by Holly Bush
“I’m not in love with anyone,” he said and slammed his hat on his head and bolted past her.
* * *
But her husband was in love with her, if words were to be believed, Jolene thought, as she sat and daydreamed one October morning before a scheduled appointment arrived. Maximillian told her he loved her before they made love, while at the height of passion, and as he held her afterwards and kissed her temples and fingertips. Her room was only locked a few days of the month, and even then, he pounded on her door, until she opened it, afraid the servants would hear, and rubbed her back and held her while she slept. He insisted on sleeping with her after they made love, and Jolene was not looking forward to a long month without him.
She would miss the coupling, no doubt, as it had only gotten better as they became more aware of each other’s bodies and the particulars of exciting each other sexually. Even the thought of what she did the night before he left was . . . well, it was too much to think about. And Maximillian had crushed her to his chest before leaving that morning, in full view of the servants, and kissed her, and whispered in her ear that he’d be dreaming about her mouth, and probably wouldn’t sleep a wink until he was home in her bed and returning the favor. But more than that, more than any of it, she would miss the feeling that Maximillian held the world at bay when he held her in his arms and kissed her goodnight.
“Miss Sanchez?” Jolene said as she was drawn from her thoughts to the young woman waiting at the door of her office. “Do come in and have a seat please.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
“I understand you have recently graduated from a teacher’s school, Miss Sanchez.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said and pulled a hanky from her purse to wipe her nose.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“Just a little cold, ma’am. We had already set the time and day for this meeting. I did not want to cancel, and I’m sure I will be fine in no time. I did not miss one day of school these past two years for sickness.”
Jolene listened closely as Miss Sanchez continued and talked at length about her schooling and her ambitions for the students she would be teaching. She was a good candidate, Jolene thought, and familiar with the Hacienda, as she had lived here up until just a few years ago when she’d moved to Dallas to live with an aunt and attend a small Catholic teacher’s college.
“I assume you’ll be staying with your parents rather than return to Dallas today, Miss Sanchez,” Jolene said as she rose.
Miss Sanchez stood and quickly grabbed onto the desk edge. Jolene steadied her.
“Oh,” she said. “I must have risen too fast. Yes. I will be visiting my mother and father until tomorrow. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Shelby.”
Jolene found Melinda shortly afterwards to begin that day’s studies.
“Do you remember Alcinda and Ferdinand’s daughter, Melinda?” Jolene asked.
“Beatrice?”
“Yes. That is her name. I have just interviewed her, and your father and I are considering hiring her as a teacher for the children of the employees here.”
Melinda’s eyes lit up, and she clapped. “Beatrice! I adore her! She is so kind and so pretty.”
“She is a very pretty young lady, but that is not why I am hiring her, is it?”
“No,” Melinda said and giggled. “Not if she is to be a teacher.”
“With getting your father ready to travel and learning some things I may need to know during his absence, I have forgotten to tell you that my sister, Jennifer, is coming to visit us.”
Melinda jumped from her desk chair and hurried to Jolene. “When? When is she coming? From Boston? What does she look like? Does she ride horses? How will she get here? How long will she stay?”
Jolene laid a hand on Melinda’s arm. “Your father said there would be no living with you once you heard this. I suppose he was right.” Jolene couldn’t stop herself from smiling at Melinda and her antics. She was dancing around the room with an imaginary partner now. She turned suddenly.
“You will be having parties, won’t you? Can I come, please, can I come? I have been good and wear clean under things every day!”
Jolene laughed. It was freeing, really, she thought, to share Melinda’s joy. It was impossible to be near her and not. And, although she and her sister Jennifer had never been close, she was anticipating her visit with much excitement.
“We will be having parties, and we will introduce you to some of the guests attending but you will not be staying up for the dancing. Young ladies your age retire to their rooms at the usual time.”
“I cannot think about Julius Caesar and the Roman Empire now!”
