by Ann Shorey
Matthew frowned at the board, then at Aunt Ruby. “You and Arthur never allowed Ellie to attend dance frolics or entertainments when she was a girl. Why have you changed your thinking?”
“There’s dancing and then there’s schooling. Mr. Wolcott says Shakespeare is schooling.”
“Then let’s teach it in school and that’ll be the end of it.”
“Humph.” She lifted the basin from the counter and moved to toss out the dirty water.
As soon as she opened the back door, smoke curled out of the firebox and drifted across the room. Julia wrinkled her nose and exploded in a series of sneezes.
Ellie threw a corner of her apron over the baby’s head. “We’re all going to catch our death. Hurry and shut that door.”
The latch clicked. “That only took a moment, child. No need to get in an uproar.” Aunt Ruby sat at the table and pinned Matthew with her gaze. “Times are changing. We don’t live in the backwoods anymore. I, for one, am pleased to have the opportunity to improve myself.”
Matthew stood. “We’ll see.” He took his coat from a peg next to the door and shrugged his arms into it. “Time to do the milking.”
Once the door closed behind him, Ellie turned to Aunt Ruby. “He cares about the folks in town, you know that. You never used to disagree with him.” She handed Julia a wooden spoon to play with. “In fact, you seemed to think he was well-nigh perfect when he came courting.”
“He’s a good man, I don’t deny that.” She tucked stray wisps of faded blonde hair behind her ears. “But I think he may have jumped in here without checking to see how deep the water is.”
Aunt Ruby and Uncle Arthur both believed Matthew was wrong. Ellie rested her cheek on Julia’s curls. Is he?
Apparently misinterpreting Ellie’s silence as anger over her criticism of Matthew, Aunt Ruby said, “I know your place is at your husband’s side.” She spoke in a placating voice. “But I don’t have to follow his lead. I hope the play does come to Beldon Grove.”
Intrigued in spite of Matthew’s disapproval, Ellie leaned forward. “Where do you think it would be performed?”
That night, while Ellie readied Julia for sleep in their upstairs bedroom, Matthew stepped across the hall to settle a wrestling match that erupted between Jimmy and Johnny. She heard thumps and bangs as the twins rolled each other back and forth on the bare wooden floor.
In a few moments the commotion subsided and Matthew entered the room grinning. “I think Jimmy won that one.” He walked over to the bed and tickled Julia’s round belly.
The baby laughed and wiggled, her feet flying free of her linen nightdress. Ellie picked her up and carried her to an oak crib placed against the back wall of the room.
“Time to settle down.” Once she had Julia covered, Ellie leaned on the rail and watched her. “She’s blinking long blinks. She’ll be asleep in a moment.”
Matthew put an arm around Ellie’s waist and pulled her to his side. “Come over by the light. I need to show you something.”
“What is it?”
He didn’t answer, so she followed him to a small table near the door. Using a wooden stool at the side of the bed, she climbed up and sat beside him on the feather tick.
“I’m waiting.”
Matthew removed an envelope from his shirt pocket. “This came on Wednesday.”
“You’ve been carrying a letter around for five days? Why on earth did you wait until now to show it to me?”
An apprehensive expression crossed his face. “I didn’t want you to see it at all, but then I figured you had to know.”
“Know what?” Her heart thumped. “Tell me.”
Matthew lifted the flap and took out two folded sheets of paper. Clearing his throat, he read, “‘Dear Brother Craig. I propose dropping you a line for the first time, though not for want of respect for you. The circumstance of my writing is to give you some information . . .’”
The letter went on through many polite formalities, until Ellie interrupted. “Matt. Who’s this from? Why are you being so mysterious?”
He turned to the second page and read, “‘It is my sad duty to inform you that my son, George Long, died December last on his homestead land in Brazoria County, Texas. We are looking into any inheritance rights which might pass to the family.’” Matthew handed her the papers. “It’s from your Grandpa Long.”
The room grew dark. Matthew receded into the distance, becoming smaller and smaller. “He’s writing about my father.” Ellie leaned forward to stop the dizziness that threatened to engulf her. “How can this be? He died twenty-five years ago.”
