THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  “Yes, ma’am, she’s about the size of this young lady.”

  Anne delved into the trunk and brought out the gown Elise had mentioned.

  “I could picture her in a dress like that.”

  “Are they wearing hoop petticoats in Boston?” Elise asked.

  The young man’s face went scarlet. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “It’s the height of fashion in London.”

  Five minutes later, the man carried Anne’s gown and crinoline to his wagon, and she tucked the money he’d parted with into her reticule.

  “I’m not used to the mathematics of the currency yet,” Anne said, “but I don’t think we got a quarter of what that gown cost new.”

  Elise smiled serenely. “You didn’t, but you got some good wear out of it, and it’s for a good cause. You know Mr. Bentley won’t let us start out with an overloaded wagon.”

  “True. And we might need the money desperately before our journey is done.”

  “Let us give thanks,” Elise said.

  When Rebecca Harkness and her daughters returned, Lavinia carried a small bundle wrapped in brown paper.

  “Sold anything?” she asked.

  “One gown,” Anne said.

  Lavinia shrugged. “Better than nothing.”

  “Here comes Wilbur,” her mother said. “Are you ladies ready to go back to the field?”

  Elise looked at Anne. “It’s getting late.”

  Anne glanced anxiously toward the door of the general store. “Yes, and we hoped to have time to buy some suitable ready-made travel dresses to replace these. Perhaps we should ask the store owner again if he’d take the rest of the gowns…for a very small price.”

  “I saw a dressmaker’s sign down the street,” Lavinia said.

  Elise looked where she pointed. “That’s a thought. She may have customers who would buy our things.”

  “If you ladies want to go talk to her, I’ll tell Wilbur,” Rebecca said. “We can wait a few minutes.”

  “I’ll show you where it is,” Lavinia offered.

  Elise smiled at Anne. “Why don’t you stay here with Mrs. Harkness and Abby. I’ll go with Lavinia and see if I can convince the seamstress to come look at the dresses.”

  “Maybe Miss Anne would like to go into the general store and look over the dresses they’ve got,” Rebecca said. “If you’re getting rid of your finery, you’ll want something plain to wear on the trail.”

  Anne looked relieved. “I could go in and see what’s available.”

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Elise said.

  “Yes, and with Rebecca here to advise me, I’m sure I wouldn’t purchase the wrong thing.”

  Mrs. Harkness’s tanned face split in a big smile at Anne’s expression of trust.

  Lavinia led Elise down the street to a house with a modest sign out front. They found the gray-haired seamstress in the front room, where she apparently did most of her work. A rocking chair sat by the window with a work basket nearby, and a low table covered with folded lengths of fabric and pattern pieces cut from newspapers.

  “Don’t know if I can use any ready-mades.” She peered at Elise and Lavinia through small, oval spectacles.

  Before Elise could speak, Lavinia jumped in. “Oh ma’am, you’ve got to see them. These aren’t any common dresses. They’re beautiful ball gowns. Some famous tailor in England made ’em.”

  “Seamstress,” Elise said gently. “But yes, we have a satin ball gown, and a couple of day dresses that any lady would be proud to wear to church, or to a wedding, or some other event. They’re extremely well made. We wouldn’t be selling them, except that my friend and I are heading for Oregon, and the wagon master says we must reduce our load before we set out.”

  “Hmm.” The woman frowned. “I guess I can look ’em over. Can you bring ’em here? I’ve got a customer coming for a fitting any minute.”

  “Oh, well—”

  “Of course we can,” Lavinia said.

  Elise arched her eyebrows.

  “I’ll make my brother drive the wagon down here with the trunk in it.”

  “All right, just be quick.” The seamstress all but pushed them out the door.

  They bustled down the sidewalk to the general store. Rebecca was unsuccessfully declaring the merits of Elise’s promenade dress to two women who shook their heads and walked away as Lavinia and Elise approached.

  “Pack them in the trunk, Ma,” Lavinia called. “Wilbur, load it in the wagon. If we take these things to the seamstress’s door, I think she’ll buy them.”

