Secrets of the Heart

by Al Lacy

  On a hot, sticky day in Chicago, Kathleen O’Malley Stallworth wheeled her cart up to the home of Harold and Claudia Stuart, who were regular customers. When she knocked on the door, silver-haired Claudia opened it with a ready smile. “Hello, Kathleen. I’ll help you carry in the laundry.”

  “Oh, no, I’ll do it.”

  “There’s no reason I can’t help you, dear,” Claudia reasoned.

  While both women carried ironed clothes and clean linens into the house, Claudia said, “I have to tell you, Kathleen, that we’ve sold our house, and we’ll be moving to Indianapolis before the week is out.”

  “I…I wasn’t aware you had the house up for sale.”

  “We didn’t. But our next-door neighbors knew that Harold was about to retire, and we had planned that when he did, we would move to where our children and grandchildren live. The neighbors have relatives who are moving to Chicago, so they brought them over a couple of days ago and they made us an offer on the house.”

  Claudia saw Kathleen’s countenance fall and said, “Harold and I know this means you’ll miss the income from us until you find someone to take our place. We talked about it last night, and we don’t want you to come up short.”

  “Oh, I’ll be all right,” Kathleen assured her.

  Claudia moved toward her purse, which lay on a cupboard nearby. “Kathleen, you have worked hard to please us and have always done a good job with our washing and ironing.” She dipped a hand inside the purse and came up with a wad of currency. “We want to give you some money as our way of saying a special thank-you.”

  Kathleen’s eyes widened. “Oh, Claudia, I couldn’t—”

  “You’re going to, dear,” said the older woman as she pressed the money into Kathleen’s hand.

  “But I haven’t earned it. I—”

  “Yes, you have.” Claudia closed Kathleen’s hand over the money. “Let’s just call it a little bonus for your hard work.”

  Kathleen blinked against the tears that welled up in her eyes and wrapped her arms around Claudia. They embraced for a long moment, then took a few minutes to bid each other good-bye. Kathleen pushed her cart on down the street. When she reached the corner and started down the next street, she paused to count the money. Two hundred dollars! Added to the three hundred she had in the bank, and the $69.38 she had stashed in her little box, there was almost enough money to open an investment account!

  The next day, Kathleen came home to her run-down apartment building with a load of clothing and linens to wash and iron. She had enjoyed making the acquaintance of her next-door neighbor, Sandie Patton, who was also a widow. Sandie’s husband and two children had died in the Chicago fire. Sandie worked as a clerk in a clothing store downtown.

  As Kathleen wheeled her cart into the hallway of the building, she saw Sandie bidding good-bye to a middle-aged woman who lived in the apartments. She had a newspaper in her hand.

  When Sandie saw Kathleen, she lifted the paper and said, “Have you seen this mornings edition of the Tribune?”

  “No. Something special in it?”

  “There sure is. Something of interest to both of us since we lost loved ones in the big fire.” She turned to page three and folded the paper, displaying the page so Kathleen could see it. Bold headlines read: CITY COUNCIL APPROVES NEW FIRE ALARM SYSTEM.

  “The city council has finally listened to the fire marshal. They’re providing the money to install fire alarms on street corners all over Chicago!”

  “Well, it’s about time,” Kathleen said.

  “I’ll say. The writer of the article says that if the city had installed this alarm system back when Chief Williams first asked for it, the loss of lives and property in the fire of ‘71 would’ve been minimal. Our families might still be alive, Kathleen.”

  To Kathleen those words were like the prodding of an old wound that would never be completely healed. “I’d like to read the entire article when you’re through with the paper, Sandie,” she said. “Could I borrow it?”

  “Here you go. I’ve read all of it I’m going to read. You can throw it away when you’re through with it.”

  “All right. Thank you.”

  Kathleen entered her apartment, tossed the folded newspaper on a small table in the bedroom-parlor, and went to the kitchen. She put her supper on to cook, then wheeled the cart of dirty laundry out to the shed. She built a fire in the stove, heated the water, and put the laundry in the tub to soak.

