The Ballad of Hattie Taylor

by Susan Andersen

  Now those dreams were dust and it seemed to boil down to a question of virtue. Hers, clearly, was highly suspect, and who could blame him for thinking so? He’d been willing to overlook that she’d come to him without her virginity. But now that he knew who had taken it, he’d most likely also remember her loose conduct with him in the stable before they were legally married.

  And, truly, why wouldn’t he? If she’d had her virginity to begin with, Hattie would have offered it up that night without a second thought for the sanctity of wedlock. No doubt Jake entertained precisely such thoughts when he looked at her these days. Supposing, of course, he ever did look at her again. She certainly hadn’t caught him at it when she’d risked sneaking a peek at him.

  Time passed in a fog of battered emotions. Shame, embarrassment, and crushing hurt came first. It took ten days of being left on her own, and then ignored when her husband was with her, before anger finally elbowed its way to the head of the line to take its rightful place.

  38

  THURSDAY, JUNE 24, 1909

  Nell left Augusta’s house in a fog of confusion. She’d just learned Jake knew about Hattie’s rape. Dear Lord. Nell could only imagine how her friend was taking it.

  Nell didn’t pretend she hadn’t wondered how Hattie handled the explanations on her wedding night. She’d been fiercely adamant about Jake never knowing what was done to her, and by whom. So, it must have been incredibly difficult. Naturally, Nell hadn’t come right out and asked, although she’d had to bite her tongue more than once to stop herself from doing just that. She’d had to remind herself it was none of her business and be content knowing Hattie was radiantly happy.

  Jake hadn’t offered much explanation when he questioned Nell. What she did take from their conversation was that Hattie had stuck to her guns. From the little he had told Nell, she was pretty sure he’d discovered the identity of Hattie’s rapist all on his own.

  Nell hoped no one saw her talking to Jake outside the mercantile, because she’d sure as heck failed to disguise her shock upon hearing Jake’s first words. She’d greeted him as she always did, pleased to see him after her two-week sojourn in Seattle visiting her mother and sister, and anxious for news of Hattie, who’d been nothing short of radiant when Nell left.

  But Jake wiped her smile away when he’d leaned over and murmured in a voice too low to be overheard that he knew Roger Lord had raped his wife and Jake needed to talk to her about it. Numbly, she had let him lead her to the Murdock mansion.

  Apparently, he’d spent the past two weeks talking to everyone with any knowledge of Hattie’s attack. Why hadn’t Augusta said anything to her when she met her at the train last night? To be fair, Moses had been there, too, and it had been quite late when he brought her back to Augusta’s house.

  Nell was worried sick about Hattie. How had her friend fared these past two weeks? Jake looked so closed off and grim, and knowing Hattie’s aversion to the idea of him finding out about Roger Lord, Nell had to wonder if the two of them had actually talked about it.

  The whole confusing potluck of emotions was boiling through her mind as Nell walked past the livery. She didn’t see Moses until he suddenly materialized at her side and took her arm.

  “Hiya, sweetheart,” he said, and when she violently started, he soothed a large hand down her arm. “Whoa there, little darlin’. I didn’t mean to startle you. What’s got you looking so serious?”

  God, she wished she could tell him, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t her secret to tell. “Um, nothing,” she said without conviction.

  Moses’ eyes narrowed. Leading her into the relative privacy of the livery, he crowded her up against the wall. “You’re not a very good liar, Nell,” he said, watching her closely. “So, what’s going on?”

  Being caught fibbing rubbed her raw, particularly when, if it were up to her, she would unburden herself to him in a heartbeat. There were few people with more insight into Hattie than Moses Marks.

  She couldn’t confide in him, however, so she took refuge in anger instead. Straightening away from the wall, she held herself erect, her manner prim and proper. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to you call me a liar,” she said coolly, her chin tipped up. “I’m leaving.”

  “The hell you say.” Moses blocked her way by planting his hands on the wall on either side of her head. “Does all this sudden secrecy have anything to do with your conversation with Jake Murdock outside Norton’s Mercantile?”

