by Kay Stuart
“Then perhaps I shall seek a career. Not on the stage,” Faith replied remembering the horror her father displayed when Elizabeth had mentioned acting on stage. Her younger sister had been downtown when the stagecoach arrived carrying the new actress the saloonkeeper had hired. The woman had appeared glamorously clad in bright red silks and white fox furs. Elizabeth had been impressed with the woman. “Everyone knows the term hypocrite comes from the Greek word for actor. The Bible says we are not to be hypocrites,” Faith continued. “Perhaps I shall open a shop. I understand it is quite acceptable for a woman to be in the retail business.”
Sputtering Reverend Gaines gasp for air. “Faith,” he said in a tone of voice revealing just how scandalized he felt by his daughter’s remarks. He threw down his napkin and stood. His boney face registered shock. “What has gotten into you,” he demanded.
“I love you dearly,” Faith declared. Standing, she straightened her father’s suit coat and rearranged his tie. Reverend Gaines was not a tidy man. His wife and daughters did their best to look after him. The man was scholarly and intelligent but not worldly. Though she had tried her best, Faith knew her father would never understand her objections to Mr. Cook as a husband.
“You mean what you say,” Reverend Gaines replied. “That is what you are telling me in your flippant way. I understand more than you think.”
“I wasn’t trying to be flippant,” Faith said. Her eyes held a world of hurt at her father’s criticism. “Mr. Cook is conceited and arrogant. He treats people with total disregard. I could never love a man like that. So I will not marry him.”
“Perhaps you are right. Your mother said pretty much the same thing about the man. I am only thinking of your future. I must say Mr. Cook talks a good talk. He is offering you a big house with servants and the privilege of never wanting for the finer things in life. All the things I could not provide your mother.”
“Mother does not want them and neither do I,” Faith declared.
“Still,” there was uncertainty in Reverend Gaines’ voice. He was reluctant to forfeit his dreams for his eldest daughter and Faith heard his reluctance. She kissed one boney cheek before pressing her cheek against his chest.
“I want to be happy with the man I marry. As happy as you and mother are,” Faith said soberly. “Money won’t buy that only a deep regard for each other can.”
“You are using your mother’s logic against me,” Reverend Gaines accused and knew it was time to accept Faith’s decision.
“Naturally, I am her daughter,” Faith replied impishly. “Do you need my help this morning,” she asked. She often went with her father when he visited those among his congregation that was ill or confined indoors.
“I am going to see the Holts this morning.” her father stopped speaking and shook his head sadly. The Holts were a poor family living on the edge of Junction City. There were thirteen children and a wife that was sickly. Reverend Gaines patted his daughter’s cheek. “I don’t want you involved,” he declared. “There is not an easy situation. I fear for the children if their mother dies. It is not easy for a father to raise children.”
“It is a pity the older children are all boys,” Faith admitted. “Girls are much better at raising younger brothers and sisters. But perhaps we are worrying needlessly. Mrs. Holt has been ill before and recovered.”
“That is what I pray for,” Reverend Gaines replied simply. “The doctor is concerned. Illness can spread like a prairie fire through a community.”
“Is it that kind of illness,” Faith asked concerned for her father’s health.
“We do not know yet. I must go and offer what comfort I can. At times like these I feel totally inadequate,” Reverend Gaines admitted. “There is so much we do not understand about what happens around us. The why of suffering.” He sighed looking lost for a brief moment and Faith wanted to comfort him. She placed her hand on her father’s arm and laid one cheek against his shoulder. “Thank you,” Reverend Gaines said. New strength was in his voice. The shadow of sadness was gone from his eyes. “You are a comfort,” he said. “That is when you are not being impossible,” he added whimsically. A smile brightened his eyes.
“Goodbye Father,” Faith said.
Faith cleared the dining table of dishes. The kitchen was warm from the hot cook stove when she entered. She cooked an egg and sliced bread off a loaf and toasted the bread on a hot griddle. Then Faith washed dishes and cleaned the kitchen.
