“He’s knows full well I’m a married woman. Goodness, he made these arrangements with Jake. Mr. Brentwood is an honorable man—a godly man. He wouldn’t dream of defiling me that way.”
Alice shrugged. “I don’t think he has defiling in mind, but I do think he has deep feelings for you.”
Marty turned away and placed the bowl on the counter. Alice was young and impressionable. No doubt her girlish ideals saw romance at every turn. Opening the flour bin, Marty retrieved a large sifter full of flour. She hoped that Alice would put the silly notions from her mind and realize that Mr. Brentwood held nothing more than respect for her.
Alice decided to leave well enough alone. She had planted thoughts in Marty’s mind, and now she would pray that Marty would understand the truth before it was too late. Alice had no doubt that Mr. Brentwood was relying on Marty to ease the pain of having lost his wife not so very long ago. Perhaps he wasn’t even conscious of what he was doing.
Supper passed by easily with the weary children almost happy to head for bed when the hour finally came. Mr. Brentwood gathered everyone together for prayer, and afterward Alice and Marty got the children tucked in for the night. With their work done, the women settled down before the fireplace in their room and breathed a collective sigh.
Marty quickly picked up a shirt to mend, while Alice took up her crocheting. Outside, the wind had picked up and chilled the drafty room. Alice paused in her work to add another log to the fire. She thought of Christmases when she was little. She’d been happy then with both mother and father to offer love and care.
I miss them both—so much. Walking to the window, Alice pulled back the curtain and looked out into the night. There was a slight glow coming from the windows of the house next door. It offered enough light to reveal it was snowing again.
“The first Christmas I can remember was right after my father went away,” Marty said, as if Alice had asked a question. “We didn’t yet know that he was dead. I was five years old and my sister Hannah—she was much older than I—she raised me after my mother died. . . .” Marty paused.
Alice returned to her chair by the fire. “Yes, I remember. I’ve always thought that a tremendous blessing.”
“It was.” Marty smiled. “That year she made clothes for my doll, and one of the dresses was an exact match for a dress she made for me. I thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world. That is, until I saw my brother’s present.” She shook her head. “Andy got a horse and saddle. I was so jealous. Especially when he commented that he was a real rancher now. I declared to everyone that I was a real rancher, too. I told them I had a horse and could rope. I was always given to lies and exaggerations.”
“What did your sister do?”
“She reminded me that I was being untruthful. I remember telling her that I had spied a horse in the pen that I liked a lot and decided that one was mine. She told me that the horses belonged to Will, and I couldn’t just go picking one out and deciding it was mine.” She smiled, remembering. “That Christmas was very special, in spite of Pa’s absence. I felt safe and happy. Maybe Pa’s being gone was part of the reason. He wasn’t a very happy man. Hannah told me that after Mama died he changed completely.”
“My father changed after my mother went away, too,” Alice remembered. “He had always been a very strong man—focused on his work and dedicated to whatever task was before him. He was sometimes rather stern with us, and I remember he could be quite angry at times.”
“Even before your mother left?”
“Yes.” Alice closed her eyes for a moment. “But I remember Christmases before my mother went away. A special one was when my brother Simon was just three or four. We weren’t rich, by any means, but we had plenty. That year mother bought Simon a wooden train set. He loved it and scooted it across the floor for hours on end.” She laughed lightly. “He would make chugging noises and toot like a train whistle.”
Marty put one shirt aside and picked up another. “Boys make a lot more noise than girls do. Or rather, I suppose I should say different noises than girls do.”
“Yes.” Alice felt the memory fading.
“What did you receive for Christmas that year?”
Marty’s question brought back the images. “I got a new china doll with the most beautiful satin gown and a wonderful bonnet trimmed with feathers and lace. She had long brown ringlets that spilled down her back. She made me wish I had brown hair.” Alice met Marty’s gaze. “I don’t know what ever happened to her. I suppose she might have been sold with most of our other things after the attack.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.”