  Once again, her body jerked in shock. But she whispered stubbornly, “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Bullsh—” Moses shut up before he spewed something he might regret. But he knew his voice was perhaps overly inflexible when he said, “Quite clearly, you do. What in tarnation is going on, Nell?”

  He crowded her against the wall and hooked a hand beneath her chin, forcing it up until her eyes met his. He could feel the pulse in the angle of her jaw beating like a captured rabbit’s. “What did Jake want? I saw him say something to you, Nellie-girl, and I saw you react as though you’d been shot. Tell me what this is all about.”

  “I can’t,” she said miserably. “It was told to me in confidence.”

  “In confidence by who?” he asked. He was struck by a terrible suspicion. “Murdock?” What the hell was Jake up to? Moses wracked his brain to figure out what Murdock could have said to make Nell react this way. Bastard better be taking care of his wife and not trying to start any funny business with my girl. But that didn’t make sense.

  Until Nell blushed, thinking of the mortifyingly personal nature of the questions Jake had asked her this day.

  Moses reacted violently to the sudden color in her face. If he’d been thinking straight, he would’ve known his suspicions simply weren’t feasible. But he wasn’t. The woman he loved wasn’t acting like herself, he’d witnessed Murdock’s effect on women before, and Moses panicked. “You stay the hell away from Jake Murdock,” he snarled furiously. “You’re mine!” Then he kissed her.

  It lacked the gentleness he’d taught her to expect, possessed none of his usual ironclad restraint. This kiss was harsh, carnal, and out of control as he ground his mouth against hers, forcing her head back against the boards.

  Nell struggled instinctively, not against his kiss but against the raw injustice of his lack of faith in her. Not that her attempt to evade his hold had any impact on Moses. He simply captured her hands, pinning them against the wall above her head.

  Sliding his mouth away from hers, he kissed his way roughly down her neck, his free hand snaking around her hip to yank her against his lower body. The size, the hardness and heat of him, rubbing against the notch between Nell’s thighs, made her gasp. “Stop it,” she whispered and tugged against the hold on her wrists. They remained stapled to the wall by his big hand as his mouth moved onto her right breast, his breath hot and ragged through the thin material of her shirtwaist. “Moses, stop it.”

  His teeth captured her nipple, which to her shame had distended beneath the cloth, and tugged it. How could she be the least bit excited when he’d just grievously insulted her?

  “Would you use force on me, then, Moses Marks?” she asked hotly to disguise the fact that he could cast aspersions on her faithfulness one moment and still render her all too willing to grant him unlimited access to her body the next.

  Moses went still against her. Releasing her wrists, he stepped back, allowing a small gap between their bodies. Nell’s hands dropped limply to her sides. Then she pushed him aside, abruptly furious. “How dare you?” she snapped. “First you treat me like I’m a prig, and now you think I’m having an affair with my best friend’s newly wedded husband?” Her voice rose incredulously. “And what part of ‘confidential’ do you fail to understand?”

  Shit. Put like that, it sounded all kinds of muddled up. But Moses was still aroused and mortified by his treatment of her. At the same time, he wished like hel
l he’d pushed matters even further. And while he knew he should apologize, instead his voice emerged coated with frost. “Whose secret are you keeping, Nell? It’s sure not mine. Is it Murdock’s?” He thought about it a moment. “Hattie’s?” It was a stab in the dark, but the sudden stillness on Nell’s pretty face told him he’d hit his target. “It’s Hattie’s?”

  “What difference does it make?” Nell snapped back irritably. “A confidence is a confidence. Or perhaps you only honor those given to you by certain people.” Nell immediately regretted her snide tone of voice. She knew perfectly well what it would mean to Moses to believe himself excluded from Hattie’s confidence. A large part of their problems on his side had originally stemmed from his conviction that she had usurped his place as Hattie’s best friend. Nell felt a sudden gaping divide crack open between them, leaving the ground beneath her feet feeling far too shaky.

