Sunday afternoon the same men carefully observed as Billy Evans assisted Mrs. Van der Pol and her two veiled companions, one of the women leaning heavily upon another, back onto the train.
At the lodge that evening Joy dined with her two remaining guests, Viola Lind and Grace Minton. Their prayers before the meal were heartfelt.
“Thank you, Lord, for your covering grace this day,” Joy prayed. Viola and Grace’s ‘amens’ were soft but sincere.
The three women looked at each other across the table. Grace spoke. “Emily will take good care of Tory and Helen, Miss Thoresen, and we will help. Thank you for giving us guidance on how to do so.”
She paused delicately. “As you know, my husband passed last year. I . . . am a woman of independent means now.” She looked directly at Joy. “I want to be part of this work you propose to begin in Denver, and we know others who can also be trusted and have the means to assist.”
Viola nodded in agreement, and Joy shivered, in relief but also in anticipation. She recalled the words of Isaiah and shook her head, marveling at what God was doing.
Sing, O barren one, thou that didst not bear;
break forth into singing, and cry aloud,
thou that didst not travail with child:
for more are the children of the desolate
than the children of the married wife,
saith the Lord.
On Tuesday morning Viola and Grace mounted the train to Denver. The men watching at the siding, a different crew than those who had watched Sunday afternoon, may have experienced some minor confusion, but they were loath to interfere with two such obviously wealthy gentlewomen.
Joy accompanied the two women to the siding and made a small show of sending them off. They intentionally passed close enough to the men for them to clearly see Grace and Viola’s faces.
With Tory and Helen safely away, Joy turned her attention toward a permanent solution for Mei-Xing. Mei-Xing would never be taken for a wealthy woman up from Denver for the weekend, no matter what the disguise. She was too tiny and too Asian to escape detection. Besides . . . that option had been used and would likely not work again.
No, what they needed was a different means of getting her off the mountain. Until then, her safety, and that of all the residents of the lodge, hinged on keeping her hidden.
Joy and Breona moved back into their rooms. After proposing her idea to Breona, Marit, and Mei-Xing, Joy commissioned Flinty to build a hiding place for Mei-Xing in the attic, one that would elude a search should any of Morgan’s men forcibly enter the lodge. He and Billy discussed a number of possibilities and decided that the alcove where she slept afforded the best location.
“We’re fixin’ t’ build a sofa here that pulls up from th’ back like a lid,” Flinty explained. “At night it’s a bed, see? An’ durin’ th’ day it’s a parlor sofa. But at any time, she can lift it up, scoot inside, and pull it closed.”
“It don’t need to be big, neither, she bein’ s’ tiny an’ all. We’ll fix a handle on th’ inside. She can pull th’ lid down on hersel’ and shut it up tight. When th’ coast is clear, she can push it open an’ git out by her ownsel’.”
Flinty padded the floor of the box so that it was comfortable enough and Billy cleverly added hidden holes to let in air. Mei-Xing watched these preparations with her usual silence, but Joy noticed that the girl seemed more relaxed after trying the arrangement several times. They exchanged a glance and, for the first time Joy could recall, Mei-Xing offered her a smile.
~~**~~
Chapter 32
Joy was looking for one of the men to accompany her to the little grocer in the town proper. Billy and Breona were at the siding selling some of Marit’s baking. Mr. Wheatley was nursing a cold and Joy did not want him to go out.
“I’ll accompany you, Miss Thoresen,” O’Dell offered, twirling his derby on one finger. “Besides, we should probably give the merchants of Corinth some indication that I am making progress in my suit for you; otherwise my excuse for lingering in Corinth will start to look a little thin, don’t you think?”
Joy gave him a penetrating stare, but he merely waited, fiddling with his infernal hat. “Fine,” she finally muttered.
“What? No ‘thank you, Edmund’?” he pressed.
“Thank you, Mr. O’Dell,” Joy answered loftily. He only grinned.
They stepped out into the frigid air and Joy was suddenly glad to have a brisk walk ahead of her. She had been cooped up too much lately. They set off at a good pace and Joy began to relax and warm inside her wrappings.
