by Lena Hart
“You care very much for her.”
Gracie smiled softly, hearing the mild curiosity in his tone. “I’ve known her since I was a little girl,” she said, still rubbing the old woman’s arm. “She taught me how to read and write, which is a gift I could never repay.”
Mrs. Dobson had also helped her secure employment at the church to bring additional income into her family when her father had returned from the war a crippled, broken man. And when the opportunity to become the wife of a wealthy miner had come along, Mrs. Dobson had come to her and her family first, allowing them to secure their financial future.
“She may sometimes come across as a mean old dragon, but she really is a good woman.”
The corner of Logan’s lips quirked up, and Gracie found the small act charming.
“I’ve always had a weakness for fiery old women,” he teased. Then he turned to her, his eyes probing. She returned her attention to Mrs. Dobson before her mind started imagining things that weren’t there.
“And how are you feeling? You and Madeline have been quiet during the trip.”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Physically she was, but emotionally… It was as if the farther away they pulled from New York, the harder it was to keep her misery and anxiety at bay, forcing her to draw deeper within herself. Though she did not like to see Mrs. Dobson suffering so, this had been a much-needed distraction.
“Mr. Finley, I—we never got to formally thank you for helping Mrs. Dobson get here.” He inclined his head, and Gracie added, “I’m sure if she was awake, she would express her utmost gratitude.”
“Am awake.”
She and Logan started at the low croak that came from the bed. Mrs. Dobson’s sunken eyes were opened in thin slits, but were as watchful as ever.
“How are you feeling, ma’am?” Gracie asked.
“Thirsty.”
Gracie sprang from her seat. “I’ll go find you some water.” At this rate, she didn’t expect Madeline to come back with the water. She knew the girl was experiencing the same fears and anxieties she was and wondered if Madeline had forgotten her task.
Or maybe she had fallen ill.
The thought sprang into her head, and Gracie silently scolded herself for not thinking of that possibility sooner. After she made Mrs. Dobson comfortable, she would go searching for the other girl.
With a bowl of fresh water and sponge, Gracie hurried back to Mrs. Dobson’s side. Logan moved aside as she came forward to sponge water into the old woman’s mouth.
“Better?”
Mrs. Dobson nodded and turned her head away. “Where is Madeline?” she asked, her voice stronger.
“I sent her to fetch water a while ago,” Gracie said. “But I fear she may have fallen ill. I’ll ask around the hospital to see if anyone has seen her.”
“She may have headed back to the train station,” Logan said. “I overheard her asking one of the porters about your baggage.”
“Then I’ll check there as well.”
“Take Faith with you,” Mrs. Dobson said.
“Ma’am?” Gracie began. “Are you sure that’s necessary?”
“We’re in Chicago, dear. You can never be too careful.”
With a sigh of resignation, Gracie went through the old woman’s folded clothes and pulled out the small derringer. Though she knew how to handle it—another lesson Mrs. Dobson had seen to it that she acquired—Gracie preferred not to.
Gracie grabbed her handbag and slipped the small gun into it before stealing a glance over at Logan. There was an amused gleam in his molten brown eyes, and she couldn’t help but return his smile.
“You New York women are full of surprises,” he muttered.
“And we’re tough too,” Gracie teased.
His smile widened, and for a moment she was lost in the beauty of that small act. He was really quite handsome, something she had noticed since the day in the courtyard, but he was even more so when he smiled.
“Um, thank you again for all your help,” she quickly added, breaking the spell between her and the man who had been a comforting presence, though still very much a mystery. “If I don’t see you when I return, I’d like to wish you safe travels.”
He shook his head. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Miss Gracie. I’ll stay with Mrs. Dobson until you get back.”
Gracie inclined her head before she left, quietly relieved that this would not be the last time she would see him.
Logan followed Gracie until she disappeared through the doors, still thinking of the derringer in her handbag. He had certainly underestimated her—and the old woman.
“I’m a woman of faith, Mr. Finley, but I’m no fool. A woman should always be prepared to protect herself.”
Logan shook his head and took the seat beside her bed. “If I didn’t know better, Mrs. Dobson, I would swear you were reading my mind.”
She made a sound in her throat that resembled a strangled groan. “Well, I’m glad you do know better. Such witchcraft should not be joked about.”
“And how are you really feeling?”
“Like our Lord is calling for me sooner than I’d expected.”
Logan could only imagine the hell she was endearing. He had never been stricken with cholera, but he’d seen the effects of it enough to know it was a crippling pain. “Is there anything I can get you to ease your discomfort?”
She shook her head. “Dear Gracie was right. We are tough women.”
That, he no longer doubted. But there was only one in her group that he wished would relax enough around him to open up. He imagined his charm and politeness did little to impress Miss Gracie Shaw. She had kept her head buried in a book or newspaper while Madeline had been silent and withdrawn, leaving him to fill Mrs. Dobson’s need for conversation.
“I would, however, ask something else of you.”
“What is it?”
“Tell me who you really are.”