“You must. And I will be busier than usual with the election and Jennifer’s visit. Miss Sanchez, as you will address her, will be filling in for me with your studies.”
“Why do I have to call Beatrice Miss Sanchez?”
“Because she has worked and earned her degree and deserves respect from her students and because other children will follow your lead. If you do not show deference to her position, then it will be doubly hard for her to gain the respect of others, especially as many of them have known her all of her life.”
“I do not think the older ones care two bits for what I do,” Melinda said.
“You are quite wrong. They do care.”
Melinda leaned into Jolene and played with the watch pinned to Jolene’s blouse. “I am glad that you married Daddy.”
“I am glad as well. I wasn’t sure I would be, you know.”
Jolene put an arm around Melinda. She had not been accustomed to touching other persons, but she was getting used to it, she supposed. Melinda held her hand whenever possible, and Maximillian was forever hugging her or kissing her regardless of the audience. It was completely opposite of her interactions in her old life, and most times she felt as though her dignified, and solitary Boston life was preferable, even desirable, for a woman of breeding such as she. And other times, this being one of them, she was nearly reduced to tears for craving the humanity of a loving touch from someone dear in her life.
* * *
“Yes. You may be excused,” Jolene said to Melinda after dinner that evening.
“I want to talk to Beatrice, Miss Sanchez, I mean. I want to hear what it was like living at her aunt’s and about her school,” Melinda said and hurried from the table.
“Did you know Miss Sanchez?” Jolene asked after staff cleared their dinner dishes and served them coffee.
Zeb shook his head. “No. I started here not long after she left to move to Dallas. I know her mother and father, though. You will not find harder workers than them. A good family.”
“I am glad to hear that. Maximillian and I are going to offer her a job as a teacher. I suppose he told you a classroom is being added to . . .”
The door to the dining room slammed open. “Jolene!” Melinda shouted. “Get the doctor!”
Zeb jumped up from his chair. “Who is hurt?”
“It’s Beatrice! Hurry!” Melinda said and ran away down the hallway to the kitchens.
Jolene followed Zeb as he ran out the rear doors. “Where is she?” he asked a group of men standing and staring at the family homes solemnly. One of the men raised a hand and pointed at Ferdinand and Alcinda’s house.
There was a crowd outside the doorway, and Zeb and Jolene elbowed their way through until they were inside the small house, where still others had gathered.
“Where is she?” Zeb asked. “What happened?”
Alcinda came out of a back room and hurried to Jolene. “Mrs. Shelby! Oh please, Mrs. Shelby, can you get the doctor to come see my Beatrice? We will pay you . . .”
“Hush about any payment, Alcinda. We will get the doctor. What is wrong with Beatrice? Did she fall?”
“She is very sick,” Alcinda said as tears streamed down her face. “She is burning up with fever! She aches all over and is talking out of her mind!”
“Let me through,” Jolene said,
fear coursing through her, as she moved people aside to get through a small bedroom and to the sick girl’s side. Jolene stared at Beatrice, looking shrunken and flushed and nothing like the attractive young woman she’d met with earlier.
Jolene’s worst fear though, her nightmare, was real, coming to life as she looked at Melinda sitting on a bench with another young girl, not two feet away from the sick bed, stroking Beatrice’s arms with a rag they jointly held.
“Melinda! Go to the house at once. Immediately!”
“But I . . .” Melinda began, shaking her head in confusion.
“Now!” Jolene said. Melinda hurried from the room. The women left there wouldn’t look at Jolene. “Out. Everyone out of this room except Beatrice’s mother and father.”
Zeb grabbed her arm. “Mrs. Shelby . . .”
“You too, Mr. Moran. I will meet you at the house after I have finished here.” Jolene turned back to the sick bed and saw that Ferdinand and Alcinda were the only ones still remaining. “I will send for the doctor immediately. Until he arrives, keep her warm and bathe her head in cool water. If you do not have willow bark, send someone to the house to get some. Brew tea with the bark and give it to her now and again later in the evening.”