Half an hour later they reached the little town square and stepped onto the planked walk along the main street. Wordlessly, O’Dell reached out and took Joy’s hand, tucking it under his arm. She resisted but he held fast, looking straight ahead and saying quietly, “Don’t look now, but we are being watched. Act like we are a happy couple for a few minutes.”
Joy glanced side-to-side nervously. O’Dell pinched her arm.
“Stop looking around. Just relax.”
Joy did as he instructed and managed to look his way and smile a bit.
“Better,” he grinned back.
Then Joy saw the black-haired man leaning against the wall outside the barbershop down the walk. Staring at them. Staring at her. She didn’t recognize him, but obviously O’Dell did.
As they passed by O’Dell nodded calmly, “Banner.”
“O’Dell,” the dark, lean man replied, tipping his hat to Joy. “Ma’am.”
Joy’s faced flamed at the mention of Banner’s name. She cast her eyes downward, refusing to acknowledge his greeting.
A few moments later they entered the grocer’s, the little bell over the door signaling their entrance. The grocer, Mr. Marsh, wiped his hands on his apron and stepped behind the counter.
“Miss Thoresen, Mr. O’Dell,” he greeted them. “How can I help you?” His eyes went to Joy’s hand tucked in the crook of O’Dell’s arm. Joy quickly removed it, her face flaming under the grocer’s inquisitive gaze.
She gave her list to him and then turned in curiosity when she heard whimpering behind the counter. Mr. Marsh paused in filling her bag and chuckled.
“My Bessie gave me a new litter of pups a few weeks back. Would you like to see?”
Joy did. She missed Blackie terribly at times. She crossed behind the counter and looked under it. In a wooden crate a black dog with a single white patch at her throat lay on her side. She was nursing six chubby puppies. They wriggled and squeaked as they pushed against her to encourage her milk to come down.
“Pick one up if you like,” Mr. Marsh said.
As she bent over, the mother eyed Joy. While not all shepherd, it was obvious the mother had shepherd blood. Joy gently rubbed the dog’s head and spoke reassuringly before selecting a fat little ball of slicked-down fur. The pup, like his mother, was more black than white; nevertheless he had several white markings, the most notable the patch that covered one side of his face.
“Aren’t you beautiful?” Joy crooned. The puppy nuzzled and squirmed against her neck, rooting for a nipple. As though suddenly tuckered out, he sighed and stilled in her hands, and fell asleep under the curve of her jaw. Joy recalled the warm comfort of Blackie resting his head on her hand, both of them needing each other’s closeness. Her eyes misted over at the memory. After a few minutes she returned the puppy to his mother and turned resolutely away.
O’Dell, pretending to look over the grocer’s limited selection of cigars, had watched Joy pick up and hold the puppy. He had not missed the vulnerability and sadness momentarily steal over her.
On their walk back to the lodge Joy ventured, “So that was Banner, the new ‘boss’ in town? You two seemed to know each other.”
“I made a point of making myself known to him almost immediately, Miss Thoresen. I believe I heard you call it ‘hiding in plain sight.’ We’ve had a few drinks in the same bar and just this week I told him a long story about a stag I shot in the forests of u
pper New York State. A very long story.”
Joy stopped and looked hard at him. O’Dell chuckled and his laugh sounded a bit wicked.
Switching to his British voice he quipped, “I’m a jolly good story teller, Miss Thoresen. On that occasion I took a rather perverse pleasure in acting at being half drunk and then peppering the tale with the most inane and boring details I could concoct.”
He laughed aloud and returned to his normal accent. “Banner squirmed for ten minutes. Wanted to escape in the worst way, but I had a hold on his coat sleeve, the slimy bas—”
He stopped. “My apologies. I only meant to say that I rather enjoyed twisting his tail for a few minutes.”
Joy stared at him again for a long moment and then, on her own, took his arm and they continued walking.
“I think I might have enjoyed watching him twist too,” was all she answered.
