by Sara Orwig
“Just a sip. It helps brighten the day. Where did you go when you left Memphis?” Hannah Lou asked. Her pale green silk dress was the latest fashion, yet it hung on her thin frame.
“To New Orleans. I stayed with the Therries and with Caleb O’Brien’s family.”
“You traveled with Major O’Brien all the way to New Orleans? We thought maybe you had an aunt in the East.”
“I do. She’s no longer alive.”
“Major O’Brien. Are you married to him?”
“No.” Sophia felt an ache. “I haven’t heard from him in a year and I haven’t heard from John in over two years. Caleb fought with General Bragg and then with General Johnston.”
“So many men died without anyone knowing their names.”
“I expect both of them to come home,” Sophia said stiffly, refusing to think they wouldn’t.
They sat in the front parlor and Sophia didn’t touch the brandy, but Hannah Lou drank two small glasses and by the time Sophia left, she was thankful to step outside into the sunshine.
“Come see me, Hannah Lou.”
“I will.” Suddenly she grasped Sophia’s hand. “Please come back soon.”
“Hannah Lou, are you all right?”
She batted her eyes and looked down the shady street, blinking and looking uncertain. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“We’re friends if you want to talk,” Sophia said softly.
Hannah Lou looked down the street again, and Sophia wondered about her marriage.
“I’m all right. Come back.”
Feeling concern for Hannah Lou, Sophia climbed into her buggy. Whatever was bothering Hannah Lou, she wasn’t going to talk about it. Sophia shivered. How she would hate to be wed to Dunstan Trevitt.
The Weekly office was one of the two familiar things in her life where so much had changed. Besides the newspaper, there was Mazie who worked for her again. Henry died in 1864. As she sat behind the desk, the bell tinkled over the door, and she looked up.
Her pulse skittered, and she slid open the drawer beside her where her reticule held a Colt revolver.
Smiling, Dunstan Trevitt crossed the room, and sat down across the desk from her. “So you’re back in Memphis, in business again, and still not married.”
“That’s correct. And I’m still close friends with Hannah Lou.”
His blue eyes were cold in spite of the smile on his face. “Sophia, I figure we have an old matter to settle between us.”
“The war is over, Major Trevitt—or do you prefer Mister Trevitt?”
“People call me Major. You may call me Dunstan.”
“The war is over and I’m clear of the charges now,” she insisted.
“And I have a scar on my shoulder that Hannah Lou thinks I received in an accident on board a ship here at Memphis.”
“I prefer to forget that night,” she said firmly.
He leaned forward and she slid her hand to the reticule. “Reaching for a pistol, Sophia?”
“Perhaps.”
“You can relax. I’m here today to talk.”
They faced each other in silence, and she could feel his anger.
His voice dropped lower. “I’ve waited all these years. You’re back. Either pack and go, or know you’ll have to answer to me for that night. Next time I’ll make certain those pretty little hands of yours are tied.”
“Sir, will you leave!” she shouted.
“You don’t want to hear about it do you? Then I’ll let you think about it.” His voice was soft and his smile vanished. “You live alone in that little house you bought on Washington. You’re all alone at night, Sophia.” He leaned closer. “I’ll tie you and I’ll finish what I started so long ago.”
“Get out, Major,” she said, standing and aiming the pistol at him.
He rose and brushed off his hat. “I’ll go. Put your pistol away.” Suddenly he moved with lightning speed, knocking the pistol from her hand and catching her wrist, twisting it until she cried out. He caught her other hand and held her. “See,” he said, his voice cold and quiet, “I could take you to the back right now and tie you up and when I got through you’d be polite to me and you’d do what I want.”
She looked him in the eyes and saw his fury. He released her.
“But I’m going to wait and let you worry about it. It’s too fast and easy now. No, I want you to think about it every time you come down here and when you’re lying alone in your bed at night, because I’m going to take you, Sophia, and I’m going to make you pay for that night.”