Alcinda nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Shelby. I have willow bark and will make it right away.”
“Wash your hands with soap and water every time you touch Beatrice. Do you understand? Every
time.” Jolene looked at Ferdinand. “Mr. Sanchez. Do you understand what I’ve told you? You must stay and help your wife. I will not allow any others in your house.”
“My baby,” he cried and covered his face with his hands. “My baby!”
Jolene grabbed him by the shoulders. “Mr. Sanchez! Do you understand me? You must stay . . .”
“Yes, yes, I will stay here and make the willow tea and wash my hands. Yes!”
“I will send for the doctor right away.” Jolene hurried out the door and lifted her skirts to run across the yard to the Hacienda.
“Why did you do that? Why did you yell at me like that?” Melinda said, through her tears, as Jolene hurried into the kitchen. Maria was holding her and wiping her eyes and kissing her temples.
“I will explain everything to you, but I have to send for the doctor right now. Please, both of you, wash your hands with soapy water right now.”
Jolene went on a search for Zeb and found him in the foyer.
“I just sent Pete to Dallas, told him to ride hard, and bring Doctor Davis back with him,” he said. “And I don’t appreciate you talking to me like you did in front of staff. There was no need and you embarrassed Melinda.”
“There was every need. Come into the kitchen. I want to speak to you and Maria and Melinda together.” Zeb followed her, and she explained to all of them at once. “There is a reason that I insisted that you leave the Sanchez house. I am concerned this is influenza. I dealt with it in Boston, and my family knew many people that died from it. There is little that can be done, but the best medical minds told me that it is spread through the spittle of the patient. When the patient sneezes, the spittle becomes airborne and then others breathe it and can become ill. Not everyone becomes ill, and doctors do not know why. We all must wear masks made of thin cloth like muslin to help guard against catching this, and we must, and cannot impress on you enough the importance of this according to the scientists and doctors, of washing your hands with soap and water. Besides that there is little to be done.”
Jolene dropped down onto the chair behind her. She stared out the windows of the kitchen, past the gleaming copper kettles, and felt helplessness descend on her as if she stood at her son’s bedside again, holding his hand and kissing him, even as he slipped away. The doctor in that room had chastised her for removing her mask and touching Little William with her lips and hands. She did not care. She did not care at all. He was her son, and she would not let him leave this world without feeling his mother’s love and touch. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
Zeb was nodding and went to the sink. He rolled up his sleeves and scrubbed his hands with the mint soap lying in the dish. Melinda stood on the stool and did the same beside Maria. They looked back at her.
“I do not know if this is influenza. It may not be. But we must be careful. It comes quickly and one can never tell who will suffer. Maria, tell Ruth to come see me. I will show her how to make the masks and have her hand them out. You must begin to make soup broth. Lots of it. If you do not have enough meat hanging, tell the men to hurry and butcher a steer. You can use fresh meat then. Zebidiah, please check the wells. We will need clean water and plenty of it. If anyone else becomes sick, take them to the new bunkhouse. We will need every spare blanket and sheet we have. Set up the outside kettles for laundry near the running water and leave them up. Melinda, you must get a mask from Ruth, the first one she makes, and you must tell all the children what to do. They must stay away from sick people. They must wash their hands. How much willow bark do we have?”
“Quite a bit, Mrs. Shelby. I had just ordered it and have full jars,” Maria said and turned to the young boy in the doorway. “Fetch Ruth, Miguel! We have much to do!”
“We’ll get it all taken care of,” Zeb said and tipped his hat as he went out the door. Jolene could hear him shouting instructions to his men.
Melinda ran at her and hugged Jolene around the waist. “I’m scared!”
Jolene stroked her hair. “I am frightened, too. You must be strong, Melinda. These people count on us to do the right thing and to help them. We must prepare for the worst, even if it is frightening.”
