“I never question Anne. I see the bruises and hope she’ll explain, but what could I do if she did? I’m not her guardian. The police won’t listen to me. Or her, for that matter.” Sarah sighed out her frustration. “Anne lives with a man she claims is her brother, but none of us believes that’s really the case. He’s a brick mason and a rough character. My hopes are that, once she takes up her position at the shop, she’ll save up enough money to leave him.”
“If he lets her.”
Sarah tugged her shawl tight. Maybe she was hoping for too much.
“Anne’s story is the worst, but all the girls have a sad tale to tell. Minnie’s family owns a grocery store and they treat her like a slave, working her all hours, threatening to marry her off to their drunk neighbor so they can buy up his building and expand their business. Only because I pay Minnie some money weekly do they let her attend art lessons. Cora is flighty and has already weathered a ruinous love affair. I hope to stop her from making that mistake again. She only has a father, and he can’t keep her in hand.” Sarah remembered the afternoon she’d found Cora, sobbing on a street corner, tossed out of her house and fearful she was pregnant. The latter condition hadn’t come to pass and the former had been rectified. For now. “Phoebe was desperately close to working the streets. Emma, whom you haven’t met, has never revealed but the barest scraps of her life. I don’t dare press.”
“It is commendable that you want to help them like you do,” he said, his tone reluctantly admiring, as if he questioned his own willingness to sacrifice as much. “But I still think you are gambling on those girls, Miss Whittier.”
“I’m not, because I don’t believe in taking gambles, Mr. Cady. I believe in myself and my abilities and my cause. Lottie would say it’s my calling from God.”
“And what do you say?”
Sarah stared into the distance. When she’d been little, she had loved to go to church with her mother, sing the songs, and listen to the sermons. She had felt God everywhere, in the music of her mother’s voice, in the twinkle of sunshine upon the farm’s stream, the scent of fresh bread from the oven, the warmth of a June sun, the sight of a daffodil-colored butterfly. But when the tornado struck and dashed everything to rubble, the farmhouse turned to a tumbled pile of rust-red bricks, the barn and coop vanished from the earth, all the chickens gone, she couldn’t feel Him anymore. Not without Mother singing to her. Not without little Jess’s laughter or Caleb’s silly jokes.
They had never found Jess’s body after the tornado. Alongside the casket holding Sarah’s brother, an empty one had been placed atop Mother’s as if a plain wood box were an adequate substitute for a little girl, an adequate vessel to contain all the grief pouring from Sarah’s heart.
And Sarah had been left clinging to Aunt Eugenie’s ice-cold hand. She didn’t feel God in her aunt’s touch. Sarah felt anger and disappointment. She never discovered whether Aunt Eugenie’s disappointment was aimed at Sarah or at Mother, a sister who had committed the almighty sin of pride to remain in Ohio after Father had died at Kennesaw Mountain, bent on running the farm on her own with only three young children to help.
It didn’t much matter which of them had disappointed Aunt Eugenie. Sarah had reaped all the consequences of her dissatisfaction in duplicate, and Sarah never attempted to feel or see God in anything anymore.
“I would say, Mr. Cady, that my need to help them is part of my being, as fundamental as the urge to breathe. Where that need comes from is beside the point.”
Daniel paused in the middle of the lawn. Beyond him, carriages rolled past, ladies holding tight to their hats, drivers beaming. In the distance, two children chased a squirrel up a tree. A world so pleasant and peaceful outside the turmoil in Sarah’s heart.
“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” he said.
“We have a truce requiring me not to mention your sisters.” And your vow, which is somehow more important than mine.
The edge of his jaw ticked. Amazingly, he didn’t take off his hat and crush its brim.
“For years my family has struggled to hold on to a semblance of respectability, Miss Whittier. I could beg my grandfather for a job in his company and probably grow pretty wealthy, but I don’t do well eating humble pie. Not when I have a chance to regain what Josiah took from us.” His gaze narrowed. “And if you’re waiting for me to forgive him for what he did, then you’re going to be waiting until kingdom come.”
Sarah’s face flamed hot as a coal stove. “Heaven forbid I should stand in the way of your getting every penny of your blessed money, Mr. Cady.”