  The apartment was stifling. Kathleen left the outside door ajar and opened her one small window, hoping an errant breeze would find its way in.

  After eating supper and doing the dishes, she went back to the shed and used a broken broom handle to stir the tub of hot soapy water. After rinsing the clothes and linens, she hung them on the clothesline in the small backyard, then checked to make sure the fire was out in the stove. She looked up at the darkening sky and the first twinkling stars. Oh, for a good cooling rain! she thought.

  She ambled back to her apartment and reluctantly closed and locked the door, wishing she could leave the door open all night.

  Still thinking of the longed-for rain, she poured cool water into the wash basin and removed her soiled clothes. The cool water on her skin helped to revive her. She dried herself and pulled on a faded cotton gown and put on her slippers.

  As she eased into her overstuffed chair, she picked up the newspaper from the side table and began reading about the new fire alarm system. Her thoughts returned to the events of the night of the big fire and all the horror of that terrible disaster. If only they had installed the fire alarms when Chief Williams pressed the city council for them.

  Kathleen pushed the painful thoughts from her mind and idly flipped through the paper, glancing at articles that captured her interest. When she came to the classified advertisement section, her eyes fell on a special segment tided: WANTED: MAIL ORDER BRIDES.

  A small article within the segment told how businessmen, miners, farmers, ranchers, and fur trappers were finding women quite scarce in the West and were advertising for eastern women to come out and marry them.

  Kathleen found ads from men in each of the categories listed and smiled to herself. “Ridiculous,” she said aloud. “A woman traveling all the way out there to marry a man she’s never met!”

  At that instant, her eyes fell on an ad placed by a man in his late twenties named Thomas Harned, who lived in Virginia City, Nevada. Harned was in silver mining and had plans to mine for gold. He was a widower and had a son named Caleb who would soon turn seven. Harned needed a wife, and the boy needed a mother. Any woman who was interested should send a recent photograph of herself, along with a letter, giving facts about herself. He wanted to know her time and place of birth, her family history, her likes and dislikes, and such.

  Kathleen shook her head and chuckled. “Only a fool of a woman would do such a thing!”

  She laid the paper on the small table and padded to the kitchen for a cup of water. Sudden weariness from her long workday set in, and before the end of her first yawn she headed for the welcoming bed.

  Late the next afternoon, Kathleen wheeled her laundry cart up to the front of the apartment building and saw Sandie Patton coming along the boardwalk toward her.

  “Hi, Kathleen.”

  “Hi, yourself,” said the redhead.

  “You get a chance to read the article about the fire alarms?”

  “Sure did. I’m glad to see things improving in this town.”

  Kathleen wheeled the cart into her apartment and out the back door to the wash shed. She built a fire in the stove and put a tub of water on to heat up.

  When she returned to the apartment, her eyes fell on the Chicago Tribune. She sat down in the overstuffed chair and picked up the paper, flipping pages. She thought of the ad placed by the man in Virginia City, Nevada. What was his name? Thomas… mmm… oh, yes. Thomas Harned. She turned to the Mail Order Bride section and read Harned’s ad again.

  Kathleen had heard about
the Comstock Lode in Virginia City, and that other mines were being discovered near there. Some men had struck it rich. Suddenly her heart quickened pace.

  Kathleen went to the shed and put the laundry in the tub to soak. As she walked back to the apartment, she said aloud, “Kathleen, maybe a woman wouldn’t be such a fool, after all. Maybe this is the break I need to get my Meggie back!”

  Kathleen sat down at the kitchen table and wrote a letter to Tom Harned. She told him the things he wanted to know about her date and place of birth, the tragic loss of her family in the famous Chicago fire, and that her husband had been killed by robbers on a dark Chicago street.

  She didn’t mention her daughter. And she didn’t mention her married name. If Tom Harned knew about her entanglement with the wealthy and powerful Stallworths, it might scare him off. She’d keep Meggie her secret for now.

  Some three weeks after the Chicago fire, Kathleen had been interviewed by the Chicago Tribune. Her photo had accompanied the interview.

