Jarena struggled to find the proper words. “We’re . . . we’re making perfume . . . to sell. I’m going to save the money to help Thomas and me set up housekeeping when he returns.”
Miss Hattie touched a finger to Jarena’s head. “You doin’ any thinkin’ with that head of yours or you jest using it for a hat perch? There’s alcohol in your pappy’s house. You think he’s gonna be happy ’bout that?”
“No, but . . .”
“Ain’t no buts ’bout it. You’s headed down a crooked road that’s gonna lead you to trouble for sure. Now if you’s smart, you’s gonna march back in that house and tell Lilly you done made a mistake and she best clear up that mess she’s makin’—and get rid of that liquor. You knows your pappy could get hisself in trouble if folks find out he’s got liquor in his house.”
Calvin waved from the wagon, obviously anxious to be on his way. Jarena sighed, relieved Miss Hattie would soon be gone. No telling what might happen next if the old woman remained. She’d likely go inside and destroy the supplies herself.
Miss Hattie waved back at Calvin. “I’s comin’, jest hold on a minute. You mind what I’m tellin’ you, gal. I ain’ gonna say nothin’ ’bout none of this to no one, but I expect you to do the right thing.”
“Yes, Miss Hattie.” Though she truly didn’t want to agree, Jarena mumbled the obligatory words. “You won’t say anything to Pappy, will you?”
“I ain’t gonna say a word. Now go on inside and get that mess cleared away.”
Lilly didn’t look up from her handiwork when Jarena stepped back into the house. Without giving Jarena opportunity to speak, her aunt launched into additional ideas regarding their new perfume business.
She would order special oils to create a longer-lasting perfume—one for which they could charge more money. And, of course, they could change the scent depending upon the available flowers. Lilly explained they would purchase only a few of the costly oils she truly preferred.
After all, they would want to make a profit.
When her aunt finally paused, Jarena relayed what Miss Hattie had plainly pointed out. “I’m concerned that Pappy won’t agree to this venture. Perhaps we should wait until I can gain his approval.”
As she had earlier, Lilly continued working, undeterred by the remark. “I don’t know why he would object. Didn’t God create these flowers with wonderful aromas? I’m certain He’d want His children smelling just as fine as the flowers. Besides, what’s wrong with making perfume?We’re performing a service for the womenfolk on the prairie.”
She has a point, Jarena thought. She forced aside Miss Hattie’s warning and continued to ignore the small voice urging her to stop. She focused her attention on Lilly and her exacting directions. And when her aunt finally declared the mixture ready to be bottled, Jarena carefully funneled the sweet-smelling liquid into the shiny containers. She didn’t notice the sun had begun to cast longer shadows across the hardened dirt floor—nor did she hear her father approach the house.
“What’s all this going on in here?” he boomed from the doorway, the sun forming a golden halo around his floppy felt hat. “Sure don’ smell like my supper cookin’ on that fire.” The bottle in Jarena’s hand dropped to the floor. Glass shards scattered around her feet and reflected tiny prisms of light.
Jarena waited, hoping Lilly would respond. Instead, Lilly folded her hands in a saintly fashion and remained uncharacteristically silent.
“I’s waitin’ for an answer, gal.” Her father crossed the room in four long strides, stopping directly in front of Jarena.
She stepped in front of the shelf where she’d placed the oils and alcohol. Pointing a trembling finger at the small bottles that lined the kitchen table, she regaled her father with the many attributes of their proposed business venture—as many as she could recall, at least. Her thoughts had scattered like rose petals in a gust of wind the moment her father had entered the house. He didn’t appear convinced as he stepped forward and gently moved her aside. His gaze settled on the oils and then he picked up the bottle of alcohol. Without a word, he removed the lid, walked out the door, and poured the contents on the ground. His dark eyes bore down on Jarena as he set the empty bottle on the shelf.
Ezekiel moved to the table, his jaw twitching as he dropped onto the chair opposite his sister-in-law. “Lilly, what you got to say ’bout all this?”
