by Linda Tillis
His father had been a mean, abusive drunk who beat him whenever he was down on his luck, which near the end was daily. His mother had been a weak, whining, sickly thing who had no spine. He could have forgiven the old man the beatings, but not the theft of his birthright.
A man who had no property could have no standing in society. If you were not born of noble blood and you had no land, you were nobody. He had vowed, at an early age, to become someone to be reckoned with and respected. And be damned if the old bird hadn’t turned on him just like his pitiful excuse for a family.
She’d obviously gone weak in the head, to leave so much money and property to a backwoods female. It was his money, and was to have been his salvation, his means of becoming someone. He would be damned if he would lose everything again.
He sipped the coffee and found it cold. Cold like the years he’d spent in English schools. Oh, the old bird had been generous with his education, his wardrobe, and his vacations. Because of her generosity, and the appearance of old money, his schoolmates had accepted him. He had taken advantage of their acceptance at every opportunity. He’d visited the homes of many old-money families. He’d learned the habits and ideologies of the rich. He had used his charm on many women. All had known the extent of the old bird’s holdings, so he had always been welcome. They, like he, had assumed it would all be his. It would still be his, one day soon.
He looked at himself in the dresser mirror. The new beard was longer than was fashionable, but it hid his countenance well. Put on some old clothes and throw in a tired old horse, and he would never be recognized. The time was nearing when he would have to move. When he would reclaim what was his.
****
Mae was excited. At breakfast this morning, Papa had advised they were putting the finishing touches on the first two houses in her village. She had been so busy trying to explain her project to local ministers that she had not actually visited the village in a couple of weeks.
She was glad to have good news from the construction site, as she had run into some brick walls with the public in general.
Mae could not understand why anyone would be opposed to her helping women in need, but several of the ministers she had spoken with had warned her, saying she was naïve and really didn’t understand what she was undertaking. One had even said “no decent young woman should be putting herself in such a compromising position. Does your father know you want to fraternize with harlots?”
She had been near to angry tears when she related this to Eleanor and Roxanne. Eleanor had tried to soothe her disappointment, but Roxanne had given her an angry “I told you so” look. She was now on her way to a meeting with the Methodist Ladies Society. They held a meeting the first Wednesday of the month to assemble quilts for the needy, and Mae was optimistic. Surely if they were concerned with keeping poor folks warm, they would understand her desire to help young women.
As Mae entered the church hall at the rear of the sanctuary, she was happy to see such a good turnout. There were at least thirty women gathered around quilt frames, chatting and sewing happily.
Mrs. MacGruder, the head deacon’s wife, came toward her smiling. “Miss Hinton, thank you for joining us. We are always grateful for another pair of hands.”
Mae took her outstretched hand and smiled in return. “I truly appreciate you allowing me to come speak to your group, ma’am.”
Mrs. MacGruder turned to the room and raised her voice. “Ladies, may I have your attention, please?” When the chattering had stopped and all heads were turned her way, she said, “Miss Mae Hinton has come to speak with us today about some sort of project she has in mind for helping the needy. Now, we all know Miss Hinton was the beneficiary of the late Lady Wellington’s estate, and we all know how generous she was when it came to helping others, so I’m sure we’ll all be excited about this project. Miss Hinton, go ahead.”
During Mrs. MacGruder’s introduction, Mae realized these women had no idea why she was here. Well, they were about to be enlightened.
“Good morning to you all. Let me say thank you for allowing me to speak with you here today. Some of you may be aware I have been working on a project, specifically a project for women.”
“I have been very fortunate in my life to have a loving family. They would support me, no matter what the circumstances might be. However, I have seen enough of the world to know this is not always the case. For some women, circumstances arise that place them in very vulnerable positions. They find they have nowhere to turn. I intend to remedy this for as many as possible.”
“My father is constructing a small village on our property. It will house women who have no home or who need a safe haven to rest in while they try to piece their lives together.”
Mae could see some of the women turning to each other with questioning looks.
She said, “Perhaps I can take some questions from you?”
A tall thin woman stood. “What do you mean when you say ‘vulnerable positions’?”
“Often young women find themselves expecting children. Women who had no say in creating the child. Sometimes their families choose to disown them. Or a married woman may find she has made a bad choice and her husband beats her, but she has no way to support herself and her children, so she stays, and the beatings continue.”
There was muttering among the group now. Some of the women still looked confused, and some of them looked incredulous, while some of them looked outraged. One stood and said, “Are you saying you want women to leave their husbands and come live at your ‘village’? Just up and leave their husbands?”
Before Mae could respond, another said, “A decent young woman would not find herself in such a predicament!” The women were beginning to speak aloud their thoughts and feelings. As the chatter grew in volume, Mae held up a hand and tried to calm them.
A white-haired matron stood, cleared her throat, and immediately the chatter began to subside. The woman looked around the room, making eye contact with several of the women, some of whom had the grace to blush. Then she turned to Mae and spoke.
“My dear, I am the Widow Harrison. I’ve known most of these women since they were in diapers. It is easier for them to pretend these things just don’t happen in polite society than to decide how they can help. When you get to be my age, you have the privilege of speaking your mind and not caring what others think about it. Let me say I think it is a good idea, but I’d like to hear more.”