4
Ellie moved the tall candlestick to the edge of the table and reread the message, using her index finger to follow the tightly spaced words. Matthew slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
His initial plan had been to destroy the letter. It would only upset Ellie, and to what end? She believed, as he did, that her father had died when she was a small child. The message promised to bring nothing but turmoil into their lives. He studied Ellie’s face, wondering what she was thinking.
She folded the pages and laid them on the table next to the candle. “You haven’t said why you waited so long to show this to me.”
“I didn’t want to see you hurt.” He cleared his throat. “No, that’s not the reason.” Matthew studied her, praying for understanding. “I was afraid. Afraid of what this might mean to you. To us.” He choked on the words.
Her voice took on an edge. “Then why show me at all?”
“Your grandfather said they’re looking into an inheritance. I decided there was a chance more might come of this and you wouldn’t be prepared.” He lifted her onto his lap. “I’m sorry.”
He rested his cheek against the top of her head, savoring the fragrance of the rose oil she used to dress her hair. After a few seconds, she looked up. The candle glow turned the tears on her cheeks into pearls of light.
“They told me my mother and father were in heaven. If this is true, my father gave me away—like a puppy—so he’d be free to go adventuring.” Ellie’s voice broke.
He rocked her back and forth. “I know. I don’t understand any of it.”
“They lied to me. They’ve lied to me all my life.” Ellie slid off his lap and marched across the room to the clothespress. She flung the doors open and dug around inside. “Where’d I put my boots?”
“What d’you want with your boots at this hour?”
“I’m going to Aunt Ruby’s right now and make her tell me the truth.”
“Wait until morning. We’ll both go.”
When Matthew woke at daybreak, Ellie wasn’t in bed next to him. He pushed himself up on one elbow to check the crib. No Julia. His breath caught in his throat. He jumped out of bed, grabbed his pants, and slipped them over his long underwear. After shoving his sockless feet into boots, he hurried out of the room, laces dragging the floor behind him. As he clattered down the stairs, his nose caught a whiff of boiling coffee.
His heart slowed its frantic beats.“You’re still here.”
Ellie turned. “Of course. Why aren’t you dressed? I want to leave right after breakfast.”
Julia toddled about the room, touching the walls to keep her balance. Matthew scooped her off the floor and cuddled her against his chest. Her chubby hands tugged at his beard.
He pried Julia’s fingers loose while answering his wife’s question. “I thought . . .” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know what he thought. Instead, he walked over and kissed her cheek. A skillet filled with salt pork and apples bubbled on top of the stove. “Smells good. I’ll go finish dressing.” Still carrying Julia, Matthew turned toward the steps.
“Hurry the other children along, will you? We can take them to school before we go to Aunt Ruby’s.”
Matthew nodded, grateful for a diversion into the commonplace. “They’ll be happy they don’t have to walk.”
He swallowed around the knot of dread that formed in his throat at the prospect of a
confrontation with Ruby and Arthur. No matter how he studied on it, for the past twenty-five years they’d kept them from knowing Ellie’s father was alive.
Matthew turned right on the street in front of Bryant House Hotel. He passed Wolcott’s store and stopped at the school just as Molly’s four children walked toward them.
Her oldest son, James, paused and waited. “Pretty rich, riding to school,” he said to the twins and Harrison when they scrambled out of the wagon.
James’s brother, Franklin, followed him into the school yard. Watching him, Matthew recalled the time eight years ago when Franklin had been held captive for several months by the Fox tribe. He still moved like an Indian. Matthew doubted he’d ever outgrow his careful way of placing each foot before taking a step.
He waved at the boy and then jumped down to help Maria out of the wagon. She slipped free of his grasp and squished across the thawed ground toward Lily and her older sister Luellen.
“How can you walk and read at the same time?” she asked Luellen when she reached her side.
Franklin turned. “That’s what I’d like to know. I think we should put a rope on her and lead her to school so she won’t get lost.”
Luellen lowered her book and directed a scornful glance at him. “Don’t worry about me. I know where I’m going.”
