“You’ll be off doing something else before I get home,” Bea answered, checking her anger. Someday, Bea thought, someday I’ll live much more grandly than you, Cynthia Ritter, and my own daughters will be far more pampered.
“Well, we’ll find a time to get together and try on dresses,” Cynthia told her mockingly. “Just don’t go in my room if I’m not home. There are special things in there I don’t want anyone to touch.”
“I wouldn’t think of going into your room, Cindy.” Bea pretended to be busily sweeping as she suddenly pushed the broom hard, throwing dust onto Cynthia’s shoes and the hem of her dress.
Cynthia gasped and stepped back. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Bea told her, forcing back the urge to smile. “You’d better go, Cindy; it’s too dirty back here for you.”
Cynthia’s eyes glittered with anger as she shook at her dress. “You did that on purpose!”
“I did no such thing. Besides, you’re the one who chose to come back here where you don’t belong. I didn’t ask you.”
Cynthia stepped closer, eyes blazing. “You’re an ingrate, cousin Bea,” she sneered, “and you’re just jealous. You should be happy my father took you in like he did. It’s only proper that you should earn your keep!”
Bea forced back the hurt, the longing to be loved. “Of course it is,” she answered, “and that’s what I’m trying to do, so get out of my way.”
Cynthia sniffed and whirled, petticoats bustling as she stomped away. “Let’s go, Mother,” she said, her nose in the air. Marlene Ritter stopped talking to her husband and hurried after her daughter.
“Cynthia, wait! What’s wrong?”
Cynthia was already out the door. Bea felt sick as she watched her cousin through the glass of the door. Cynthia was carrying on and crying. Bea could just imagine what she was saying to her mother. Her cousin could turn on the tears whenever she wanted.
Bea turned away and swept dirt toward the back room, taking down a dustpan. She felt dirty and frumpy and hot. She leaned down to sweep dirt into the dustpan, then stepped outside to dump it into a waste can behind the store. When she came back inside, her Aunt Marlene was standing in the back room. Bea was not surprised. She breathed deeply for courage, seeing the angry, accusing look in her aunt’s narrow eyes.
“I’ll not have you talk to Cynthia and treat her the way you just did, Beatrice,” the woman said sternly. “This has happened before, and I’ve warned you time and again. You continue to show your ungratefulness for all we’ve done for you, and I have had just about all I can take.”
Bea thought how much Cynthia looked like her mother, the same sharp nose and small mouth. “I’m sorry, Aunt Marlene. I’m just tired. How do you think I feel, all dirty and sweaty, and then Cynthia comes over to flaunt a new dress in front of me?”
“She was only excited about it. She even offered to let you come to her room and try on some of her old dresses, which are all quite lovely, I might add. Now you will stop upsetting Cynthia and you will show more gratitude. It’s two years before you’re of age, and unless you want to be turned out into the street before then to fend for yourself, you’ll behave yourself. Am I understood?”
Bea often wondered if being sent out on her own might be better than life with her aunt and uncle, but the thought frightened her. Perhaps if she hadn’t lost her parents so close together, it would be easier. The sudden, terrible loneliness and homelessness had made her cling to her aunt and uncle’s household, in spite of their cold attitude and the hard work. At least they were family. “I understand,” she told her aunt, facing her squarely.
Marlene turned and walked out of the back room, and Bea stood there fighting tears. “Someday I’ll be a rich lady like you,” she said quietly, teeth gritted. “No one will ever talk to me like that again.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and she promptly brushed it away. She had two more years to put up with her aunt and uncle and Cynthia, unless she found a way out of this drudgery sooner. By the time she was eighteen, she would have figured out a way to do just fine on her own. Until then, she would not let them make her cry.
She set the broom aside and went into the main room of the supply store, where Uncle Jake glared at her. She stayed toward the back of the room, but his voice carried back to her loudly. “I want every piece of china on display along the back wall taken down and washed, Bea, and the shelves cleaned before you go home tonight.”
