The Vicar Takes a Wife

by Victoria Kovacs

  “V is for vicar,” he said, pointing to the words on the makeshift blackboard.

  “We love you, Vicar!” Edna applauded. She applauded him often.

  “Thank you, but please, there’s no need to clap. Let’s continue. V is for vicar, vinegar, and vine. W is for—”

  “Women, whiskey, and wine,” Fanny called out proudly. “I know how to read a little. I used to have a regular customer who was a teacher. He taught me from the First Electric Reader.”

  “It’s Eclectic Reader,” Susanna poked her head out the back door.

  Hosea cleared his throat. “I’m not familiar with this book. Perhaps we could find more edifying examples.”

  “What kind of examples do you expect her to know?” Susanna challenged.

  “Of course,” said Hosea. “Women, whiskey, and wine; yes, those words would naturally come to mind. But let’s use something from the Bible. Jesus spoke with the Samaritan woman by a well,” he wrote the word on the wall, “changed water into wine, and stilled the wind and the waves.”

  Susanna rolled her eyes. “If you’re finished playing school, Judson wants a couple of you back inside. There’s work to do.”

  “I’ll go,” Edna stood up. “Come on, Fanny. We’ll catch up later.”

  “Do convey my apologies to Mr. Judson,” said Hosea. “I didn’t mean to detain you.”

  Edna giggled. “There you go again with your fancy talk. I could listen to it all day long.”

  Susanna snorted. “Words won’t pay your contract.”

  “Why you gotta be mean to the vicar?” Edna asked. “He’s being right kindly teaching us to read.”

  “Seems to me if the kindly vicar really cared about you, he’d help you get out of this hole,” Susanna crossed her arms and arched a brow at Hosea. “Isn’t that what ministers do? Save folk from the fires of hell?”

  Edna put her hands on her hips. “What do you expect him to do? Pack us in his bag and carry us back to England?”

  “Please, there’s no need to argue,” Hosea said. He was disconcerted to hear two women fight; that they fought about him was appalling.

  Susanna tossed her head. “I suppose knowing how to read will help when Judson kicks you out for being too old and ugly to work.”

  “At least I ain’t ugly now, like some people,” said Edna.

  “Bet you a penny Edna whoops her good,” Claudine said to Alice.

  “Nah. Susie’s faster,” Alice replied.

  Horrified by the prospect of two women falling to fisticuffs, Hosea jumped between them. “Ladies, stop. If my presence causes strife, I’ll gladly move back to the stable and leave on the next train rather than see animosity arise between friends.”

  Susanna smirked. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard. Why don’t you go to the station right now and buy your ticket?”

  For a split second, Hosea considered it. Though Judson charged him only half for room and board, he would go through his extra funds within days. A longer stay would require a miracle for him to make it back to New York City and purchase passage home on a ship.

  Edna grabbed Hosea. “You won’t leave us just because she’s being rude, will you? Don’t go, Vicar. We need you and she ain’t my friend anyway, so see? No animosity can arise between us, and I don’t even know what that means.”

  “I’ll stay if you promise not to fight,” Hosea said.

  “I promise,” Edna nodded. “I won’t say another word to her for the rest of my life.”

  Susanna turned away. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  Claudine sighed. “Darn. I was hoping for a fight.”

  Edna and Fanny went inside while Hosea continued the lesson with Alice and Claudine, but for the rest of the day he thought about Susanna’s words: If the kindly vicar really cared about you, he’d help you get out of this hole. Isn’t that what ministers do? Save folk from the fires of hell?

  “She’s right. Should I not help them get away from this place?” he asked himself as he walked through town to clear his head. “Is it not a very hell on earth for them? Yet Edna is right; I can’t pack them in my bag and take them back to England. What would they do there to survive? What can they do here?”

  He stopped and stared at the white clapboard church situated between the town square and a shady avenue of quaint homes with tall windows, lace curtains, and wrap- around porches. “How dare I admonish those inside the church to help those in need and not help them myself?”