  “Hattie has a problem,” Moses said in a tone so carefully neutral it made the small hairs on the back of Nell’s neck stand up, “and you don’t think I can be trusted with it, am I correct?”

  “No,” she said, wishing desperately she could fully explain. “Let me try to make you understand.”

  “Oh, I think I understand very well,” he interrupted in that appalling might-as-well-be-a-stranger voice. He took her arm in a gentle grasp and ushered her to the livery door. “You best run along now,” he murmured distantly. “I need to get back to work.”

  And the next thing she knew, Nell was outside the livery, staring miserably at the door Moses closed in her face.

  39

  Jake went to Doc first, who shared his information and suggested Jake talk to Sheriff Jacobson. For not only had the lawman kept Hattie’s rape quiet; he’d maintained his own surveillance on Lord’s house whenever possible.

  It was a good lead; the sheriff shared a fat folder of notes. An interesting one was the observation that Lord’s chambermaids changed far more frequently than most—and none had been hired locally from as far back as aught-six, when Jacobson had begun watching the house. Jake had no idea what he anticipated happening when he, too, began keeping an eye on the house. All the same, day after day Jake watched the indoor help as they entered and exited through the back door. Unfortunately, he didn’t see anyone who seemed a likely prospect for what he had in mind.

  It wasn’t easy to keep his eye on the house and remain inconspicuous. He’d lived in this town his entire life, and everyone knew his name, business, and antecedents pretty much back to when the earth’s crust cooled. Even so, Jake managed to spend several undetected hours each day viewing the back door. Having found a break in the laurel hedge of a neighboring yard, he slipped in early, sat as still as the cramped position allowed, then slipped out again when the coast was clear. That was a week ago, and he was at his post again, legs pulled to his chest and his chin on his knees, watching the house and doing his best to ignore the moisture seeping into the seat of his Levi’s as he sat on the damp ground. He occupied himself thinking of Hattie.

  He needed to find something—anything—else, for thoughts of his wife made him brood. But knowing it and doing something about it were two different matters, and as usual when he was alone, his thoughts turned to her. The light had gone out in her the past ten days. She was like a ghost of her former self. As long as he had known Hattie, the enduring quality that had drawn his fascinated attention time and again—from the day she first came to Mattawa to today—was her exuberance. She was more alive than anyone he’d ever met, more passionate in every respect, whether laughing, raging, or teaching. Her love burned hotter; her hatred was worlds fiercer.

  When Jake pictured her at any age, his first image wasn’t her curvy figure, tempting as it was. It was Hattie’s vivid coloring, her expressive face. Jake loved her flushed cheeks and apricot freckles, her mobile rosy lips and white teeth, her golden-brown eyes and that gloriously fiery, untamable hair. He loved her enthusiasms and convictions.

  It was as if God said, This child has a zest for life; let it shine like a beacon for all to see. He bestowed that face upon her as a badge of her spirit, and her true nature simply could not be disguised—even when she returned to Mattawa a quieter, more mature edition of herself. She might be able to camouflage her passion with some success, but she sure as hell couldn’t bury it entirely. It had cropped up again and again, with her students, with their parents, and with a hundred and one enthusiasms she couldn’t control. Her spirit never diminished. Until now.

  Jake dug his chin into his kneecap. Her cheeks were pale these days, her head bowed. He’d been avoiding her, but he had been around enough to recognize that when he looked at her, all he saw was the top of her head. The life seemed to have seeped out of her that night in the stable when the identity of her rapist exploded in his consciousness—and only now did he think to wonder if his wife’s apathy might be rooted in something besides a bitter distaste for him.

  For the first time since realizing what he’d done, it occurred to Jake to wonder why the hell she had married him in the first place. Why she’d made love to him with unbridled responsiveness. Yeah, she’d been practically dragged to the altar. But on their wedding night, despite fearing an act he’d mandated in his arrogance would be part of their lives, Hattie had let him love her without a struggle. And, oh God, her response nearly drove him to his knees. She hadn’t acted like she hated him that night—or any since then.

