by Yvonne Jocks
Claudine grabbed the telegram before Audra could, but for once Audra rejected etiquette and snatched the paper from the girl's hand. Papa was Heddy's brother!
Again she felt her moral imperfections when she sank, relieved, against the edge of the table upon reading the cable. Of course it wasn't her papa. Aunt Heddy would not travel to the hil country if a brother in Wyoming had been ill .
But Audra must never imagine such things. The telegram was grim enough: Matthew hurt mowing.
Come quickly. Mutti. That Grossmutter referred to herself so informal y hinted as much at the seriousness of the situation—that it warranted a mother's softness—as did Audra's passing
familiarity with mowers. A mower could tip, or the horses could spook, or ...
Claudine took the cable from Audra's limp hand, read it, then said, "She didn't look upset; she looked mad. She must not care very much about her brother."
Audra said, “She's part German,” and fol owed her aunt into the bedroom.
“You could reach the station tonight if you rode horseback,” she suggested.
“I never ride horseback.” Her aunt, Audra noticed with a chill, was folding her black dress to pack.
“In any case, we have no sidesaddle. Nor is it proper for ladies to travel alone.”
Audra's mother sometimes traveled alone. Lucy Wolfe would by necessity.
“I'll do my best not to let your pupils fall behind while you're gone.”
Aunt Heddy said, "I have no intention of being gone later than midweek; I doubt you can do too much damage in only a day or two."
She did sound cold. “But it's your brother.”
Aunt Heddy turned. "I am well aware of that. If it were not serious, I would never leave those two impressionable girls under your supervision. You must know that your behavior of late has hardly increased my confidence in you."
That morning Audra had let Aunt Heddy think she was going to the schoolhouse early, then met Jack by the stables instead. Did Heddy know? Did she think they'd done more than talk?
“I had hoped that your father's influence would override your mother's,” Aunt Heddy continued, emphasizing her words with sharp movements, folding this item or placing that one into her valise.
"But you seem determined to intrude in matters which would never concern a real lady. The school board has not yet voiced a complaint to me, but I doubt it will be very long in coming. Do not expect to be offered a position here next year."
Audra opened her mouth in protest, then could not form a word. Too many words jumbled in her throat for any one of them to escape. Did she want to live here next year? How else would she teach? Why would the school board voice complaints to Heddy instead of directly to Audra? And beyond that...
She prioritized. “What's wrong with my mother?”
Aunt Heddy did not deign to answer.
“Mama is the kindest, strongest, most courageous woman I know! And Papa loves her!”
"She is selfish, undisciplined, overindulgent—and over-indulged— and that you even concern yourself about her when your uncle lies injured proves my point about your heritage."
Audra felt a rush of rage—but proved her aunt wrong by walking out of the room and starting the slow work of preparing dinner. Losing herself in chores until she calmed down was something her father would do, thank you very much.
But it pleased her more to imagine her mother's likely response to such an attack on their family.
Courageous put it gently. Papa's courage pitted him against the things a rancher must face—
stampedes and prairie fires, rustlers and floods. Mama's courage pitted her against opponents nobody would blame her for leaving alone. In fact, whereas Papa was expected to face down wolves and Indians, Mama was expected to behave herself. Part of her courage lay in ignoring the very people who accused her of “looking for trouble,” when she simply did what she knew to be right. Mama had eyes that saw far beyond the strictures of society.
Audra wondered, as she sliced potatoes, what her mother would think of Jack Harwood.
“I will ask the Reverend Collins to stop by at sunset each night while I am gone,” said Aunt Heddy, returning from the bedroom, "to make sure the three of you are properly settled in for the night. I expect you to see to all the chores and to attend church on Sunday. Is that clear?"
As if Audra would skip chores or church! I thought we might do some drinking, she thought. And gambling. I know somebody who could teach us.
Out loud she said, “Do not worry yourself about us, Aunt.”
Claudine said, “We aren't children, you know.”
