“Ah, you are up at last. You must be hungry.”
“Yes, Miss Thoresen, but—”
“Please call me Joy? And Helen is just here.” Joy led Tory into the next room.
Helen lay in deep sleep, seemingly undisturbed by the winds pounding the lodge and howling about the eaves.
“We are in the grip of a storm, Tory. I have to believe it is God’s provision for you.”
Tory glanced at Joy. “God’s provision?”
“Banner, Darrow, and the others cannot track you in a storm, can they? The wind is tossing snow in every direction and piling on more. Flinty tells me he cannot see his hand in front of his face.”
“Flinty?”
“A friend. He is the smithy who lives over across the siding. He tells us he saw you, nearly a year ago, when you arrived. I . . . I am sorry that no one was here then to prevent what happened to you.”
Tory nodded. “I remember him. He seemed concerned.”
“He has been ‘concerned’ for several years yet unable to do anything about it. The houses have too many armed gunmen. We are praying now . . . about how to help.”
Tory looked away and then changed the subject. “Miss, I am worried about Helen. She needs a doctor.”
“I agree, but there is no doctor in Corinth. She should go to Denver. Unfortunately, the train is the only way up and down the mountain in winter, and we shall see no trains until this storm subsides.”
“Banner will be watching the trains, Miss Joy.”
Joy nodded. “I know. We are seeking God for a plan to remove you and Helen from Corinth.”
Tory studied the woman’s face. She seems so confident in God—not like me. I do not even know who he is. Who Jesus is.
DAYS LATER, CREWS RUNNING steam-powered snowplows cleared the train tracks between Denver and Corinth. The British lodger, a Mr. O’Dell, went down to Denver in the morning and returned in the evening.
At the end of the week, a few days after the plows had cleared the tracks, three finely dressed women disembarked at the Corinth siding. Banner’s men noted the visitors, and saw the conductor set their luggage on the platform. The carriage from Corinth Mountain Lodge met the three passengers and whisked them away.
As soon as her guests stepped into the lodge’s great room, Joy drew them into the kitchen and introduced them to Tory. “Ladies, this is Victoria Washington. Tory, may I present Emily Van der Pol and her good friends, Viola Lind and Grace Minton?”
Tory nodded. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“And we, yours, Tory—or do you prefer Victoria?”
“Tory is fine, Mrs. Van der Pol. Thank you.”
“Tory, I understand from Mei-Xing that you have an eye for fashion,” Joy began.
“That was kind of her.” Tory thought Joy’s statement an odd segue after the introductions.
“I mention fashion for a purpose,” Joy continued—and a smiled played on her lips. “You are quite tall, but I believe Viola to be closest to your height? Will you tell me what you think of her taste in hats?”
Viola, still wearing the broad-brimmed concoction, reached up both hands and brought down the hat’s veil. The thick, dusky fabric covered her face and neck and draped against her fur stole.
“It is a lovely hat, Mrs. Lind, and the veil, in addition to protecting your skin against a chilling breeze, is an elegant touch.”
“I think so, too,” Joy answered. “In fact, I believe this hat and veil would be stunning on you, do you not agree, ladies?”
“Ah, yes, I do!” Emily answered, smiling wide. “It is perfect.”
Joy continued, “Emily, Viola, and Grace will be our guests tonight and tomorrow, but on Sunday, Emily will return to Denver with her two friends. However, Viola and Grace will not depart until Tuesday. Do you take my meaning, Tory?”
Tory looked from face to face until the scheme dawned on her. “You mean for us, for Helen and me, to—”
“To accompany me down to Denver,” Emily finished. “Three women arrived, the same three will depart.”
“You saw how we transported our guests the short distance from the siding to the front entrance of the lodge?” Joy asked. “We shall do the same in reverse Sunday afternoon, delivering Emily, Helen, and you to the siding. The only difficulty may be Helen’s ability to walk from the carriage onto the train. Billy can, of course, help her down from the carriage, but you may need to support her across the siding and up the steps to your car without being too obvious.”