  Kathleen had kept the paper amongst her personal items. She cut the picture out and placed it in the letter, stating the year it was taken, but that it was the only photograph she had of herself. She told Thomas Harned that her hair was a dark shade of auburn and her eyes were dark blue.

  She hesitated for a moment and then quickly sealed the envelope, sighing as she said, “Well, Meggie darling, this may be our big chance!”

  DURING THE LAST WEEK OF AUGUST, Laurie Humbert’s sister, Mardy Richton, arrived in Virginia City from her home in Akron, Ohio. Her arrival was a surprise to the Humberts, but a welcome one. Mardy was two years younger than Laurie, and unmarried. She had come to help Bruce and Laurie prior to the birth of their child and was planning to stay a couple of months afterward to do the housework and cooking.

  Upon her arrival, Mardy learned that Laurie was taking care of Caleb Harned, and she quickly made known to Tom that she would take over in Laurie’s place.

  Laurie gave birth to a healthy baby girl on Saturday, September 1, 1877.

  On the next Saturday afternoon, Tom Harned stopped by the post office on his way to the parsonage from work and picked up his mail. He hurried on to the Humbert home and found Caleb in the parlor with the new baby. Young Caleb watched the infant with fascination.

  “Dad,” he said as they left the house and headed home, “I hope someday when you get married again, we can have a baby in our house.”

  “Oh, really? And do you want a brother or sister?”

  “I wouldn’t really care. I’d like to have a brother, but if we could have a cute little girl like Pastor and Mrs. Humbert’s, that would be fine.”

  Tom patted Caleb’s blond head. “Well, I’m glad you’re open to either, ‘cause when babies come, we don’t get a choice as to whether they’re a boy or a girl.”

  When father and son turned into their yard, three boys from down the street came running up, asking if Caleb could play with them.

  “Just be home by sundown, Caleb,” Tom said as he watched his boy run down the street with his friends.

  The sun was dropping behind the distant mountain peaks when Caleb came home, puffing from a hard run. Tom was sitting at the kitchen table holding a newspaper photograph in his hand.

  “Hi, Dad!” Caleb called.

  Tom glanced up. “Hello, son. Have a good time?”

  “Sure did. Uh…Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t smell anything cookin’. Are we gonna go to one of the cafes for supper?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  Caleb jumped up and down. “Whoopee!”

  “Something wrong with my cooking?” Tom said with a frown.

  Caleb looked at the photograph in his father’s hand and the letter and envelope lying on the table. “Is that another letter from one of those ladies back east, Dad?”

  Tom had already received nine letters but had not replied to any of them. None of the women who had responded to his mail order bride ads appealed to him.

  But this letter held him fascinated, as did the photograph. Angling the picture so Caleb could see it, he said, “What do you think of this pretty Irish lady, son?”

  Caleb’s eyes widened. “Wow, Dad! She’s really pretty! Are you gonna marry her?”

  “Well, maybe. Would you like to have her for your new mother?”

  Caleb’s face twisted and his lower lip quivered.

  Tom took him onto his lap and held him. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “It’s all right, Dad.”

  “Caleb, I know you miss Mommy. I miss her, too. Something awful. But we can’t have her back. You…you need a mother more than anything. I just don’t know how to do that job.”

  Caleb nodded and brushed at a tear rolling down his cheek. “You try, Dad,” he said.

  “Yes, but a father just doesn’t have the know-how and the tenderness of a mother.”

  Caleb nodded once again, thought on it for a moment, then said, “It would be real good to have a new mother, but I won’t call her Mommy.”

  “I understand, son.”

  Father and son ate supper at a cafe in town, then spent the evening together at home, playing games.

  Later that night, when Caleb was in bed asleep, Tom sat down at the kitchen table and wrote a letter to Kathleen O’Malley.

  On Monday, September 17, Kathleen O’Malley came home with her laundry cart loaded. While she was pushing it down the hall toward her apartment door, her landlord came out of his apartment with an envelope in his hand. “Letter came for you today, Kathleen. I wasn’t aware you knew anyone in Nevada.”