“Matt?” The sound of his wife’s voice jerked Matthew back to the reason they’d come to town. “Are we going to sit here all morning?”
“Just waiting to be sure the children get inside all right.”
The front door of the hotel opened as they turned south on the stage road toward Arthur and Ruby Newberry’s farm. An unfamiliar voice boomed through the crisp air.
“That you, Reverend?” Marcus Beldon walked to the edge of the porch, dressed in a fur-collared black overcoat. The bulky knee-length garment made him look like a bear standing on hind legs.
Pleased to have another delay, Matthew reined the horse to a stop. “Morning, Mr. Beldon. You’re out early.” Even at a distance he could sense the power in the big man.
Beldon tipped his beaver hat. “Mrs. Craig. This cold air has put roses in your cheeks.”
“It’s cold indeed. Surely you’d be more comfortable indoors next to the fire.”
“That I would.” A bland smile rested on his lips. “But I saw you folks pass by a few minutes ago and wanted to have a word with your husband.”
Ellie poked Matthew in the ribs. “Stop dallying,” she said under her breath.
Marcus Beldon faced Matthew. “I hope you can make time in the next few days to meet with me. I have some questions.” He paused. “About the community. I’m sure you know most of what goes on around here.”
Matthew nodded. “I’d be pleased to do that. Where do you suggest?”
“Why not right here?” Beldon gestured at the building behind him. “There are two fairly comfortable parlors off the reception room.”
“I’ll be back later in the week. I’ll see you then.”
Beldon pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed them together. “Excellent. I will make it a point to be available.”
Matthew pushed down a surge of irritation at the man’s condescending tone. What could Beldon want from him that he couldn’t learn just as easily from the hotelkeeper?
Ellie nudged him again.
“If you’ll excuse us?” Matthew lifted the reins. “I want to get the baby out of the cold.”
“But of course.” Beldon raised his hat. “Mrs. Craig. A pleasure to see you.”
Ellie nodded, but anything she might have said was buried in the rattle of the harness as Matthew urged Samson toward Arthur and Ruby’s farm. The horse’s hooves tossed up chunks of muddy ice, splattering the front panel of their wagon.
Ellie snugged the lap robe around herself and Julia. “I’m worried about what to say to them. Did you bring the letter?”
“Certainly did.” Matthew touched the front of his thick woolen coat. “Right here in my pocket.” He patted her knee. “I’m worried too. I switch between anger and puzzlement.” They rode in silence for a few moments. “Perhaps there’s a good explanation.” He couldn’t imagine what it might be, but he could hope.
Once past Ben Wolcott’s land, Matthew slowed the wagon and turned onto the lane that led to the Newberrys’. Shifting Julia on her lap, Ellie reached out and gripped his hand. He felt her fingers tremble. “Do you want to go home?” he asked. “I can talk to them.”
She straightened. “No. This is something I must do.”
The wagon rolled around to the rear of the tidy whitewashed house. Bleached linen curtains at the kitchen window were drawn open, revealing Ruby’s back as she stood at the stove.
According to their custom, Matthew tapped on the back door, opening it at the same time. A cloud of soapy-smelling steam enveloped them when they walked inside.
Ruby turned from the wash boiler, eyes wide. “Matthew. Ellie.” She looked at her niece. “It’s Monday. Why aren’t you home tending to your family’s washing?”
“We have something that couldn’t wait.”
Ruby hurried over. “Well, take off your things and sit down.” She took Julia from Ellie’s arms. “Yesterday you were worried that she’d take a chill sitting in your kitchen, and now you’re out running her around the countryside in the cold. Her little cheeks are like ice.” She moved a chair close to the stove and settled the baby on her lap.
Ellie glanced at Matthew and held out her hand. Without a word, Matthew reached into his pocket and gave her the letter.
“What?” A puzzled expression crossed Ruby’s face.
“We got a letter from your pa,” Matthew said.
“Forevermore! He never wrote me. Why’d he send you a letter?”
Ellie removed Julia from Ruby’s lap and handed her the folded pages. “Read it.”
