Sheriff Maddox sat in a sturdy chair, his boots propped on the desk, whittling. Rebecca didn’t know how he could be so calm in the middle of chaos. His prisoners refused to stop singing their battle song.
Rebecca hugged her arms close to her chest and tried not to cry. Her plan had gone terribly awry, and it had only been one day since she set out to find Jesse. What would Emma think when she learned that her sister had been arrested along with a group of unruly women who had declared war on a saloon? Rebecca’s feet felt like fire pits. And where had her bag with her black dress and comfortable shoes gone? She stepped to the bars.
“Sheriff?”
When he didn’t answer she called again. “Sheriff?”
“He has his ears plugged.”
She turned to face the woman who spoke, fighting tears. “How can you stay so calm? We are in jail!”
“Oh, honey, we play this little game at least twice a week.”
Well, it wasn’t a game to Rebecca, and she didn’t enjoy it.
An elderly gray-haired woman rose from a bunk. Wrinkles and creases around her eyes and mouth deepened when she smiled. She approached Rebecca and patted her arm.
“Sit down, child. You look near to swooning.”
“I—” Words choked off in her throat, and Rebecca found that she was too exhausted to argue. She allowed herself to be helped to the bunk. The other woman scooted over to make room.
“There.” The elderly lady laid a hand on her shoulder and gave her another pat. “I’m Grace Evans, and these ladies are Eloise Thompson, Pearl Wallace, and Gladys Coulter.”
Rebecca managed to squeeze a few words past the misery that clenched her throat nearly closed. “I am Rebecca Switzer.”
Other voices called greetings from the other cells.
“A pleasure to meet you, Rebecca.”
“Welcome to Lawrence, honey.”
“Yes.” Annie’s disembodied but commanding voice filled the small jailhouse. “Welcome to the cause.”
Rebecca winced. Should she tell them that she had no desire to join “the cause,” whatever it was? That she simply wanted to find Jesse and go home as quickly as possible?
Standing in front of her, Mrs. Evans searched her face. “I don’t believe Rebecca came to Lawrence to join us,” she called to those next door. Then she lowered her voice and spoke kindly. “Did you, child?”
“No, ma’am.” She shook her head. “I came to Lawrence to find a man.”
Pearl and Gladys sat up straighter, and Mrs. Evans’ eyebrows arched over watery blue eyes. “Are there no men where you live?”
“No. I mean, yes.” She shook her head with a jerk to clear it. “There are men in Apple Grove, but not the right one. I gave my heart to my one true love years ago, and I am here to tell him.”
“A quest of love.” Pearl laid her fingers dreamily across her collarbone, while Gladys gave a sentimental sniff.
Mrs. Evans folded her hands and smiled. “What’s your young man’s name?”
A sudden hope cut through Rebecca’s misery. Was it possible that this woman might be able to tell her where to find Jesse?
She straightened on the bunk. “His name is Jesse Montgomery. Do you know him?”
“Montgomery?” Mrs. Evans’ forehead puckered in thought, and then she shook her head. “I don’t believe so. What work does he do?”
Rebecca nibbled at her lower lip. What did Jesse do? Emma hadn’t said. “I do not know. He used to run cattle from Texas to Kansas. That’s where we met.”
Gladys’s lips pursed. “A cowboy.” She and Pearl exchanged a disapproving glance.
“A good one,” Rebecca said quickly. “We met when my family was robbed while traveling in unknown territory, and he and his friends helped us. His best friend, Luke, and my sister, Emma were married not long after.”
“Sisters marrying best friends?” Mrs. Evans clasped her hands beneath her chin, her eyes misting over. A chorus of sentimental sighs sounded from the neighboring cells.
“I love weddings,” Pearl confessed.
“There is no wedding planned yet,” Rebecca told her. “First I must find him and assure him of my love.” She lowered her voice, doubt suddenly looming. “And find out if he loves me in return.”
Eloise rose from her bunk. “Does anyone know a man named Jesse Montgomery?”
The answering chorus of “No, I don’t believe so” and “Haven’t heard that name” served to deepen Rebecca’s doubt. Surely if Jesse lived in Lawrence, as Mr. McCann had told Emma and Luke, one of these ladies would know him. Had this entire trip been for nothing?
