Morning Sky

by Judith Miller

  CHAPTER

  17

  Hill City , Kansas

  Enough! She’d had enough of this place and these people. Something had to change. Lilly stomped over to the chest of drawers to retrieve her nightgown. Today hadn’t gone as she’d planned. Jarena and Moses simply would not listen to reason. They both continued to cling to the misguided notion that they were in love with some person who was off gallivanting around the country. Nonsense. Jarena and Moses belonged together.

  As she removed her nightgown from the chest of drawers, Lilly noticed an envelope lying atop her dressing table. Her hand trembled as she examined the handwriting. She searched her memory, hoping to summon a remembrance of the unfamiliar script. Who could be writing to her? With the exception of Claire, her dear friend in New Orleans, no one knew she was living in Kansas. Beads of perspiration formed along her upper lip as she sliced open the envelope with Bentley’s silver letter opener, a beautifully engraved remembrance she’d removed from his valise on one of his many visits to her home. She pulled out the letter and immediately scanned the last page for a signature. Her tense body relaxed as she examined the name—Marian Bordelon—Claire’s sister.

  She moved the flickering lamp close to her bed and began to read. As she finished the second page, Lilly clasped a hand to her chest. Claire’s lifeless body had been found near the bayou, and Bentley Cummings had left New Orleans. How could it be? Obviously, Bentley was determined to find Lilly—at all costs. Lilly had no doubt Bentley had either killed Claire or paid someone else to commit the murder. She also had no doubt he would kill Marian if he thought circumstances warranted such action. Lilly’s hands had once again begun to tremble. She startled at the sound of Georgie thumping against the adjoining wall as the boy tossed about in restless sleep.

  Surely Claire must have grown increasingly worried when Bentley had begun to follow her. Why hadn’t she expressed those fears to Lilly or taken some measures to protect herself? Of course, what could she have done? Leave New Orleans? That had been Lilly’s own decision, but it seemed unfair that Claire need even consider such an option. After all, Claire had done nothing to deserve Bentley’s wrath. Nothing but remain Lilly’s friend and confidante. Nothing but withhold information from him. And now Lilly was left to bear the guilt of Claire’s death and accept the fact that Marian had also been placed in harm’s way. She wondered if Marian had maintained her silence or if she had told Bentley what he wanted to know.

  The room was stifling, and Lilly got up and crossed the floor. She raised the window and stared into the dark silence. “If I were Marian, I would have told him.”

  A coyote howled in the distance, and Lilly shivered. An omen? She hoped not. If she were a godly woman like her sister, Jennie, she’d now be on her knees in prayer. Of course, if she were like Jennie, she probably wouldn’t be in this predicament and she wouldn’t need to ask for such help.

  Marian’s letter didn’t say when Bentley had left New Orleans—only that he had headed for Kentucky after remembering Lilly had told him of family living there. She wondered if the entire letter was a ploy. Had Bentley stood over Marian and dictated the words? A rush of fear exploded in her belly like water flooding a fractured dam.What if Marian had given Bentley her address? What if Bentley was on his way to Hill City instead of Georgetown? He could be arriving at any moment.

  When sleep wouldn’t come, she paced the length of her room and reread Marian’s letter until the pages were dog-eared. What was it her mama used to say? Things always seem worse at night? Would it be better in the morning? Lilly didn’t see how. If only her mind would settle long enough to develop some sort of strategy.

  Dark circles underscored Lilly’s eyes the next morning when she glanced in the mirror, and for the first time since she’d arrived in Hill City, she took little care with her appearance. She took the back stairway to the kitchen and prepared breakfast in a daze. The children arrived in the kitchen a short time later, and with the exception of Alma’s unkempt hair, they were presentable. Lilly noted Georgie’s look of disapproval when she placed a bowl of oatmeal before him.

  He glared at the congealed oats. “I want griddle cakes.”

  “The only way you’re going to get griddle cakes this morning is if your mother prepares them. Now quit pouting and eat, Georgie. I’ve had little sleep, and I’m not going to argue with you today. That goes for all three of you.”

  Alma picked up her spoon. “I like maple syrup on my oatmeal, Miss Lilly.”

  Lilly retrieved the crock of syrup and placed a dollop in the center of all three bowls. “Now eat up, all of you.”