The only sound in the kitchen was an occasional hiss as water condensed under the lid of the copper boiler and dripped onto the stove top. The flush in Ruby’s cheeks deepened as she read. When she turned to the second page, her eyes widened and she pressed her fingers over her mouth. After a moment, she refolded the letter and returned it to Matthew with shaking fingers. Her gaze slid to Ellie and then quickly moved away. Silence hung in the air.
“Well?” Ellie asked. “He’s writing about my father, isn’t he?” Her voice rose. “All these years you’ve let me believe he was dead and he wasn’t. I could’ve seen him, known him, but you kept me from it.” Julia started to whimper and Ellie thrust her at Matthew, then faced Ruby. “Why?”
Ruby stood and extended her arms. “I can explain. You need to understand how things were.”
Ellie took a step back. “I understand that you and Uncle Arthur have lied to me. How can you expect me to believe you now?”
Footsteps sounded from the front of the house. Arthur entered and flicked an apprehensive glance around the room. “What’s all the shouting about?” He directed the question at Matthew, one man to another, rather than seeking a reply from his wife or niece.
Ruby raised her head. Defeat wrote itself across her features. “She knows about George. Pa wrote them a letter.”
“Your brother’s in Texas. After all this time, why would your pa write them about that?” Arthur stepped between Ruby and Ellie. Lowering his voice, he said, “I thought no one would mention George. That was the agreement.”
“He’s dead. He died last December.” Ruby pointed at the letter dangling from Matthew’s fingers. “Pa seems to think there may be an inheritance concerning the land down there—that’s why he wrote.”
“That’d be your pa. If it comes to money, he’ll stir hisself.” Arthur tugged at his short white beard, then glanced at Ellie. “For your sake, I hope it’s not another of his harebrained—”
“We didn’t come here about money.” Ellie snatched the sheets of paper from Matthew’s hand, wadded them into a ball, and threw them at Ruby’s feet. “Let Grandpa Long have whatever’s down there. I don’t want
it.” She glared at her aunt. “We’re here this morning because you lied to me.”
Matthew stood Julia on the floor and slipped an arm around Ellie. “She trusted your word. Can you imagine what a shock this is to her? To us?”
Arthur’s face lost its usual benevolent expression. “Yes. I can.” He laid a hand on Matthew’s arm. “Sit down.” He pointed at the wooden table in the center of the room. “Ruby, pour us some of that coffee. We have a story to tell.”
Keeping his arm around Ellie’s shoulders, Matthew led her to a chair. They watched in silence while Ruby took four pewter mugs from a shelf and filled them. After placing them on the table, she sank into a chair next to Arthur. Tears welled in her eyes.
He nudged her side. “You tell them.”
“Well, after your ma died—”
“Did she really? Or is this another untruth?” Suspicion cut through Ellie’s words.
“She did. You were about three, going on four. Anyway, your pa was sore upset. We could see he wasn’t taking good care of you.” Ruby’s lower lip trembled and she turned to Arthur. “You tell her.” “He was letting you wander loose,” he said. “It was wintertime, and sometimes you wasn’t even wearing a wrap. You’d come to our cabin, hungry, wanting something to eat. Things went on like that for a spell.” Something in the memory caused him to smile briefly, then the smile disappeared.
Ruby picked up the narration. “We didn’t mind looking after you. Most of my brothers and sisters had young’uns of their own and Arthur and me didn’t. Come spring of ’twenty-one, some men rode through full of big news about this fellow Stephen Austin getting a contract from the Mexicans to settle three hundred families down there in Spanish Texas. Nothing would do but that your pa had to go with them—”
Arthur broke in. “You can imagine we tried to talk him out of it. I mean, living under foreign rule? Hadn’t even been fifty years since their pa fought in the war against England, and now here was George throwing away his independence. I tell you, Pa Long was dead set against the whole plan.”
Ellie folded her arms over her chest and looked across the table at her aunt and uncle. “This is interesting, but I don’t see any reason not to tell me about him from the beginning.” She pushed back her chair. “I don’t even know if this is a fact, or something else you’re making up.”