Mae gave Mrs. Harrison a grateful smile. “Ma’am, I thank you for your interest. I’m not asking you ladies to do anything you might feel is contrary to your beliefs. I only ask that if you know of a woman in need of assistance, please send her to me. We are building houses and a communal learning center for the women and their children. I intend to educate them and teach them a marketable skill so they can care for themselves and their families.”
One brave soul glared at Mrs. Harrison and said, “Do you have any idea what kind of women you are going to be inviting into our town? Do we want these loose women around our families?” She looked around the room for support.
Mae smiled sweetly. “Yes, ma’am, I do know what kind of women I will be inviting—the kind who need support financially, emotionally, and spiritually.” Some ladies looked sheepish, but others were still glaring at Mae as if she were about to open a leper colony.
Mae turned to Mrs. MacGruder. “Thank you, all of you, for your time and consideration. I am grateful for any interest you may have in assisting in this project. If you ever need to contact me, you can leave word with my stepmother, Eleanor Hinton, at Taylor’s.”
There would be lots of lively conversation for the rest of the meeting, Mae thought. She smiled at Henry as she climbed into the motorcar.
Chapter Thirty
It was a beautiful spring morning. It was moving day, and Mae could not be happier. Samuel had driven into town to pick up Roxanne. She was moving into the first completed village home this morning. Papa had loaded all of Mrs. Peters’ thing
s and brought them down. She and Roxanne would be sharing the house, and both of them were excited. Roxanne had learned to use the treadle sewing machine and was going to teach Mrs. Peters. Mrs. Peters was going to teach Roxanne to make cobbler. To Mae, it was a perfect exchange.
Mae had just gathered an armload of linens from Papa’s truck when Samuel and Roxanne drove in. Mae looked at Roxanne and silently thanked the Lord. The change in her was nothing short of a miracle. Gone were the circles under her eyes. She had gained fifteen pounds and no longer looked as if a strong wind would blow her away. Her hair had begun to shine, and her complexion was now clear and rosy. While she had been beautiful before, now she looked healthy, as well. She was dragging the old carpetbag with her and grinning at Mae.
“Welcome to your new home, dear. Mrs. Peters has already staked out her room, but you have two left to choose from.” Roxanne chose the room nearest the kitchen. It had been painted a soft yellow, with gleaming white window frames. Mae had asked Samuel to make a chest of drawers and a night table for each room. He had painted each white to match the trim.
Roxanne laid the carpetbag on the bed and stood at the foot, trying to believe the idea of this house belonging to her for as long as she needed to be here. She could sleep in peace at night.
Mae laid the armload of linens on the bed. “I’m going to the truck to get some flowers while you start loading those drawers.”
Roxanne, who had placed her meager wardrobe in the chest of drawers and was making the bed when Mae returned, heard a sharply indrawn breath, a low moan, and then the breaking of glass. She turned from the bed just in time to see Mae hit the floor. Mae had fallen on the broken vase, and there was blood pooling on the floor. Roxanne screamed for help and tried to roll Mae off the broken glass. She was holding Mae in her arms when Samuel and Garth came running in.
“What happened?” Garth snapped.
“I don’t know, sir. She dropped the vase, and then she collapsed and fell on the broken glass.”
Garth gently took Mae in his arms and laid her on the bed. Eleanor and Mrs. Peters ran for towels to stop the bleeding.
Samuel stood rooted to the floor at the foot of the bed. Garth looked up at him and froze.
“What’s the matter, son?”
Samuel was staring at the chest of drawers. He walked over and picked up something as he grabbed Roxanne by the arm and jerked her to his side.
“Where the hell did this come from?” he barked.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been manhandled, and by men a lot meaner than this one, but it was the first time she was really frightened since coming to Tallahassee. When Samuel opened his hand, she saw the little ivory box.
She tried to calm herself. She stood a little straighter and took a deep breath. “What are you asking me? Where was it made, how did I get it, or what?”
“I know who made the damn thing, girl. What I want to know is where you got your hands on it,” he growled.
She met Garth’s stare and swallowed hard.
She turned back to Samuel and lifted her chin. “I’m not going anywhere, so can you please let go of my arm?”
Samuel let out a slow, deep breath, closed his eyes, and dropped her arm.
Eleanor came back with a burned feather and a bowl of water and towels. She ran the feather under Mae’s nose until she began to stir. Eleanor was aware of the tension in the room but was more concerned about Mae at the moment.
As Mae’s eyes began to flutter open, Eleanor whispered to her, “It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t move around. Just be still and let me check you for glass.” It appeared all the blood was coming from one wound, high up on Mae’s right arm. The sleeve was already sliced, so Garth ripped the pieces apart to reveal a two-inch cut. He pulled one long shard of glass from Mae’s arm, causing her to moan in pain.
“Hold on, baby girl. We’re done. It’s okay now.”
Eleanor finished ripping the sleeve away and washed the blood from the arm, then wrapped it snugly with a strip of towel to stop the bleeding. Mae was awake now, white as a sheet, and very frightened.