  Georgie scowled but did as he was told.When he’d finished eating, he pointed his spoon at Lilly. “How come you look like that today?”

  “Like what?”

  “Messy. That’s how Mama looked before you came here. Now she comes to breakfast all neat and tidy, and you look like she used to.”

  Could this day get any worse? Lilly removed his empty bowl from the table. “Thank you, Georgie. On top of everything else, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear this morning.”

  “What was it you wanted to hear, Lilly?” Mrs. Nelson walked into the kitchen and placed a kiss on Alma’s plump cheek. “Oh my. With those dark circles around your eyes, you resemble one of those raccoons Georgie’s been attempting to trap as a pet. From all appearances, I would guess that you must have gotten in quite late last night. Did you sleep at all?”

  Wonderful! Now she had Mrs. Nelson, who had no sense of style or decorum, assessing her appearance. The nerve of the woman—saying she looked like a raccoon.

  “Did you find the letter I placed on your dressing table?”

  Lilly nodded.

  “Not bad news, I hope. I didn’t recognize the handwriting. Your other letters . . .”

  Mrs. Nelson stopped midsentence. Apparently she’d been snooping again. Lilly wondered if Mrs. Nelson had steamed open and read Marian’s letter before placing it on her dressing table. Lilly wouldn’t put it past the woman. Oh, she looked harmless enough, but beneath Mrs. Nelson’s broad pin-tucked bodice beat a meddlesome heart—of that Lilly was certain.

  Once the children had scampered outdoors to play, Lilly poured a cup of coffee and joined Mrs. Nelson at the table. Though Lilly’s behavior would have been considered unacceptable in most homes, Mrs. Nelson hadn’t yet developed the art of setting boundaries for Lilly within the household.

  After settling into her chair, Lilly took a sip of the hot brew. “I hope this will serve to keep me awake.”

  “I’m most anxious to hear about the celebration in Nicodemus. Do tell me about it.”

  The last thing on Lilly’s mind was the Emancipation festivities, but if she hoped to elicit information from Mrs. Nelson, she’d need to spend a few minutes entertaining the woman first. Unfortunately, Mrs. Nelson had no meetings or appointments scheduled, and what Lilly had hoped would take only a few minutes to explain lasted much too long. The moment Lilly attempted to move the conversation in another direction, Mrs. Nelson quizzed her for more details.

  Mrs. Nelson poured herself another cup of coffee. “And who pays for all of these festivities and the speakers to come to the celebration? I know Mr. Nelson was asked to donate funds to the Fourth of July celebration.” Finally a question Lilly could warm to. Money! “I believe most of the speakers volunteered their time, and the supplies were likely donated. I must say it was kind of your husband to contribute funds to help the community, although his generosity doesn’t surprise me. From the first time I laid eyes on your husband, I knew he was a kind man who would help others. Of course, one must have the funds available in order to extend such kindness.”

  Mrs. Nelson stirred an additional spoonful of sugar into her cup. “ ’Tis true. George is one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. Sometimes he’s much too kind and generous—always ready to give a handout to anyone who approaches him. I’ve told him over and over that one day he’ll wish he had all the money he’s given awa
y.”

  “And I’m certain he disagrees.”

  “Of course. I told him if he keeps taking money out of that safe, one day there won’t be enough to send the boys to college—that’s my dream, you know. A good education at a fine eastern college for my boys.”

  “Your husband takes money from the bank? Isn’t that considered stealing?”

  “Whatever are you talking about? I said no such thing.”

  “You said he took money from the safe.”

  Mrs. Nelson gazed heavenward. “From our safe, not the bank safe.”

  Hairs on the back of Lilly’s neck prickled. A safe! She hadn’t seen a safe in the house. That piece of information was a very good reason to begin cleaning more thoroughly—and soon! With a little prodding, Mrs. Nelson might even reveal the general location of the safe.

  “I apologize. I didn’t realize you had a safe in the house. I improperly assumed . . . Of course, Mr. Nelson would never consider pilfering funds from the bank. . . . I do apologize for even mentioning . . .” Lilly hoped her stammering reply was convincing. She was weary, and it took every bit of effort she could muster to continue this charade.

