Journey of the Heart

by Mills, DiAnn; Darty, Peggy;

  “Come in,” he said, looking eager for business.

  Elisabeth acknowledged his invitation and entered, glancing about at the cozy front room. An exhibit of photographs covered the wall. Elisabeth thought they were very pretty as she looked at views of mountains, miners at work, and for contrast, a busy eastern city.

  “You do nice work,” she said, glancing at him.

  “Thank you! Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Seth Wilkerson from New York.”

  Elisabeth’s eyes took in his slim, small frame—he was no more than an inch or two taller than she, which seemed quite short in comparison to Adam. Probably in his thirties, Seth was dressed in a dark suit, obviously tailor-made, because it fit him to perfection.

  “How do you do. I’m Elisabeth Greenwood.” She extended a gloved hand.

  “You’ll make a lovely photograph! I’d be most eager—”

  “Excuse me, but I stopped in to see if you need someone to work for you.” At his shocked expression, she glanced around the room, trying to think how to win him over. “Where do you make the pictures?” she asked.

  “In here,” he said, opening a door. “There’s a tiny dressing room back there, the room just off the parlor, and this is my laboratory.”

  Through the open door, Elisabeth could see a darkroom covered with orange cloth.

  “I use orange light because it doesn’t harm my glass plates,” he explained.

  “I see.” Elisabeth nodded. “You have some expensive-looking equipment here. It seems to me you need someone to watch your gallery if you have to be away.”

  “Well…yes I do. I’ve been wanting to make another trip to the mining camps to get pictures of the miners. They love to send photographs home to show their families, displaying their working situations.”

  “Then I could take care of your gallery while you’re away. I could keep the place clean, make tea for your customers.”

  “Yes…I suppose I do need a helper…but the wages would be very small in the beginning.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She smiled. “I want a job. Do you know Mrs. Marjorie Tillotson? I live with her.”

  “Mrs. Tillotson?” His eyebrow hiked and his smile widened. “She’s a lovely lady. We attend the same church.” He withdrew a gold watch from his vest pocket, glanced at the time, and then returned it to his pocket. “Miss Greenwood, I’m due at the bank for a meeting. You can start to work right now. If anyone comes for a photograph, don’t let them leave until I return!”

  Elisabeth’s mouth fell open as he grabbed his hat and sailed out the door. Then, smiling after him, she removed her cloak and gloves and looked around. There was a thin layer of dust on the board floor so she went in search of a broom.

  That evening as she sat with Mrs. Tillotson, she let the older woman serve her tea and chat about a benefit cake sale the Ladies’ Missionary Society was planning, but Elisabeth scarcely heard a word. She was thinking about Adam and feeling amazed that she missed him so much.

  A knock on the door interrupted Mrs. Tillotson’s constant flow of words, and she cocked her little head to one side, obviously startled.

  “Now, who on earth would be calling at this hour?” She looked at Elisabeth, who found herself hoping that Adam had returned.

  Mrs. Tillotson peered through the curtains and then gave a little cry of delight. “It’s Star of the Morning!”

  “Star of the Morning?” Elisabeth repeated, puzzled, as Mrs. Tillotson rushed for the door and quickly turned the key in the lock. “Star of the Morning, what a pleasant surprise! Do come in.” Mrs. Tillotson opened the door.

  Elisabeth watched a beautiful young woman, dressed in a white doeskin dress and matching moccasins, enter the room. Her hair was jet black, as were her eyes, and her skin a smooth olive. She had small, pretty features, and her clothes were immaculate. Elisabeth’s breath caught. She was the prettiest Indian woman she had ever seen.

  “Hello.” She smiled at Mrs. Tillotson then looked toward Elisabeth, a question in her eyes.

  “Dear, this is Elisabeth Greenwood,” Mrs. Tillotson said, laying a hand on Star of the Morning’s fringed sleeve.

  “Hello.” Elisabeth smiled back at her, her mind filled with questions.

  “Hello, Elisabeth.” The young Indian woman looked about Elisabeth’s age and spoke English perfectly.

  “Elisabeth, Star of the Morning was our best pupil at the mission school.”

  Elisabeth smiled. “Congratulations.”

  “Elisabeth is from down in the Pike’s Peak region,” Mrs. Tillotson continued. “Her folks have a trading post there. I’m sure her father traded with your people.”

  Elisabeth almost choked at those words, knowing how, given the chance, Jed Greenwood had swindled everyone who came through his door.

  “I want to go to that area.” Star of the Morning smiled. “I am hoping to be sent there to help my people.”

  “Star of the Morning is Ute and has a calling to return to teach. She had now completed her education.” Mrs. Tillotson gave her a hug. “We’re so proud of her.”

  “It has taken your prayers and your help.” Star of the Morning returned Mrs. Tillotson’s embrace.

  Elisabeth was at a loss for words. This young woman was so pretty, so vibrant, and certainly seemed to be led by God. Elisabeth fell silent, not knowing what more she should say. Her mind whirled back to the time she had spent in Black Hawk’s camp and the kind people she had met there. In retrospect, she knew she had never given them a chance, for she had made up her mind that these were not her people, and all she could think about at the time was leaving.

