by Sara Luck
11
“I feel strange riding off without him,” Phoebe said when they were about a hundred yards away.
“You know he’ll have fun. Will seems to like the Bucknells.”
“It’s just that I have a premonition. Something’s going to happen.”
“Don’t think like that. I want you to enjoy this day.”
Phoebe rode in silence for a while, deep in thought.
“I’ve been thinking about the song July taught Will. Is that really the meaning of the words?”
“I think so,” Christian said. “I may be off. The first verse is about going over the Limpopo River to work in the gold fields in search of money, but I believe this is the second verse.”
“ ‘They left us problems—these earthly difficulties.’ ” Phoebe’s voice quavered. “That certainly is a truism where Edwin is concerned.”
“I don’t know why you let those people bother you so much. Just live your own life.”
Phoebe looked down at her hands and began to pick at her nails. “They think I killed Edwin.”
“I thought he was killed by an ostrich.”
Phoebe jerked her head toward Christian. “You know that and you didn’t say anything?”
“I thought it was an accident—just like when the horse kicked you.”
“It was more than that.”
Christian was surprised by Phoebe’s remark and wasn’t sure how to respond. For a long moment the break in their conversation was filled only by the sound of the hoofbeats and the whir of buggy wheels.
Then Phoebe said, “You said the other morning you saw me sitting beside Edwin’s grave. And I believe my response was that I find comfort in visiting Edwin and I tell him everything. That’s not entirely true.”
“Oh?”
“Well, in a way it’s true. I find it’s much easier to talk to him now than it was when he was alive. I think I should tell you how it was between me and Edwin.”
Christian reached over to take Phoebe’s hand in hers. “Phoebe, you don’t have to tell me anything, especially if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I want to tell you,” Phoebe said resolutely. “Everything is buried so deep inside of me, I need to get it out.”
“All right. I’ll be a good listener.”
“I came to Arizona to be the Sloans’ housekeeper. I thought I knew how to keep a house, but nothing satisfied Mrs. Sloan. Whatever I did wasn’t right, but that wasn’t the hardest part. It was the way I was treated as a person. Other than to demand I do some task, they totally ignored me. They spoke to one another in my presence as if I weren’t there.
“Edwin was the only one who showed any kindness toward me at all; then on the night of Frank and Myra’s engagement party, Frank”—she paused for a moment to come up with the right words—“tried to take liberties with me. I was startled, and I spilled the coffee on Mrs. Sloan’s fine damask cloth. She got very angry with me, and of course I couldn’t explain what had happened. When, finally, my work was done, I took to my bed to cry. A little while later, Edwin came to my room.”
“He forced himself on you?”
“No, I can’t say that. As I said, Edwin was the only one who was ever decent toward me, so when he came to my room, the situation got out of hand. I know it was foolish, and had I said no, he would’ve left, but I actually felt I owed him something. So I didn’t resist.”
Phoebe paused and took a deep breath.
“As a result of that one night of indiscretion . . .” Phoebe paused again, gathering her thoughts before she went on. “Oh, Christian, I was so naïve. I had no idea what went on between a man and a woman, and I certainly didn’t know I could get pregnant from just one time, but it happened. After that night, Edwin was different. He was still friendly, but it wasn’t the same. I didn’t know what was happening to my body, and it was Crecy who suspected that I was pregnant. She was the cook and she saw me in the mornings when I was so sick. Since Edwin was the only one I’d ever been with, I told him I was going to have his baby.
“At first, he was very angry—he told me I’d have to leave, but then he decided marrying me would be a good way to undermine his father. His family never forgave him, nor me. And now they blame me for his death.”
“That’s foolish. How can they blame you?”
Phoebe struggled at first, but quickly the words came easier and without hesitation. Christian realized that telling the story was cathartic for her. She not only told the story, she relived it—and, through the telling, so did Christian. She began with the last confrontation she’d had with Edwin.
• • •
“Edwin, don’t you love me?”
“I married you, didn’t I?”
“That’s no answer.”
“Phoebe, do you have any idea what I have to put up with? You were my mother’s maid and I did the right thing by you when you told me you were pregnant. I didn’t have to marry you, and if I knew then that I was going to lose everything, I wouldn’t have done it. After all, there is no real proof that I’m the one who made you pregnant.”
“You know Will is your child.”
“I assume that’s so, but Frank doesn’t think he’s mine. The truth is, you tricked me into marrying you anyway, and be that as it may, I have, in all respects, treated the boy as my own.”
“He is not ‘the boy,’ Edwin. He has a name.”
“You don’t have to lecture me. I know that. All I meant to say is that I treat him as my own.”
“What about his mother? Do you treat her as your wife?”
“I’m out here on this damn farm working every day just to satisfy you while my brother sits in the bank doing nothing, getting richer and richer. I know he’s laughing at me for my foolishness.”
“That’s not what I mean, Edwin, and you know it. We never act like husband and wife.”
“We argue enough—isn’t that what husbands and wives do?”
“No, husbands and wives love one another, they do things together. And they sleep together,” she added pointedly.