“And I’ll shoot,” she said angrily.
He shook his head. “You’ll never have a chance to touch your pistol.”
“You’ll get caught. I’ll tell people how you’ve threatened me.”
“And they’ll laugh at you and say you belong in the lunatic asylum. My reputation in Memphis is good and I have friends among the matrons. I’ve been careful. No one will believe you. I’m married to a beautiful woman—why would I do something like that?”
“Because I stabbed you.”
“No one except you and I know that. It would be your word against mine. I have a man who says he was with me when I was hurt in an accident. I have a doctor who tended my shoulder who will verify my story. Go ahead, tell people. You know they’ve always thought your family a little mad.” He placed his hat on his head and went to the door, turning to look at her. “Maybe tonight, Sophia. Or maybe months from now. I’ll get my revenge. The time will come when you’ll do exactly what I tell you to, and you’ll tell no one.” His blue eyes were cold and his voice was low. He closed the door behind him, and she slumped in the chair, feeling shaken and vulnerable.
Sophia thought about her small frame house on Washington where she lived alone. Mazie came to work in the day, but she was getting deaf and would be no help even if Sophia paid her to stay at night. She ran her hand across her forehead. No matter what precautions she took, there would always be times when she was alone.
She could hear the controlled fury in Dunstan’s voice, see the determination in his icy gaze and she believed him.
She picked up the revolver and studied it. She needed something smaller she could carry all the time. If she shot him, he would have to explain to people.
Her gaze rested on the Hoe press and she stared at it. Dunstan Trevitt was buying land and soliciting investors to build a railroad through Arkansas to Springfield, Missouri. She straightened in the chair. If she fought his railroad with her paper, everyone in town would know they were enemies and it might be more believable to people if she accused him of harming her.
She rubbed her brow again, worry returning in full. If she fought him about the railroad, people might think any accusations against him were false, that she was merely trying to ruin him because of the railroad. Whether they thought that or not, she intended to fight Trevitt.
“Fight the saloons, not railroads,” she remembered Caleb saying. Men were still returning home from the war and she still hoped that Caleb and John would return. She refused to think about the hundreds of unknown soldiers buried in mass graves in battlefields all across the land. Caleb’s last letter had come over fourteen months ago. He was a colonel, fighting in Georgia. The letter was yellow and faded now, always on her bedside table.
She pulled a piece of paper in front of her and tried to concentrate on work, but her mind constantly jumped back to Dunstan Trevitt and his quiet threats. Her wrist had dark bruises from his fingers, and she wondered if anyone would believe her if she told them.
She struggled to work and finally succeeded in getting stories written. She left early to go to Court Square and make inquiries about the new railroad through Arkansas and Missouri.
That night every sound in the house seemed magnified. She checked all the locks on the windows and doors and drew the drapes, but she still felt vulnerable and exposed. She didn’t think Dunstan would do anything soon, because she expected him to torment her. She moved through the house and paused in the bedroom to
pick up the derringer she had purchased in the afternoon.
A slow kindling rage burned toward Dunstan Trevitt. Just when she was beginning to consider some of Caleb’s arguments about railroads helping build the city, now she was locked into a bitter struggle with Trevitt.
She lay awake in bed, listening to noises, knowing that she couldn’t spend every night in fear. The dresser was pulled in front of the closed and locked bedroom door. She had the windows closed and the room was stifling. Furious with Trevitt and herself for fearing him, she turned on her side and closed her eyes.
The following Friday late in the afternoon when Sophia was reaching for her bonnet and ready to close the office, the bell over the door tinkled and she turned. Her breath caught and she slid her hand into the folds of her skirt to the shallow pocket that held the pistol while Dunstan Trevitt crossed the room. His fist was closed over a copy of The River Weekly.
She stepped to the desk, opened the drawer and picked up the big Colt revolver and raised it. “Stop where you are.”
He halted and held up the paper. “I don’t know what you think you have to gain by this!” he snapped shaking the paper and she saw her article against another train through Missouri.
