer costumes. At the rear of the building, a door opened. A woman emerged, holding out a hand toward a man standing nearby.
“Give me your cloak before you tear it.”
As he handed it to her, she looked up and locked eyes with Matthew. The color drained from her face. Backing up, she stepped into the room she had just left and slammed the door.
Ruby!
He looked down at Graciana, who was staring around at the backstage commotion. He needed to talk to Ruby alone. Packing crates lined the hallway. He led the child to one not far from the door Ruby had just slammed.
“Wait here. I have something to do.”
Tears filled her eyes. She dropped her head and pinched the folds of her skirt. “You’re going to leave me here, aren’t you?” Her voice was so soft Matthew had to strain to hear her.
He lifted Graciana onto one of the crates. “See that door?”
She nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks.
“That’s where I’ll be. I promise I’ll be back in a few minutes. If you get worried, come and get me.”
He pulled her into a hug, resting his cheek on top of her head. Then, oblivious to stares and muttered complaints, Matthew shoved through the milling performers and knocked on the closed door.
“Go away.”
Instead, he pushed the door open, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. He and Ruby stared at each other in silence. She looked thinner than he remembered, and her skin bore a grayish tinge.
She turned her head away. “I have work to do. We need to be packed up and on the road.”
“So you can cheat another innkeeper out of the price of lodging?” He bit his tongue. Wise men turn away wrath.
Ruby’s face flushed. “Mr. Bryant was paid. We sent him a draft.” She looked bewildered. “What are you doing here?”
Matthew searched for a place to sit in the crowded space. Locating a closed trunk, he lowered himself onto it. “I believe it was the Lord’s leading. With everything that’s happened, it can’t be a coincidence.” He held out his hand to the woman who had been part of his life since the day he’d married Ellie. “I want you to come home with me. Your place is with your husband and family.”
She clutched a crimson cloak to her chest, ignoring his outstretched hand. “Arthur’s not my husband any more.” Her voice caught in her throat as she said the words.
“Leaving him doesn’t cancel the bonds of matrimony.”
“No, but divorce does.” Her lower lip trembled. She shoved a stack of clothing to the floor and sat on a chair facing him.
Matthew tried to hide his shock at her words. “Divorce?” He knew very little of the procedure, but he believed that she would have to wait a minimum of two years to sever her marriage ties. “It’s only been a few months. You cannot be divorced.”
“I already filed the papers.” Ruby’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I can’t go back now.”
“Yes, you can. Talk to whoever it was did the filing and tell him you changed your mind.”
She broke down, burying her face in the red folds of the cloak she held. Matthew moved over to her and settled an arm around her shoulders, feeling sobs shake her body.
“I did a terrible thing,” she choked. “An unforgivable thing. There’s no going back.”
A sharp rap sounded at the door. Sorrel Forsythe stood in the opening, surprise written across his features. “Why aren’t you packing?” His jaw dropped when he recognized Matthew. “What . . . what are you doing here?”
Matthew stood. “I came to take a member of my family home with me.”
Forsythe looked between Matthew and Ruby. “She’s done nothing but snivel since we left that backward town of yours. It’s no superstition that Macbeth is a bad luck play. Meeting this woman has been the worst luck I’ve ever had.” He grabbed the cloak from Ruby’s hands. “You’re welcome to her.”
Ruby avoided Matthew’s gaze. “I can’t face people. Especially Arthur. He’s a good man.” She glanced at Sorrel Forsythe. “Good through and through. Not just on the surface.”
Watching them, Matthew recognized that Ruby stayed because it was preferable to the humiliation of returning. With a stroke of intuition, he recognized the parallel between their situations.
He cupped one hand around the back of her head and lightly kissed her forehead. “People forget, sooner than you think. Something new always comes along to catch their attention.”
She pulled free of his embrace, shaking her head. “I won’t go back to Beldon Grove. Leave. Please.”
27
Dust rose beyond the willows. Ellie stood, her sewing basket in one hand. “Maria, Mr. Beldon is coming. Time to go.”
Maria bounded down the stairs. “I’m ready.” She wore her apple green dress, made from the same fabric as the frock Ellie wore. She twirled. “How do I look?”
“Very nice—but you and Lily will be playing outside. Be sure you don’t get dirty.”
“I’ll be careful. I wore this because Mr. Beldon is driving us. He calls me a pretty little girl.”
Ellie flushed, realizing that her reactions to Mr. Beldon’s flattery had transferred themselves to her daughter. “It doesn’t matter what he calls you. It’s Papa’s opinion that counts.”
“But Mama—”
“The ride to Aunt Molly’s this afternoon is the last time we’ll be with Mr. Beldon. After this, we walk or stay home.”
“Does he know that?”
“He will soon.”
When the phaeton crossed the bridge, Ellie and Maria stepped onto the back porch. Mr. Beldon stopped the carriage and came toward them, a smile creasing his features.
