Virginia's Vocation

by Zina Abbott

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  Chapter 15

  ~o0o~

  Elyria, Ohio – May, 1859

  V irginia seated herself in an empty bench of the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Railway coach. With a sigh of relief, she had completed her morning activities so that she could catch the train on time. The homework for her morning classes would have to wait until she arrived back in town before dusk. Fortunately, the days were getting longer, and she would not return to the Oberlin train station after dark.

  She knew she should have a payment waiting for her at the Elyria Post Office. Her latest article had been published in the issue of the Heartland Monthly she received the previous Thursday. It certainly resulted in some lively discussion at the table at the conclusion of supper.

  Martin, as usual, expressed his displeasure with the Arkansas legislature for giving freed blacks in the state such miserable choices—either exile or a return to slavery.

  The other young men responded with varying degrees of enthusiasm, but it was apparent all were interested. The only one who refrained from participating in the discussion besides Virginia, and who appeared to be to grow more morose as the discussion continued, was Avery Wilson.

  Virginia found a certain amount of gratification that her fellow students appreciated the article she wrote. However, she also knew Mr. Wilson held a very poor opinion of her writing. After the scene that followed the last time the residents at Mrs. Chilton’s boardinghouse discussed one of her articles, she decided it was best to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

  However, the presence of the article in the magazine signaled to her that she should have a draft waiting for her at the Elyria Post Office. From there, she would take the draft to the bank and deposit it. Then, it was a matter of waiting for the westbound train to arrive so she could return to Oberlin.

  The only problem with her plan was that she could not arrive back at the boardinghouse in time for supper. She had already warned Drusilla she had personal business she needed to take care of that would keep her away until later.

  Drusilla agreed to ask Mrs. Mabry to fill a plate and keep it warm until her return.

  At least, it she would not arrive back at the boarding house after dark like she had in March. Drusilla had thoroughly chastised her for being out not only alone unescorted but at such a late hour. She insisted that next time she go somewhere to conduct personal business, she asked a friend to go with her. If she would not return by suppertime, then Drusilla requested she make arrangements for one of the men in the house to meet her and walk her home.

  Virginia chafed at the thought that she must be escorted everywhere she went. Her landlady rivaled her brother when it came to insisting on such things. Convinced that she would be perfectly safe while making the short train trip to Elyria and back, she had not shared the details of her plan, nor had she made arrangements for an escort.

  Upon feeling someone sit down in the seat next to her, Virginia jerked her head to the right to see who had joined her. She found herself staring into the face of Drusilla Chilton.

  Drusilla settled her reticule on her lap and smiled back at Virginia. “Hello, dear. It is a lovely day for a trip to Elyria. I decided I would join you.”

  Keeping her voice low, Virginia stammered out her words. “Drusilla, what are you doing here?”

  “As I said, I have come to escort you to wherever it is that you are going so that you might conduct your personal business.” She turned to Virginia with a determined expression. “Virginia, it is one thing for you to walk a few blocks from my house to the college. It is an entirely different matter for you to walk several blocks to the train station and board for a trip out of town unescorted. I do not know the nature of your personal business—yet. However, if you are going to be out later in the evening, you really should have someone else with you. Even in a small, close-knit college town such as Oberlin, there are those with nefarious intentions who might do you harm if they realize you are alone.”

  Virginia shook her head in frustration. “Drusilla, you did not need to go to all this trouble. I’m sure I will be fine.”

  Drusilla straightened to look forward and wriggled her backside into the seat. “There is also the matter that I wish to discover what you are up to, Virginia.” She turned and reached over to pat Virginia's hand. “Remember, dear, I truly wish to be your friend. From now on, on the Thursdays that you go to the library, I would appreciate it if you would invite me along. I would enjoy helping you search for information you need for your...” Drusilla glanced around the coach to see if any of the other passengers were paying attention to them. When she found no one in the seats next close to them, she turned back to Virginia with a smile. “Your research. Who knows? I might be of some help. Maybe I can speed the process along for you. Besides, it would help this old lady keep from being so bored. I would love to find an activity more invigorating than running my boardinghouse to fill my mind.”

  Virginia swallowed, and she looked away. She also glanced around to make sure that they were not being overheard. Then again, she realized merely the act of checking around could cause onlookers to become suspicious about what they were speaking about. She lowered her head and turned toward Drusilla. “Thank you, Drusilla. Since you are determined to stay by my side, I will be happy to take you to the library next time I go for that purpose.”

  The two women arrived at the Elyria train station. As they stood on the platform, Drusilla put her hands together at her waist and straightened her body as she faced Virginia with a smug smile. “All right, my dear. Where are we going to first?”

  “Drusilla, I don’t wish to tire you too much. My errands won’t take long, but they do require some walking. Perhaps I could settle you at a café where you might enjoy some tea while you wait.”

  Virginia could tell by her landlady’s expression she had no intention of staying behind. She sighed in resignation. “My first stop will be the post office.”

  Palm up, Drusilla waved her hand. “Lead the way, my dear. It has been several years since I've been to this quaint little town. I can't say I remember where the post office building is.”

