The tiny bell above the door jangled, signaling another patron’s entrance, and Trudy gasped.
“Don’t look now, Miss Stafford,” she whispered loudly, “but it’s one of the girls from the brothel! Why, it’s a wonder Mrs. Titus allows her in here with other respectable customers.”
“Her money is just as good as yours, Trudy,” Mrs. Titus retorted, obviously having overheard the remark. “My husband and I are in business, after all, and it’s none of our concern where the funds originate.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Trudy gave Bethany a skeptical glance.
The woman from the brothel stepped farther into the store and began quietly browsing at the next table. Bethany watched her curiously. She’d never known someone in that profession before, and, amazingly, the young woman didn’t look much older than herself. She had a flawless peaches-and-cream complexion and her hair was a dark honey-gold. She looked up guardedly, and Bethany saw her sad, pale blue eyes.
Bethany kept looking at the material while making her way over to the next table. A kind of boldness settled in her heart, one she’d never experienced before.
“Hello, my name is Bethany Stafford, and I’m the new schoolteacher in town.”
“I’m Angie Brown,” the woman replied.
From behind Bethany, Trudy inhaled sharply.
“Miss Stafford, you ought not talk to the likes of her!”
“It won’t hurt anything to just introduce myself,” she said over her shoulder before turning back and giving Angie an apologetic grin. She knew all about the McCabe’s ministry in Jericho Junction.
“I’m telling Mama!”
Trudy fled the mercantile, leaving Mrs. Titus frowning in her wake. The proprietress then turned her glowering countenance on Bethany. However, Bethany suspected both Luke and Jake would approve of her actions here.
“You’d be wise to mind your own business, Miss Stafford,” Angie warned. “You wouldn’t want to lose your teaching position on account of me.”
That did it. Bethany didn’t want to spark any more gossip about herself. It could affect Luke’s and Jake’s ministry here. And wasn’t that why Luke wanted to marry her in the first place? To quell the gossip surrounding her and the sheriff?
Bethany nodded reluctantly and returned to her task of selecting fabric, except she couldn’t seem to rid her mind of Angie’s haunted eyes. But, at last, she made her purchases and left the store. On the way to the boardinghouse, she grimaced at the thought of what Trudy might be relaying to her mother.
Bethany only prayed that Luke would find it in his heart to understand her side of the story.
SEVEN
WHEN BETHANY RETURNED TO THE BOARDINGHOUSE, she fully expected a reprimand for speaking to Angie Brown. But to her surprise, the Winterses, including Trudy, were so engrossed in conversation that they scarcely noticed her entrance.
Eyeing the man they talked to, Bethany realized she’d never seen him before. With his brown, shaggy hair framing a ruddy complexion and his wiry frame, he appeared to be no more than fifteen years old, although there was a wild look in hazel eyes—a look that didn’t belong on a man so young.
“You say it was an ambush, son?” Ed Winters asked. Worry lines etched his face at the sides of his eyes and around his mouth. “Tell us what happened.”
“Yes, sir. Whole lotta men were hurt too. Best as we can figure, someone tipped off the Indians.” The young man paused, shaking his head. “No good Indians were waiting for us.” He gulped.
Mr. Winters wagged his head from side to side.
“An Indian attack!” Mrs. Winters declared.
“All those men injured…why, I’m going to cry for a week!” Trudy exclaimed dramatically.
Bethany stood by, feeling stunned.
It was then that Doris Winters noticed her presence. “Why, Bethany, did you hear? This is Nate Lowel. He said some of Silverstone’s finest men were attacked last night while performing their civil duties.”
“Yes, I heard.” She wondered if those same men were the ones plotting against the Indians at the boardinghouse last night.
“Some are saying the sheriff informed the Indians,” the young man stated, “but he’s got an alibi—says he was at Chicago Joe’s all night, and one of the working girls backs up the story.”
“Merciful heavens!” Doris exclaimed. “And here I thought that man had some scruples.”
Bethany’s reaction mirrored Mrs. Winters’s, although she kept silent.