  Though she didn’t use the word, Hosea knew what Susanna thought of him. “I’m a hypocrite.” He looked back at the dusty town. “If I can’t bring them out of Babylon, I can at least bring a bit of light into their lives. I’ll teach them for as long as I can and help them whenever possible. As the apostle Peter said, ‘Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee.’”

  Which is why he was behind the saloon again a few days later doing laundry with Susanna and Claudine.

  “Washing’s women’s work,” Claudine laughed as he fed a sheet through the wringer.

  “Assisting ladies is men’s work,” Hosea replied.

  “Maybe at a Chinese laundry,” Susanna muttered.

  “My pappy and brothers never helped with the washing. Do you wash your own clothes back home?” Claudine asked.

  “No,” said Hosea. “I have a housekeeper.”

  “Ooh,” she drew out the word, “are you rich? Do you live in a mansion? How many servants do you have?”

  “Claudine, you can’t go around asking people if they’re rich,” Susanna scolded. “Anyway, if he was rich, he’d dress a whole lot better.”

  “I think he dresses fine,” Claudine defended him. “Do you have lots of servants in your mansion?”

  “I don’t live in a mansion,” Hosea said, studying his attire. He never before gave a thought to his clothing, so he didn’t understand why Susanna’s comment stung. “I reside in a small vicarage.”

  “But you’re an Englander. Don’t you know any kings and queens?”

  “I don’t,” said Hosea, “though I do have dinner every Sunday with Lady Godfrey of Eastleigh Hall. She is the widow of a baronet, which is not a peerage, but ranks above most knighthoods, therefore making her not quite a commoner.”

  Susanna, who was struggling to lift a heavy quilt from the wash tub, dropped it with a splash, soaking her apron.

  “Miss Gomer, allow me,” Hosea sprang to her side.

  “I don’t need your help.” She tried to tug the quilt out of his hands.

  Hosea held on. “It seems you do.”

  Susanna said nothing as they maneuvered the wet quilt over the clothesline. Without thanking him, she hurried inside.

  By day, Hosea continued the reading lessons and chores; by night, he sang songs the ladies taught him.

  Judson started the rumor that Hosea was the Duke of Piccadilly (“I hear tell it’s a famous circus.”) to draw bigger crowds. The patrons were disappointed by Hosea’s attire, expecting velvet jackets and diamond cufflinks, but his vocal talent more than made up for his plain clothes, and soon the town was gossiping about Queen Victoria’s cousin who was rooming at the saloon.

  It was a rumor Susanna was determined to put to rest—at least part of it. She was the only one unhappy with the arrangement and took every opportunity to be mean to Hosea in order to drive him away, but he was long-suffering and not altogether certain she wasn’t right in pointing out his shortcomings. He was, after all, unschooled in associating with women and still out of the Lord’s will. If he’d only been obedient, he wouldn’t be in Black Creek and never would have met and subsequently offended her.

  To make up for the discontent he caused, he decided to pay her special attention. He showed her his very best manners; was solicitous of her welfare; and cheerfully did all her chores. In repayment for his efforts, she mocked his politeness; got drunk to make him worry; and plied him with unnecessary tasks. The harder he tried, the angrier she became. Thus, the very person he strove to ple
ase the most only found greater fault with him.

  Fed up with his kindnesss and her failures, Susanna marched over to the hotel, ignoring the stares and whispers of women she passed on the sidewalk. “Do you have any vacancies?” she inquired within.

  The manager closed the registry. “Not for you.”

  Susanna took a deep breath to remain calm. “It’s not for me. It’s for the duke. I’m sure you’ve heard of him?”

  At that moment, a gentleman and his wife started down the stairs. The manager glanced up at them. “Why are you asking for a room for him?” he lowered his voice. The prospect of hosting a duke at his hotel was tantalizing. He could tell future customers the Duke of Piccadilly slept in such-and-such suite and charge more for it.

  “Is that a yes or no?” Susanna asked.

  The couple reached the bottom of the stairs. “We’re booked up,” he said brusquely.