  “No apology needed. I truly wish George would place our personal funds in his bank. However, he insists upon keeping them separate. I believe it has something to do with a bank failure and depression years ago. His father lost everything, and he instilled this fear in George—at least that’s what I believe.”

  “Very strange that a man who distrusts banks would enter the banking profession.”

  Mrs. Nelson nodded her agreement and then explained the plan she had devised years ago to help her husband overcome his doubts. When a position had become available at a local bank, she had insisted her husband apply for it. Soon thereafter, Mr. Nelson was offered the position, and though he had been loath to accept it, his wife had insisted. Mrs. Nelson had thought the new job would put an end to her husband’s worries. Much to his wife’s chagrin, Mr. Nelson’s fears and mistrust remained intact, and through the years the banker continued to place a safe in each of their homes. Although delighted by the turn of events, Lilly offered the woeful responses Mrs. Nelson obviously expected.

  When Mrs. Nelson offered nothing further regarding the location of the safe, Lilly forged onward. “One of the families I worked for in New Orleans had a safe. They installed it directly into the wall of their mansion. I found the concept fascinating.” She hoped the remark would spur a clue from Mrs. Nelson.

  “At least George hasn’t gone that far. I don’t want holes carved into the walls. George purchased a steel safe shortly after we married, and when we moved to Hill City, he had it shipped by train—likely cost a fortune to have it delivered.” Mrs. Nelson pulled the drapes back and peeked out the window. “I believe Alma is calling me, and you’re probably eager to clear off and wash the breakfast dishes.”

  Breakfast dishes were far from Lilly’s mind. Instead, she was concentrating on locating Mr. Nelson’s safe. With a flitting wave of her hand, she encouraged Mrs. Nelson toward the door and her young daughter. She emitted a sigh of relief as the woman headed outside.

  Intent upon surveying the room, Lilly startled when Mrs. Nelson returned and grasped her by the arm. “I was pleased to hear about the Emancipation celebration, Lilly.Mr. Nelson and I may attend next year and bring the children—unless we wouldn’t be welcome.”

  “Everybody is welcome at Emancipation celebrations, Mrs. Nelson. And I know the committee would be pleased to receive a contribution from your husband.”

  Mrs. Nelson laughed as she returned to the hallway and headed toward the back door. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

  Once the door closed, Lilly hurried to Mr. Nelson’s office. She’d spent little time in the room, giving it only a cursory dusting from time to time. Unlike his wife, Mr. Nelson didn’t appear to notice whether Lilly dusted or swept the floors, and Mrs. Nelson seldom entered the room. Lilly entered the office and carefully pulled back the edge of the draperies. Good! Mrs. Nelson was busy in the flower garden with one of her frequent horticulture projects while Alma had busied herself picking blooms from several plants. No doubt Mrs. Nelson would be distressed once she discovered Alma’s unceremonious ruination of her prized blooms.

  Turning away, Lilly shook the draperies into place and began to search for anything that resembled a safe. She peeked into the large kneehole of Mr. Nelson’s desk and then moved on. Dropping to her hands and knees, she flipped back the imported tapestry cloth that draped the library table. She crawled underneath, thinking the safe might be hidden in the dark recesses beneath the heavy table. Finding nothing, she stood and walked the circumference of the room, tilting several paintings that hung on the office walls as she circled the room. Perhaps Mr. Nelson did have a wall safe and Mrs. Nelson had been attempting to lead Lilly astray.

  Once convinced there was no wall safe to be found in the room, Lilly dropped into one of the tapestry upholstered chairs and cupped her chin in one hand as she surveyed her surroundings. Her gaze settled upon the large oak cabinet she’d dusted on several occasions. The open upper shelves contained books and ledgers, but she had no idea what was behind the lower doors. Surely a safe would be too heavy to place inside such a cabinet. However, unable to find another place to investigate, she moved to the cabinet and knelt down. With a tug, she pulled on the knob, surprised when the door opened to reveal a black metal safe fronted by a large combination lock. There was little doubt the cabinet had been built to specification for the sole intent of hiding Mr. Nelson’s safe. Lilly would give him credit—the cabinet was ingenious. And the safe was locked.

  After another quick peek out the window, Lilly hastened from the room. If Mrs. Nelson returned inside and the breakfast dishes were still sitting on the table, she would expect a full explanation. Best to get the table cleared and then further assess the situation.