But that comforted Audra no more than it seemed to comfort Heddy.
Before Jack reached Grapevine, the frost vanished and the weather lost its edge, becoming downright comfortable for riding, even once he reached the prairie. When he reached the yellow depot, on the south side of the city, he sent Audra's telegram first thing.
It felt odd to send a communiqué directly to the mother— even in Audra's own words—after the thoughts he'd been entertaining about the daughter. What might an established matron, wife of some kind of cattle baron, think of a gambler running errands for her daughter?
He doubted it would be flattering.
Luckily he had other errands to ran for Ham.
Despite the absence of a saloon, Grapevine's Main Street could fit five of Candon's and then some.
Most of its buildings were of respectable brick, complete with a continuous wooden sidewalk and colorful canvas awnings to protect it. Telephone poles stood sentry along a wide road that, though still dirt, would likely end up paved soon. There was no missing the prosperity around here; Jack figured that had more than a little to do with the railroad depot. As he walked, he noticed the number of stores that obviously thrived. J. E. Faust and Co., advertising "Groceries, Coffins, and Marble," had nine salt barrels stacked on the sidewalk in front of it. Nine! Had Ham's mercantile gone through three salt barrels in the time Jack had worked there? The City Drug Store alone could hold Candon's entire general store. Grapevine boasted a dry-goods store, a second grocery store, a feed and ice service store, a hardware store, a photographer... a realty company?
As Jack strolled along Main, a thought began to form in his ever-resourceful head. Folks in Candon had been talking about the railroad slated to run past their own town since his arrival, but Jack figured their odds for a depot were worse than those for an inside straight.
What if he figured out a way to increase those odds?
Ferris had asked him to place an advertisement in the Grapevine Sun, seeking a buyer for the mercantile, then to ask at some of the local shops about possible interest. Jack hadn't expected a lot. But could be he'd guessed with too few cards showing.
That afternoon found Jack Harwood well pleased with himself. He'd placed the requested
advertisement, then spent much of the day canvassing the businesses along Main, including the realty. Folks seemed plenty willing to talk with him, advise him ... and agree with him that Candon's getting a depot would raise the store's value. It didn't hurt that Jack hailed from Jefferson, the most famous Texas city ever to be ruined by the railroad passing it by.
Somehow, as he worked his way through the afternoon, the possibility of Candon's getting a depot became a likelihood, and the likelihood eased into something suspiciously near fact. Folks' interest increased in direct proportion—and Jack enjoyed just about the most fun he'd ever had that didn't involve playing cards or liquor.
As the afternoon waned, Jack headed back to the depot that had given him so fine an idea and was somewhat surprised to see that Audra had predicted correctly; her mother had replied.
Pleased to help. Send her up. Proud of you. Counting weeks. Mother.
Lordy. Jack stared at the telegram for so long, the telegrapher asked, “You want me to read it for you, sir?” When Jack looked up, blank, the young fellow in the green visor quickly added, “Not to imply you can't read. My handwriting thro
ws some people, is all .”
Jack shook his head and gave the fellow a bigger tip than he'd original y planned. Then he pocketed the cable and waited until he and Queen had ridden clear of the city and could take shelter in some barren, grapevine-choked trees to examine it again.
Proud of you. That was the line he stumbled over, and at first he just couldn't figure it. Selfless and caring, hardworking and conscientious ... why wouldn't they be proud of Audra?
Maybe because she was keeping company with a gambler.
The truth hit Jack low and hard. That was exactly why Mrs. Garrison's kind words gave him more queasy guilt than warm appreciation. He saw, finally, that Audra would suffer from their little romance even if nobody found out. She would think her folks' pride in her misplaced.
Jack folded the telegram, pocketing it. His folks had never claimed pride in him. Could be they were
right. Al this time, while he was blaming Audra's parents for putting her in harm's way, he'd taken full advantage of their misstep and played the starring role of harm itself.