  As the couple approached the desk, the man tipped his hat to Susanna, not knowing who she was, and addressed the manager. “Our plans have changed. We’ll be checking out this afternoon and leaving on the four o’clock train. Have our trunks sent to the station.”

  “Very good, sir,” said the manager.

  “I’d like to reserve that room,” Susanna said.

  The manager kept his eye on the couple as they stopped at the front door discussing something. “It’s already reserved.”

  “Since when? The duke wants to rent that room.”

  “I told you there are no rooms.”

  The couple looked at them.

  “If the duke wants the room, he’s welcome to it,” he hissed, “but I won’t do business with you.”

  Susanna looked over his shoulder, let her eyes grow wide, and gasped. He turned to see what startled her. She smiled; it was a trick that worked every time. While he was distracted, she grabbed the registry and flipped it open. “I see you have three rooms available as of tomorrow, and the duke only needs one.”

  The manager whipped around, furious he’d been fooled.

  The couple lingered by the door, not wanting to miss out on the unfolding drama as the manager’s face turned red.

  “I told you we have no rooms. Now get out of here before I fetch the sheriff. I don’t want my hotel looking bad.”

  Her heart lurched at the thought of encountering the sheriff, a known teetotaler who never visited the saloon due to a monthly bribe from Judson. Susanna was certain there was a wanted poster with her face on it at the jail, albeit the New Orleans version of her with a blonde wig and a fake beauty mark. Though somewhat disguised as her natural self, she didn’t want to run the risk of being recognized.

  She smiled at the manager. “You don’t need me to make your hotel look bad. You do a fine job all by yourself.” She turned and strode to the door. “Thank you,” she said sweetly as the gentleman held it open.

  She stepped outside, head held high, with the same pride she used to step out of the Bellevue Palace on the arms of politicians, industrialists, and old wealth to mingle in high society and be accorded respect as Miss Ruby Hardcastle. Powerful men enlisted her aid and seductive charms in finding out secrets that could bring down other men, paid for handsomely with money or jewelry. She was important, admired, and flattered.

  The prestige, money, and jewelry were gone, changed by a bullet. The money was still in the bank; if she’d tried to withdraw it, she would have found the authorities waiting there to arrest her. Pawning the jewelry wasn’t an option. That would have aroused suspicion and left a trail straight to her.

  The alias abandoned, she was again poor but proud

  Susanna Gomer, just another prostitute in a state where one-quarter of the female population sold their bodies to survive.

  Outside the hotel, her pride was abruptly checked when she spotted the sheriff walking in her direction. She ducked her head, pretending to look through her reticule as she hurried down the street. “Where to go, where to go,” she muttered, wishing she knew where the sheriff was going to avoid being caught in the same place.

  Meanwhile, Hosea had proposed a trip to the mercantile to purchase a beginner reader for the ladies to study, but, once inside the shop, Edna and Fanny showed more interest in hats than in educational materials.

  Edna grabbed Hosea’s hat and stuck her finger through the hole in the crown. “Vicar, you can’t walk around with a hole in your hat. It makes people wonder what you did to get shot at. How about this purty one here?” She pulled a stovepipe hat off a stand and set it on his head. “Don’t you look smart?”

  “It makes him look like the undertaker,” said Fanny. She replaced it with a bowler. “Now he looks dignified.”

  “No, try this one.” Edna knocked the bowler off (Hosea caught it) and slapped on a wide-brimmed black felt hat with a low, flat crown. “Vicar,” she breathed, “you look splendiferous.”

  “You need something fancier,” Fanny disagreed. “Half the men who walk into the Spoke wear a hat like that.”

  Edna turned the small mirror on the counter toward Hosea. “Take a look. Ain’t I right?”

  Hosea was surprised by what he saw. “It is a rather impressive hat.” He turned his head from side to side to see it from different angles. He thought he looked manly, dangerous. He imagined striding through his parish wearing it. He was bold; he was brave; he might even disagree with Mr. Biddle in such a hat.

  “You got to buy it now, Vicar,” Edna said.