“That’s all you ever think about. Why don’t you find some man who thinks with the front of his pants? Or, better yet, go get a job where men pay you to lie on your back.”
“You bastard! Get out!” Stung by her husband’s words, she slapped him. “Get out! I don’t ever want to see you again!”
“Boy!” Edwin called. “Come in here!”
“What do you want with Will?”
Will came into the room rubbing his eyes.
“Come with me.” Edwin jerked Will by the arm. “Your mother wants to be by herself.”
Edwin, dragging Will behind him, left the house.
“No!” Phoebe yelled as she followed along, pulling at Will. “You can’t take him! You can’t take my child away from me!”
“We’ll see what I can do.” Edwin went to one of the nearby pens. He jerked open the gate. “Take these damned birds with you and get off my land.” He turned and, with Will in tow, started back to the house.
The commotion had caused the flighty birds to react. The male, protecting his mate, ran out of the pen and headed directly for Edwin. With a swift kick, his sharp claw tore into Edwin’s back, causing him to fall as blood poured from the wound.
Grabbing the thorny pole that stood by the gate, Phoebe ran to her husband and son. The ostrich was coming toward his victim again when Phoebe reached them. She poked the stick into the bird’s eyes and, temporarily blinded, it turned and ran the other way.
Will was crying and Edwin was lying motionless. Grabbing the child, Phoebe ran in search of Trinidad and Cornello. When she found them, they got the buckboard and loaded Edwin’s limp body into the back.
“Cornello, take care of Will. Trinidad, get us to town as fast as you can.”
When they reached the doctor’s office, Phoebe starting calling for him, and Dr. Evans came out to the wagon.
“He’s alive, but not for long,” the doctor said after a quick examination.
“You’d better go get his father.”
Trinidad hurried to the bank, and soon W.F. was running back to the wagon. When he saw Edwin, he took his son’s hand.
Edwin opened his eyes and smiled. “I’m sorry. You were right. I should never have . . .” Those were Edwin’s last words.
W.F. turned to Phoebe, deep-seated hatred on his face. “You killed him. I’ll make you pay for this.” He turned and walked away, leaving Phoebe alone with the body.
• • •
Phoebe quit speaking then, and though Christian wanted to say something to comfort her, he realized that, for the moment, she needed the quiet.
“Both Frank and his father blame me for Edwin’s death. But not because of the argument we had that day. They blame me because they think I tricked Edwin into marrying me. They blame me because he was trying to make a go of it on an ostrich farm, which he never would have done if we hadn’t been married. And they’ve held Edwin’s death against me ever since. I’ve never told that to anyone until now.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with Edwin getting killed. You said he opened the gate to the pen. It was his own carelessness.”
“Yes, and I try to tell myself that. But I keep remembering that one line that plays over and over in my head: ‘I don’t care if I ever see you again!’ ”
Christian stopped the buggy and pulled her to him. “Sometimes in our lives we say things we regret, but we can never take them back. I’m sorry this happened, but it doesn’t mean you have to blame yourself for the rest of your life. You have Will to consider. He needs a loving mother and I need”—Christian stopped himself before he added a loving wife—“you as well.”
“Oh, Christian, why couldn’t we have met before I ever met Edwin?”
He released her and, after squeezing her hand, picked up the reins. “The important thing is we’ve met now. And as little regard as I have for Edwin, consider this: if you had never met him, there’d be no Will.”
“Yes, that’s true, isn’t it?”
Just then an electric car rang its bell and the horse jumped. “I’d better watch what I’m doing or we won’t get to the doctor’s office at all.”
• • •
When they arrived, Christian helped Phoebe down from the buggy.
“You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you,” Dr. Evans said when Phoebe stepped into the office. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m doing quite well. I have a few dizzy spells, but they don’t last long.”
“That’s good to hear. You’ll probably be having them for a good long while, but they’ll get less intense, and further and further apart. Now let me get a good look at you.”
Sitting her in a chair, Dr. Evans checked her eyes, then had her cross her legs while he tapped first on one knee, then the other. After that, he had her walk along a straight line on the floor.
“Excellent!” he said when the examination was over. “I can safely say you may resume your normal activity, with moderation. Have your man here handle some of your hard work.”
Phoebe was embarrassed by the doctor’s pronouncement. She started to explain that Christian was not her man, but she thought it best to let it drop. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“Oh, but, Mrs. Sloan . . .” Dr. Evans said as she was rising from the chair.
“Yes?”
“Try to stay out of the way of a rearing horse,” he chuckled. “I have a prescription for you. Have some fun in addition to all your work. Now, that’s straight from your doctor’s mouth, so you have to do it. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Christian said, “and I’ll try to see that she follows your advice.”
The doctor laughed. “I’m holding you to it, son. This girl’s pretty special to us here in Maricopa County.”
• • •
Christian and Phoebe left the doctor’s office and walked around the corner to the Chicago Store.
“Have you thought about what you want?” Christian asked when he saw the window display of women’s clothing.
“Yes. I want to go home.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Christian opened the door. “Dr. Evans all but prescribed an outing for you, and so did Gwen. If you don’t pick something, I’ll do it for you.”
