The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4)

by Vikki Kestell

  Joy’s voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears. “Will you not pray with us? More than anything, these young women need Jesus. It will take time for him to heal them. My mother, Mrs. Rose Thoresen,” Joy nodded to Rose, “will lead the house in Bible study and prayer, in counseling and encouragement. Restoration will not be easy, and it will not be fast. Will you pray with us? Will you help us?”

  She was done. Spent. Her head bowed, Joy simply stopped. Rose stood and walked to her side.

  Addressing the women she said, “I believe you have heard all that we have to say and all you need to make decisions today. If you are led of the Lord to help us, please address yourselves to Mrs. Van der Pol and our dear Grace Minton.” Rose nodded to those ladies.

  “Joy and I will be available to speak with you during the refreshment hour. Please feel free to ask us any questions you may have.” With that, Rose turned the meeting back to Emily.

  “Mrs. Thoresen, might I have a word with you?” The question came from near Rose’s elbow. She turned, looked down, and found a thin, elderly woman with a wizened face and a shock of white hair. She stooped heavily, bent nearly double, over a cane.

  “How do you do?” Rose extended her hand. The elderly woman trembled as she leaned her left side more heavily on her cane so that she could reach Rose’s outstretched grasp. Her skin was soft but dry and fragile, like raw spun silk.

  “Mrs. Chester Palmer. Please call me Martha. P’rhaps we could set in that corner for a moment?”

  Rose felt it important to remain available to all of the women still gathered in the hall, but she graciously nodded. A few moments later Mrs. Palmer sank into an armchair with an appreciative sigh. Even seated, she remained bent over and had to turn her head and look up to meet Rose’s eyes. Rose wondered how badly it discomforted the woman to be bowed so.

  “I won’t take much of your time, Mrs. Thoresen, but I felt so impressed by the Spirit to speak to you . . . and I didn’t want to let the moment pass by.”

  “Of course,” Rose agreed. She waited attentively.

  “The thing of it is,” Mrs. Palmer began slowly, “I b’lieve I have your house.”

  Rose’s eyebrows rose sharply.

  “I must warn you,” Mrs. Palmer continued, “the house is in poor shape. Once it was a beautiful place, but it’s been empty and has not been maintained for nigh on ten years.”

  She turned her head down and fidgeted with a hanky up her sleeve. “It’s large, though. Very large. Has a sizable spot of prop’ty with servant quarters and a carriage house in the back.”

  She turned her head and looked up at Rose again. “I want to give it to you.”

  Rose’s mouth dropped open.

  “That house has quite a story, I assure you,” Mrs. Palmer continued in her thin voice, “and half of Denver would be happy to regale you with its history. But today is not the time. It was only important for me to follow the Spirit’s prompting and tell you I will give you this house. D’ye have paper and pencil?”

  Rose snapped to attention. “Yes—that is, no—but I will find some immediately.” She spied Joy across the room holding a tea cup and saucer, conversing with a knot of ladies. “Please excuse me. I will be back straight away.”

  A few moments later Rose returned with paper and pencil and wrote the address Mrs. Palmer dictated to her. “Take a look, if you will,” the old woman told her, “and if it seems suitable from the outside, I’ll have my great-nephew give you a key to get inside.”

  Mrs. Palmer struggled to get out of the chair. “Will you give me your arm, Mrs. Thoresen?”

  “Gladly,” Rose answered. She helped the elderly woman to her feet and held her arm until she was steady.

  “That’s fine, then,” Mrs. Palmer assured her. “My servant is just there by the door. He will help me to my motor car.”

  When Grant arrived to escort them back to the hotel, Rose could hardly contain herself. She read the address aloud to Joy and Grant, but neither could place its location.

  “Surely Emily will know,” Joy suggested. They called to their friend, who joined them near the door.

  “Why, this is Chester and Martha Palmer’s old house,” Emily realized in wonder.