January crawled to a close and February turned to nasty weather with a will. During the month Corinth was often snowed in; after each storm they would be deprived of train and mail service until the plows came through and crews dug out the cuts where the blizzards had packed in the snow. The foul weather significantly reduced the number of visitors to Corinth and reduced movement about town.
Perhaps because of the weather, the night watchers, as stealthily as they had appeared, also disappeared. For those at the lodge it provided a sense of security that, while perhaps not permanent, allowed the household to relax for a time.
Joy, sitting at the lobby desk, looked at the calendar and, for the hundredth time, counted days. Days until all would be in order—if her plan were ever needed. She looked about her and sorrowed a bit. Would everything they had built here be the sacrifice that was required?
She carefully penciled a light “x” on April 15.
One day, mid-month, O’Dell ventured out-of-doors even though he had to break trail through freshly formed drifts. Joy happened to see him go, but must have been upstairs when he returned. Later that afternoon when she came down the back stairs into the kitchen, she was greeted with smug and knowing looks from Marit and Breona.
Then she heard it. A quivering little whimper. Coming from the pantry. And then Breona chortled. She chortled!
Joy shot her a sharp look and threw open the pantry door. There, in a small crate, huddled on a pile of rags—the puppy from the grocer’s! Lounging on a straight-back chair next to the box, feet stretched before him, sat Edmund O’Dell.
He tipped his derby down over one eye and drawled, “I’ve been sitting here ever so long, Miss Thoresen. I believe the little guy is getting hungry. And the fact is that I detest dog hair,” he added in a dry tone, “particularly on this suit.”
Joy looked from him to the box again. “I don’t understand.”
“I was remiss,” he replied archly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Not at all—I am asking your pardon. I completely neglected to give you your Christmas gift.”
“My what?” Joy was staring at the whimpering puppy. He was so much bigger than when she had first seen him just a few weeks ago! He was a pudgy butterball covered in curling black and white fur.
O’Dell stood and flicked an imaginary speck of lint from his sleeve. “Merry Christmas, Miss Thoresen, albeit two months late.”
With that he picked up the chair and left the pantry. Joy turned to say something to him, but the puppy, believing he was being abandoned, began crying in earnest.
Joy scooped him up into her arms and he began to wiggle and push until he found the warmth between her breasts. She stared down at the pup, who was snuffling her and pushing to get near her face. She slowly smiled.
She told herself just how much bother the pup would be until house broken, how much work and attention he would entail, and—oh!—how Breona would fuss! Even as she sternly listed all the perfectly valid reasons not to accept the pup—foremost because O’Dell would assume that her acceptance of his gift constituted permission to advance his suit—she refused to be deterred.
“I want you,” she whispered onto the top of his furry head. “I haven’t had anything that is mine to love in such a long time . . .”
The puppy sneezed. Joy laughed and he sneezed again. “Bless you!” she whispered. “Bless you, Little Blackie.”
It was finally March and yet another blizzard shut down the trains and confined the population of Corinth to their homes. After three days, Joy was happy to hear the prolonged whistle of an engine as it made its way into town early that morning. She glanced out a second-floor window toward the siding and saw the train easing to a stop, black smoke pouring from the engine’s stack.
Several minutes later, she heard knocking at the kitchen door and the muffled sounds of voices. Curious, she came down into the kitchen—
“Arnie!” She flew into his arms, delighted to see her cousin. He held her tightly but was quiet. When she pulled back and saw his face, her heart clenched with dread.
“W-what is it?” She was afraid to ask the question that terrified her most.
“I’ve come to take you home, Joy,” Arnie said. The creases around his eyes were etched in sadness.
“Papa? Is it Papa? Is-is he . . .” She could not choke out the words.
“No, not yet. The Lord willing, we’ll get you home before . . . before he . . .” Arnie couldn’t finish his sentence. “Your mama hasn’t been able to get word to you, so I said I would come and find a way. I didn’t want you alone on the train anyway . . . not with Darrow and that bunch about . . .”
He stopped. “We need to go as soon as possible, Joy. They told me the train can’t go farther up the mountain yet, so they will turn the engine around and take the train back down to Denver in just a little while. I have asked them to wait for us.”