  “Abigail, quick,” Rebecca told her younger daughter. “Run into the store and tell Miss Anne.” She and Elise hastily folded the gowns into the chest and closed it.

  A moment later, as Wilbur tugged the trunk toward the rear of the wagon, Anne emerged from the store with an armful of calico. She lifted a questioning gaze to Elise.

  “Don’t count your shillings yet,” Elise said, “but it’s a possibility the seamstress with oblige us.”

  Wilbur called, “Come on, Liv, get on the other end.”

  Lavinia took one handle and helped Wilbur hoist it onto the wagon bed. A few minutes later, Elise knocked again on the seamstress’s door.

  “My customer is here.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I told her I had someone bringing a few things to sell, and she said she’d wait. Bring them in. It’s possible she might be interested in something.”

  Elise hurried back to the wagon, where Wilbur had already set the trunk onto the sidewalk.

  “We’re to take them in. Shall I help?”

  Wilbur shook his head. “I think I can get it, if you hold the door.”

  Anne hopped out of the wagon and followed him up the steps. He set the trunk down just inside the threshold. “I’ll wait for you.”

  Elise nodded and turned toward the seamstress. Anne closed the door discreetly behind them.

  “Well, let’s see what you got,” the woman said.

  Anne bent to undo the hasp. Elise glanced beyond the mistress of the house, curious about the customer who might buy the dresses. At once she averted her gaze. The woman standing in the far corner wore an extremely short red dress with a neckline cut so low Elise felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She was thankful that Wilbur had not ventured farther into the room. She helped Anne take out her satin ball gown first.

  The seamstress bent close and fingered the material. “Hmm. Let me examine the stitching.”

  Elise helped her carry the mound of slippery material over to the window. The seamstress sat down and adjusted her spectacles. She proceeded to turn the bodice inside out and peer at the seams. She let go and pulled up the skirt until she found the hem and turned it for a critical look.

  The woman in the corner stepped forward. “Now, that looks like high-toned cloth, don’t it?”

  Elise had to force herself to keep from staring at the customer’s heavily powdered and rouged face. She looked over at Anne, but her mistress was delving into the trunk for another dress.

  “I don’t mean to hurry you, ma’am,” Anne said, “but our driver is waiting. This lovely promenade gown belongs to Miss Finster, so it’s a little longer than the others. It’s a fine silk and woolen blend. I recollect her wearing it when we attended the Great Exhibition in London.”

  The seamstress grunted, but the other woman hung on Anne’s every word, her lips parted and her eyes round.

  “It were something special?”

  “Oh yes,” Anne said. “The Crystal Palace was a wonder on its own, but the exhibits and vendors from all around the world—it was truly amazing.”

  The woman sighed.

  “And this was one of my day dresses.” Anne pulled out their final offering. The customer’s eyes gleamed when she saw the rich plum-colored fabric and silver braid.

  “How much you want for these?” the seamstress asked.

  Elise named a rather high price, she thought, in American dollars.

  The seamstress
scowled. “That’s too much.”

  “Take them,” said the customer. “Take them all, if you think you can let out that satin enough to fit me. In fact, if you can’t, that’s all right. I’m sure it would fit Velvet. She’s scrawny as a stray cat.” She stepped forward and touched the plum dress. “You’ll have to alter this one, but I expect you won’t have any trouble taking out a bit around the neck.”

  Anne gulped and turned a helpless expression Elise’s way.

  Elise reached out and patted her shoulder. “We are agreed, then.”

  The seamstress got up, still scowling, and folded the dress she held back into the trunk.

  “And did you want the trunk as well?” Elise dared to ask.

  The old woman squinted at her. “How much?”

  Anne said, “Two dollars.”

  Muttering, the seamstress hobbled out of the room.

  “It is a lot for the dresses,” the customer said, “but I’m sure you ladies wouldn’t cheat that old woman.”

  Anne’s face flushed at the very suggestion.

  “Certainly not,” Elise said. “The price we’re asking isn’t half what Miss Stone paid in England.”

  “Yes, I can see it’s all quality goods.”