  “Yes; Mrs. Palmer has said she will give it to us! I still cannot believe it,” Rose replied.

  Emily nodded thoughtfully. “I confess I am surprised, but Martha is a great woman of God. She would do what the Lord directed her to do, no matter what it cost her.” She looked pensive. “I do not refer to money when I say ‘cost.’”

  She added directions to the address. “The house is west of the river and south of Colfax, a respectable distance from Larimer and Market. It is in deplorable condition. Really, if Martha did not have the connections and influence she has, her neighbors would have prevailed on the city to do something about it.”

  She saw them out. “Sometime I will tell you of this house and its history. I do not wish to do so now. Instead, please go and see it. The Lord himself will speak to you about its suitability.”

  The corner lot was wide and deep, and the house was set far back from the street. Pines and junipers, thorny climbing roses and pyracantha were once shaped and well cared for; now their thick and tangled boughs and branches clogged the yard.

  However, neither the untrimmed trees and shrubs smothering the grounds nor the vines thick upon the walls could conceal the size of the house. It was massive, an aging Victorian splendor, rising three stories and more into the crisp evening air.

  The overgrowth in the yard shrouded much of the house’s shape, but its asymmetrical profile—pediment-topped dormer windows, impressive gables, and octagonal turrets—reached into the sky. Stained glass and gingerbread eaves, only glimpsed through a morass of woody Virginia creeper, tantalized the trio standing outside the gates.

  The covered porch, which appeared to wrap the length of the front, terminated somewhere near the corner of the house in the sizable gazebo peeping through the overgrowth.

  They stared at the estate before them awed by its size and grandeur and half cowed by the evident decay and neglect. The day’s last rays glanced off cracked windows, peeling paint, and towers with missing shingles.

  “It is . . . gargantuan,” Grant exclaimed. “It isn’t a house—it’s a mansion!”

  “It’s perfect,” Rose and Joy answered together. They had clasped hands at first sight of the house.

  “It must be three times the size of the lodge,” Joy added. “Why, how deep it must be for those turrets to belong to it!” She gestured at the pointed towers peeping through the angles of the roof line.

  Grant soberly commented, “It will take a great deal of cash to make repairs. I daresay the plumbing and gas lines will need work. Look at the roof! Billy and I can do the work, but we’ll still need materials.”

  “I imagine all the rooms will need paint and paper,” Joy mused. “Not to mention carpets.”

  Rose shushed both of them. “I had intended to buy us a house, remember? That money can now be used to make the repairs.” She suddenly giggled. “But can you imagine what Breona is going to say?”

  Suddenly Joy and Rose were laughing and hugging each other. Still laughing, Joy threw her arms around Grant.

  “We must obtain the keys as quickly as we can!” Joy said breathlessly between chuckles.

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 7

  (Journal Entry, June 17, 1909)

  O Lord, how I thank you. We have a house!

  You have provided a house for our ministry, and what a house! It must have been magnificent once, but it has been closed up for many years. We must now open it to the light and bring to bear all of our care and efforts to restore it.

  Lord, you do that with us, too, don’t you? You bring your light to our lives but still it takes care, effort, and time to restore us so that we reflect your image, the glory for which you designed us.

  Joy and I will call on Mrs. Palmer first thing in the morning to thank her and arrange for
the keys. Grant is hesitant and wants to ensure that all of the legal issues are settled before we begin work on the house. We will leave those matters in his hands.

  Dear Lord, I miss Jan tonight. I miss his strength, his wisdom, and his arms around me. I miss the warmth of his breath on my neck as we sleep. Good night, Father God. I am so glad Jan is with you. I know we will see each other again, someday.

  —

  Up until now, moving to Denver had been their dream, a shining hope and vision Rose and Joy often spoke of but not in concrete terms. Now it was time for the dream to assume shape and substance. Rose and Joy called a meeting with Breona, Mei-Xing, and the rest of the girls and told them about the house Martha Palmer was giving to them.