“Sarah! Sarah!”
She turned toward the shouts. Lottie was running back up the hill toward them, skirts flying, parasol discarded. Sarah scanned the grounds beyond her. Where were the girls? No Cora, no Minnie. No Anne. Just Lottie, her face taut with alarm. Panic squeezed Sarah’s throat.
“Sarah, it’s Cora!” Lottie yelled. In her haste, she tripped and fell, her outstretched hands skidding across the grass.
“Lottie!” Sarah bundled her skirts and sprinted down the hill. She knelt at Lottie’s side. “Are you all right?” Lottie’s palms were bleeding through the torn lace of her gloves.
“It’s Cora, not me. Ouch!” Lottie struggled to sit upright. Daniel dropped to the ground and caught her shoulders, holding on to her. “Anne lost track of Cora and Minnie for a few minutes, and when she finally found Minnie . . .” Lottie swallowed. “Minnie thinks Cora has fallen into the pond.”
“She can’t swim!” Sarah gasped, ripping her skirt hem as she jumped up and began running toward the water.
Eleven
Sarah raced down the shallow rise that swept past a thicket of trees and bushes. Beyond lay the small pond. A duck squawked its upset as it flapped overhead, chased away by Minnie’s frantic screeches.
“Miss Sarah! I . . . I don’t know where she’s gone!” The sodden hem of her dress clung to her ankles. At some point, she’d waded into the water. “She was teasing about falling in. I didn’t believe she’d do it. I turned my back only a second!”
Sarah scanned the smooth water of the pond. Could Cora have vanished beneath its surface so quickly and leave not a trace?
“Did you hear a splash, in the one second you turned your back?”
Minnie’s cheeks turned red as radishes, and she rocked on her feet. “Um . . . maybe it was more than a second and maybe I was a bit too far away. I didn’t mean to be, Miss Sarah. But this gentleman came up and asked for directions—”
Tearing off her hat, Sarah dropped her shawl onto the ground. She reached beneath her skirt to untie her bustle and strip off her outer petticoat. Wet, they would weigh her down more than she could manage. She stepped out of them, a pile of metal caging and pristine white cotton on the sandy bank. Next, she pulled off her half boots. They were far too expensive to ruin with pond water.
Sarah waded into the water. She wasn’t prepared for the shock of the bone-numbing cold against her legs. Her skirts floated around her, dragging her back with their weight. She couldn’t see any movement in the pond, even as she trod nearer to the center, the water rising to her waist.
“Miss Sarah, you’ll drown too!” Minnie scurried back and forth along the bank.
Maybe over here, where the bank dropped precipitously, the rocks slick. That might be a place where someone could slip and fall in. Sarah struggled through the water, trying to peer through the murky depths, her stockinged feet slipping on moss-covered rocks. Wait. Was that a body drifting at the bottom? Or a shadow?
Suddenly, Cora splashed to the surface, her arms churning. She gasped for air. “Help!”
“Cora, I’m coming!”
Cora’s head disappeared beneath the water again, the water burbling in her wake. Sarah’s heart pounded furiously. Her legs, her feet were numb, but she pushed ahead. She wished she’d spent more time swimming, back in the stream at their farm in Ohio. She might be better prepared to do what needed to be done.
Heavenly Fat
her, help me.
She offered the prayer right before she felt her feet lose traction, her legs giving way beneath her, plunging her into the cold dark, water filling her nose and throat to choke her.
“What does she think she’s doing?” Daniel’s pulse raced as he skidded to a halt at Minnie’s side, sending gravel flying.
The girl’s hands clenched and unclenched. “She’s gone in for Cora, Mr. Cady!”
“Can she swim?” Daniel yanked off his coat and neckcloth as Sarah waded farther into the water.
“I don’t know, sir.”
He was bending down to remove his shoes when he saw Sarah stumble, her head plunging underwater. Daniel pushed past Minnie and dove into the pond.
The water hit his face and body like a sheet of ice, nearly stopping his heart. He fought not to gasp and inhale water. Stay calm.
“Sarah!”