Monday was the busiest day of the week. The family’s clothes were washed and hung outside to dry. With five girls there were mounds of muslin underclothes. Night gowns and camisoles, petticoats and slips and the bands young women wore to flatten their breast and corsets to narrow their waist.
Mary Gaines was on the back porch leaning over a washboard placed in a tub of hot sudsy water when Faith opened the backdoor. “Has your father left,” she asked.
“I do believe so,” Faith replied. “I think he has accepted the fact I won’t be marrying Mr. Cook,” she stated hopefully. Understanding her father could be uncertain at times.
“He will try to persuade you again,” Mary Gaines cautioned knowing her husband’s moods after twenty four years of marriage.
Faith did not know what to say. She hoped the matter was closed. Her mother’s words reminding her that the end might not be yet at hand. Her father was not easily dissuaded when he felt he was right. “Father went to visit the Holts this morning,” she chose to say. “He insisted I not go along with him. The Doctor is seeing to Mrs. Holt. Her condition might be serious this time.”
“A sad matter,” Mary stated. “I don’t see what good Philip can do. But he insists he must give comfort to those in need. I do worry sometimes. Your father is no longer a young man. I sometimes wonder if Philip was ever young. He was always so serious.” There was no criticism in Mary’s voice. She dearly loved the man she had married.
Faith plunged her hands into the tub of hot rinse water and caught hold of a white petticoat. She dunked the garment several times. Wringing out water she tossed the clean petticoat into a waiting basket.
Valerie came though the backdoor a willow basket resting against one hip. She was wearing a warm overcoat with a headscarf tied over her honey gold hair. Her cheeks were rosy. “It is getting colder,” she announced. “I do believe winter has arrived.”
“So soon,” Mary replied glancing her daughter’s way. “It was warm last week. I haven’t had time to pick all the apples off the apple tree.”
“I will help Elizabeth and Lydia do it after school,” Valerie volunteered. “No use letting the apples go to waste.” She picked up the basket Faith was filling with wet clothes.
“Wait,” Faith called. “I have only a few more to do then you won’t have to make another trip.”
Valerie opened the backdoor and stepped inside the kitchen to warm up. She held her damp hands over the warm cook stove to dry. Washday was never pleasant during the cold winter months.
Someone knocked on the front door and Valerie hurried to answer the door. A young girl was standing on the front steps. Valerie wrinkled up her nose when the wind blew pass the girl and into the house. “Yes,” Valerie said. “May I help you?”
“Does God’s man live here,” the young girl asked. “They said this is where I can find him.”
“Yes,” Valerie replied. “I am afraid Father is not home at the moment.”
The girl sniffed back tears. Her clothes were soiled. Her face was dirty. Her blue eyes panicked at Valerie’s words. “I must have God’s man,” she whispered. “I need him.”
“Perhaps I can help,” Valerie suggested. “What is wrong?”
The girl wrung her dirty hands together. “Oh. Oh.” She hopped from one foot to the other. “They done shot him,” she announced between tears. “They done shot Pa and I got to find God’s man,” she wailed. “I need him right away.”
“Where do you live,” Valerie asked.
“In a wagon,” the girl replied before
she turned and pointed to the west side of town. “We got to town yesterday and they shot Pa.”
“Don’t worry,” Valerie replied calmly. “Come inside while I tell Mother. I am sure we can do something to help.”
The girl sniffed and wiped at her tears leaving dirty streaks across her face.
“Mother,” Valerie called. “We are needed,” she added. With one hand against the child’s back she ushered her through the kitchen and onto the back porch.
“What,” Mary asked. The girl standing beside her daughter looked frightened.
“I believe we are needed by this girl,” Valerie replied. “As I understand it, her father has been shot and is asking for Father.”
“Oh my,” Mary said wiping her hands on the big apron she wore over her dress.
“You got to hurry,” the child implored. “Pa’s got blood all over him. He wants God’s man before he dies. He needs to tell him all the bad things he has done so he can go to heaven and be with Ma.” The girl was crying earnestly.