“Good morning,” the shopkeeper said when they entered. “We have one of our best sales going on, ma’am. What may I show you?”
Phoebe was surprised to see the number of ready-made dresses in the store. In her whole life she’d never had a dress that wasn’t handmade.
“With this cool weather we’re having, you might need one of our new kerseys.” The clerk pulled a brown coat off a table. “Just look at this beautiful overstrap stitching on the flared cuffs. With your coloring, this would look perfect on you.”
“I don’t . . . I don’t think so,” Phoebe said hesitantly.
“We’ll take it, but I think she’d like a gray one.” Christian walked over to a rod that contained several dresses. “Look at this one.” He pulled off a red taffeta dress with big, puffy sleeves. “What do you think?”
Phoebe laughed. “I’m afraid if I wore that, I’d drive off every bird I have.”
“Well, what would you like?”
“If I’m going to get a new dress, I think I’d like a blue gingham.”
“No.” Christian shook his head as he put his hands on her shoulders. “I want you to have something you’ve never had before. I agree that the red is too much, but pick out something you think is pretty.”
“All right.” She began looking around the store.
“What about this one?” Christian pulled out a white organdy. “This would make a good party dress . . . or a wedding dress.”
Phoebe’s eyes opened wide. “For who?”
“I don’t know.” A smile crossed Christian’s face. “I was just thinking.”
Phoebe moved around the store and finally settled on a cream-colored silk waist and a navy-blue pebble serge skirt. “I’ll take this.”
“And she’ll take these.” Christian handed a tan walking skirt, a matching cheviot jacket, and the white organdy dress to the clerk. “And you’ll need some new undergarments.”
Phoebe’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t say that!”
Christian laughed. “I just did. If we’re going to be away for the night, you’re going to need some things, aren’t you?”
• • •
Christian carried the bundle containing Phoebe’s new clothes when they left the Chicago Store.
“You were awful.” Phoebe hit Christian on the arm. “I was mortified. You know what people will say?”
“Do you care?”
Phoebe thought for a moment. “No,” she laughed.
Taking her hand, Christian walked her back to their rig in front of the doctor’s office.
• • •
Across the street, a woman was watching. When Phoebe and Christian rode off in the buggy, she went into the Chicago Store.
“Hello, Myra, dear,” the clerk said when her customer came in. “I thought you might be in today. I have some new party dresses in, and I know how much you and Frank entertain.”
“I’m not buying today. I want to know about the man and woman who just left here.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them before, but I wish more men took an interest in women’s clothing. I’d be selling a lot more clothes if there were more like him. Wasn’t he a handsome fellow, though? Seems a shame he’s going to marry that woman. But I guess she could be pretty if she’d protect her skin from the sun a bit more.”
“I hear some people think she’s a ravishing beauty.”
“Well, Myra, you seem to be inordinately interested in her. Who is she?”
“She’s my sister-in-law.”
• • •
“Two round-trip tickets for Castle Hot Springs,” Christian said to the ticket officer at the Santa Fe, Prescott and Phoenix Railway depot.
“Very good, sir.”
“You’ll be on the train for just under an hour and a half, and on the stagecoach for about four hours. You should be there around suppertime.”
“Then I guess we’d better get a bite to eat before we leave.”
“And we can take care of that, too. Just step around the corner to the Pacific Grotto. They sell box lunches that are right good.”
“Thank you.”
Christian bought two boxes, one with potted ham and the other with potted chicken. In addition, there were several saltines, some locally grown pears, and a small spice cake.
“This may take a while,” Christian said as he sat down beside Phoebe. “Ham or chicken?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Then I’ll take the ham.”
“Sir, I heard you say you’re going to the hot springs,” a gentleman said as he approached them.
“We’re going; that is, if we get there today,” Christian said.
“You will be back by November sixth, won’t you? I’d like to ask you for your vote.”
“I’d love to vote, period,” Phoebe said. “I don’t understand why Arizona isn’t a state yet.”
“And that is one of the main reasons I want to be elected as a territorial delegate to Congress. I’m Governor N. O. Murphy, but my friends call me Oakes. And you, sir, may I count on your vote?”
“I can’t vote for you either,” Christian said.
“You’re a Smith man? Let me tell you why I’m the best person to go to Congress. You know Arizona needs this water project to go through. If I’m elected, I can guarantee that the National Irrigation Congress will find in our favor.”
“Well, then the Salt River Committee doesn’t need me.”
“Wait a minute, who are you? Are you that foreigner from South Africa? The one Ben Fowler hired?”
“I am.”
“Whatever it is you do, I hope you can get the job done. This valley needs water. Now, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Christian De Wet.” Christian extended his hand to Governor Murphy.
“De Wet? Are you against the British?” Murphy screwed up his eyes as he scrutinized Christian.
“I can’t say that I am.”
The governor moved a rock that held down several copies of the Arizona Republican. He picked up a paper and handed it to Phoebe. “Front page, four columns over. Can you read that headline? ‘Drubbed De Wet.’ If your friend’s a Boer, he’d better think about going back where he came from.” The governor turned and began addressing another person who was coming into the depot.