Sarah’s head bobbed above the water, then her shoulders. Thank God. Thank God.
“I’m fine.” She sputtered, spit water. “But Cora! She’s out there.”
He waded up to her. Her skin was tinged with blue, and she shook so hard he feared she would collapse.
“I’ll get her.” Daniel reached for Sarah’s arm and jerked toward the shallows. When he felt her feet gain traction, he released her and shoved her unceremoniously in the direction of the shore. “Go. Go!”
He didn’t stop to see if she’d obeyed but turned back, diving into the water. Clouds of churned-up sand and mud obscured his sight. Cora had to be close by. He’d seen the splash where she had momentarily surfaced, and it wasn’t far. Daniel pressed on, swimming hard through the murk, pausing to search for her. A few feet ahead, Cora’s head broke the surface again. She thrashed as her sodden skirts pulled her back under. He willed her to hold on. Just hold on.
Daniel sucked in a breath of air and lunged forward, reaching for her. Terrified, she flailed and he couldn’t grab hold of her arm.
“Cora!” he shouted, hoping to break through her panic.
Legs wheeling beneath him, Daniel made another attempt. This time he succeeded and clamped on to her waist. With all his strength, he thrust against the water and dragged them both to the surface.
Her head popped free.
“Mr. Cady,” she gasped through trembling lips, long strands of copper-bright hair plastered to her pale face. She clung to his shirt.
“Hold on, Miss Gallagher. I’ve got you.”
Daniel began to pull her backward, his strokes long and even. Soon, he felt rocky bottom beneath his feet. He gathered his legs under his body and stood, righting Cora. She sagged against him, choking, as he trudged through the water and laid her onto the shore.
“Cora!” Minnie flapped on the sandy bank like a frantic chicken.
“Minnie, get her a dry shawl,” Sarah commanded, her arms clutched around her wet gown.
Daniel turned Cora on her side while Sarah tossed both her shawl and Minnie’s over the girl’s shivering body. Cora coughed up a trickle of pond water.
“Oh, Mr. Cady,” she wheezed, “Miss Sarah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
Be such trouble? Daniel glanced up at Sarah. Her eyes didn’t meet his.
“It’s all right, Cora. You’re safe now,” she said stiffly.
Cora clung to Daniel’s arm like she’d never let go. “The water was so cold.”
“Quite a shock, wasn’t it?” Daniel asked, moving her out of his grasp so she could adjust Minnie’s shawl around her shoulder, already going dark from damp.
Cora gaped at the pond like it was a gentle rabbit that had sprung unexpected fangs. “Yep, it was.”
“Merciful heavens, Cora.” Miss Samuelson hobbled down the bank. She had returned with Anne. “You gave us a horrible fright.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Charlotte.” She fixed a smile on her face and tried to snuggle back into Daniel’s arms. “But I am thankful for Mr. Cady here.”
Daniel jumped up, grabbed his coat off the ground, and threw it over Sarah’s shoulders. They shuddered beneath his hands. Minnie took his place, hiccuping between tears of relief.
“You are taking a gamble, Miss Whittier,” he muttered, dragging the coat around her arms.
“I will not give up on them, Mr. Cady.” Her chin rose, and she ducked out of his grasp. “No matter how reckless they are or how foolish you think I am.”
“You could have drowned,” he spat, angry with her for risking her life. How dare she? He ought to shake some sense into her. “What were you thinking? Do you even know how to swim?”
“Not well, but if you think I’d be more worried about myself than one of my girls, you don’t understand me at all.”
“You won’t do them any good deceased.”
A trail of water snaked down Sarah’s forehead, into her fierce eyes, unheeded. “I won’t do them any good destitute, either.”
“Anne, help Cora, please,” Miss Samuelson interrupted as she struggled to her feet. “Mr. Cady, you shall freeze. Please take the blanket we brought.”
“No, he can have his coat back.” Sarah handed it to him, and retrieved the blanket herself. She turned her back to him and bundled up her discarded clothes. “Come, everyone. We need to get Cora back to the house to dry off and then to a doctor.”