“We will come,” Mary said untying her apron. “Faith I want you to find . . .,” Mary stopped speaking and looked at the girl. “Amos Walden, do you understand,” she asked.
“Yes mother.”
“Valerie and I will see what can be done. Valerie, get the black bag out of your Father’s office. There are bandages and.” Valerie had hurried into the house before Mary could finish speaking.
The wash tubs were left standing as the three women hurried from the house. The girl had stopped crying and ran ahead of Mary Gaines and her daughter. Faith headed downtown to the sheriff’s office. Remembering only when she stood in front of the square brick building that she did not know where to take the sheriff.
Sheriff Walden was seated behind his desk and rose suddenly when Faith opened the door. Miss Gaines wore a white apron over her dress. Her head was bare. She was in a flap. “Oh how silly of me,” were the first words out of Miss Gaines’ mouth.
“Yes,” Sheriff Walden inquired then flush red when he realized his mistake. “You want something,” he asked.
Faith stared at Sheriff Walden a look of surprise widening her eyes. She pulled her lips into a tight smile. Her dignity was ruffled. For a moment she thought the man was agreeing with her stupid remark. Of course he was not. He only wanted to know why she was in his office. “A young girl arrived at our home. She says her father has been shot,” Faith took a deep breath before continuing. “Mother sent me to find you. Only I forgot to ask the girl where she lived.”
“I take it you did not know the child,” Amos Walden asked. He always forgot how really beautiful the Gaines sisters were until he was face to face with one of them. He shook his head trying to refocus his attention and wondered how many other men felt the way he did.
“No Sir,” Faith replied breathlessly still irritated over her lapse of commonsense. The child had been truly upset but that was no excuse.
“There’s a man and girl living in a wagon down by the old Spanish Well,” Walden stated reaching for his hat. “We will try there first. I’ll get my horse.”
Sheriff Walden held the front door open for Faith then she followed him around back of the jail to a corral. A big black horse trotted to the fence and stuck his head over the top rail. “Do you really need your horse,” Faith asked.
Walden stopped in the process of lifting his saddle. Miss Gaines was right. It would look silly him riding his horse while she walked beside him. He had not been thinking straight. He put his saddle back into the shed.
The quickest way to the old Spanish Well was through the back streets on the west side of Junction City. A place where ladies did not visit. Walden hurried down the boardwalk lined with shady businesses his hand under Miss Gaines’ arm.
Faith looked with interest at the business establishments. Some displayed intriguing names. Bird Cage? Now, why would a business want to be called by such an unusual name. While she peeked over the swinging lattice doors a scantly dressed woman stepped through the door and onto the boardwalk. Faith blinked then opened her eyes wide. “Sheriff Walden,” she whispered leaning towards the man. “Do all the women down here dress so outrageously.” She stumbled on a crooked board in the sidewalk and would have fallen except for the Sheriff’s hold on her arm.
Amos Walden felt heat burn his face. This was not a place to take a young woman especially a Minister’s daughter. Miss Gaines looked curiously at him when he did not answer her.
“Oh,” Faith exclaimed. “Never mind,” she said while color reddened her face. She bowed her head and watched where she was stepping. Fascination with her surroundings dieing a sudden death. She knew . . . well had heard about the things that went on west of Main Street.
The Spanish Well was one of the oldest landmarks around Junction City. Dug sometime in the distant past and circled by a wall of stones. Nearby in the shade of cottonwood trees stood a lone wagon. The canvas top was old and gray. The wooden bed chipped and splintered. The young girl sat on the open tailgate swinging her bare feet. When she saw Faith she jumped down. A look of relief brightened her features until she noticed the star pinned on the front of Sheriff Walden’s vest. She dashed behind the side of the wagon and peeked out at them.
“It is alright,” Faith said. “Sheriff Walden is here to help.” The girl shook her head no. Never in the past had a sheriff shown anything but contempt for her and pa. She was not about to trust this one. “Go on inside,” Faith told Sheriff Walden, “I will look after her.”