“I am certain Helen will understand the hazard of the situation and do her best—but what of Mei-Xing?”
“Ah, yes. Unfortunately, Mei-Xing presents a difficulty this scheme cannot overcome. She is altogether too small to pose as either Viola or Grace—or as any of Emily’s friends. We must keep her here a little longer and find another way to take her off the mountain.”
“And where . . . where will we go, Helen and I, when we arrive in Denver?”
Here Emily spoke up. “I have many friends far from Denver, Tory. We think it best to remove you from the city—and quickly, do you not agree?”
“I do agree. I cannot . . . I do not care to return to Denver at this time.”
Joy patted Tory’s hand. “Then it is settled. If you will explain the details to Helen, perhaps she can prepare herself for the exertions she will be called upon to make come Sunday.”
ON SUNDAY AFTERNOON, the men assigned by Banner to watch the siding for signs of Tory and Helen, observed the lodge’s three guests depart for Denver. The women were dressed against the winter cold much as they had been when they arrived—full-length coats, furs, and gloves—and wide, veiled hats.
Helen leaned on Tory’s arm as she moved across the platform with regal grace, Emily on her other side. When the women reached the steps up into their car, Tory murmured to the conductor, “Will you kindly assist my friend? She has been ill and is somewhat weak.”
The conductor took Helen’s arm and bore her weight as she struggled up the steps. Tory, directly behind her, placed a discreet hand on Helen’s belt and, with the view obstructed by Emily, helped lift Helen.
Banner’s men saw nothing other than three wealthy women returning down mountain from a weekend of relaxation.
Part 4:
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Chapter 29
February 1909
After a four-day secret stay in Denver and a flurry of trunk calls made by Emily Van der Pol, Tory and Helen left for the city of Philadelphia. Three days later, they were met by the Misses Eloise and Eugenia Wright, Emily’s trusted friends. The sisters, both in their seventies and as thin as two lengths of lath, waved their hankies in unison to attract Tory’s attention.
After introductions, Tory expressed her concern regarding Helen. “My friend was growing ill before we left Colorado, and I am afraid that the stress and exertion of travel have further weakened her to the point of collapse. I do not think she can disembark under her own power.”
The spinsters immediately took command of the situation, directing their chauffeur to carry Helen down from the train car and lay her in their vehicle, a covered Austin Touring automobile. The chauffeur, Benson, settled Helen across the rear seat with her head in Tory’s lap while Miss Eloise and Eugenia perched on the car’s forward seat beside their driver.
“We shall call our personal physician as soon as we are home,” Miss Eugenia declared.
“As soon as we are home!” Miss Eloise repeated.
Tory thanked them and murmured, “You are most kind.”
The doctor, after examining Helen, met with Tory and the Misses Wright in their parlor. His pronouncement devastated Tory.
“Ladies, as I cannot announce good news, I shall not mince words. My diagnosis is that Miss Hawthorne has a cancer in her abdomen. Such a cancer, particularly in an advanced stage such as this, has no treatment. I shall do what I can to make her comfortable; however, you should not expect her to linger above a month.”
/> “A month!” Tory could not believe the prognosis. “So soon? Is there no hope for her at all?”
“My dear Miss Washington, as her friend, you do not wish her to suffer, do you? For suffering she is, although she may not complain much. A month of suffering? We should pray for a quicker release than that.”
The doctor left a large bottle of brown liquid to be administered “for temporary respite from pain” and promised to secure the services of a nurse. “Miss Hawthorne will require around-the-clock care.”
The elderly women Tory had only just met both put their arms around her. “We comprehend how dear Helen is to you, Tory. We shall do all we can to comfort her—and you—during this difficult time,” one of them said.
“Yes, all we can do. All we can do,” echoed the other.