With a demure shrug, Lilly explained there was little she could add. Jarena glared at her aunt. Nothing to add? Why didn’t her aunt come to her defense? Why didn’t she explain what a wonderful idea this was? Lilly could at least admit making perfume had been her idea.
“This was all my idea, Ezekiel.” Lilly’s insipid confession did little to deflate the crackling tension that filled the room.
“I never doubted that for one minute. My girls ain’ never disobeyed me ’til you walked into my house, Lilly. Jest about the time I’s thinkin’ I been too hard on you, you go and prove me wrong. Liquor ain’ allowed in Nicodemus. Jarena knows that—everyone who lives here knows. And I’d wager you knew it afore you opened that bottle. Ain’ that right?”
Lilly didn’t flinch. “I don’t understand why you’re getting all riled up. You’re acting as though I invited folks over to purchase a shot of whiskey when all I’ve done is teach Jarena how to make perfume so she can earn a little money.”
Ezekiel struck the table with his fist. “Don’ you go trying to mix right and wrong, Lilly! There ain’ no excuse fer none of this. Jarena don’ need no extra money. She’s got everything she needs right here— and that don’ include you or your perfume makin’.”
Lilly folded her arms across her waist. “Men aren’t always the finest judge of what’s best—especially where their wives and daughters are concerned.” She grudgingly added, “However, I’ll do my best to keep the peace and abide by your rules until I can find a job.”
Ezekiel gave a nod. “That would suit me jest fine. Now get this mess off the table and let’s see to gettin’ some supper.”
Jarena hastened to begin supper while Lilly returned the bottles and supplies to her trunk. Ezekiel went outdoors to wait. Lilly nonchalantly drew closer to Jarena once Ezekiel had moved away from the house. “If you like, we can still make the perfume. We’ll merely need to begin earlier in the day and keep our actions secret. The flowers will still be fine tomorrow morning.”
Jarena shook her head and declined the offer. If her aunt intended to continue the perfume-making business, it would be without her assistance. Jarena wasn’t willing to break the rules set up by the town of Nicodemus. Predictably, Lilly seemed unruffled by the refusal.
CHAPTER
7
New York City
Macia slumped forward, unable to control herself. She gasped for air as her upper body came to rest atop the polished oak desk. The familiar scent of lemon oil filled her nostrils while the cool wood soothed her fevered cheek. In the distance, she heard a faint tapping—perhaps a woodpecker drumming his beak on the ancient walnut tree outside the window. The tapping grew louder and more insistent. A slight breeze dusted her cheek as a loud thwack sounded directly beside her ear.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she settled her bleary gaze upon the wooden rod lying beside her face. She wanted to lift her head—she told herself to move, say something, sit up, do anything—but all to no avail. The stick moved from sight and was replaced by her French instructor’s face. Mr. Gautier’s head was tilted to the side, and he looked directly into her eyes.
“Est-ce que je vous dérange, Mademoiselle Boyle?”
The words jumbled in her mind as Macia attempted to translate the question into English. “Oui, I must take a nap.”
“Levez-vous, s’il vous plat!”
“I can’t sit up—my head.”
She listened to the sound of Mr. Gautier’s departing footsteps, but she was still unable to move.
Rennie grasped Macia by the shoulders. “Macia! You must sit up.”
Macia’s de
ad weight settled against the chair back. “Mr. Gautier has gone to report you to Mrs. Rutledge. This is the third day he’s caught you sleeping during class. He’s very angry, Macia.”
“I’m ill, Rennie. I can’t sit here. Please help me upstairs; I must lie down.”
Inez’s voice came from a couple of desks away. “You’d best not, Rennie. You’ll get in trouble, too. Macia’s likely pretending to be ill again because she hasn’t completed her lessons.”
If she’d had enough strength, Macia would have hurled her lesson book across the room at Inez. The girl was frightfully mean-spirited and certainly not someone Macia would ever count a friend. In fact, finding fault, either real or imagined, with others was the only thing that seemed to give Inez pleasure.
Macia handed Rennie her lesson book. “You can turn this in for me, Rennie, but I’m going upstairs, even if I must crawl on my hands and knees.”