  “It was once a beautiful house,” Joy said as she described it. “And it is far larger than this one. It has three stories, several turrets and towers, and a large attic. We don’t even know yet how many bedrooms it has, but we are guessing 10 to 12, with room for more in the attic. It sits on a large lot and has several out-buildings in the back.”

  “It was beautiful once,” Rose cautioned, “but it has been closed up for more than 12 years and, unfortunately, looks to have sustained some serious damage. What we should be clear about is that whatever work needs to be done, will fall mostly to us.”

  She gestured to all of them gathered in the parlor. “Of course this includes Grant, Billy, and Mr. Wheatley. Some repairs we must hire out to be done. However, just cleaning the house so that we can move in will be a colossal undertaking.”

  The women began chattering and asking questions, their voices rising in excitement. Rose held up a hand.

  “Before we go any further, I think we should also describe our vision for the house and clarify our expectations of you if you embark with us on this journey. You see, just as we did at the lodge, we will manage our home in a way that honors God.”

  Some of the girls looked confused; a few looked at each other nervously.

  Joy spoke up. “Our goal is to help you learn a skill or trade and then help you find employment so that you can support yourselves in an honorable, independent manner. But that is not all we will teach you.”

  “Yes, that is not all,” Rose agreed. “We understand that you come from different backgrounds and have had different experiences. We will show you how to dress, speak, and conduct yourself so that you are comfortable and confident in whatever social situation you find yourself.”

  Her voice softened. “A few of you were left on the street as children and have never known what it is to have a family. Even as you prepare to go out into the world and take care of yourself, we want you to become part of our family. When the time comes for you to fly our little nest, wherever you go and whatever you do, you will always be part of our family and be welcome to visit.”

  Mei-Xing timidly raised her hand. Rose smiled. “Mei-Xing, did you wish to say something?”

  “Er, yes. I only wished to say that at first, at the lodge, the things we did together—the Bible studies, praying for God to meet our needs and needs we saw in the community—were all strange and sometimes difficult for me to understand.”

  “But after a little while, I began to love our time together and love the way we worked together like a family.” She stopped, a little embarrassed. “I, well, I never had a family like that, a family that shared every aspect of living. It, that is, I began to see what being part of a family is supposed to be like.”

  She looked at Rose. “I began to know what it was like to have a mother who loved me and knew how to nurture me,” she looked from Joy to Breona, “and sisters who cared for me and wanted God’s best for me.”

  Tears sprang to Rose’s eyes. “That is what we are speaking of. When we move to Denver, it is our hope that we will grow together and experience those family bonds.”

  She continued. “Everything we do in our home, we will do together with care for each other. We will clean and cook together. We will study and pray together. We will support each other through illness and difficulties.”

  “We will treat each other with respect and civility, even when we disagree. Yes, we will not always agree or like what others do. We will sometimes have little spats. But we will make up and never give up on each other.”

  As the girls were thinking over what Rose had said, Joy added, “Miss Rose will live in the house with you while Mr. Grant and I will, as soon as it can be readied, live in the caretaker’s cottage and Billy and Marit in the carriage house. Miss Rose will be in charge of the house, particularly its spiritual tone.”

  “Breona will be the housekeeper,” Rose said. “She will assign chores and manage the household.”

  “All of us,” she added, “including me, will work. No one will be exempt as long as they live in the house. All of us will take meals together morning and evening and participate in Bible study and prayer at those meals. I assure you, those times will not be arduous. Just as we have already been doing the past few weeks, I intend to make them encouraging and engaging.”

  She looked around at each girl. “This is what our expectations are and what you must prayerfully consider. If you cannot agree to abide by our expectations, then you must, in good conscience, decline our offer. We will think no less of you and will still provide you with a train ticket if you choose to go elsewhere.”

  “I will go,” Mei-Xing volunteered first. “Of course, I think you must have known my answer?” She smiled shyly, and Rose nodded and smiled back.