  “But my hat is perfectly functional,” Hosea removed it. “I don’t need a new one.”

  “If you don’t buy it, I will,” said Edna.

  “No, Miss Edna. I insist you don’t spend money on my account.”

  “Are you going to buy it?”

  Hosea’s heart sank. More of his money was slipping away. “Yes, but only because I’d hate to see you waste money on me.”

  Edna and Fanny clapped in approval just as Susanna walked by and glanced through the shop window. The happiness on their faces enraged her. The vicar parading around in public with not one but two prostitutes and smiling about it? Where was the shopkeeper’s wife to chase them away?

  With the sheriff on her heels, she couldn’t go inside. She’d be recognized for certain around her co-workers. She ducked down the nearest alley and cut across the back of the buildings until she reached the saloon, looking over her shoulder the whole way. She was so upset about the sheriff and angry at Hosea that she poured herself a whiskey.

  “I wish the pest would go away,” she gulped it down. Then again, she reasoned, if she couldn’t get him to leave, what did it matter? She was leaving soon. She had to. It was only a matter of time before someone recognized her.

  Chapter 4: The Ark Enters Jerusalem

  HOSEA stood before the mirror in his room admiring his new hat. He finally persuaded himself it was a practical investment, for it might make him more attractive to his future wife. At least it was not purchased by Edna, for then every time he put it on he would think of how she earned the wages to buy it.

  Shuddering at the thought, he took off the hat just as there was a knock at the door. It was Alice and Claudine.

  “Will you read to us?” Alice asked.

  “Certainly. Let me fetch my Bible. Shall we read on the porch?” Hosea suggested.

  “Nah, it’s best we do it in here.” They pushed past him and flopped on the bed, much to his uneasiness. It increased when Alice pulled out a newspaper from under her skirt and handed it to him.

  “Thank you,” Hosea gingerly took it. “Is there an article in particular you’d like to hear? Or perhaps you might practice your reading?”

  Claudine tugged on her braid. “We’d rather hear you read. We like your voice.”

  “You flatter me,” Hosea blushed, sitting on a rickety chair next to the bed. “Where shall I begin?”

  Alice leaned over and turned the page. “We like this part.” she pointed.

  “Very well,” Hosea began but stopped after two lines. “This is a record of criminal ac
tivity in Denison.”

  Alice nodded eagerly. “Susanna used to read it to us every week until Judson found out. He thinks we’ll get ideas and says he’ll beat the tar out of us if he catches us with a newspaper.”

  “Ideas?” Hosea looked alarmed. “Surely he doesn’t think you would commit crimes?”

  “Oh no, we wouldn’t,” said Claudine, “but it’s fun hearing about all the fuss the bawds kick up over in Denison. They’re crazy.”

  Alice giggled. “They get into all sorts of trouble, like disturbing the peace and being drunk and disorderly—”

  “And carrying deadly weapons and cussing in the street,” Claudine added. “One even committed suicide!” she added in a shocked whisper.

  Hosea folded the paper. “I can see why Mr. Judson doesn’t approve.”

  “Sometimes they’re called demimondes,” Alice said in an exaggerated French accent. “No one calls us fancy names.”

  Hosea stood. “Ladies, though I despise his threat, I must respect Mr. Judson’s rule about not reading unedifying material. I advise you to rid yourselves of this paper.”

  “Please?” Claudine begged. “Just this once?”

  “No,” said Hosea firmly. “We must do the right thing.”

  “If you say so,” Alice pouted. Disappointed, they left the room.

  Not a minute later there came another knock. Quick as a wink, Edna slipped in and shut the door behind her.

  “Miss Edna, what brings you here?” Hosea asked.

  “Vicar, I need a favor,” she whispered.

  “What is it?” said Hosea hesitantly.

  She moved closer. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could help me, but you being so smart and all, I just had to. Please say yes.”

  Hosea backed up. “Thank you for the compliment, but I don’t wish to encourage your expectations.” He hoped she didn’t have a newspaper.

  Edna grabbed his arms. “But you’re so smart and good at everything. You’re just the man I need.”