  The seamstress came back and handed Elise a gold coin and several paper bills. “There. That’ll buy you some cornmeal and bacon.”

  “Do you have any more?” the customer asked.

  “Uh…nothing else for sale.” Elise glanced at Anne, who shook her head vigorously.

  They thanked the women and hurried outside. The sun had set, and the air was noticeably cooler.

  “Well, now. Success?” Rebecca asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” Elise said. “And thank you, Wilbur, for waiting.” She climbed into the back of the wagon with a little help from Lavinia. They each tugged at one of Anne’s arms and got her up with them.

  “There be a rug or two back there,” Rebecca called from the seat beside her son as he flicked the reins and signaled the mules to move out.

  “Elise,” Anne whispered as Lavinia unfolded the thick wool blankets for them. “That woman…”

  “Yes?”

  “Was she…an actress?”

  “Best not to ask, I felt. After all, does it really matter who wears our dresses?”

  “Last chance to go to church for a long time, ladies.” Wilbur Harkness grinned at them. “We’ve got room in the wagon for you—just.”

  Anne looked at Elise with longing. “I know God will go with us, but I shall miss being able to attend worship.”

  “Of course we’ll go,” Elise said.

  That morning they’d donned their new calico dresses. The light material swirled about their legs. It felt odd, with only one petticoat and a pair of pantalets beneath it. Rebecca had warned them that the thin cotton wouldn’t be enough to shield them from the sun in midsummer, but for now Elise reveled in the ease of movement the light garments gave her.

  “Should we wear these dresses?” she asked Anne when Wilbur had left.

  “I hardly think so.” Anne’s face looked pained. “Last week we attended services at the Episcopal church, and I didn’t think our costumes were out of place.”

  “That is true.” Elise reached for her satchel.

  The Harkness family planned to attend the Methodist church, but Wilbur assured them that they could drop the ladies in front of the towering Episcopal building. As they left the field that now bulged with canvas-topped wagons, Elise spotted Eb Bentley saddling his horse. He looked a bit more dapper than usual, and she wondered if he was also headed into town to worship.

  At noon, as the Episcopal church’s bells rang the end of services, the two ladies emerged and stood on the sidewalk while the congregants dispersed.

  “Wilbur said it will probably be twenty minutes or so,” Elise said.

  “Yes. I’m glad it’s not so cold today.”

  Elise reached over and adjusted the soft muffler Lady Anne had tucked about her neck. She mustn’t allow her mistress to become ill now. Taking care of Anne on the ship or in a hotel had been difficult enough, but she couldn’t ask her to endure sickness in the discomfort of a covered wagon.

  At last the Harkness family arrived. Wilbur and his father hopped down and assisted the ladies into the wagon. Even though they’d given up the broadest of their fashionable skirts, the women’s dresses took up a large share of the wagon bed. The younger children crowded against the sideboards to give them space.

  Mr. Harkness drove them down one of the less desirable streets of Independence, in a direct line toward the rendezvous field. To Elise’s horror, the saloons that had been quiet when they arrived that morning were now open, and a few men drifted toward their doors.

  Anne caught her eye and made a face. “It’s Sunday,” she hissed.

  Elise nodded. Unthinkable—and yet, there it was. Apparently a large contingent of Americans did not observe the Lord’s Day.

  The door of a rundown establishment opened wide as they passed, and a woman minced out onto the boardwalk before it. Elise sucked in a breath. The dress the woman wore was of the same deep gold satin as Anne’s ball gown—the one they’d sold yesterday. But the neckline of this dress plunged indecently, and the skirt was caught up with rosettes, exposing the woman’s lower limbs and the edge of a black net petticoat.

  Elise looked over at her companion. Anne’s face had gone a stark white. She stared at the woman until they reached the corner and Mr. Harkness drove the wagon into another street.

  Anne turned around slowly and sank down into a heap.

  “Are you all right?” Elise whispered.

  Anne nodded, but her breathing was shallow, and she closed her eyes.