  As the two women walked in the direction of the post office, Virginia’s mind whirled as she tried to determine how she could gather her mail without having her friend and landlady clinging to her side. As soon as they entered the building, Virginia turned to the other woman. “If you'd like to take a seat on the bench, Drusilla, I'll stand in line and get my mail. It won't take long. Then maybe we can stop for some tea and a bite to eat.”

  “That will be fine, my dear.”

  With a sigh of relief, Virginia left Drusilla sitting on the bench. She joined the line for the mail counter. As soon as it was her turn, and she prepared to ask the clerk for her mail, she realized Drusilla had joined her.

  “Don't mind me, dear. I figured since you were already up here to pick up your mail, we would be leaving soon. I decided to join you so I won’t hold you up.”

  Virginia, her frustration growing, bit back a sharp retort. She sincerely hoped Drusilla could keep a confidence, for the woman was making it extremely apparent she had no intention of granting Virginia any privacy on this trip.

  “How may I help you, ma'am?”

  Virginia turn back to the clerk with a weak smile. “Yes. By chance, do you have mail for a Mr. V. Baker?”

  “I will check in a minute, ma’am. First, will you please tell me how you are related to Mr. Baker?”

  “Yes. I am his sister. I live in his home and keep house for him.” She began to fumble with the flap of her possibles bag that was slung over her shoulder. “If you like, I can show you the letter from him that gives me permission to conduct his business.”

  “No, that will be fine, ma'am. I'm sure everything is in order.”

  Ignoring the curious expression on Drusilla’s face as she intently studied her, Virginia continued to face forward while the c
lerk searched for any mail. With a smile, she welcomed the mail clerk when he returned to the counter.

  “Here you go ma'am. there was only the one letter for him. May I help you with anything else today?”

  “Thank you, sir, but this will be all. Have a pleasant day.”

  As Virginia turned to leave the post office building, she felt Drusilla slide her hand into the crook of her arm.

  “Thank you, dear. Since I didn't bring my cane, I could use a little extra support right now.”

  A question in her expression, Virginia turned to Drusilla. “What cane? I don't recall seeing you walk with a cane.”

  “The cane I wish I owned just about now. The walk from the train station to the post office building turned out to be a little longer than what I anticipated. Is it very far to where we can stop and have that cup of tea you mentioned earlier? I would love to rest a few minutes before we attend to your next errand.”

  “No, it’s not far. At the end of this block, we turn right and then it is only one block past the corner.”

  “Wonderful. I'm sure I can make it that far. Once we are there, perhaps you can tell me who Mr. V. Baker really is to you.”

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  Chapter 16

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  D rusilla pointed at Virginia’s possibles bag which she had pulled into her lap. “Tell me, my dear. where did you get that unusual satchel? I've noticed you wearing it when you go to and from your classes at the college, plus you had it with you when you were at the library the other day. I've never seen anything quite like it, at least as far something a young lady would carry.”

  Virginia had felt shaken by the time they arrived at the tea shop and ordered. She suspected Drusilla intended to question her about her pseudonym. Instead, the woman asked about the bag she had carried almost everywhere since her time spent in Salina? “The man who sold it to me called it a possibles bag. He said its name had its origins with the mountain men who used to journey west to hunt beaver and other game. He said this one could be used by a woman.” She explained what it was how it was intended to be used. “I felt it would be good to have this with me while I helped my brothers build their house east of Salina. Now that I have come to Oberlin, I find it very helpful for carrying my notebook and pencils.” She stopped and smiled. “I even tie the strings of my reticule to it and put the rest inside so it doesn’t catch on anything while I carry my books.”

  “I see. I thought it might look like it was made by Indians. It has a unique design on it I have not seen anywhere else.”

  “Yes. It was made by a Kaw woman. I had never heard of that particular Indian tribe before I went to Kansas Territory with my brothers last year.”

  “Hmm. Did you meet any of these Kaw people while you were there?”

  “Drusilla, it is interesting how a person's perceptions can change once they learn a little more information about something. I have been terrified of Indians—all Indians. While I was working with my brothers and my one brother's father-in-law building their new homes east of Salina, a long procession of Indians began to cross close to where my brother, Jefferson, had his land. I was gathering firewood farther away. The sight of them terrified me, and I hid. I sincerely believed they were going to scalp and torture me before they killed me.”

  Drusilla shuddered. “Oh, my. I can certainly understand that. Thankfully, most of the Indians that were here in Ohio have been moved to Indian Territory west of the Mississippi.”

  “Here is what changed my mind, Drusilla. One of them rode up and talked to my brothers. He said all they wanted to do was cross the river there to go west to hunt bison. They live on a reservation near Wichita. After talking to the man at the outfitter store on our way home to Boonville, I learned the government does not give those people what was promised to them. The money that is to go to these people passes through many hands, and almost all of them are tainted with graft and corruption. If the Kaw don't go west and hunt buffalo, they will starve to death. It changed my whole attitude about that tribe.”