Logan stiffened in his seat. “I told you—”
“Yes, yes, but from that Southern charm, I know there’s more to your story than growing up in Mexico.”
“For someone barely in recovery, you’re quite astute.”
“It’s my body that’s ailing. Not my mind.”
Logan didn’t understand why the sudden interest, but with a small sigh, he told her a highly condensed version of his true upbringing.
“Why did your father wait until you were sixteen to fetch you?”
“You’re a smart woman, Mrs. Dobson. You can understand the delicate nature of a man siring a child outside of his marriage. When my father’s wife passed, he immediately made arrangements to bring me to Maryland.”
Since his father had never had any living children with his wife, the move had been a way to get Logan proper education so that he would take over his father’s lands. Logan didn’t hold any resentment toward his father for taking him from his mother. She had been well cared for before her passing several years ago, and Logan got the opportunity to gain a complete education. He had also gotten to know a man who may not have been a doting father but had been a good and honorable man.
“I imagined you fought in the war?”
“I did.”
He didn’t expand on it and she didn’t ask. She didn’t have to. The bloodiest war in the nation’s history had been well documented, and the lives lost during the four-year battle had been devastating on both sides. Win or lose, he was just glad it was over.
“At that age, I can’t imagine the adjustment had been easy for you,” Mrs. Dobson finally said, returning to their original discussion. “Being in a new country, learning a new language, and all.”
Logan shrugged. “It wasn’t. I’ve been called all kinds of names. Bastard, half-breed, you name it. But I’m a quick learner, and I learned to adapt. Eventually, things changed.”
“How so?”
“Evidently, Americans are more tolerant of a black Irishman than a Mexican immigrant.”
Despite his dark features, hi
s Irish descent had made him more acceptable to a group who had no sympathy for those they viewed as different. But his father had been a gainful man. More importantly, he’d been generous with his money. His father’s sizable donations around the community had allowed their neighbors to forgive Logan’s Mexican background. In the end, Logan had quickly learned English, and it hadn’t been long before he was speaking their language fluently.
“People started to see me as my father’s son, and eventually as one of them.”
She regarded him thoughtfully. “If you never told me about your Mexican heritage, I would have never guessed it. You’ve completely conformed to this new culture, and it doesn’t seem to bother you much.”
“It doesn’t because I know who I am.” And though it had taken some time, Logan had eventually learned to accept it. He had lived two separate lives, and there were times the two sides of him were at war with each other. He’d spent about half of his life in Maryland and considered himself a full American. But the part of him that he had succeeded in hiding away at times fought to be recognized.
“And that’s why I like you, Mr. Finley. You’re very sure of yourself, and the girls will need someone like you.”
Logan cocked a brow, confused. “Ma’am?”
“To see them to Montana.”
“And why would I be going to Montana?”
“Because, unfortunately, I won’t be. Those girls need someone strong and smart and with a moral compass to see them to their husbands, not some sick old woman who can barely stand upright.”
“You do understand my passage to Colorado is already bought and paid for? My train leaves early tomorrow morning.”
“The girls’ train also leaves early tomorrow morning. Their fiancés have arranged passage on a Pullman sleeper car for them, which will make travel for the three of you quite comfortable. And without the many stopovers, the trip should be rather quick.”
Logan shook his head in exasperation. She really was a stubborn one. “I can see to it that they arrive to their car on time tomorrow, and without incident, but beyond that I can’t go any further with them.”
To his amazement, Mrs. Dobson managed to further narrow her eyes at him. “Are you in such a hurry to get to your destination, Mr. Finley, that you can’t escort my girls to their fiancés?”
He wasn’t, but Logan also didn’t like the idea of spending more time with a woman he wanted just so he could bring her to another man.
A man who would have all the rights to do to her what Logan couldn’t stop thinking about.
“Mrs. Dobson—”
“Before you reject the offer,” she interrupted, “I can assure you that I will send telegrams to Mr. Robert Whitaker and his business partner, Mr. Walter Mercer. They will know of my condition and I will inform them that, with your assistance, they should expect the girls as scheduled. These men have made a fortune for themselves out there. I can’t see why they wouldn’t compensate you for your troubles.”
Logan thought about that. Not that he would expect compensation from these men, but the possibility was certainly a motivator and would especially come in handy when it came time to purchase equipment for his homestead land. Then again, the trip could prove to be a waste of his time if he walked away with nothing. “And what if these men aren’t feeling so generous?”
“Then you would have the satisfaction of knowing you did something good for two lovely ladies.” After a brief pause, Mrs. Dobson added, “Maryland was a slave state, Mr. Finley. Did you own slaves?”
He wondered at her sudden change of topic. “Yes.”
“How many?”
“Six.”
At the time of his arrival to his father’s tobacco farm fourteen years ago, there had only been three. Several had run off during his father’s absence. Another had been whipped to death by the overseer. The incident had enraged his father and resulted in the man’s dismissal. Over time, they had restored those that had been lost to them.
“Did you set your slaves free before the war?”