  A few minutes later, after they’d entered a more respectable neighborhood, Elise realized they were drawing near the hotel where they’d stayed on their arrival in Independence. “Perhaps we could stay in town tonight,” she said softly. “You could sleep in a real bed one last time.” And have less chance of becoming ill on the eve of our journey, she thought.

  Anne obviously wavered at the suggestion. The whole scheme of toughening up for the trip had worked to a point; they now knew better what to expect in their daily routine and the hardships of keeping food prepared and their clothing cared for. But roughing it might be better faced tomorrow morning if they’d had a good night’s sleep.

  “We might even get a hot bath,” Elise said.

  Anne smiled. “I suppose so. We’d have to rise terribly early to get to the field on time though.”

  Elise didn’t bother to debate that. She called to Mr. Harkness, “Would you mind stopping at the hotel up ahead? I’d like to see if Miss Stone and I could stay there tonight.”

  “Oh, you’d miss the forming of the train,” Rebecca said with a frown.

  “I think we could rise early enough,” Elise said. “Our hired man could hitch the team and get it into line for us.”

  Mr. Harkness pulled his wagon up before the hotel, and Elise climbed down and hurried inside. Knots of people, mostly men, stood about talking to each other. She excused herself repeatedly until they cleared a path for her. Again she was struck by how primitive the establishment was. Why exactly did she think this would be more comfortable than their bedrolls in the tent at the field? And there seemed to be far more patrons now than there had been a few days ago.

  The landlord came from another room with an armful of blankets.

  “Mr. Lewis,” Elise called. “Would you have a room for Miss Stone and me tonight?”

  “Oh Miss Finster. I’m sorry. You two were very nice customers, but, ma’am, we’re full to bursting. Folks have started cramming into town for the emigrant trains. I reckon yours will be the first out, but I’ve got at least four people in every room right now, and gents sleeping on the floor down here.”

  Elise turned away disappointed yet with a sense of rightness. This is Your will, Lord, she prayed. Thank You for giving us this clear direction. We’ll stay wit
h the wagon tonight.

  “Oh ma’am,” Lewis called before she could reach the door.

  Elise paused and looked back. “Yes?”

  “You might want to meet this gentleman.” He gestured toward a tall, shaggy-looking man coming down the stairs. “Mr. Hoyle is the captain of a train leaving next week. I know you like to talk to everyone you can who’s been out West, about that fella you’re looking for.”

  “Why yes. Thank you.”

  The man had heard the landlord’s comment and eyed Elise curiously as he finished his descent. He walked over to her and bowed his head slightly.

  “Ma’am. I’m Ted Hoyle. Can I help you?” His gaze roved briefly over her, and Elise guessed he was weighing her station, income, age, and stamina.

  “I’m searching for a man I believe may have gone west a few years ago—David Stone. He formerly resided in St. Louis, and he then came here. We’ve lost track of him, and his family in England would like very much to locate Mr. Stone.”

  “Stone, eh?” Hoyle rubbed his bristly jaw. “Sure, I remember him.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Elise’s heart raced, and she felt a little giddy. “You say you knew Mr. Stone?”

  “There was a man a few years back,” Ted Hoyle said. “An Englishman, that is. He took three wagons. Said he was going to open a haberdashery.”

  Elise caught her breath. “Are you sure it was David Stone?”

  “I think that was his name. Let’s see, it would have been ‘51…no, ‘50. That’s it. The spring of 1850. He joined my outfit for California.”

  “California?” Elise let that sink in. “Then we’re joining the wrong expedition.”

  “Where you headed?” Hoyle’s brow furrowed as he again eyed the gown, hat, and coat she’d worn to church.

  “Oregon.”

  “Well then, you’re headed to the right place. See, the trails are the same for a while. A good while. And besides, unless I’m mistaken, that fella didn’t go all the way to the coast with me.”

  “He didn’t? What happened?”

  “Changed his mind somewhere along the way. Split off when we got to the cutoff and went with another train headed for Oregon.” Hoyle rubbed his chin again as if that would improve his memory. “Yes, I’m sure that’s what he did. I talked to him a few times while we were crossing the plains. Said he’d tried farming for a while, but he wasn’t very good at it. I guess he’d had a store before that—”