  Drusilla sat back in her chair and stared at Virginia with an expression that appeared far too perceptive. “Really. The Kaw, you say?”

  Virginia chose to ignore her friend. “Granted, other tribes are still hostile to us. I’m terrified of them. I have no desire to live on the frontier with the rest of my family. I worry about them constantly. I told Jefferson, they must be sure and write to me every month so I know they are alive and well. As for the Kaw, I have been able to think of them more as people who have the same wants and needs as everyone else we know, not the sub-humans some ignorant folks try to make them out to be.”

  “Hmm. I seem to remember reading something about that tribe not too long ago.”

  Open-mouthed, Virginia studied the woman across the table from her. She wondered, where did Drusilla read something about the Kaw? Almost everything written about Indians only referred to them as Indians without naming any tribes, as if they were one and the same. Virginia knew they were not—the different tribes held to slightly different beliefs. Some were more warlike; some were willing to negotiate with the white Americans. Because the Kaw had never been at outright war with the United States, almost nobody knew about them. In fact, Virginia knew of only one article about this tribe published in recent months that referred to them by name—hers.

  Seated at a corner table with no other customers close by, Drusilla shot Virginia a piercing gaze. “Tell me, dear. Who is V. Baker? Don't try to tell me he is your brother, because I won't believe it. I know better than anyone that you do not live in his home and keep house for him.”

  Virginia closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her lips. Her voice came out in a whisper. “You must think me a terrible liar. I do not make these claims for the purpose of deceiving others. It is to protect myself.”

  “Virginia, by chance, is this Mr. Baker connected to your writing?”

  “Yes. his name is the one I use with my publisher.” Virginia cautiously opened her eyes and met Drusilla's gaze. She tried to guess what the woman thought of her.

  Drusilla scrunched her lips and looked off to the side as she considered this information. She turned back to Virginia with a raised eyebrow. “Would it be unreasonable of me to guess that this V. Baker is not the name that you write under? That perhaps this is the name by which your publisher knows you?”

  Virginia hesitated. “Why would you think that? I told you I use a pen name.”

  Drusilla waved her hand dismissively. “Yes, but that does not necessarily mean that you wish your publisher to know your true name. If you did, he then would figure out that you are a woman. My guess is, the way you were able to convince him to consider your work was to allow him to think your articles were written by a man. After all, I’m well aware of the prejudices against women. Most men take a dim view of women's thoughts on the subject matter you like to write about.”

  Virginia's words came out a little sharper than she intended. “Most men take a dim view of just about anything a woman chooses to write about--or say.” Virginia glanced down at her lap in an effort to calm herself and to escape Drusilla's knowing stare. Drusilla surprised her by changing the subject.

  “I believe we have enjoyed our little break. If you have another errand to run, I’m ready to go.”

  “I also must stop by the bank.”

  “Hmm. Would I be too far off if I was to guess that you need to deposit a draft you received in the envelope that was addressed to Mr. V. Baker?”

  Virginia closed her eyes in resignation. There was no use trying to hide the matter any longer. The woman kept after her as tenaciously as the proverbial bulldog. “You are correct. I recently had an article published. I expect that when I open this envelope, I will find a draft enclosed.”

  “A draft made out to Mr. V. Baker?”

  “I certainly hope so. That is the name my publisher knows me by.”

  “And what is the name your r
eading public knows you by, Virginia?”

  Virginia tightened her jaw. She felt her old stubbornness rise up within her. With a determined glare, she met Drusilla's gaze. “I am not prepared to share that with you at this time. No one, except one of my brothers—Jefferson, the brother you met—knows the name by which I write. I managed to keep it from him for years, but I had to reveal it in order for him to stop trying to prevent me from coming to Oberlin to attend college. He was furious when he found out—more because he was concerned for my safety than anything else. I promised him I would not reveal it to anyone. please don't question me about it anymore.”

  Drusilla shrugged. “Very well, my dear. I won’t.” She leaned towards Virginia and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I believe your pen name is V. A. Wellington.”

  Virginia's felt her face blanch as she turned her gaze toward her landlady and friend. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because, my dear, I have read issues of the Heartland Monthly before the one you loaned me. Mr. Wilson gave me permission to read his copies once he finished with them. I recalled not long ago reading an article about the Kaw people written by V. A. Wellington. At the time, I found it unusual, because I had never heard of this tribe before. I also found it interesting that these people live in Kansas Territory just west of Missouri where you came from and very close to where your brother told me he and his family were moving.”

  Flabbergasted, Virginia stared at Drusilla. It had never occurred to her that her landlady would figure it out. “I have nothing to say in response to that. However, I will remind you of your promise to say nothing about my writing to anyone else. No one, Drusilla, not even those who say they are willing to keep information you share with them confidential.”

  “I will keep my promise, Virginia. As I have said all along, I wish to help you succeed. And, there is one respect where I agree with your brother. For your own safety, it is best that no one knows you authored those articles under your pen name.” Drusilla removed her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table before she untangled the strings of her reticule. She prepared to stand. “Shall we go?”