Logan slowly shook his head, trying not to let the disapproval in her tone elevate his guilt. At first, having slaves had been a jarring experience for him. Referring to people as possessions and having complete control over their well-being had been completely foreign to him. But over time, Logan had grown accustomed to it and the life he’d once known in Mexico had become a distant memory.
He had once believed that he had a good relationship with his slaves. That illusion had quickly faded, however, when they had fled from the plantation at the start of the conflict. And he couldn’t fault them. Benevolent or not, he had still been their master with complete control over their lives. What man wouldn’t run from that?
“Well, they are free now,” Mrs. Dobson said. “And you certainly paid the price for that. Now I ask that you find it in your heart to escort two beautiful Negro girls to their future homes. Like you and every other man, they are only fulfilling their duties as daughters to marry and raise families of their own. We both know how cruel this world can be, and I could never forgive myself if something were to happen to them before they could arrive to their betrotheds.”
Logan stared at the old woman, a bit amused by her cunning. Apparently Mrs. Dobson was not above manipulation. Unbeknownst to her, however, saddling him with guilt in order to see this done was not required. He knew in his heart he could never let two young women—Negro or otherwise—make the trip through the rough, rugged terrain alone.
“You, Mrs. Virginia Dobson, are one shrewd old woman.”
Her dry lips parted in a weak smile, and she even managed a small chuckle. “Not bad for a dragon, eh?”
Chapter Five
Finding Madeline was proving to be quite a chore.
The girl hadn’t been at the hospital, and it wasn’t until Gracie had given up her search around the train station that she spotted her. The train platform was the last place Gracie expected to find Madeline, yet there she stood, satchel in hand as if she were waiting for the next train.
“Madeline? What are you doing here? I’ve been looking all over for you. Where’s the rest of our luggage?”
The other woman’s dark eyes were wide with panic. “I…uh…was told it would be transferred to our sleeping car.”
Gracie frowned and stared pointedly at the bag clutched in her hands. “Then what are you doing here?”
Madeline fumbled with her words until she finally blurted, “Gracie, please don’t tell.”
Her frown deepened. “What…? What’s going on?”
Tears welled in Madeline’s eyes. “I can’t go through with this. I won’t.”
Gracie gaped at the other woman when it dawned on her what she was doing. “Madeline, you can’t just…run off. Where do you plan to go? What about Mr. Mercer? And Mrs. Dobson?”
“I’ll figure something out, but I can’t marry that man. Not when my heart still belongs to my Jimmy.”
Gracie could only imagine what the girl was feeling having lost the man that she loved, but what Madeline was considering was ludicrous. “Madeline, I can only imagine your pain, but you’re going to have to let it go. Jimmy is gone, but I’m sure he would want you to find someone else to love again. To be happy with.”
“That is why I have to go. I know I won’t be happy marrying some stranger and I can’t give myself to a man I don’t love.”
Gracie stared searchingly at the desperate woman then blew out a frustrated breath. What was she to tell Mrs. Dobson? Worse yet, what were they to tell the girl’s fiancé when they arrived in Montana? Though Gracie sympathized with her, she didn’t like the awkward position Madeline was now placing her in.
“Why did you agree to the contract? Why did you let it get this far?”
Madeline shrugged. “Because I was confused. Mrs. Dobson made it seem as if this was the best option for me, but I realize it’s not. There are women out there organizing now, demanding women’s rights, and I mean to join them.”
Gracie h
ad read about those organizations, and from what she gathered, many of those women were more interested in white women’s rights and were vocally against supporting the rights of blacks until their rights were recognized. As a Negro woman, Gracie couldn’t support a cause that would force her to choose when she and other black women would never truly be recognized or valued either way.
Yet she couldn’t fault Madeline for going after what she believed in. Maybe she would be the voice needed in these organizations to convince those women that independence for all was what should be fought for. Women and Negros alike.
“Please, Gracie. I don’t want to be trapped in a marriage I don’t want.”
Gracie didn’t want that either, but she had not been thinking of her wants when she’d agreed to this marriage, and she wouldn’t start now.
Madeline clutched her arm. “This is my chance to truly be free. Help me.”
Moved by the girl’s final plea, Gracie sighed in acquiescence. “All right, but promise you’ll write them as soon as you’re able. Mrs. Dobson is going to be worried sick when she finds you gone.”
Madeline visibly relaxed. “I promise. Just tell her I took a train back to New York, and once I’m settled, I’ll write to her and Mr. Mercer.”
Gracie stared at the other woman. She had a feeling returning to New York wasn’t the girl’s plan, but she didn’t ask. The less she knew, the less she would have to lie. Then, to Gracie’s surprise, Madeline gave her a quick hug.
“Thank you, Gracie. I pray you find your happiness out there.”
Gracie prayed for the same thing too, because in that moment, she envied the other woman.
She waited with Madeline and it wasn’t long before the last departing train arrived. A sinking feeling settled in Gracie’s gut as she watched Madeline board the train. The hollowness in her widened as the large wheels of the locomotive churned and rolled until it eventually pulled off.