Then a voice said, “I think I’ve heard of him.”
Rebecca turned quickly toward the speaker, ignoring the sharp pain in her feet. “You have? Where is he?”
“He’s not in Lawrence. Used to be, but my Bob mentioned that he was over in Cider Gulch now, across the river. Bob bought a few head of cattle over there last week.”
A rancher! Excitement pounded in Rebecca’s chest. He had changed and settled down!
“Yes, Jesse is wonderful with cows.” She whirled toward Mrs. Evans. “Where is Cider Gulch?”
“It’s southeast of here, about two days by coach.”
All is not lost. I will hire a coach and—
Her plans jerked to a halt. First she must recover her bag, with the money pouch inside. No, first she must get out of here. She stood and went to the bars of the cell, giving them a frustrated jerk, but the iron didn’t bulge.
At that moment the jailhouse’s outer door opened, and a group of men appeared. Gladys spoke sharply above the others. “There you are, Fredrick. What took you so long?”
A mild-faced man cast a guilty look toward Gladys, who stood beside Rebecca. “I came as soon as I heard.” He nodded to the sheriff and then focused on his wife. “Are you all right?”
The sheriff stood up and removed wads of cotton from his ears.
Gladys drew herself up stiffly. “I’m in jail, Fredrick. Do I look all right?”
Sheriff Maddox reached for a set of keys. “Gentlemen, I’m releasing your wives into your custody.”
“What’s the meaning of this, Colin?” one of the men asked. “This is the third time this week we’ve had to come and bail out these women. It’s putting a serious dent in my pocket.”
“I’m just doing my job, Clyde.” He shoved a book to the front of the desk. “Sign here and take it up with the judge. He’ll see the women at the courthouse in the morning.”
“Do we have to post bail?” A husband glanced toward the cells.
“No bail.” Colin slid a pen across this desk toward them and set the inkwell beside it. “I’m releasing the ladies into your custody, and you’re to make sure they get to the courthouse at nine sharp. Sign on the dotted line.”
Rebecca watched as the men stepped up one by one and scratched out a signature. When the last husband had done so, the sheriff picked up the key ring and rounded the desk. He unlocked the first cell, and Annie Diggs filed out ahead of her cellmates. Rebecca saw in her erect carriage that she had lost none of her composure. When she stopped close to Sheriff Maddox, she stood nearly eye to eye.
She tilted her head back and examined him down the length of her nose. “One day we shall see justice done in this town.”
The sheriff returned her stare with a polite smile. “Yes, ma’am. Now run along, Miz Annie. It’s past your suppertime.”
Her voice took on the commanding tone of leader once again. “Ladies, we shall continue our fight on the morrow.” With a swish of heavy skirts, she turned and held a hand out to one of the men. “Let’s go, Alvin.”
A gentleman stepped forward and offered an arm, and together they marched out of the jailhouse. Shaking his head, the sheriff unlocked the center cell and then at last moved to Rebecca’s. When the key twisted in the heavy lock, a weight lifted from her chest. The sight of the door swinging open was as welcome as the first birds of spring after a long winter. She picked up her stylish
hat and limped through the doorway.
Pairs formed among the women and their husbands, and two by two they followed Annie and Alvin out into the street. Rebecca would have fallen in with them, but when she approached the exit, the sheriff stepped in front of her.
“Not so fast, miss.”
Rebecca tilted her head back to look up at his face. Standing this close, he formed an imposing presence, tall and rugged, his shoulders broad beneath the leather vest. Why, the girth of his arms would make Papa’s look like a boy’s, and Papa was the strongest man in all of Apple Grove. She took a step backward.
“May I not leave with the others?” She rounded her eyes and assumed the most innocent expression she could, the same one she wore when Maummi scolded her for failing to perform a chore as she should have.
He cocked his head. “I didn’t see anybody sign for you.”
“But…” A lump formed in her throat. “I am a visitor. I know no one here.”
Skeptical creases appeared between his eyebrows. “You seemed to be right friendly with the rest of those women. A man would almost think you’d come to town to meet up with them on purpose.”