Marty’s words betrayed her affection for Alice and it made the younger woman smile.
“It would have been awful enough to have suffered such a heinous attack, but to wake up in the hospital and realize all that you’d known was gone . . . I can’t imagine how hard that would be.”
“It was difficult,” Alice admitted. “I felt so ill from the infection and was very weak. The doctor wasn’t certain I would recover. My friends from church were good to visit and to encourage me to keep fighting. But I knew Father was dead, and since Mother and Simon were, too, I figured the best thing for me would be to die, as well. I knew there was nothing to go home to. Later, when I found out there wasn’t even a home left, I was truly lost in despair.”
“I can only imagine the nightmare of losing everything.”
Alice shook off the thoughts. “It’s Christmas, and we really shouldn’t be sad. We’ve a warm place to sleep, food in our stomachs, and despite the crisis going on all around the country, we are safe. If not for the threat of Mr. Smith’s constant harangues, it would be nearly perfect.”
“Yes, well, hopefully with the new year, Mr. Smith will lose track of you entirely. He hasn’t come to the diner, has he?”
“No. Not yet, but I have to admit I am in constant expectation.”
“At least then you won’t be surprised by his appearance,” Marty offered.
“I suppose I’m more surprised when each day passes and I don’t see him lingering off in the shadows somewhere.”
Marty reached over and patted Alice’s still hands. “God will see us through. He will protect you. I feel confident of His watchful eye on you and me.”
Alice nodded and gave a sigh. “I just wish God would remove Mr. Smith from our lives completely. I have nothing to give him. No possible means of helping him find what he feels is his.” Alice thought of the things Jake had told her. “I can’t imagine my father as being corrupted enough to forge gold certificates. Someone must have threatened him to make him choose such a path.”
“Well, given Mr. Smith’s threats to you, do you doubt that might be the case?”
Alice shook her head. “My memories of those days seem even more blurred than those of long ago. It’s as if the accident robbed me of thought. Even so, I remember my father’s nervousness at the time—and his fearfulness. It wasn’t like him at all.”
“Men often do things they don’t want to do . . .” Marty started and then fell silent.
“You’re thinking of Mr. Wythe . . . of Jake.”
Marty nodded. “Yes, I suppose I am. He never wanted to be a banker. His father pressured him to finish his university studies and make a different plan for his life. Jake, however, wanted nothing more than to be a rancher.”
“And return to Texas,” Alice said more than questioned.
“Yes.”
Alice offered Marty a look of sympathy. “God will provide the answers and direction. We have to remember that, whether it’s in our dealings with Mr. Smith or with Jake.”
“Or with Texas,” Marty murmured.
“Yes,” Alice agreed. “Or Texas.”
Chapter 5
Marty decided that the time had come to part with the last of her finer clothes. She had tucked away her two last gowns in a trunk, hoping to somehow hang on to them. They were her favorites, but with a
new year upon them, there were new needs.
Sickness abounded and medicines were necessary to help the children recover. The doctor’s expenses alone ate away at the monies Mr. Brentwood had budgeted for the month of January. Marty felt it was her duty to sacrifice these last treasures. What good were two gowns packed away in a trunk to neither be worn nor displayed?
With Mr. Brentwood busy teaching the children, Marty and Alice each took one of the luxurious gowns in a folded bundle and headed to the dressmaker’s store near the Capitol Hill neighborhood. There was a small shop at the front of an establishment where the woman often advertised remade clothing as well as new pieces. It was here Marty had sold her other gowns and hoped the woman might take these, as well.
Snow covered the lawns and walkways like icing on a cake. The sun on the vast white sea caused the snow to sparkle and gleam. It was almost painful to the eye.
“I certainly never knew anything like this in Texas,” she said, her warm breath making clouds in the cold air.
“I like to imagine the warmth,” Alice said amidst the chattering of her teeth.