* * *
It was nearly ten o’clock when Zeb knocked on her bedroom door. She’d gone upstairs to try and lie down for a few hours, and made Melinda and Alice do the same. She knew that they may need every ounce of strength they could muster. Jolene pulled a shawl around her shoulders and opened her door. Zeb was standing there and from the look on his face, she knew there was bad news.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Pete just got back. The doctor can’t come. Dallas is overrun with influenza patients. He can’t even spare a nurse.”
Jolene nodded. “You must get to the nearest telegraph office at once. I’m sorry to ask you to go at this late hour, but we must get Maximillian home. He would never forgive himself if he wasn’t here when he was needed.”
“My horse is saddled. I told Pete to get a few hours of sleep,” Zeb said. “One of the cowhands is sneezing and feverish already.”
“Get him to the new bunkhouse,” Jolene said. “I will be down shortly and will handle the sick. I’ve been around it before and never got ill. The doctors thought I’d had an immunity of some kind and that I probably would never get it.”
Zeb nodded and hurried down the hallway.
“I will go with you, Mrs. Shelby,” Alice said from the doorway to her rooms.
“You shouldn’t, Alice. You could get sick,” she said. “Your family needs you.”
“I was there, ma’am,” Alice said as she folded her hands at her waist. “I was there when Little William and all the others died. I never suffered.”
Jolene turned her head sharply. “You must never tell anyone here about Little William. Do you understand?”
Alice curtsied. “I do.”
Their eyes met, and and Jolene knew that her maid understood the grim task ahead of them. “I will need the help if you are willing.”
Jolene went downstairs and found Maria in a panic.
“They are leaving, Mrs. Shelby,” she said. “I cannot stop them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Six of the families are leaving. They’ve got wagons packed with their children and whatever else they can fit. I will be short eight helpers in the kitchen, counting two of the daughters that were old enough to wash dishes. I need help getting this meat cut for the broth.”
“We will make do, and that will be less mouths for you to feed,” she said and laid a hand on her shou
lder. “Alice will help you here until I need her in the bunkhouse. You are doing well, Maria. Wash your hands and wear your mask.”
There was chaos in the yards when Jolene went past the kitchen garden. Pete was arguing with a man loading furniture into a wagon.
“Where are you going to go, Phillip? Your youngest is already feverish. There’s no help for you out on the range. What if you get sick? How will Adele handle the team and the children?” Pete was saying.
“Meggie ain’t sick. Just a little cold. I’m getting my folks out of here before somebody does get it. Now let me go!” the man said.
Jolene touched Pete’s sleeve. “Leave them go. We can’t hold people here, and we’ll have plenty of our own to take care of.”
His hand dropped to his side. He looked at Jolene. “How bad’s it going to get?”
“I don’t know. How many are in the bunkhouse?”
“Just two.”
They both turned when they heard shouting coming from the Sanchez house. Neighbors in the long row of family homes were filing out of their doors and staring in the light the lanterns threw as Alcinda wailed and fell to her knees on her small porch. “She is gone! My baby is gone!” she cried.
“Mother of God,” Pete said, crossed himself, and pulled off his hat.
“We’re going to have to come up with some men to begin digging graves. And we’ll need coffins. The bodies should be buried right away,” Jolene said. “My biggest worry is that we will run out of healthy people to do the most basic of jobs. We have animals that will need tended and sick people that will need cared for and food to be cooked.”
“I’ll go get a couple of the young boys working on digging the graves.”
“They can’t keep her in the house for a viewing, Pete. She should be buried within the hour. Much of what we do with this first one will set the expectations as other families suffer.”
“The first one?” Pete said, nodded, and turned to the Sanchez home. “I will tell them.”
* * *
Zeb arrived back at the Hacienda at four in the morning and found Jolene in the bunkhouse. She opened the door but would not let him pass.