Anne, stern as a crow, hoisted Cora upright. The girl let out a yelp of protest but agreed to be hauled up the hill and over the path, Minnie fussing alongside. Miss Samuelson, her parasol called into use as a cane, glanced back just once as they crossed the ridge above the pond. Shoulders squared, Sarah didn’t look back at all.
Daniel’s socks squelched as he shoved his frozen feet into his shoes. I will not care. I will not care.
He seized the forgotten picnic basket, secured his coat, shoved his hat on his head, and marched up the embankment.
I will not care.
If he said it often enough, he might actually believe it.
She was numb. Not just her skin, cold and prickled from the pond water. But numb inside too. Maybe I am a fool. Maybe I am making a mistake with these girls.
Sarah drew the picnic blanket tight about her arms and glanced over at Lottie, seated across from her in the carriage Daniel had hired to take them home. Her friend’s brow puckered, just a trifle, and Sarah nodded. Again. Yes, she was fine. Yes, she would survive. And yes, she was humiliated over the entire episode. Lord help Cora if Sarah ever came to suspect the girl had fallen into that pond on purpose.
Satisfied with Sarah’s response, Lottie looked away and returned to buffing Cora’s arms and hands. Rather roughly, if Sarah considered the movements. Perhaps she was suspecting the girl too.
Thankfully, at least, Daniel had taken a seat outside and she didn’t have to see the questions or recriminations in his eyes. It had been easy to be sharp with him when he’d challenged her efforts to rescue Cora. But now . . . Don’t be silly. You’d do nothing different now than then, no matter what Mr. Daniel Cady thinks.
The carriage drew to a stop and Daniel appeared at the door. Sarah turned her face and stared at Anne, seated across from her. The girl’s expression was as blank as an unmarked slate, but Sarah could read it and what it had to say. Men, even ones who acted heroically, were not to be trusted. Given Sarah’s limited, but richly painful, experience with them, she might agree.
“Miss Samuelson.” Daniel extended his hand and it crossed into Sarah’s view. His coat was damp from his soaked shirt, and a bead of water dripped off his cuff and landed on her foot. “Are you departing here?”
“No, Mr. Cady. I will see the other girls home. But perhaps you can help Cora out of the carriage.”
“Certainly,” he replied obligingly, though Sarah suspected he’d had quite enough of the girl. All of her talk about Cora being talented and hardworking was invalidated by what might have been a bit of silliness gone horribly bad. She had banked her future on a willful girl like Cora Gallagher, and Daniel was right to question her sense.
“Cora, go on up to the hous
e,” she said. “Tell Mrs. McGinnis to give you my old gardening dress to change into, then I’ll take you to the doctor’s.”
Cora nodded and quietly exited the carriage with Daniel’s assistance.
“I shall see the two of you tomorrow at the shop. Ten o’clock sharp,” Sarah said to Anne and Minnie. She gathered her bundle of underclothes into her arms. “Anne, please inform Phoebe and Emma. We have more cleaning to do.”
They nodded, not comprehending how tenuous their futures and that of the art studio really were.
“Good.” She would not give up her dream of the shop without a fight. Her backers had promised her enough funds to get through several months, and perhaps Daniel would fail to convince the probate judge to award him all of Josiah’s estate. They might survive despite his vow.
Perhaps pigs could fly too.
Sarah grasped the edge of the carriage doorframe and pulled herself through the opening. Daniel waited at the foot of the folding steps. His expression revealed nothing.
“Miss Whittier,” he said, offering assistance.
With a hasty shake of her head, Sarah refused. Boosting her heavy, soaked skirts, she climbed down unaided. She wouldn’t have him think her helpless. Ever.
Daniel returned to the front of the carriage to retrieve the picnic basket. At the house, Ah Mong had rushed down the stairs to help Cora.
Sarah shut the carriage door with a firm click. Lottie lowered the window and leaned through.
“Will you join us tomorrow?” Sarah asked.
“I intend to. I shall not let this silly sore ankle stop me.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Will you be all right?”
“Once I’m out of these clothes and have some hot tea, I’ll be fine.”
Lottie’s warm fingers closed over Sarah’s, resting on the window frame. “That is not what I meant.”
Josiah's Treasure Page 11