“My small paper and my influence won’t ever hurt you,” she said, hoping she sounded calm. Her pulse raced, and the revolver was heavy.
“I don’t need any arguments against my Memphis and Springfield train, particularly that we already have one going to St. Louis.”
“Get out,” she spat. She stared at him, wanting the conversation to end, wanting him out of the office.
“People will know you hate me. Later if you try to tell them I’ve hurt you, no one will believe you. They’ll think you’re making it up because of this.” He shook the paper again.
She raised her chin. “People have always thought the Merricks eccentric, but they know we’re honest. My paper is too small to hurt you, and you have influence in this town that I can’t change.”
“You’ll regret this,” he said quietly, dropping the paper on the floor. His blue eyes held bits of fire that stabbed at her. He moved forward, and she pulled back the hammer of the revolver.
“I’ll shoot. You know that.”
He stopped. “There will come a time when I’ll get even, Sophia, and I’ll enjoy every minute of it.” He turned and left, slamming the door with a crash that made her jump violently. She took care to release the hammer and lower the revolver. Her palms were damp and she shook. There was no mistaking his rage. She couldn’t protect herself from him constantly. Feeling weak and terrified, she sat in the chair and stared at the door. A copy of the paper was on her desk and she glanced at the article.
Does Memphis need another train through Missouri? The Memphis-St. Louis line will be sufficient to convey goods and people to Missouri and points north and west of Memphis. The city has just pledged fifty thousand dollars to get the Memphis-Tennessee running again. Memphis had trains in all four directions before the war, north, south, east, west. Use the funds to get these lines running again instead of building a second line through Missouri.
She stopped reading, knowing the article from memory. She hadn’t expected such a violent reaction from Dunstan Trevitt. She needed someone to talk to about what was happening, but she could no longer confide in Hannah Lou.
She closed the desk drawer, felt the small pistol in her pocket as she stood up and reached for her bonnet. She locked the office and climbed into her buggy. As she passed Main and Adams, the Stanton buggy passed in the opposite direction and she waved at Clairice Stanton, longing for the friendship she once had with Hannah Lou.
Clairice Stanton turned her head and raised her chin, coldly avoiding Sophia’s greeting. Shocked, Sophia stared at Mrs. Stanton and then the buggies were apart, traveling their opposite directions. She felt a crushing blow over Mrs. Stanton’s treatment and she wondered if Will would ignore her in such a manner also. She thought about Will who had been taken prisoner the last year of the war and now was home recuperating. She had gone to visit him once and learned he hadn’t seen Caleb in over a year.
Whenever she had a letter from the Therries and the O’Briens, they refused to give up hope that Caleb was alive even though they hadn’t heard either.
On impulse she turned at the corner and went to Adams to call on Will again. Usually the shady streets with the elegant houses gave her a sense of peace, but Dunstan Trevitt and his threats had changed her world to menacing shadows and she felt tense about him.
At the Stantons’ a servant showed her into the parlor and Will came in, crossing to her to take her hands.
“Sophia, this is a welcome pleasure.”
“I wasn’t sure it would be, Will,” she answered solemnly. “I just saw your mother.”
He frowned and rubbed his neck as he sat down facing her. “Mother’s angry over your stand about Dunstan’s train, but she’ll calm down. She should remember you’ve always opposed the trains.”
She felt an enormous relief that she still had a friend in Will. “Will, you know why I left Memphis that night.”
He looked solemn. “Yes, I do. At the time I didn’t know Hannah Lou would marry him. She doesn’t know what happened and neither do my parents, because I felt it would only worry them.” He frowned and stared at her, and she wondered how he felt about Dunstan.
“I haven’t told anyone else,” Sophia said carefully, “Dunstan has threatened me since I’ve come back to Memphis.”
“Dunstan?”
“Yes,” she said. “That’s why I wrote the article about his plans for a rail line. I wanted people in town to know there was a bitter feeling between us.”