Her heart sank. “But it’s almost quitting time, and it’s so hot, Uncle Jake.”
“Well, maybe you’ll think about such things before you get Cynthia all upset again.” He untied his apron and hung it on a hook, “I’m going home to supper. You lock up and come along when you’re finished.”
Bea’s own stomach growled with hunger.
“It will be dark by then. You’ve always said Cynthia and I shouldn’t walk the streets after dark.”
He gave her a disdainful glance. “I don’t think you have to worry about any men bothering you. Besides, it isn’t that far, and most people in town know you’re my niece.” He laid the keys on the counter. “Make sure you lock up properly.”
The man left, and Beatrice stood staring after him. Had he forgotten she hadn’t had anything to eat for six hours? She couldn’t understand why her aunt and uncle resented her so. It was as though they blamed her for her situation, when there was nothing she could have done about it. Were Uncle Jake and Aunt Marlene ashamed of her?
She began taking down the china, carrying several plates to the back room. She would have to fetch some water from a pump outside. She hurried out, determined to finish as quickly as possible and prove to her uncle that the chore was not nearly as terrible or time-consuming as he meant for it to be. Hunger added to her haste. She wanted to cry so badly that she almost felt sick, but she decided she would be ill rather than shed a tear. No one was going to make Bea Ritter cry, and no one was going to destroy her dreams.
Bea set the last plate in place, the darkened store lit only by an oil lamp. Voices and piano music from a nearby saloon filtered into the store, and she dreaded going outside to walk home; but she had already decided she would show no fear once she got there. She had upset “poor Cynthia,” and her Uncle Jake wanted her to suffer for it. She knew that making her walk home alone was his way of causing her anguish, his idea of a proper punishment on top of a sixteen-hour workday.
She carried the lantern into the back room, where she brushed dust from her dress and washed her face and hands. She opened a jar of cream that she had taken from a shelf in the store, not caring whether her uncle would be angry. After sixteen hours, he could afford to let her use some cream, and she decided she certainly deserved it. It was a small enough luxury.
She worked the cream into her skin, closing her eyes and pretending she was a beautiful, rich woman who could afford all the creams and perfumes she desired. Her dress was not a dull brown, but a beautiful pink like Cynthia’s. Her hair was piled into curls on the top of her head, and her cheeks were rosy with rouge. Soon a fancy carriage would come for her and whisk her away to her mansion.
She sighed, opening her eyes to study the plain face in the mirror. She set the jar of cream aside and picked up the lantern, going into the main store and checking the china display once more before picking up the keys and going to the door. She blew out the lamp and set it down, made sure the closed sign was turned the right way, and carefully locked the doors, unaware at first that a man sat on a bench nearby. She slipped the keys into her pocket and turned, then gasped when the man rose. His presence was so commanding that Bea stepped back at first, afraid.
“Miss Beatrice,” he said quietly. “Do you remember me? My name’s David Kirkland. I was here about a year ago—bought a rifle from the owner. I think he said at the time you were his niece.”
Bea looked around to see if anyone was close by in case she needed to scream for help.
“I don’t mean you any harm, ma’am. I—um—I don’t remember your last name, but I came here to talk to yo
u. You’ll probably give me a kick and send me off, but I wish you’d at least hear me out.”
There was a sincerity in his voice that got her attention. She looked him over, her heart beating a little faster. David Kirkland! Yes, she did remember him, the tall, handsome mountain man in buckskins she had met so many months before. She remembered how he had looked at her, spoken to her. She thought he might come back to see her again, but he never had…until now. “I…what on earth do you want, Mr. Kirkland? And why are you here at this hour?”
“I came earlier, but you looked awful busy.” He looked around. “You alone?”
“Yes. I had some extra work to do before I could go home.”
He frowned. “Your uncle let you stay here alone? He’s letting you walk home alone?”
She felt her cheeks coloring, embarrassed for him to know the kind of man her uncle was. “I’m afraid my uncle considers me something of a burden. It’s all right. I plan on getting out on my own soon.”