Amanda hurried to Macia’s desk and encircled Macia’s waist with her right arm. “I’ll help you to your room, Macia. If Mr. Gautier wants to refund my parents’ money, I’d like nothing more than to return home. I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”
“We’ll both help you.” Rennie gathered their lesson books and handed them to Lucy. “Here, Lucy, please turn in the lesson books for all three of us.”
Lucy took the books, though she was obviously vacillating between fear and admiration as she danced from foot to foot. “What should I say to Mr. Gautier?”
“The truth. Tell him we’ve assisted Macia to bed, and when we feel it’s appropriate to leave her alone, we’ll return to class—which may not be today.” Rennie grinned. “Though you need not add my final remark.”
Macia groaned as the girls helped her to her feet. Her legs felt as though they’d been pumped full of jelly. Her knees buckled with each step. Amanda and Rennie tightened their hold as she began to sink toward the floor. She could feel perspiration on her forehead and upper lip as the girls hauled her to the stairs. By the time they had reached the upper hallway, she couldn’t move her own body. The last thing she remembered was the heavy breathing of her friends as they attempted to pull her along toward the bedroom.
When Macia finally opened her eyes, she was greeted by the soft glow of her bedside lamp. She was lying in bed, still wearing the navy skirt and white shirtwaist required by the school, and Rennie was sitting in a chair across the room. “What time is it?”
“Nearly midnight. How do you feel?”
“Somewhat better, I think. Have you been with me all this time?”
Rennie smiled and drew her chair closer. “Amanda and I have been spelling each other. She’s scheduled to return at three o’clock; then I’ll sleep until breakfast.”
“I’m so sorry. You must be exhausted.” Macia licked her parched lips. “I do hope the two of you didn’t get in trouble with Mr. Gautier or Mrs. Rutledge.”
Rennie poured a cup of water and lifted it to Macia’s lips. “Here, take a sip. You need not worry about us. Mrs. Rutledge doesn’t want to refund money to our parents, so she’s not going to say anything—at least for the time being.” Rennie set the cup on the bedside table. “We must discover what is wrong with you. I think Inez may be taking ill, too. Janet told Mrs. Rutledge Inez had taken to her bed after classes today and wasn’t well enough to come down for supper this evening.”
“I do hope she managed to complete her lessons,” Macia said with a feeble grin.
Rennie giggled. “She is a heartless one, isn’t she?”
“I think she’s anxious to impress Mr. Laird.”
“You think she’s enamored with him? Oh, how fun! Inez besotted by Mr. Laird. He’s too old for her, don’t you think?”
“Some girls like older men. Besides, he’s not so much older—perhaps twelve years.”
Rennie wrinkled her nose. “I want a man my own age, not some stick-in-the-mud who wants to sit home by the fire with a wool throw over his knees.”
“Oh, Rennie, I always feel so much better when you’re around to make me laugh.”
The door swung open and Mrs. Rutledge entered the room. “She’s dressed to receive visitors,” she told Mr. Laird, beckoning him forward.
“You’ve come to call on me after midnight?”
“We were concerned about your health. And why aren’t you in bed, Miss Kruger? You’ll be falling asleep in class tomorrow. After missing your lessons today, you can ill afford such lackadaisical behavior. Your parents deserve better—and so does Rutledge Academy.”
Rennie shrugged. “I’m more concerned about Macia’s health than a few French lessons. Besides, my parents won’t care a jot. They’ve grown quite accustomed to my failing marks in school.”
Mr. Laird stepped closer. “Instead of intruding in Miss Boyle’s health problems, why don’t you surprise your parents and attend to your studies—just this once. We are the ones entrusted to look after Miss Boyle.”
Rennie remained in her chair. “Well, you’re not doing a very good job. Why don’t you telegraph her father and ask his opinion? He’s a doctor.”
Macia sat up a bit straighter. “Perhaps I should contact my father and set forth my complaints. He will likely have some idea of what ails me.”
“No need, my dear,” Mrs. Rutledge said. “We’ve already written a lengthy letter to your father explaining your illness. We don’t want to overly upset him—after all, you’ve already explained he can’t leave your mother. And you do appear to be feeling much better tonight.”