Tory did not know how to respond. It had been so long since anyone had shown her kindness or compassion. And now that she and Helen were free, after all they had borne, Helen was dying?
Tory crumpled in the Misses Wright’s arms, sobbing.
“There, there,” Miss Eugenia whispered on one side. “Do not despair. You are not alone. We will not forsake you.”
“We will walk with both of you through this dark valley,” Miss Eloise whispered on the other, “and entrust Helen to our Savior’s lovingkindness.”
Beginning that evening, the two women demonstrated what they had promised.
“It is not as though we do not have full faith in Dr. Pritchard. We do—he has been our physician for nigh on twenty years, after all—” began Miss Eloise.
“But in a situation as dire as this, we must explore every option,” interrupted Miss Eugenia.
“Yes, every option! So, tomorrow we will seek a second opinion—”
“From a Philadelphia surgeon who comes to us highly recommended—”
“By good friends,” finished Miss Eloise.
Tory’s head had swiveled between the sisters as they finished each other’s statements. She began to perceive that conversations with the Misses Wright would often proceed in similar fashion.
“In the meantime—”
“Yes, in the meantime!”
“We have ordered Cook to prepare a nourishing broth for Helen—”
“And a hot meal for you, my dear. Why, you must be fatigued from your travels—”
“While we, ourselves, generally do not eat more than a bite of soup in the evening—”
“Because we take our main meal of the day at half past noon.”
They sat Tory down in the dining room and fussed over her and her dinner until she had consumed every bite they placed before her. Then they escorted Tory to her bedroom “to settle in.”
The room the Misses Wright assigned to Tory was palatial in size and lavish in furnishings when compared to the narrow confines of Tory’s room in the Corinth Gentlemen’s Club. The sisters had ensconced Helen in the next room over.
After Tory unpacked her pitifully few possessions—two hand-me-down dresses and a few toiletries provided by Emily Van der Pol—she sought out her friend. She found Miss Eugenia seated beside Helen’s bed, holding her hand, and singing softly. Tory watched as the elderly woman stroked Helen’s brow, marveling at the sweetness in the woman’s touch.
“Ah, there you are, Tory. Would you care to sit with Helen for a bit?”
Tory sat all night with her friend, often nodding off herself. When the pain roused Helen and she began to toss or moan, Tory would spoon a dose of the medicine into her mouth. Eventually, the drug would cause Helen to doze, but for a space of a quarter hour or more, while the medication worked to dull her pain, Helen and Tory would talk.
“What did the doctor say, Tory?”
Tory’s throat was so tight she was unable to answer.
“I have felt a growth in my belly for some time. Is it that?”
“Y-yes.”
“I see. May I have a sip of water, Tory?”
“Of course.”
When Helen had taken a sip, she asked, “How long shall I linger, does the doctor think?”
Tory hunched over, tears sliding from her eyes. She felt her chest would burst from the pressure in it.
Miss Eugenia appeared at Helen’s side. “We have another doctor coming tomorrow, dear. Shall we wait and see what he says?”
“Thank you, Miss Eugenia.” Helen moved with discomfort. “You and Miss Eloise . . . I am sorry to be such a burden.”
“Ah, but how can you be a burden, my dear, when you are our little sister?”
The joyful smile that bloomed on Helen’s face broke Tory’s heart.
“Why, I have never been a little sister!”
THE HIGHLY ESTEEMED surgeon came and went, leaving behind a report no better than the first doctor’s. The nurse arrived in the afternoon and assumed Helen’s care.
Then Miss Eloise took Tory in hand and, against her initial wishes, had Benson drive them into town where they first purchased nightgowns and toiletries for Helen and then a small wardrobe of ready-made wear for Tory.
When they returned, Tory again found Miss Eugenia seated beside Helen. Helen appeared to be sleeping. Tory drew up a chair near the door and sat down to listen to Eugenia’s song.
What a friend we have in Jesus,
All our sins and griefs to bear.
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer!