“But Mr. Buchanan swears he’ll find the man who sided with the Indians and see that he hangs. Meanwhile, another ranch got raided last night and a field hand got killed—got an arrow right through the heart.”
“Them Indians gotta go.” Mr. Winters stared at the plank floor and shook his head.
Mrs. Winters walked over to the young man and placed a motherly arm around his drooping shoulders. “Come on over to the table, and I’ll have Rosalinda fix you up a good hot meal.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Trudy bounced along in their wake.
Mr. Winters followed while Bethany took in the scene before her, unsure of what to think. Was Sheriff Montaño really involved? Had his alibi been a fabrication? On the other hand, she couldn’t condemn him if he’d merely alerted the Indians. But was he directly responsible for the ambush?
The sound of wagon wheels coming to a halt outside the boardinghouse captured Bethany’s attention, and she turned to see a man climbing down from his perch, grabbing hold of a bundle from in back of the wagon, and heading toward the door. He wore a blue army uniform, and after he entered, he dropped the package on the floor.
“This here’s some mail that should’ve got delivered yesterday. Came to Fort Yuma by mistake.”
“Thank you, soldier.” Mrs. Winters returned to the foyer. “I’ll see to it from here.” Her voice was polite yet held an unmistakable crispness.
The man tipped his hat and left. Trudy ran to the window and watched him climb back up into the wagon.
“Oh, aren’t those Union soldiers a handsome lot?” She sighed dreamily.
“Trudy, really!” Mrs. Winters appeared horrified. “I will not have you ogling a Yankee!”
“Yes, Mama.” Wearing a pout, the girl stepped away from the window.
“The war is over.” Bethany eyed both women. “There’s no Union and Confederacy, just one United States Army.”
“That’s right, Mama,” Trudy stated hopefully. “Could be that man was a Confederate before the war.”
“Quite unlikely.”
Bethany was somewhat taken aback by the anger in Mrs. Winters’s reply. A moment of strained silence passed, and then the older woman seemed to snap out of whatever bothered her.
Glancing at Bethany, she said, “I never did say congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you.” It still felt so surreal. After a moment, Bethany thought she should at least try to explain her side of things. “Mrs. Winters, about last night. Trudy didn’t lie, but it wasn’t what it seemed. The sheriff and I were not meeting secretly or shamefully.”
“Of course you weren’t. Why, I know that, dear.”
Bethany sighed with relief.
“Reverend Luke wouldn’t have asked you to marry him if he thought you were a woman who carried on with a man.”
Consolation quickly turned to disappointment as Bethany realized how right Luke had been about her reputation being so easily soiled. She’d been redeemed in the eyes of the Winterses now, but only because of his marriage proposal.
“Reverend Luke is one of the finest men I know. He suffered a head injury in the war and wound up in some dirty Union camp until his older brother rescued him.”
Bethany gave a slight nod. “I know the story well.”
“Why, if my son were alive today…” Mrs. Winters swallowed hard, her usually jovial countenance masked by sorrow. “I’m certain that if my son hadn’t been killed by Yankees, he would be as much a gentleman as either of the McCab
es.”
Bethany’s heart grew heavy. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d lost your son in the war.”
“We don’t speak of John’s death often.” Trudy sniffed and pulled out her hankie. “It’s too sad for words.”
“I’m sure it is.” Bethany set her arm around the girl’s shoulders. She suddenly understood Mrs. Winters’s infuriation just minutes ago.
“Yes, but we cannot dwell on the past, Trudy.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Bethany patted her shoulder.
“John knew and loved the Lord Jesus. He’s with Him today.” After a deep breath Mrs. Winters looked at Bethany and pushed out a grin. “Besides, we’ve got a wedding to plan!”
Trudy turned so her round face was just inches from Bethany’s. “Oh, please can I be in your wedding, Miss Stafford?”
Bethany gave both women a weak smile, wishing this event were occurring out of Luke’s love for her instead of some measure to ensure her good reputation and solidify his ministry in Silverstone. Then at last she relented. “Yes, Trudy. You can be my bridesmaid.”