He swept his hat off and bowed. “Don’t you two look like a picture! Such pretty ladies.”
“Thank you.” Maria beamed at him, then glanced at Ellie and dropped her smile.
Once they were headed toward town, Ellie turned sideways and studied him. His white linen jacket looked rumpled and sweat-stained. Tired lines etched the skin next to his eyes.
His face brightened when he noticed her watching him. “What time would you like me to collect you at Spenglers’ house?”
“It would be best if I had Dr. Spengler take us home. I fear
there will be too much talk in town should you continue to escort me to and fro.”
Anger flared across his features. He stared ahead saying nothing, a muscle twitching in his jaw. In silence they passed Wolcotts’ farm, then Uncle Arthur’s lane and Griffiths’ pottery works.
When he didn’t reply, Ellie relaxed against the seat.
Mr. Beldon turned the corner at Adams Street and brought the carriage to a halt in front of Molly’s house. When he looked at Ellie, all traces of anger had left his face, replaced by his usual smile. “I hope you will allow me one last opportunity to convey you and your charming daughter to your home. As it happens, I’ve discovered information that will be of great interest to you regarding that matter in Texas. I’ll bring it with me when I come back later this afternoon.” He waited her response with one eyebrow raised.
Ellie bit her lower lip, torn between curiosity and her promise to her sons. She nodded at him. “Very well. I’ll expect you some time after four.” She held up her index finger. “After this, however, we will find other ways to get to town.”
“Of course. I understand.” He stepped to the ground and walked to her side of the phaeton. “Allow me.”
Mr. Beldon took her arm and helped her down. “I’ll see you at four.”
Molly led the way to the rear of the house. “We’ll sit out here this afternoon. It’s cooler.”
Maria and Lily skipped ahead of her, chasing each other in circles and giggling. Ellie followed, her thoughts in turmoil. She could picture the expressions on the twins’ faces when Mr. Beldon brought them home, after she promised she’d no longer ride with him.
When she turned the corner behind the house, she saw Luellen sitting at a makeshift table under the silver maple Molly and Karl had planted to commemorate their wedding. Head bent, she stitched something on the back of her honeycomb quilt.
Ellie squeezed her shoulder. “This is a pleasant surprise, young lady. I’m glad you’re helping today.”
“Charity couldn’t be here,” Molly said. She lowered her voice. “I think they have a passenger from the Railroad with them at the farm right now.”
Ellie nodded understanding. “Looks like you didn’t need me anyway. I see the binding’s finished.” She moved closer to the table. “Let’s turn it over. I want to see our handiwork. Maria, Lily, come here and help.” She paused and studied the words Luellen had embroidered on the back of the quilt.
Luellen McGarvie.
Beldon Grove, Illinois.
July 30, 1846.
Ellie smiled at her niece. “What a nice beginning to your bridal chest.”
Luellen gripped a corner of the quilt and rolled the patterned side to the top. The colors bloomed in the light. She stroked the pattern with her fingertips. “It is beautiful—like flowers.” Then she raised her chin and looked at her mother. “But I’m not going to be a bride.”
Molly shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Someday you’ll change your mind.” She patted Luellen’s back. “Who’d like some Scotch bread?” Without waiting for an answer, she strode back into the house.
Ellie watched her go, glancing at Luellen. The girl’s face was set in the same stubborn lines she often saw on Matthew’s.
“I’ll help you fold your quilt. We don’t want to get crumbs on such a lovely piece of work.”
At rest in the variegated shade cast by the maple tree, Ellie helped herself to more Scotch bread. Maria and Lily sprawled on the ground nearby, busy weaving chains from the daisies that starred the grass. Luellen had taken the quilt into the house and returned with a book. She sat a little apart from them, engrossed in the story she was reading.
“Mr. Beldon will be here soon,” Ellie said to Maria. “Gather your things.”
When Maria stood, Molly added, “Don’t forget to take those loaves of bread with you.”
Maria nodded, skipping toward the cabin door.
Ellie touched Molly’s arm. “Thank you. Wheat bread is a treat nowadays.”
“You and Matt have done so much for me—this is nothing.” Molly shifted on the bench and lowered her voice. “I love your company, but perhaps you shouldn’t accept any more rides from Mr. Beldon. I’m afraid people will talk.”
“I told him so earlier. This is the last time.” Embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “The twins compared me to Aunt Ruby the other day.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I can’t have my children thinking ill of me.”
“Oh, Ellie.” Compassion showed on Molly’s face. “How unfair of them.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I explained that he’s offered to help me learn about my family in Texas.” The silvery undersides of the maple leaves trembled as a breeze ruffled past. “The boys scoffed at the idea.”
A frown creased Molly’s forehead. “I’m beginning to wonder too.”
“About what?”
“Whether he has any contacts at all. He apparently had nothing to do with James’s return.”