Her eyes met Samuel’s, and she began to cry. He moved to the bed and, taking her hand, asked, “Do you trust me, sister?”
She nodded, tears running down her cheeks.
“Then know you are safe. Do you understand, Mae? You are safe.”
Even as Roxanne rubbed her already bruised arm, she envied Mae. No man had ever stood over her and declared her to be safe.
Garth turned to Mrs. Peters. “Ma’am, could you make us some tea?” The little lady nodded briskly and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
“Now, young lady, sit down. You look a little shaky yourself,” Garth said to Roxanne. “Samuel, take a deep breath, son, and just think a minute.”
Samuel exhaled slowly and ran his hand through his dark hair. He was still clutching the ivory box. He looked at the box with so much love in his eyes Roxanne immediately understood.
“Oh, good Lord,” she whispered. They all looked at her. “The curls, they belong to all of you, don’t they? You, and Mae, and Cyrus, those are your baby curls inside.”
Samuel looked like he had reached the end of his patience. “Just tell us where you got the box.”
It was one thing for people to assume she was a whore, but it was another thing entirely to have to talk about it to people. Roxanne pulled herself to her full height and said, “A man threw it at me one night. He owed me money, and when I asked for it, he threw this thing at me and said the woman who had it before didn’t have any need for it now.”
Mae whimpered and closed her eyes tightly, trying to stem the flow of tears.
“Does this man have a name? Do you know where to find him?” Garth asked.
Roxanne shook her head regretfully. “No sir, I don’t know his name. But if it’s any consolation, someone killed him around Thanksgiving last year, in Pensacola.”
Upon hearing this, the two men exchanged a knowing look.
Garth turned to Mae. “Honey, I’m going to take you to the truck, and we’re going home. Eleanor’s going to get you fixed up, and then we’re all going to sit down and have a little chat, all right?”
Mrs. Peters assured them she would clean everything up and have Roxanne’s room all ready when they brought her home later.
Two hours later, Mae had been stitched, washed, and sedated, with a glass of brandy. The others had eaten a light lunch and were now seated in the library. Garth looked at Roxanne. The girl wasn’t as big as a minute, but she had stood up to Samuel and had the bruises to show for it.
Samuel saw his father’s gaze and turned to look at Roxanne. His stomach clenched at the sight of the marks on her arm. Samuel had never hurt a woman in his life. Well, he couldn’t say that any more. He was ashamed he had let his temper get the best of him.
Roxanne couldn’t stand the quiet a minute longer. “All right, can someone please tell me what’s going on? Am I in some kind of trouble?”
Garth sat back in the chair and stretched his long legs out toward the fire. “No, no.” He sighed. “You haven’t done anything, missy. We just need to get some facts straight. Suppose you tell us everything you know about this man.”
Roxanne stood and walked to the window seat. She looked out across the lawn at the tree-lined lane. It was peaceful, and she tried to use the peacefulness to calm herself. She sat in the window, pulled her knees up, and hugged them tightly to her ample chest.
Finally she spoke. “I first met the man about two years ago in Pensacola. Afterwards, when he tried to leave, I asked for my money. He knocked me around a little, and then just before he left he threw something at me and said, ‘The one that had this won’t be needin’ it anymore.’ I found it the next morning, and I’d never seen anything like it. It was beautiful.”
Samuel’s chest tightened. He was ashamed of the thoughts he’d had about this girl.
Roxanne continued, “So I kept it. And sometimes when I needed cheerin’ up, I’d tak
e it out and stroke it. And one day whilst I was holdin’ it, it just popped open. That’s when I found the little curls inside, tied in ribbons. And I figured he had killed someone’s mama. It made me sad ’cause it was clear she must have loved her babies, to save their little curls.”
The tightness in Samuel’s chest deepened, and he realized it was his heart.
“When I saw the man again, it was just around Thanksgiving last year. He was drunk, real drunk, and I got to my room and locked the door before he spotted me. He went into the room next to mine, and I didn’t hear anymore, so I figured he passed out. Then, much later, I heard someone in the hallway, and I opened my door. There was a gentleman, a real looker, coming down the hall. I said hello, and he looked at me but just walked straight to the room next door and went in. I could hear them talk for a couple minutes but never really heard what was said. There was one shot, then nothing.
“I’m not stupid. He looked right in my face. And he had to know I heard the shot. I figured I’d better run, so I jerked open the door, and sure enough, he was coming out. The bartender, from the next block over, was coming down the hall, and he was a really big guy, so I grabbed his hand and dragged him into my room. But the gentleman looked right into my eyes as the door closed.” Roxanne gripped her knees even tighter.
“I figured he’d be back. So…I left. I waited an hour or so, then gathered my stuff and lit out to the depot and hopped the first train out. It was going to Tallahassee, so here I am.” She turned and looked at Garth and then Samuel. “Will someone please tell me why Mae fainted at the sight of the little box?”
Garth said, “The box belonged to Mae’s mother. When she passed away, I gave it to Mae. She always wore it on its leather thong round her neck. The day Mae was attacked, the box disappeared. We always suspected one of the men must have taken it.”