“Uli! Uli will want to . . . she will need to come!” A sob caught in Joy’s throat.
“I’ll have Billy tell her and David to catch the train in the morning. But we need to go now, Joy.”
Her mind was whirling. She had to pack, she had to give directions for while she was gone—someone would have to watch after Blackie. She was oblivious to those around her as she tried to organize her racing thoughts. She came back to herself when someone placed a hand on her arm.
“We’ll take care of everything.” It was O’Dell. He bid her look at him. “You are not to worry, Joy. Everyone knows their job, and I will look out for the lodge’s safety. Just pack your bags and go to your mother.” His eyes held her steadily and Joy allowed herself to believe him.
“Thank you. Yes.” She turned to go upstairs but turned quickly back. “But what abou—”
“I will take care of Blackie,” O’Dell said, knowing immediately what her concern was.
Joy stammered her thanks and hurried up the stairs. She didn’t see the dark look Arnie bent on O’Dell as soon as her back was turned. O’Dell just shrugged at Arnie’s challenge and went to find Billy and Mr. Wheatley.
Less than an hour later Joy and Arnie were on their way down the mountain, and Joy was praying she would reach her beloved Papa before his spirit flew away.
~~**~~
Chapter 33
It took Joy and Arnie a day and a half to reach RiverBend. Kjell and his son Nathan were at the station waiting for them. They had been there in the morning when the early train came in and had returned for the afternoon train, in hopes that Arnie had reached Joy and had brought her home.
“He’s still hanging on, Joy. We knew he would not let go until he had seen you.” Kjell had tears in his eyes; Joy knew that Arnie, Kjell, and their siblings would feel her papa’s passing as deeply as she and Søren would.
When they finally pulled up outside Jan and Rose’s little house, Joy saw numerous wagons and buggies in the yard. Relatives and close friends congregated in tight knots on the porch around the outside of the house. Several hands lifted in silent greeting.
They wouldn’t all be there unless . . . Joy thought frantically. The tiny hope that it was
all a mistake began to flicker.
Rose opened the front door and flew down the steps to her daughter. They embraced and Joy begged Rose, “Please tell me he is still here, Mama! Please say he will be all right soon!”
Rose just gripped Joy tighter, willing herself not to break down. “Come inside, Joy. Papa needs you,” was all she could manage.
The first people Joy saw in the living room were Pastor and Mrs. Medford. Behind them were Søren and Meg and several of their children. Meg, red-eyed, nodded at Joy.
Søren pulled Joy into his arms. “I’m so glad Arnie brought you, Joy. Papa has been holding on, believing you would come.” He hugged her tightly and then whispered in her ear. “Be strong, Little Sister. He isn’t as you remember him. He is very weak. Just let him know you are here.”
With that he gently led her into her parents’ room.
The room was bathed in the soft glow of lamp light. Joy could see her papa’s figure under the covers but . . . he was so still and so strangely small! She crept to the edge of the bed and sat down on a chair beside the bed. She sought and found his rough hand and held it in her own. It was cooler to the touch than it should have been and she could not stem the tears that began to course down her face.
“Papa? Papa, it’s Joy. I’m here, Papa!” She slid to her knees on the floor, her forehead on their joined hands, her tears bathing them.
She felt a gentle pressure and lifted her face, saw his eyes blinking, looking straight ahead, searching for her. Standing, she leaned over where he could see her.
“Here I am, Papa.”
“My . . . my Joy Again . . .”
“Yes, Papa!”
“Joy, my Joy . . . I b . . . I b . . .” He took a ragged breath and tried again. “I b-bless . . . I bless you and . . . your chil . . .dren . . . my daugh . . . ter.” He struggled to take another breath. “Your chil . . . dren. The Lord will . . . give you . . .”
The door opened and Rose and Søren entered the room. As Rose crossed to the other side of the bed, Jan’s eyes tried to follow her. She climbed on the bed, knelt near him so he could see her, and took his other hand.
Joy on This Mountain (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) Page 23