“How has he threatened you?” Will asked, his sandy brows arching.
“He’s told me he’ll get even for that night.”
Will’s lips firmed and he rubbed his hand on his knee. “The devil. I’ll speak to him about it.”
“I’m sure he will deny it.”
“I don’t think Dunstan will do anything, Sophia. He wanted to scare you.”
“I think he meant it.”
Will’s frown vanished and he shook his head. “No. Dunstan wants people’s support in Memphis. He’s working to win everyone over and he wants this train to Missouri. Try to forget his threats. Are you going to tell Hannah Lou?”
“No, I don’t want to worry her with it.”
“I’m not sure Hannah Lou is happy being married. Mama says Hannah Lou hasn’t adjusted to no longer being a belle with so much attention. I hope that changes. I know she values your friendship, so please call on her.”
“He’s threatened me. I can’t go to his house often.”
“Go when he’s not there. The threats are simply threats and no more. I can’t imagine Dunstan jeopardizing his place in society, and there isn’t a breath of scandal about him.”
With a sinking feeling of disappointment she stood up. “I must go now.”
“Thank you for stopping. Don’t worry about Mother. She’ll calm down and so will Father.”
“Good day, Will,” she said.
In the buggy she glanced around the street. She felt as if she were being watched and she knew it was a ridiculous notion. Dunstan couldn’t trail around after her, yet she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling. Will hadn’t believed Dunstan would be any threat or ever cause her harm, yet he and Caleb were the ones who knew what Dunstan had done that night so long ago. If Will didn’t think Dunstan meant any real harm, who else would believe her?
Feeling more alone than ever she drove home. Her heart began to pound in her chest as she looked up to see Dunstan Trevitt sitting on her porch.
She slowed and climbed down from the buggy, walking to the foot of the steps and gazing up at him. “Does Mazie know you’re here?”
“Of course. I told her I wanted to see you and I would wait here on the porch.”
“All my neighbors will see you sitting here and know you have been to my house.”
“Yes.
And they’ll see I haven’t gone inside. They can see us talking now. And they know what you’ve written about me—”
“Not about you. About the Memphis and Springfield train.” Her hand was on the small pistol in her pocket and she wondered what he wanted in coming to her house.
“Your servant is deaf. I don’t think she could hear if you called to her.”
“What do you want, Major?”
“I want you to know that there better not be another article against that train. You’ll only make things more difficult for yourself.” His voice was soft, barely audible to her and if anyone were around, they couldn’t hear what was being said.
“I just came from the Stantons. Will Stanton knows what happened when I left Memphis and he knows about your threats now.”
There was no change in Dunstan’s expression as he stared at her. “He’ll stand by me if anything ever happens because of his sister. I have the Stantons’ support. Did he give you sympathy?”
“No, he didn’t, but he heard what I had to say.”
Dunstan’s lips thinned and spots of color appeared in his cheeks. He stood up and crossed to the steps, and her pulse pounded in fear. She backed away from the steps as he descended slowly.
“I have a pistol in my skirt,” she said. “Don’t touch me,” she warned.
“I’m not going to touch you—now,” he said quietly in a voice that made the hairs on her nape stand. “Sophia, I will make you pay for stabbing me and for this article.”
She didn’t want to hear his threats, but the only way to avoid them was to turn her back and walk away and she was afraid what he might do. She stared at him, raising her chin and looking him in the eye, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart pound.
“You look pale. Soon your paper will support my railroad. I promise you that you’ll be eager to endorse it. Tonight when you’re alone, think about me,” he said seductively. He turned and strode to his buggy.
She rode her buggy to the back and unhitched the horse. When she entered Mazie turned to her.
“There’s that Major Trevitt in front, Miss Sophia.”
“He’s gone now, Mazie,” Sophia replied. In her bedroom she stared at her reflection in the mirror. How long before Dunstan carried out his threat? she wondered.