Worse, he doubted he could stop. He'd told her that just this morning; he understood why she needed to fol ow those rules of hers far better when they weren't face-to-face.
Maybe he finally understood, now, why she'd tried to minimize their time face-to-face.
He wished he had the will power to do the same.
Chapter Twenty-five
A teacher may not travel beyond the city limits without the permission of the school board.
—Rules for Teachers
Farmer Parker left for market well before dawn, when the sky had lightened barely enough for his team to keep to the road. Aunt Heddy perched stiffly beside him on his buckboard, her valise clutched against her. She did not turn and wave to Audra, but Audra found herself increasingly unconcerned about such slights. That had to be a bad sign for her, didn't it?
“I don't think so,” said Melissa, who came into Audra and Heddy's room to dress after Claudine begged to sleep in until sunrise. “I always thought you were a little too perfect, putting up with her as long as you have.”
“But she's my elder,” Audra reminded her, stripping the sheets from the bed. Since she and Heddy had jobs, Saturday was washday and baking day. "And my father's sister. And she raised my older brother for ten years. My family owes a great deal to Aunt Heddy, and I mustn't trivialize that through disrespect.“ She folded the sheets loosely at the seams. ”If I become indifferent, something inappropriate might... slip out."
“I hope I'm there if it does.” Shrugging into her work dress, Melissa grinned.
Unkind or not, Audra enjoyed breakfast far more with her aunt gone and Claudine asleep. Now she and Melissa cleaned the dishes together, discussing the latest fashions and whether Aunt Heddy would protest Audra's recent subscription to a story paper. As they mixed bread dough, Audra quietly admitted that she expected to receive a telegram as soon as Mr. Harwood contrived to deliver it without arousing suspicion.
It felt so good to mention him to somebody, it couldn't be proper.
“Mr. Harwood?” exclaimed Melissa. “I thought he was 'Jack.' ”
Audra hushed her and glanced toward the girls' bedroom as she set covered pans of bread to rise.
Claudine had behaved far better of late, but Audra still did not trust her with secrets.
“Last time I checked she was dead to the world,” assured Melissa. “So talk.”
Audra gave in. “I'll admit that I could be ... fond of him.” Even that felt horribly like a fib, since she was fond of him. More than fond! “But I am trying to retain some propriety.”
“Is he trying?” asked Melissa, fetching the washtub to fill from the cistern.
Audra thought of the kiss he'd stolen at the store just this week, thought of how he'd all but asked her to continue being forward with him yesterday morning, and she blushed.
Melissa laughed.
“This is a serious matter!” Audra chided, still blushing, but Melissa still laughed.
finally, with the sun well up and the wash water ready, they had no choice but to end their private time by waking Claudine. They needed her nightgown and the sheets from her bed. And washing was too grueling a chore—especially in chill weather—to not take al three of them.
Melissa went into the bedroom, then, moments later, bolted out. “She's gone!”
Audra stared, unwilling to risk understanding at first. “What?”
"Claudine's gone! She stuffed laundry under her blanket. I guess she left through the window.
Audra“—Melissa extended a note—”she says she's eloping!"
Now Audra lowered her stare to the note. That indeed looked like Claudine's halfhearted attempt at penmanship. “But . . . Aunt Heddy hasn't been gone two hours yet!”
It was a foolish, useless thing to say, but Melissa looked sympathetic.
Disgusted by her own cowardice, Audra took the note.
It is so romantic! Jerome asked me to be his bride and we are taking the train to Louisiana. I shall write to you from New Orleans as Mrs. Newton! *
Your friend, Claudine.
Friend? Friends did not—
But Audra pushed past her selfish concerns, then stumbled at the thought of Claudine's father, thinking his daughter safe in a responsible schoolteacher's care. Responsible*. If she'd not spent the morning chatting with Melissa, if she had made Claudine get up earlier, if...
She forged past the regrets as well. Regrets would always find time to return.