  Her behavior had been as generous and giving as that of a woman in love.

  A sudden, desperate need to talk to her exploded in his mind. Why hadn’t he talked to her? Jake slowly straightened his legs, grimacing at the stiffness in his knees. He couldn’t see past his own agonized guilt once he discovered what he’d done by sending her to Roger. Yet, what he’d just discovered, Hattie had known all along. And she’d married him anyway.

  Oh, hell, yeah. They definitely needed to talk.

  He was inching out of his cramped cave in the hedge when the back door opened and a young woman stepped out. Jake pulled his legs back in, waiting for her to pass. He glanced at her without interest, anxious to get home to his wife. Then his gaze sharpened and he froze.

  Good God Almighty. She was a pale imitation of Hattie. Her body wasn’t as lush, her hair not as brilliantly red. But there was something reminiscent of his wife. And Jake knew.

  This was it. What he’d been looking for. Jake eased out of the laurel. Casting a swift look around, he winged a quick prayer to pass unobserved as he edged along the perimeter of Lord’s yard. He fell into step behind the woman, keeping half a block between them. Two blocks from the house, he began to shorten the distance.

  When he touched her arm, she jumped and dropped her basket. She whirled to face him, one pale hand, framed by a stark white cuff, flying to the matching collar on her black dress. “Oh, sir! You frightened me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. He leaned down and retrieved her basket, offering it to her. Then he hesitated, unsure how to proceed, and the young woman’s pale blue eyes narrowed warily. In their depths, Jake saw a frail vestige of a feistiness that perhaps hadn’t yet been entirely beaten out of the young woman. Encouraged, he said with the utmost gentleness, “I know what Roger Lord is doing to you.”

  Eyes filling with horror, she backed away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. I want to help.”

  “You cannot.” She began to walk once again.

  “Yes,” he replied gently to her stiff profile as he fell into step beside her, “I can. With your help, I can put the man behind bars where he belongs. Where he can never harm you again.”

  She stopped walking and turned to face him. “How?”

  “By charging him with rape.”

  Her tear-filled eyes grew enormous. “Are you insane?” she whispered. “I’d be ruined.”

  “Is that worse than allowing him to continue doing what he’s
doing to you?” he snapped impatiently . . . then touched her arm in contrition. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was unfair. Of course, it’s a valid concern. Do you have a family?”

  “No.”

  “More than anything I wish I could promise it would be easy,” he said slowly. “But I can’t. You would have to press charges and that means a trial. The defense will try to make you look like a harlot in order to save Lord’s worthless hide. But it seems to me nothing can be as painful as what he’s getting away with now. And one thing I can promise you is a place with a good family in Seattle or San Francisco afterward. Somewhere where no one will ever have to know a thing about you.” He looked down at her in silence for several moments while she appeared to think over his proposal. “Please,” he finally said. “Help me lock this sick bastard away. I guarantee you can then move on to a good position.”

  She glanced up and down the quiet street. She shifted the basket from her right arm to her left, then straightened her cuffs. She looked down at the dust coating her serviceable shoes. Then raised her eyes to Jake. And whispered, “What do I have to do?”

  * * *

  —

  Her name was Opal Jeffries and she was nineteen years old. She had been in service for three years as a parlormaid, and until her employment with Roger Lord began three weeks ago, she’d never minded the work, for it was the only life she’d ever known.

  Jake asked her how she had come to be in Lord’s employ.

  “He hired me away from the Conleys after coming to dinner one night. He seemed like such a gentleman and he offered better wages than I ever got,” she explained. “I had no idea how wicked-mean he could be.”

  “I know this is painful, Opal,” Jake said gently, looking at her across the scarred desk in Sheriff Jacobson’s office. “But I need to ask. Were you a virgin when you began your employment with Lord?”