  “I will go, too!” Gretl proclaimed eagerly.

  Then the table lapsed into silence. The remainder of the girls considered Rose’s proposition soberly.

  “We ask that you give us your answer no later than this Friday,” Rose concluded.

  —

  (Journal Entry, June 21, 1909)

  So many things to do! Our remaining six Corinth girls, Sarah, Gretl, Corrine, Flora, Nancy, and Maria, have accepted our proposal. Tabitha will come, too, making seven. I had my doubts about her, our rough little cob, but Friday she made a decision and will also accompany us.

  My concern with Tabitha is that she is older than the other girls, although exactly what age, she has not said. She may be Joy’s age, but the life she has lived has worn her considerably, both inside and out. I have been praying for the Lord to win her heart, for we can sense how hard and empty of hope it is at present.

  I do not forget Mei-Xing! Truthfully, Lord, I hardly think of Mei-Xing as one of the girls, because you have done such a work in her heart already and have knit her to me as a daughter. Breona, Mei-Xing, dear Mr. Wheatley, and I will live in the house as we did in the lodge. I am so happy Mr. Wheatley will be with us!

  Marit and Billy and Joy and Grant will share the third floor at first. It may be several months before the cottages out back are ready. We realized, too, that we cannot have a baby with us at first; the house is entirely too dirty. David and Uli will keep little Will until the house is clean enough for him. As I said, Lord, so much to do!

  Marit and Gretl will share the cooking initially, for we will be feeding an army while we work on the house. Gretl aspires to become a great cook for a wealthy family. Father, I thank you for the hope and vision you have placed in her precious heart.

  The house itself possesses more than enough space for our needs at present. The problem, initially, will be readying it enough for us to move from Corinth to it.

  The dust is thick everywhere, and mice have made it their home. A few rooms have cracked or broken windows and have sustained water damage. Our little family will surely be “roughing it,” as I’ve heard someone call it, sleeping on the floors before we are far enough along to bring in furniture. My old bones do not relish the prospect, Lord!

  After that will come a period of true renovation that may well test our souls, for we must, of necessity, be shifting our bedrooms and living space from room to room as the work goes on. I can’t help but believe, though, that the sooner we leave the houses in Corinth for good, the better
. They are a constant reminder to the girls of the evil done within their walls.

  Although some have suggested it, we do not wish to appropriate any of the furniture from these houses nor should we. Until a court decides what is to be done with the houses, they will remain unoccupied and their furnishings unused.

  Lord, I trust you. Perhaps working together to make our house in Denver livable will help these young women to feel that it is their home. As we begin this great endeavor, I am still humbled that you chose us to minister to their wounds. Oh Lord, give us your wisdom, for we have none of our own.

  —

  The door bell had chimed four times so far this evening, and it was still quite early. Esther splashed whiskey into a short tumbler for the portly gentleman seated across from her and then added a generous portion of water.

  Henry, already a regular customer, had spoken nonstop for the last hour on the history of the monarchy in France and Britain. He was content just to have a lovely, attentive ear. Esther was more than happy to listen, smile, and nod at whatever dear Henry said. Oh, and refill his glass with her overpriced, watered-down drinks.

  Money was still very tight, but Esther was pleased so far with the progress of their business. As their clientele grew, she would be looking for fresh girls to add to the house.

  The door bell chimed again and she rose gracefully, murmuring her excuses to Henry. Tom, the only muscle she could afford at present, answered the door.

  His job was to screen potential clients. Only well-dressed, well-groomed gentlemen were admitted. And only sober ones. Intoxicated men were often unruly and were less likely to purchase drinks. Esther wanted only an upscale, thirsty clientele.

  Esther was ready to greet her customer after Tom cleared him to pass through the large entryway. “Good evening,” she said pleasantly, eyeing the tall, powerfully built man. He wore a charcoal three-piece suit and wore it well.

  “Good evening,” he replied. The man’s face was ruddy; his eyes a strikingly pale blue.