He thought she was part of tonight’s protest? Rebecca shook her head. “You are mistaken. I am not involved.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I saw you with my own eyes arm in arm with Annie Diggs, who is a known protest leader for all sorts of women’s causes.”
“I do not protest. I am Amish.”
The skepticism on his face deepened. “Amish? You?” His gaze swept from the top of her head down to her toes, and he laughed. “You’re not Amish any more than I am.”
Outrage rose up inside her. “I am too Amish!” She stamped a foot and then winced as pain exploded in her toes.
The soft sound of a throat politely clearing distracted her. She turned to find Mrs. Evans standing in the far corner, watching the encounter.
“I have no one to sign for me either, Sheriff, as the death of my beloved husband has left me a widow these past twenty years.” She swept a wrinkled hand toward the cell they had just vacated. “Must I also spend the night in jail?”
The sheriff ducked his head. “Now, Miz Evans, you know I’m not going to keep you in jail.”
Rebecca turned back to face him. Anger and pain loosened her tongue. “I begin to see why the women of this town stand in protest against injustice. ’Tis unfair, releasing her and not me.”
His lips became a tight line. “Miz Evans is a respected citizen of this town, a business owner. I think she can be trusted to show up at the courthouse tomorrow on her own. Whereas, Miss Switzer, you are a stranger and a troublemaker.”
Never in all her days had anyone called her a troublemaker. The teacher in her Amish school had called her “spirited” once, which had resulted in a series of proverbs on meekness from Maummi, but she was entirely innocent this time. This lawman was purposefully insulting her.
Turn the other cheek.
She could almost hear Papa’s calm voice echoing in her head.
But Papa wasn’t here, and Rebecca’s cheeks already burned with the injustice of the evening and of Maddox’s false accusations. She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing reply, but she stopped when a gentle hand lay across her shoulder.
“May I sign for the young lady, Sheriff?” Mrs. Evans’ fingers pressed comfortingly. “I believe she can be trusted, and I will take responsibility for ensuring she arrives at the courthouse tomorrow morning on time.”
Rebecca’s anger evaporated, replaced with a welling of gratitude. She turned tear-filled eyes on the elderly lady and managed a grateful smile.
Sheriff Maddox raked his fingers through his hair, perplexity apparent in his expression. “I don’t know that I would advise that, Miz Evans—”
Rebecca’s breath caught in her lungs as she waited for his verdict.
The creases cleared from his forehead. “But I’m not eager to keep a woman in my jail overnight. Go on. Just make sure you’re in court by nine o’clock. Both of you.”
He turned toward his desk in dismissal. Clutching her hat, Rebecca moved as quickly as she could toward the door.
Activity on the street outside had picked up, though suppertime had long since passed. Many of the people appeared to have spilled out of the Lucky Dollar Saloon, though she caught sight of several couples strolling past the storefronts, and light shone in the windows of the general store. Back home in Apple Grove, nobody went out after supper except to do chores. Of course, there was no proper town to stroll around, either.
Mrs. Evans turned to her. “Do you have a place to stay the night, dear?”
Rebecca shook her head. “My intention was to find room and board as soon as I got off the train, but…” She waved a hand behind her, in the direction of the jail.
The gray head gave a decisive bob. “You shall stay the night with me, then. Come along.”
Another wave of gratitude began to warm the cold knot of uncertainty that had taken hold in Rebecca’s stomach. Smiling her thanks, she followed the woman across the street.
Up ahead she spied a familiar-looking bundle in the mouth of an alley. Her bag. With a cry, she hurried over to scoop it up. Pulling the cinched top open, she shoved a hand inside. Two dresses, aprons, underclothes, kapps, her old shoes—thank You, Lord, for comfortable shoes!—and…
Nothing else.
The chill returned to her insides, and she searched the contents again, her gestures frantic. The paper-wrapped parcel Luke had given her was gone. A sob escaped from her lips.
Mrs. Evans hurried up beside her. “What is it? What is wrong?”
Tears choked her voice. “My money is gone. All of it.”
SEVEN
Mrs. Evans led Rebecca to a building on the far end of the street. This area was quiet. There was no glass in the front window as in many they had passed, but the opening had been blocked with boards nailed to the frame.