“There’s no reason for him to make you work this late and walk home alone. I’ll walk you.”
She felt suddenly shaky, nervous. “You…don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I do. Somebody ought to give that uncle of yours what for.”
She smiled at the idea. “Mr. Kirkland, you haven’t said why you’re here. You said you had to talk to me.”
He removed his hat. “Yes, ma’am. Let’s walk farther down the street, away from the noise of the saloon.”
She hesitated, then decided there was nothing to fear. He seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare, and his handsome blue eyes brought a flutter to her heart. She nearly trembled when he took her arm, and she walked on trembling legs past other closed shops, up the street toward the Ritter home. Kirk stopped at a bench in a quieter section of town and sat down, urging her to sit beside him. Bea obeyed, wondering if she was being careless—or foolish.
He studied her in the dim light of the street lantern. “Most people just call me Kirk,” he said. “What is your last name?”
“Ritter,” she answered. “Beatrice Ritter. You may call me Bea.”
He nodded. “Well, Bea…” He cleared his throat, seeming suddenly nervous. “Well, uh, the fact is, I never quite forgot about you after I left here last year.”
Bea’s pulse raced and her cheeks reddened slightly. She put a hand to her chest, feeling suddenly beautiful. She worked too many hours every day to give men much thought, but this man had been in her thoughts often since she first met him. Would it seem bold to tell him? After all, he had admitted the same to her. She swallowed before answering. “I have thought about you often, too, Mr. Kirkland.”
“Kirk,” he reminded her. His gaze met hers. “That true?”
She felt herself blushing again, and she dropped her eyes. “Yes.”
He looked out at the dark street. “Bea, where I come from, things aren’t done the conventional way. I mean, a man does what he has to do to survive. Folks do what’s necessary to look out for each other. Why, I’ve seen men and women marry who are practically strangers. A woman with several kids loses a husband along the trail west, and some single man or some widower hooks up with her so he’ll have a woman to tend to him, and she’ll have a man to protect her and provide for her and the kids.”
Bea frowned, unsure what he was trying to tell her.
Kirk fingered his hat nervously. “I—I came here with a need, Bea. I need a wife, and you were the first woman who came to mind.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “What?” She could hardly believe her ears. It was true she had been attracted to this man, but that had been a whole year ago, and they had hardly spoken two words to each other! She started to rise. “Mr. Kirkland, I can’t—”
“Please hear me out,” he interrupted, grasping her arm and turning to face her. “Please sit down and listen to me.”
Bea slowly sank back onto the bench, staring at him in wonder. His eyes took on a pleading look. “I’ve got a child,” he told her, “a little baby girl. Her mother was Cheyenne, and her people wouldn’t let her keep the baby. She came to me at Bent’s Fort about a month ago and said I had to take the baby, made me promise to take care of it.”
He let go of her arm and looked away again. “I thought about trying to give her to somebody else, but once I held her and all…” He shrugged. “She’s mine, my little girl.” He met her eyes again. “She’s beautiful, Bea, the most perfect child you’d ever want to see; and she doesn’t even look Indian. She’s got my hair and my eyes.”
Bea scrambled to think straight. “You…you want me to be a mother to your little girl?”
His eyes moved over her. “I…um…I thought you might consider it, unless, of course, you’re already spoken for. I mean, if I’m going to take care of her proper, she’s got to have a mother. I had a hell of a time traveling with her. Why, I had to bring along a stupid goat for milk, and special rags for diapers. A lady at Bent’s Fort showed me how to change her and how to feed her with one of those contraptions with a nipple on the end—” He stopped short, realizing he had embarrassed her with the word nipple.
Bea looked away, her cheeks feeling hot. She knew what was expected of a wife, and although she was attracted to David Kirkland and flattered that he had remembered her, she was not ready to be a wife to any man. “I—I don’t know what to say, Mr.—I mean, Kirk. This is very strange.” She studied his face. “You traveled all the way here from Bent’s Fort with a little baby?”