  Kathleen’s heart fluttered as she plucked the envelope from his fingers and said, “Oh, life does have its little surprises, doesn’t it? Thank you, Mr. Jones.”

  She pushed the cart inside her apartment and opened the letter with trembling hands. A recent photograph of Tom and Caleb was enclosed. Kathleen was struck by Tom’s good looks and Caleb’s golden hair and big eyes. She held the photograph in one hand while she read the letter:

  September 8, 1877

  Mrs. Kathleen O’Malley

  148 Orchard Street Apt. 3

  Chicago, Illinois

  Dear Kathleen,

  I received your letter today, and by the newspaper photograph, I can see that you are a beautiful young lady. There is something in your eyes that tells me you are just as beautiful on the inside.

  I am sorry you had to experience the loss of your husband. Especially in such a violent way. My wife Loretta was a wonderful wife and mother. She died giving birth to our baby girl, and the baby also died. Caleb was very close to Loretta and misses her very much, but I have no doubt he will have plenty of love for a new mother.

  Let me explain that I am an employee of Mr. Henry Comstock of the famous Comstock Silver Lode. However, I have been saving as much money as possible in order to stake my own claim on a gold mine here in the Virginia City area. I am still somewhat short of funds (about $500), but I will have that much saved up in a year or so, then I will have my own claim. I am confident I will do well, as other men have done in this area, and will become a wealthy man.

  I am asking you to come to Virginia City and become my bride. I do not expect you to marry me upon arriving. We can get to know each other, and I will let you pick the time. I will provide you a separate place to live until we marry, but you will need to take care of Caleb at your place when he comes home from school, and all day on Saturdays.

  I have a nice six-room house and will provide well for you if you will come to Virginia City, marry me, and be a mother to Caleb.

  I will eagerly await your reply. If the answer is affirmative, I will send you the money to cover your railroad fare by return mail.

  Yours hopefully and sincerely,

  Tom Harned

  Kathleen felt a touch of disappointment upon reading that Tom was simply an employee in the silver mining business, but something about the letter touched her, and she read it over two more
times, looked at the photograph, then read the letter again.

  After doing her washing and eating supper, Kathleen sat down and wrote a reply to Tom Harned. She labored over the letter, making sure each word she chose was exactly the right one. She told Tom that she had a little over five hundred dollars saved up, and if they married, she would invest it to help him stake his claim on a gold mine. All she asked was that they divide the profits evenly when they struck it big, because she had a personal need for a large sum of money. If Tom agreed to her terms, she would come to Virginia City, marry him after a proper amount of time, and be a good mother to Caleb.

  Fourteen days after Kathleen sent her letter to Tom, a letter came from him containing a check for more than enough to cover her railroad ticket to Reno, Nevada—the nearest railroad town to Virginia City.

  Toms letter stated that he deeply appreciated her willingness to invest her savings in his proposed mining business, and he agreed to her terms of dividing the profits. As he closed the letter off, he told her how happy and excited he was that she had agreed to come, and that Caleb—in his boyish way—was looking forward to having her for his new mother.

  The next morning, Kathleen went to the Chicago railroad station and purchased her ticket. She wrote Tom a brief letter, telling him she would leave a week from that day and arrive in Reno on the Central Pacific train at 1:30 P.M. on Friday, October 12.

  On the day before she was to leave for Nevada, Kathleen delivered her final batch of laundry in early afternoon. Knowing that Alice Downing usually took Meggie into the Stallworths’ backyard to play around 3:30, she made one last trip to see her little girl. It was about 3:15 when Kathleen drew up to the fence behind the Stallworth mansion.

  The air was chilly on that October afternoon. When Meggie emerged from the mansion she was clad in an expensive fur-trimmed coat and bonnet and wore a nice pair of mittens. Kathleen breathed a prayer of thanks that Alice’s routine had not been interrupted that day.

  Kathleen drank in the sight of Meggie as Alice pushed the child in a swing that hung from a tree limb. There was no way of knowing when she would set eyes on Meggie again.