Shrieks bounced off the walls of the boardinghouse, but it wasn’t a renegade’s attack; it was just Trudy throwing a veritable temper tantrum when her father ordered her to sort the mail.
“Go to your room, young lady.” Mr. Winters puffed out his chest and pointed up the stairs. “You’ll stay there for the rest of the evening and eat dinner up there by yourself. Understood?”
After a stomp of her foot, Trudy ran up the steps with fists clenched.
“Mr. Winters, I’ll sort the mail.” Bethany really didn’t mind and actually hoped she’d discover a letter from the McCabes in the bundle.
“Well…”
“Really. I’ve nothing better to do at the moment.”
“All right then.” He looked embarrassed, likely by his daughter’s disobedience. “Much obliged.”
Bethany dragged the mailbag into the parlor and thought that if she’d ever behaved as Trudy just did, her father would have given her a sound whipping. Bethany vowed right there that she’d never discipline her children in rage and with physical violence.
She shook her head at herself for already thinking about children.
On the settee, she deftly sorted the envelopes, creating piles according to the names of the addressees. She’d learned that folks here in Silverstone knew to check their mail slots whenever they came into town. Bethany noted that Sheriff Montaño had received a couple of very official-looking envelopes. Soon she found a fat packet addressed to Reverend Jacob McCabe that appeared to be from St. Louis. Bethany was certain it’d be a welcomed surprise.
Picking up the very last letter, she hoped against hope it would be for her. Instead the name read, Miss Angela Brown.
“Angie Brown.” She realized it belonged to the woman she’d met in the mercantile an hour or so ago.
Staring at the letter, Bethany nibbled her lower lip contemplatively. Should she personally give Angie her mail? She’d just been embroiled in a scandal, so she couldn’t very well knock on the front door of the brothel without causing quite a stir.
But what if she delivered the sheriff’s mail and slipped out the back door of his office? Anybody watching would just assume she had business with the sheriff and that’s all. Besides, she was engaged to Luke McCabe. No one would question her motives now. As for the sheriff’s back door, Bethany knew of it because rumor had it the sheriff often used it to access Chicago Joe’s.
Bethany thought on it some more. Her plan might work. And perhaps in doing this small favor for Miss Angela Brown, she’d befriend the young lady and gain an opportunity to share Jesus. Bethany couldn’t help but believe that both Luke and Jake would approve of her intentions. In any event, neither of them was here in town to ask.
She’d do it!
With her mind made up, Bethany gathered the mail. “I’ve got an errand to run,” she called to Rosalinda, who was dusting the furniture. “I’ll be back shortly.”
The Mexican woman nodded, and Bethany left the boardinghouse.
Outside, the October day felt like a hot oven against her face. In Wisconsin the weather might be some thirty degrees cooler. The leaves would be turning beautiful colors of reds and golds, but here in Silverstone, there was only brown and more brown to see. Bethany didn’t think she’d ever adjust to life here.
She stood at the edge of the boardwalk. After several wagons rolled past, she crossed Main Street and quickly entered the sheriff’s office. It was dark but cool inside the adobe building, and Bethany found the tan-skinned man reclining lazily in his chair, his feet up on the desk. He glanced at her and grinned.
“Miz Stafford,” he drawled, “to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“No pleasure,” she quipped, “I’m simply distributing your mail, and I need to use your back door.” She plopped his two letters on the desk and then strode purposely past the jail and up a few wobbly wooden stairs to the back entrance.
“Hold it.”
Bethany paused, turning. “Yes, Sheriff?” She prayed he wouldn’t interrogate her.
He swung his booted feet off the desk and stood. As he walked slowly toward her, Bethany was reminded of a sleek black panther she’d once read about, stalking its prey. He stopped just inches away. “What are you up to, chiquita?”
“I’m not doing anything against the law,” she assured him. “I’m simply delivering a letter to Miss Angela Brown.”
Paden Montaño looked at her askance. “Angie Brown? Who is that?”