The wagon squeaked under Walden’s weight. Mrs. Gaines was seated on an upturned crate next to a cot. With a damp cloth she was cleaning a man’s wound. “Sheriff Walden,” she greeted.
The man struggled to raise his head. Though his voice was little more than a whisper he shouted, “Get out.”
“Lay back,” Mary ordered. “You don’t want to do more harm. A man has only so much blood and you are losing yours fast enough as it is.”
The man scowled at Sheriff Walden. “When is God’s man going to get here,” he demanded before coughing. Red foam appeared at the corners of his mouth.
“I sent Valerie to fetch him,” Mary explained patiently.
“I ain’t got long. I need to confess by sins,” the man whispered hoarsely. “I promised my Mary Sue I’d not die without first confessing all the wickedness I’ve done.”
Mary pressed the cloth against the bullet hole in the man’s chest in an effort to stem the flow of blood. Her effort was useless. The man was dieing and knew it. “You can tell your confession to me,” she said. “I have listened to more than a few confessions over the years.”
“No ma’am,” the man whispered weakly. “What I’ve got to say ain’t fitting for a woman’s ears.” The skin on his face was turning gray. His breathing labored.
“You whisper what needs to be said and I will pray for you,” Mary answered. She was a practical woman. “God will hear your words even if I can’t. I will ask him to listen and forgive your sins.”
This seemed to pacify the dieing man. His lips moved as he mumbled all the wrongs he had committed. Mary Gaines prayed while she attended to his wounds. Sheriff Walden looked on while he knew he should be asking questions. The man was dieing and he was not gathering the information needed to find those responsible for his death.
Chapter Ten
Taking hold of the girl’s hand Faith walked away from the wagon. “Pa says I’m not to go very far,” the child said. She glanced over her shoulder at the wagon. The breeze was blowing against the side of the canvas making the wagon rock on its wheels.
“What is your name,” Faith asked. She leaned over the top row of stones and looked into the black hole known as Spanish Well.
“Laurie,” the girl replied shyly. “What is yours,” she asked in return. She liked the gentle way Faith talked and the warmth in her brown eyes. Being knocked around all her life by strangers Laurie was reluctant to trust Faith.
“Faith,” Faith replied. “How long have you lived in Junct
ion City?”
Stretching up on her tiptoes the girl leaned over the stone bench and looked into the well. Her head inches away from Faith’s. “Two days I think,” Laurie replied. “They didn’t want us in the last town. The sheriff told us to leave.” Faith turned and sat down on the row stones that formed a bench around the Well. Laurie sat down beside her. “Nowhere wants us,” the girl explained. “The other towns we were in were the same. The sheriff came round and told us to move on.”
Faith took the girl’s hand in hers. It had been a sad little speech full of hurt and confusion. “You hungry,” Faith asked hoping to distract Laurie from what was happening inside the wagon.
Laurie bobbed her head yes.
“Let’s go to my house and I will cook us something,” Faith suggested.
“I ought not to leave Pa,” Laurie explained. “He ain’t got no one to look after him.”
“Mother will do all she can to care for your Pa,” Faith replied. “Besides, I am hungry. It is almost dinnertime. You don’t want your Pa to worry that you are not eating. My father worries when my sisters and I don’t eat.”
“He does,” Laurie asked, bewildered. “But you’re big.”
“Big or little, Fathers worry about their daughters,” Faith replied.
“Can I see Pa first,” Laurie asked.
“I will ask Mother,” Faith answered. They walked back to the wagon and stopped near the tailgate. “Mother,” Faith called. “Laurie wants to see her father. Is it alright?”
Sheriff Walden came out of the wagon and stepped to the ground. His eyes were serious looking and his face grim. He took off his hat and held it between his hands in front of his chest. “Miss Gaines,” he said. Just Faith’s name yet she knew Laurie’s father was dead.
“I will take Laurie home and cook dinner. Will you come with us,” Faith asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Sheriff Walden replied. He stared at Faith a brief moment. Shaking his head at the renewed effect she was having on him. Women should not be so stunningly beautiful. If not a crime surely it was a sin.