Oh, what peace we often forfeit,
Oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer!
For an elderly woman, Eugenia’s voice was steady, clear, and pleasing. Tory soaked in the lyrics of the hymn, not having heard it before or even knowing to call it a hymn, but attracted by the joyful reverence of the songwriter’s profession.
Then Miss Eugenia sang about heaven, and Tory was transported to a place of glory, a kingdom of majesty.
In heaven above, in heaven above,
Where God our Father dwells;
How boundless there the blessedness!
No tongue its greatness tells.
There face to face, and full and free,
The ever-living God we see,
Our God, the Lord of hosts!
She was taken aback when Miss Eugenia spoke to Helen. “You know, Helen, heaven is the most wonderful place. Our heavenly Father is there, seated on his throne, surrounded by angelic hosts singing his praises. Oh! And Jesus is waiting for you, waiting to take you by the hand and bring you into the Father’s presence. He even promises to wipe every tear from your eyes and heal every wound in your heart.”
Helen whispered something Tory could not hear. Even Miss Eugenia had to bend close to catch her words.
The woman listened and nodded, then answered, “Ah, but you are not the only sinner in this world, Helen. We have all done awful things, even shameful things, myself included. No, you are not alone in your sinful state. And to be sure, God must already know about your sins, mustn’t he? He is God, after all. He sees and knows all things—every detail of every sin we have committed and every aspect of our wicked hearts.
“And to think he loves us anyway? He loves us so much, in fact, that he sent Jesus to die and pay the penalty for our sin. Why, it is beyond our comprehension, don’t you agree? What a great, incomprehensible sacrifice he made for us!”
When Helen did not answer, Miss Eugenia sang another song, and its haunting refrain pulled at Tory’s heart.
At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light,
And the burden of my heart rolled away,
It was there by faith I received my sight,
And now I am happy all the day!
Miss Eugenia sang several verses, from memory, afterward repeating the same tender chorus.
As Tory listened, the line, “and the burden of my heart rolled away,” spoke to a place deep inside her. She found her face wet with tears of longing. What would I not give to have the burdens of my heart lifted and rolled away? To know
what happiness was?
HELEN STRUGGLED THROUGH the next days and weeks. She grew weaker and was racked with pain. The nurse cared for her physical needs, but it was Miss Eugenia who cared for Helen’s heart. As Helen’s body declined, Miss Eugenia comforted her and sang.
I must tell Jesus all of my trials,
I cannot bear these burdens alone;
In my distress He kindly will help me,
He ever loves and cares for His own.
Tempted and tried I need a great Savior,
One who can help my burdens to bear;
I must tell Jesus, I must tell Jesus:
He all my cares and sorrows will share.
By the close of their third week in Philadelphia, Helen’s body refused food. Knowing the end could not be far away, Tory rarely left Helen’s side. She assisted the nurse, turning Helen, cleaning her, changing linens often, taking her turn sitting with Helen, sleeping on a little cot in the corner of the room.
The nurse, Miss Eugenia, Miss Eloise, and Tory pressed water on Helen with every opportunity. During one such attempt, Helen pushed the glass Miss Eugenia offered her away and rasped, “How . . . how can Jesus want . . . me? So . . . so many awful things . . .”
Miss Eugenia put the glass to the side and took Helen’s hand again. “Child, Jesus has been waiting for you all your life. If you will go to him right now, he will certainly receive you. Will you confess your sins to him and ask his forgiveness? Will you proclaim Jesus as your Lord and Master?”
Tory edged closer, sensing something so holy that she trembled in its presence.
Pain gripped Helen, and she writhed until the spasm eased. “How . . . How?”
“Will you allow me to lead you in prayer, Helen?”
Helen nodded.
Miss Eugenia spoke with confidence, “Lord God, I am a sinner. I am lost without you. Will you forgive me of my sins? Will you cleanse my heart and soul? I surrender to you. I surrender everything—all that I am—to you.”
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