The widow’s lips tightened when she looked at the boards.
“It makes me as mad as a wet hen every time I see it. That new window can’t come soon enough to suit me, even if I do have to pay for it myself.”
Her stern expression dissuaded Rebecca from inquiring further. Instead, she glanced upward. A sign above the door of the two-story building read in neat letters Mrs. Evans’ Millinery and Mercantile.
She turned wide eyes on her companion. “You own a shop?”
“Oh, yes.” She produced a set of keys from a small pouch at her waist and selected one to fit into the lock. “When my beloved husband lived we ran a mercantile over Missouri way. Well, he ran the store. I kept the books. Lawrence never did have a head for numbers.” Her eyes twinkled, and an appealing dimple appeared amid the wrinkles on her cheeks. “After he passed I didn’t have the heart to continue, and I didn’t know much about running the business anyway. So when the war ended I sold the store and moved west.”
“Alone?”
“Oh, yes. There was no one else. We were never blessed with children.”
Rebecca looked at the elderly woman with new respect. A short trip such as Rebecca’s was one thing, but for a woman to pick up and move into an unknown territory alone was quite another. Rebecca wasn’t sure she would be brave enough to attempt such a venture.
Mrs. Evans dismissed her obvious awe with a shrug. “I was younger then and impressed with this town’s determination to recover from the terrible ravages of the war. Plus, I liked the name. Moving to Lawrence, Kansas, seemed a fitting tribute to Lawrence, my dear husband. So I settled here and opened up a shop doing something I knew I could handle competently.” She pushed the door open and waved toward the dark interior. “Millinery.”
Rebecca followed her inside and stood in the doorway while Mrs. Evans bustled across the dark room. A moment later a match was struck, and then warm yellow light flooded the room as a candle’s wick glowed to life. Rebecca’s jaw went slack as her gaze circled the room. Hat stands decorated every surface, displaying bea
utiful creations in all shapes and sizes and designs. Against one wall a shelf held bolts of fabric, and next to it, ribbons in every color of the rainbow. Baskets on the floor contained a variety of items, from flowers to silks to feathers. Everywhere she looked, her gaze fell on something new and delightful. The millinery she had visited in Hays City had carried only a fraction of the lovely things she saw here. Breath seeped through her lips in an awestruck, “Oooooohhhh.”
Mrs. Evans settled a glass chimney over the candle. “Lock the door, if you will, and bring the key.”
Rebecca did as directed, and then she followed her hostess around a long worktable through a doorway into a cluttered storage room. There Mrs. Evans headed up a narrow set of stairs, the candle in her hand shining off dark wood that creaked beneath Rebecca’s feet.
They emerged in a sitting room every bit as charmingly full as the shop below. An upholstered settee was positioned along the far wall, and another wall held two chairs with velvet cushions of deep gold. Even the walls were decorated. Polished frames displayed sketches and paintings with bright colors and even people. While Mrs. Evans went around the room lighting candles, Rebecca dared to step onto the woven rug to inspect a large photograph that seemed to hold a place of honor over an ornate table. It depicted a well-dressed couple, the woman seated, and the man standing behind her with a hand on her shoulder. Though both wore serious expressions, Rebecca glimpsed a hint of sparkle in the woman’s eyes. Even though her cheeks were smooth and without wrinkles, Rebecca instantly recognized her.
“That is you.”
Mrs. Evans came to stand beside her. “Yes, and that was my husband, God rest his soul.” A soft sigh escaped her lips as she gazed upward. “Such a handsome man, my Lawrence.”
Rebecca answered politely, though it was hard to see past the stern countenance. “Yes, he was.”
She glanced around the room. Their house in Apple Grove contained few adornments. An Amish home reflected a commitment to simplicity and humility, so displays such as this were not indulged. And Maummi would certainly have something to say about the photograph because the Ordnung strictly forbade graven images of any sort. With an uncomfortable flash of guilt, Rebecca realized she enjoyed the homey atmosphere Mrs. Evans had created with all these frivolous decorations.
A Plain and Simple Heart (The Amish of Apple Grove) Page 6