“Everything looks so clean, so untouched.” Marty marveled at the landscape. “And isn’t it something how the snow muffles the city sounds?” They had just reached the shop and, anxious to leave the cold behind, hurried inside.
“I didn’t think to see you again,” the middle-aged matron declared. She wore her hair in a tight bun and looked quite severe, yet Marty knew her to be very friendly.
“I don’t imagine I will be back after this. I have brought you my last two gowns. They were my favorites,” Marty declared, placing one of the gowns on the counter.
The woman eyed the silk material and lace and smiled. “It is most beautiful. I know a woman who would pay very well for this piece. She has purchased several of your gowns.”
Alice put the other dress on the counter, as well. “How can anyone afford such opulence at a time like this?”
The woman made a tsking sound. “Remember, not everyone was solely dependent upon silver. There are a good many folks who put their money into more profitable situations.” The woman unfolded the dusty rose gown that Alice had brought.
“The workmanship is so perfect. I remember Mrs. Davies very well. Pity she took ill and died. Her talent will be sorely missed.”
Marty nodded. “Yes.”
The woman continued to look over the pieces. She finally drew her glasses down on her nose. “I will give you five dollars for both.”
“Ten,” Marty countered. This was their routine, and she wasn’t afraid to barter.
“Seven,” the woman replied.
“Eight.” Marty smiled. “I must help buy medicine for the orphans. You wouldn’t want to deny them, would you?”
“Ah, you will be the end of me. If I weren’t confident of reselling these to my client, I would show you the door.” Nevertheless, she smiled. “Eight it is.”
Marty collected the money and let her hand trail one last time along the rose-colored silk. “Those were interesting and glorious times, but I shan’t miss them. Not really.”
Alice followed her outside. “Not even a little?”
Marty laughed. “It was quite amazing to try my hand at living the life of ease and opulence, but it wasn’t for me. I need to keep busy. I was always kept busy as a child—probably to keep me out of trouble more than the true need of having me work.”
“It served you well,” Alice said. “Look at all you are capable of doing. You sew and cook, you can handle reading and writing. My handwriting is terrible, but I do love to read.”
“I can also handle a team of horses, brand, and rope, and ride as well as any man,” Marty declared. “And that isn’t exaggerating.” She gave a laugh. “I was determined to match my brother, Andy, at anything. Even so, women on our ranch worked just as hard as the men. We kept massive gardens and canned and smoked food. We had chickens and milk cows, even a few of our own pigs, although the men preferred wild boar and would go east to hunt them every fall.”
“It sounds like a very fulfilling life. I think I would like the wide open spaces.” She glanced westward toward the Rockies. “I find the mountains beautiful but foreboding. I’ve never cared much for the cold weather and snow.” She shivered. “I think I would like your Texas.”
“It’s not mine,” Marty snapped. She gave Alice an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. For all the good I knew in Texas, I knew equal parts of sorrow and heartache.”
“Losing your husband when that bull gored him must have been the worst.”
“It was one of the worst,” Marty admitted. “The miscarriages of my unborn children were equally sorrowful. I always wanted a big family—Thomas did, as well.”
“I’m sorry, Marty.” Alice touched her arm, and Marty stopped walking. “I know losing your babies must have been a terrible thing. Maybe one day God will give you and Jake children. You mustn’t let the past keep you from being hopeful for the future.”
The icy cold wind whipped at their long wool coats, but still Marty did not move. She looked Alice in the eye. “I’m pregnant.”
“What?” Alice’s eyes widened at the news. “Truly?”
Marty nodded. “I spoke with the doctor when he came to care for the children.”
“Does Jake . . . does Jake know?”
Marty swallowed a feeling of guilt. “No. I thought there was a possibility before he left, but I didn’t want that to be the reason he stayed. I plan to tell him, but since we’ve had no word . . . well . . . I don’t have any way to get in touch.”