  As she performed the mindless tasks, Lilly brooded over where the combination might be concealed. Mr. Nelson had gone to great lengths to hide his safe, and Lilly knew the combination would not be easily found. On the other hand, she couldn’t imagine he would leave his wife without access to the steel monstrosity. What if something happened to him? Mrs. Nelson would need explosives to retrieve her inheritance! Lilly attempted to picture Kate Nelson setting fire to a stick of dynamite. The notion was more than even Lilly could imagine. The befuddled woman would blow up the entire household in the process.

  Of course there was the remote possibility Mr. Nelson had documented the combination in his last will and testament. Lilly hoped he hadn’t decided upon that alternative. Surely he wouldn’t have given the combination to his lawyer. Or would he? The very thought that Mr.

  Nelson might have chosen such a plan was exasperating. No! She would not surrender to such a deflating thought until she’d conducted a thorough search. Besides, a positive attitude was always a stronger ally in the midst of difficult circumstances—and finding the combination was going to be tricky.

  Lilly had nearly completed the dishes when Mrs. Nelson returned to the kitchen holding Alma’s hand in a firm grasp. The woman’s features tightened into a scowl as she announced Alma would be spending several hours in her room. As if to emphasize the child’s misdeed, Mrs. Nelson declared both she and the boys would soon depart for an outing to the general store while Alma served her penance.

  Though Lilly experienced a fleeting ache for Alma’s misfortune, she was pleased to know she’d have the house to herself for at least an hour. The proposed outing would afford her time to scour Mr. Nelson’s office. Once Mrs. Nelson was gone, she would mollify Alma with cookies and milk and then begin her search.

  Lilly paced the length of the kitchen as she waited to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A short time later, Georgie bounded into the kitchen with his hair wetted down and combed into place. He was immediately followed by Joseph, who was wearing a clean shirt and holding his mother’s hand.

  “We’re off. Make certain Alma remai
ns in her room. Do not take pity on her, Lilly. She must learn respect and proper behavior.”

  Wiping her hands on the worn apron, Lilly nodded her agreement and escorted the threesome to the front door. She waved until they were out of sight and then turned to find Alma sitting on the top step, her eyes swollen and red as she sniffed a remorseful apology for her misdeed.

  “You don’t owe me an apology, Alma. It’s your mother who’s unhappy with you. Now, I can’t let you come downstairs, but I’ll bring you a cup of milk and some gingersnap cookies if you promise to stay in your room until your mama comes home.”

  The child promised and then sniffled. Lilly handed Alma a handkerchief and then ordered her off to await the cookies and milk in her room. Alma obediently wiped her nose and trotted off down the hallway. Within a few minutes Lilly supplied the child with her promised treats. Appeased by the indulgence, Alma took a bite of her cookie and waved the damp handkerchief toward Lilly.

  Retrieving the limp offering, Lilly tucked the hankie into her pocket, admonished Alma to remain in her room, and proceeded directly to Mr. Nelson’s office. Leaving the door slightly ajar, she began her search in earnest, first going through the desk drawers and then pulling out each book and flipping through the pages.With each shake of a book or ledger, she hoped to see a scrap of paper descend like manna from heaven. But none was forthcoming.

  Perhaps there was a secret compartment in the desk. She’d heard of such things though she’d never actually seen one. Returning to the desk, she pulled the center drawer out and up, hoping to remove the drawer. Unfortunately, it wedged and wouldn’t budge further. Excitement pulsed through Lilly’s veins in a heady rush. There must be something hidden behind or under the drawer. She tugged and shifted, but to no avail. Time was passing much too rapidly. She crawled under the desk and turned onto her back to see if she could push the drawer from underneath. Prodding with her fingertips, she stared at the bottom of the drawer. She couldn’t believe her eyes—penciled onto the bottom of the drawer were the directions. Spin lock three times, turn R to 35, turn L to 22 . . . Without taking time to read any further, Lilly scrambled to fetch a piece of paper. She banged her head twice in the process, stopping only long enough to rub the sore spot or utter a curse.When she’d copied the directions precisely, she edged from beneath the desk, tucked the paper into her pocket, satisfied herself the room was in proper order, and departed.