Ellie brushed crumbs from her skirt. “He said he would bring me information this afternoon—that’s the only reason I agreed to let him take us home.”
The two women stood when they heard hooves on the dirt road.
Molly took Ellie’s hand. “Let me know what he says.” She kissed her cheek. “We’ll come get you for church on Sunday morning. We plan to go to the service Mr. Wolcott is conducting.”
Ellie massaged her temples. How could she accept Mr. Beldon’s help and then not attend his church?
At that moment, he appeared around the side of the cabin. He’d changed into a fresh shirt and jacket. “There you are, ladies.” Sweeping off his broad-brimmed hat, he bowed in their direction.
Molly nodded a lukewarm greeting.
“Your daughter has already seated herself in the carriage,” he told Ellie. “We can be away whenever you’re ready.”
She hugged Molly. “See you Sunday.”
Hurrying to the phaeton, she climbed inside.
When Mr. Beldon picked up the reins, Molly called, “Please give my best to your wife.”
“Indeed I will.” His voice was cool as buttermilk. He tipped his hat and urged the horse into a trot down Adams Street.
As soon as they were under way, Ellie leaned forward. “You said you had information for me about Texas. Where is it?”
“In a moment. Let’s just enjoy the ride.” He looked down at the daisy chain in Maria’s lap. “You like flowers, young lady?”
She nodded, swinging her feet against the footrest.
“I’ll show you some.”
Once past the church, he abruptly turned the phaeton east into a section of prairie grass. Faint wheel tracks leading toward a stand of trees showed in the waist-high bluestem.
Alarmed, Ellie looked at him. “Where are we going? It’s getting late—my family’s expecting us.”
“This will only take a few minutes.” He patted the top of Maria’s bonneted head. “There are some wildflowers out here your daughter will enjoy.”
Tall grass whispered against the floor of the carriage. The soft soil muffled the sound of the horse’s hooves. Ellie scanned the area ahead, seeking the promised flowers, but it wasn’t possible to see anything but undulating prairie rolling toward the horizon.
Mr. Beldon smiled at her. “Don’t look so worried. You’ll be glad we stopped.”
Ellie felt a vague sense of unease. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed that the main road had disappeared behind a curtain of grass. She leaned forward again, about to say something, when they crested a rise. Her voice caught in her throat. A riot of blossoms adorned the meadow in front of them. Orange milkweed, prairie blazing star, blue asters, fireweed, and crowding the empty spaces, golden sunflowers.
He pointed the buggy whip with a flourish. “Wasn’t this worth a detour?”
She clasped her hands, entranced at the sight. “Yes! It’s beautiful.”
Maria bounced to her feet. Her daisy chain fell to the floor, forgotten. “Can I pick some?”
“Of course. That’s why I brought you here.” Mr. Beldon smiled indulgently.
“Stay where I can see you,” Ellie said. “And just pick a few. We must be getting home.”
The carriage jiggled as Maria jumped down and ran toward the meadow. Mr. Beldon watched her go, then draped an arm over the back of the seat.
“You’re too far away.” His voice sounded soft, coaxing.
Ellie felt a flush rise to her face. His muscular body, which seemed so appealing at a distance, now threatened.
He dropped his fingers lightly onto her shoulder, tracing a small circle. “You’re a beautiful woman.” His voice thickened. Fingers caressed the side of her neck, then stroked her hair. “I’ve wanted you since the first day we met. I can’t sleep for thinking about you.” He slipped his hand down her back and urged her toward him.
Heart pounding in her throat, Ellie rose and grabbed the side of the carriage. “Mr. Beldon. Leave me alone!” She put a foot on the step, ready to run to Maria.
One hand circled her wrist, holding her in place. “Don’t be afraid. No one will see us.”
She tugged, trying to free herself. “No. Please.”
His grip tightened, then he pressed his other hand against her waist. “Mrs. Craig,” he said in a sibilant whisper. “Eleanor. Do sit down.” He licked his lips, leaving a wet shine on their fleshy surface. “I apologize. I’ve frightened you.”
Breathing heavily, he slid his hand up her leg. She twitched away from his fingers. The clove-scented pomade on his hair sent a wave of nausea through her.
“You must see we’re meant for each other.” His words tumbled out. “Come away with me. We can go to Texas, to your father’s land. Together we’ll find your family.”
Horrified, Ellie stared at his sweaty face, then shot a glance at her daughter picking flowers. How far were they from the road? Could they run? She dismissed the idea, knowing the thick grass would make running impossible.
Ellie swallowed to moisten her dry throat. “Drive us to the farm, please. I . . . I’ll think about what you’ve said.” Without waiting for his response, she pulled her hand free and slid from his grasp. “Maria.” Her voice cracked. She called again, trying to conceal rising hysteria. “Maria! We’re leaving now.” She prayed it was true.