“Yes, ma’am. And I’ll tell you right now, I’m full attached to that child. Nothing could make me give her up now. If you won’t marry me, I’ll have to find somebody else. I just thought maybe you’d consider it. Last time I was here, I got the impression you weren’t very happy. It looked like your uncle worked you hard, and he”—his eyes moved over her plain dress, and she felt embarrassed—“he doesn’t seem to take very good care of you, leaving you alone to lock up and walk home like this. I asked about you when I was here last, and he told me your folks were dead.”
He rose, turning to face her and leaning against a post. “I’ll say it out, Bea. I need a mother for my baby girl, and since I’d thought a lot about you over the past year, I figured I’d come to you first. I know it’s not a very romantic way to approach a woman, but where I come from, there isn’t always time for romance. I know you don’t love me—yet—and I don’t…well…I have to get to know you better, too. But you’re a handsome woman and a hard worker, and you need somebody to take care of you. You have my word that I wouldn’t…well, I wouldn’t expect you to be a wife to me in all ways—not right off. I’m not an animal, ma’am, and I’ve never hurt a woman. I’ve never lived a settled life, but I’d do it for you…whatever you wanted.”
Bea shivered with a mixture of excitement and fear. “I just don’t know, Kirk.” She put a hand to her hair, wishing she weren’t so tired and dirty. “I’ll have to think about what you’ve told me.” She looked up at him. “Where is the baby?”
“She’s at Sadie’s place, the other end of town.” He saw the shock in her eyes. “Now don’t get all lathered. I know what somebody like you might think of a woman like Sadie Blake, but she’s a good woman, and she and the other women there are taking real good care of Morning Star.”
Bea rose slowly. “Morning Star? That’s her name?”
He nodded, searching her dark eyes hopefully. Bea Ritter was not beautiful, but she had fine, clear skin and solid features, with a good shape to her, except for being a little tall and big-boned. Compared to the kind of women he was accustomed to, Bea was beautiful, and he sensed a certain strength beneath her vulnerability. He figured that it was her youth and the loneliness she must feel losing her parents and living with an uncle who worked her practically to death.
“She shouldn’t be over there,” Bea told him.
“I know, but I’ve got no choice for now.” He looked serious. “I’d be a good husband, Bea. I wouldn’t even touch you at first. All I want is for you to l
ove my little girl, not just take care of her, but really love her, like your own. A kid knows when it isn’t loved. I know the feeling myself, and I reckon you do, too.” He stepped closer. “You and I—we’re a lot alike in some ways, Bea. I lost my own parents when I was real young, and I was raised in an orphanage. I ran off when I was only about twelve. I took up with a mountain man, and that’s the only life I’ve lived since then. I’m twenty-five now. Could I ask how old you are?”
She swallowed, wondering if she wanted to belong to such a big man, a man who could break her in half if he chose to do so. Still, he seemed like a good man. Surely a man who willingly took his baby daughter to care for had to have a lot of good in him. “I’m sixteen,” she told him.
He nodded. “Well, we both understand how it feels to be homeless and unloved, don’t we? I don’t want that for my little girl.”
She searched his blue eyes, feeling a spark that she suspected could turn into love. “I would never make a child feel the way my aunt and uncle make me feel,” she answered. “That much I could promise you. But…I need time to think about this, Kirk. It’s all so…so unreal…such a surprise.”
“I understand.” He took her arm. “I’ll walk you home. I ought to talk to your uncle.”
“No, I…I don’t want my uncle to see you, to know anything about you.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“I just…he wouldn’t care one way or another. But I’m afraid he’d try to stop me from doing what I want. It’s not that he cares what happens to me, but he wouldn’t want to lose my help at the store; and it seems like he and my aunt always find a way to ruin any happiness I find.” She held her chin higher. “I have a right to make my own decisions, don’t you think?”
In the Shadow of the Mountains Page 3