“Yes, that’s true. I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am. Rennie, why don’t you go along to your room? Macia’s feeling better, and you both need to sleep.”
Rennie leaned forward and grasped Macia’s hand. “I’m happy to stay with you for the remainder of the night.”
“No need. You go along. We can both sleep for a few hours before breakfast.”
Mrs. Rutledge took Rennie’s hand and walked her to the door. “Sleep well, my dear.”
The moment the door closed behind Rennie, Mrs. Rutledge drew near and put her hand on Macia’s forehead while Mr. Laird poured a small amount of water into a cup. He held out the cup, and Macia took a small sip. Pushing the cup forward, Mr. Laird insisted Macia empty the contents, for she remained somewhat feverish. In spite of the foul taste, Macia drank the liquid, though she did ask if Rennie could bring her fresh water the next morning.
“We have servants to see to such things. Daisy will bring you a pitcher first thing in the morning. You should change into your nightgown. We’ll see you at breakfast in the morning.”
Macia waited until they departed and then removed her navy blue serge uniform. Her skin didn’t feel warm, and she wondered if she truly had a fever. She didn’t like Mr. and Mrs. Rutledge—or Mr. Laird. There was something disturbing about the trio that ran this school. Though she doubted whether sleep would come after a full day in bed, Macia slipped between the sheets.
The sun was beaming in her window when she finally awakened the next day. Surely breakfast had been completed hours ago. She stood up, and her knees wobbled as she crossed the room. Leaning her head against the doorjamb, she turned the knob and peeked into the hall. Daisy sat on the floor outside her door. She appeared startled but quickly gained her wits and inquired if there was anything Macia needed.
Macia frowned. “Has breakfast been served?”
The colored girl stood up and smiled. “Breakfast and dinner. It’s almost two o’clock, Miss Boyle. I brung a fresh pitcher of water this morning, but you was fast asleep.”
Dizziness once again overcame Macia, and she grabbed the doorknob to steady herself before attempting to send Daisy on her way. After all, there was no need for Daisy to sit outside her door all day. Macia certainly didn’t want someone guarding her door. She’d feel as though her bedroom had become a prison cell.
However, Daisy was adamant she must remain. She’d been instructed by Mr. Laird to wait outside the door and report everything Macia sa
id or did. Stating she would return as soon as she reported Macia was awake, Daisy turned to leave.
Macia grasped the girl’s arm and had soon convinced her there was no need to tell Mr. Laird, for she would be asleep again within minutes. Macia invited her to stand watch until she’d fallen asleep.
The girl shook her head and motioned for Macia to go on to bed as Daisy slid back into position alongside the door. Macia leaned against the cool wood and gathered her strength before wobbling across the floor and falling into bed. She shivered in the warm room. Why was Daisy guarding her door and reporting to Mr. Laird? What was going on in this place?
CHAPTER
8
Nicodemus , Kansas
At the sound of an approaching carriage, Jarena dried her hands on a worn cloth and walked to the open door of the soddy. “Wonder who that could be.” She could sense Lilly following close on her heels.
“Let’s hope it’s someone who can add a bit of amusement to our dull lives,” Lilly muttered. She drew nearer and peered around Jarena’s shoulder.
“Maybe a few Indians will come calling. That would likely provide you with enough excitement for several days.”
Lilly grasped Jarena by the arm. “Do Indians still live around here?”
The distress in her aunt’s voice brought a smile to Jarena’s lips. So there was at least one thing that frightened the woman. “Some,” she calmly replied. “They’re mostly friendly—especially the Osage. In fact, had it not been for their kindness during our first winter in Nicodemus, we might have perished. They were good-hearted enough to provide us with a portion of their kill when they passed through our settlement after one of their winter hunts.”
Lilly shuddered. “I’ve heard tell of the horrid things they do—savages.” Jarena glanced over her shoulder, unexpectedly remembering a frightening dream she’d had the night before. “The Indians we’ve encountered are much less frightening than the possibility of someone conjuring up voodoo curses.” “You’re worried I’ve placed a curse on someone, Jarena?”
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