“I have to think,” she muttered, grasping handfuls of her apron to keep her fluttering hands busy.
“The train means Grapevine. When does an eastbound train go through?”
“You think someone should stop them?” challenged Melissa.
“Of course someone should stop them!” Worse, she knew whose duty it was.
“So she marries Jerome. Some people marry young and do just fine.”
Mere months earlier, Audra would have been equally innocent. "Does Jerome have a job? Do you trust him to not leave her? Do you think Claudine could support herself or a family?"
Fol owing Audra into the teachers' bedroom, Melissa said, “Oh.”
An even worse thought occurred to Audra. “And what if he doesn't marry her!”
Memories she'd thought healed now reopened into ragged, painful things. The terror of realizing how little she knew Peter Connors. Her father's rage. The town's reaction when Audra refused to marry her abductor. They'd known her all her life, knew she was a good girl, but after Peter, everyone seemed to wonder. At least, it had seemed like everyone at the time.
Melissa obviously remembered Audra's story, too. “She'll be ruined when the sun sets.”
That alone had seemed life-ending to Audra only months ago, but she now appreciated how lucky she had been. What if Jerome did marry Claudine, but only ... well ... in the “basest sense” of the word? He'd ruin her in deed as well as reputation. If he convinced her to board a train, she would lose even those last remnants of familiarity and safety!
Assuming Claudine were not so shamed by then that she wouldn't even seek help.
Audra began to strip off her work dress, intending to wear something warm enough for the trip and respectable enough to give her some mien of authority once she reached the depot, if she got there in time. She would not wish such ruin on her worst enemy, much less a headstrong girl who, with a little maturity, might yet amount to something.
“What are you doing?” Melissa finally thought to ask, watching Audra strip and redress.
“I'm going to get her.”
“What? By yourself?”
Audra pinned on her bonnet, wishing her hair were longer. “She was left in my charge.”
“But you're just a woman!” When Audra stared at her, Melissa added, "Your aunt would send menfolk after her, instead of going alone. You're risking your own reputation by doing that."
“If I ask someone for help, they'll know what happened and both our rep
utations will suffer. A woman's reputation is too fragile a thing to risk lightly. I surely know that!”
“Send for Mr. Harwood; he won't tel . Let him go after her,” pleaded Melissa while Audra found her purse, checking for money for an emergency.
The thought of Jack did soothe her. He would understand, sympathize. But...
"If Claudine returned with Jack Harwood, she would be worse off than if she returned with Jerome," Audra admitted, leaving the house. Luckily the old horses were tame enough to come when she called to them; she needn't try roping them first. As she led first one gelding, then the other into the barn, she prayed she remembered her father's instructions for harnessing a team. If she rode horseback, she could move more quickly— but she would lose a great deal of
respectability if discovered. Returning on horseback with Claudine, especially without sidesaddles, would raise more questions than they could answer.
“You'll stay here,” she instructed, setting about the first steps of harnessing Buck and Boy. Bits, then collars—she could barely lift the heavy collars by herself.
“Why?” demanded Melissa, trying awkwardly to help. The gentle geldings practical y put their heads through the collars themselves.
"Because someone needs to hang out the wash, do the baking, look normal. If anybody suspects this, Claudine's reputation is lost." Another memory twisted inside her, even more horrible than her immediate fear of not fastening the belly bands and martingale correctly. "The reverend is coming by after supper to check on us, remember? Tel him Claudine and I have gone for a drive, that you expect us at any time. I doubt we'll return home until after dark." Not with an aged team, mostly grass-fed, pulling an old surrey. “He'll likely wait with you. But if we return together, without any men, we may yet get through this.”
Melissa stared. “You want me to lie to the reverend?”
Audra looked up from the heavy tangle of traces, straps, and buckles and said something she once would never have thought herself capable of. “Yes. I'm leaving the town limits without permission from the school board, and I want you—if you can do so—to lie to the reverend.”