Two steps up, Bethany stood eye to eye with the sheriff and marveled at his dark, penetrating gaze. She felt somewhat intimidated, yet she refused to back down. “Angie lives a couple of doors away,” she said vaguely. “I’ve got a letter here for her.”
“She is one of Chicago Joe’s working girls, eh?”
Bethany frowned. “Is Chicago Joe a real person or just the name of the saloon?”
“A real person.” Paden Montaño’s thin black mustache twitched with something of a smile. “Her name is Josephine Martin and she originates from Chicago, or so the story goes.”
“She?” Bethany felt her jaw go slack.
“Sí. She enlisted her, uh, talents in the war and kept up the soldiers’ spirits. How fortunate we are,” he stated with sarcasm, “that she decided to settle in Silverstone and take in young women who have nowhere else to go.”
“She takes in young women?”
Paden inclined his head slightly. “But in exchange they have to work for her. It’s hardly a charitable act. Chicago Joe is making a fortune, and her girls are dirt poor.”
“That doesn’t seem very fair.”
He chuckled at her statement. “Life is not fair, haven’t you learned that by now?”
She had. “But God is fair. Always. He only allows certain things to enter our lives for our good.”
“Hmm…”
Bethany felt her face warm with a sudden flush as she recalled that the sheriff had frequented the disgraceful establishment last night. She couldn’t get herself to meet his gaze. “Well, I…I just want to deliver a letter, that’s all. I won’t be long.”
“And what do you think the good pastors will have to say about your mail service?”
“Back in Jericho Junction their parents minister to working girls,” Bethany retorted, lifting her chin but still avoiding the sheriff’s dark eyes. “Besides, they’re both out of town, and Miss Brown should have her mail.”
“I see.” The sheriff smirked then lifted his hands. “Well, I think your plan is unwise, but I will not stop you.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.” With that, Bethany turned on her heel and left his office. After a few short steps, however, she could see the wisdom in his words.
All around her, the alley was littered with broken glass and empty liquor bottles. An unkempt man lay off to one side, either sleeping or dead, steeped in his own filth. Bethany grimaced. Looking back over her shoulder, she spied Paden Montaño at
the doorway and felt somewhat comforted by his presence. She watched as he lit a cheroot, a sure sign that he’d be there awhile.
Whirling around, she quickly walked the rest of the way to the brothel and knocked.
The back door opened slowly, cautiously, revealing a woman wearing a stained, red, satiny robe. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks slightly swollen, and Bethany wondered when she’d last had a good night’s rest.
“What do you want?” The woman’s tone was razor-sharp. She patted her matted dark brown hair.
“I’d like to speak with Angie Brown, please.”
“Angie? What do you want with her?”
“I…I have something that belongs to her.”
The hard-faced woman held out her hand. “Give to me. I’ll see Angie gets it.”
Bethany shook her head. “No, thank you. I need to give it to her myself, if you please.”
The door slammed in her face, and she nearly gave up trying to speak to Angie, when it opened again and there she stood.
A frown creased her golden brows. “What are you doing here?”
Smiling, Bethany held out the letter. “This came for you today in a packet of mail that accidentally got shipped to Fort Yuma. I had a feeling you’d want to see it right away.”
“Oh?” Angie took the proffered envelope and then gasped. “It came! She answered my letter!” Angie clutched it to her heart. “There is a God after all.”
“Of course there is.” Pausing, Bethany pointed at the letter. “Is it from home?”
“Sort of. I contacted my stepsister in San Francisco, never really expecting a reply. We were never close.”
Bethany nodded mutely.
“But it’s important to me just the same.” She met Bethany’s gaze. “Thank you so much for risking your good name to bring me this letter.”
“You’re welcome. But I was just trying to be a good Christian woman.”
Angie snorted contemptuously. “This town is full of ‘good Christian women,’ and their good Christian husbands come and visit me after they get paid.” Her laughter rang out on a note of contempt. “Hypocrites, that’s what Christians are.”
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