Alice’s surprise seemed to leave her speechless. Marty knew the young woman couldn’t possibly understand the fears that filled Marty’s soul.
“Well, it seems to me,” Alice finally began, “that maybe you should go live with your sister. You don’t want to be doing a lot of heavy work while you’re carrying the baby.”
“I also don’t know about risking travel and the problems that living in the South can bring.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is said that the further south you live the greater the chance you have of miscarriage,” Marty replied. “The doctor told me he believed such things were ‘Pure hogwash,’ to quote him, but there are those in the South who believe that the closer one lives to the equator, the stronger the pull of gravity. They believe it can pull a child right from the womb. I lost several babies in Texas. I don’t think I can risk another.”
“Oh, Marty, I’m so sorry. I know this is hard for you, but it’s also such a happy thing.”
Marty looked away and fixed her gaze down the snowy street. “I want to be happy, but I’m so afraid. I want this child very much.”
“Then we will do what we can to ensure you remain healthy. Did the doctor offer any advice?”
“Nothing beyond the normal things: no heavy lifting, caution when walking in the snow and ice, eat beneficially and regularly.”
“Have you told Mr. Brentwood yet?”
“No, I don’t plan to tell anyone. At least not for a while. Honestly, Alice, I don’t want anyone to know. I’m not that far along—not even starting to show. I’d rather just wait and see what happens. If I get past the next month, then perhaps I’ll say something.”
“But what about Jake? You will tell him, won’t you?”
Marty bit her lower lip and said nothing. Alice took hold of both arms and turned Marty to face her. “You have to tell Jake. He’s your husband—the father. He has a right to know.”
She was right. There would be no avoiding the subject if Marty proved capable of carrying the child to delivery. But so many miscarriages, so many disappointments stood between her and the ability to share this news.
“When the time is right,” Marty finally whispered. “Then I’ll tell him. For now, you must swear to me that you’ll say nothing.”
Alice hesitated a moment but then finally gave a nod. “I’ll say nothing . . . for now.”
Alice couldn’t help but dwell on t
he news throughout the rest of the day. Marty was going to have a baby. The thought delighted and terrified her. She had to find a way to get Marty and Jake back together. A woman in such a condition needed her man, and Marty definitely needed Jake.
Not only that, but Alice feared the emotions that were growing in Mr. Brentwood. Marty might be blind to his devotion, but Alice could see that he had lost his heart to Marty. She knew him to be an honorable man, just as Marty had said, but she also knew that honor could give way under the pressures of life. Wasn’t that what had happened to her mother and father? Honor certainly hadn’t kept them together.
Alice walked in silence alongside Marty as they made their way down Fourteenth Street to catch the tram. As they approached the corner of Sherman Street, however, Marty took a turn.
“Where are you going?” Alice asked.
“I thought it might be nice to walk through the old neighborhood. Just to see what’s what and whether anyone is still there,” Marty replied. “I heard that the Tabors lost all of their money in the panic.”
“Everything has changed in such a short time,” Alice said, shaking her head. Many of the grand homes were deserted—their wrought-iron gates locked tight. Gone were the bustling activities of visiting and sharing in one another’s luxuries. The Queen City of the Plains had sadly succumbed to the devastating financial epidemic sweeping the country. Poverty was an infectious disease.
“Do you suppose the people will ever come back?”
Marty shrugged. “Jake said these things always seem to run in cycles. Those who were diverse in their investments will ride this out like they have before. Others will be destroyed.”
A carriage approached from the opposite direction, and Alice recognized one of the city’s socialites, Mrs. Kountze, staring out her carriage window. Their opulent mansion at Sixteenth Avenue and Grant Street was said to be the most ostentatious and grand of all Denver homes. Alice knew Marty had attended several affairs at the Kountze estate, yet the occupants of the carriage did not so much as signal the driver to slow.
Moment in Time, A (Lone Star Brides Book #2) Page 5