  Mrs. Tillotson was busily seeing to her guest. “Here, dear, take a seat. Have you eaten?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Star of the Morning settled gracefully onto the sofa, tucking her moccasined feet together at the ankles.

  “Then I’ll make tea. I’m sure you could drink a cup of tea.”

  “That would be nice.” She smiled gratefully at Mrs. Tillotson.

  As the older woman hurried off for tea, Elisabeth couldn’t help staring at the pretty girl opposite her.

  “What brings you to Denver?” Star of the Morning asked pleasantly. Her dark eyes glowed in her smooth face as she looked across at Elisabeth.

  “Well…,” she began then hesitated. Why try to pretend? Something about this woman evoked honesty, and she felt much the same way she had when she first met Adam in that she could tell her the truth.

  “If I am being too personal, you do not have to answer.” Star of the Morning seemed to sense a problem.

  “No, I was just thinking how to phrase this.” Elisabeth glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen.” It’s a long story. There was a…misunderstanding with my adoptive father after my mother died. My mother was a good woman, and she wanted me to come to Denver if anything happened.” Her voice trailed as she felt grief welling up in her throat.

  Star of the Morning began to nod. “I see. Then you could not choose a better home or a better person than Mrs. Tillotson. When I first came here to the mission school, she was my sponsor. I was a skinny, frightened little thing,”—she laughed softly—“and Mrs. Tillotson and the other ladies at the mission school were so good to me. They changed my life.” She hesitated, studying her slim graceful fingers. “My parents were killed in a battle out on the plains. That was my home. I had nowhere to go, and my people were starving. The Tillotsons were missionaries at the time; they came to our village and brought some of the children back here to the mission school. They saved our lives, and I will always be grateful.”

  As her soft voice trailed into silence, Elisabeth nodded, seeing how her life had been shaped for her missionary work. “You seem to have made the most of a difficult situation. I respect that.”

  “Here we are, girls.” Mrs. Tillotson hurried back, bearing her tray of teacups and teapot, steaming with the aroma of fresh herbed tea. “This will warm us up a bit on a cold winter night.”

  As she poured tea, Mrs. Till
otson began to pelt Star of the Morning with questions concerning the mission school. The young woman answered each question, patiently and competently, as they sipped their tea. Elisabeth felt herself relaxing, enjoying the evening, and she realized this was largely due to Star of the Morning’s radiant presence.

  At they finished their tea, Star of the Morning put down her cup and stood. “I must go now. I only came to say hello. I have to get back to the school. I am preparing to leave at the end of the week.”

  “Must you go?” Mrs. Tillotson looked distressed. “Where are they sending you?”

  “That I do not know,”—she smiled—“but it doesn’t matter. God is with me; I will go where I am needed.”

  Mrs. Tillotson hugged her affectionately. “Bless you, my child. You are such a credit to your nation.”

  At these words, Elisabeth felt as though her heart were shrinking. She was torn with embarrassment because she had not worked toward being a credit to anyone—white or Indian. Seeing the way Star of the Morning had turned her adversity around to make her life count for a good cause, Elisabeth felt a wave of shame sweeping over her. When she thought she was linked to the Ute tribe, she had been appalled and embarrassed, and now she was sorry for the way she had felt. She wanted to change those feelings, and yet she couldn’t seem to do that on her own.

  “It was nice meeting you, Elisabeth,” Star of the Morning was saying. “Maybe I will see you again.”

  “I hope so.” Elisabeth smiled at her. And she did hope that their paths would cross again. She was more impressed with Star of the Morning than anyone she had met.

  Except for Adam.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next day Elisabeth had a few minutes of spare time before going to work, and she sauntered into the mercantile store. Women shopping there were dressed in fine woolens and dainty bonnets. Patent leather gaiters peeped from beneath their crinolines. She tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help wishing she did not feel so out of place in her old-fashioned cotton dress.

  As she looked around, her eyes nearly popped at the endless array of items labeled PIKE’s PEAK. There were Pike’s Peak guns, shovels, and picks, Pike’s Peak boots and hats. An outfit displayed with a small sign proclaiming it to be the “New American Costume” was made of dark calico with a knee-length skirt from which peeped a pair of matching pantalets.

  Amused by it, Elisabeth stared for a moment then wandered toward a long woolen dress, blue as a Colorado sky. She trailed her fingers over the soft nubby cloth, wishing she could afford such a dress. Now that she had a job, she could use some of the money from the sale of her mare. Did she dare? Her mind automatically raced to Adam. She would like to wear a dress like that when he returned. She wanted to style her hair, fix herself up pretty for him.

  She tried to dredge up her logic, be rational, but she kept thinking about Adam, and impulsively, she walked over to the counter. “I’d like to try that one on, please.” She pointed toward the blue dress.

  “Certainly.” The older woman smiled. “There’s a dressing room right back there.”

  Elisabeth dashed behind a curtain and changed into the soft blue dress. The tucked bodice molded to her tiny waist then swirled in a perfect circle around her feet. She stared into the looking glass. The soft blue accented the darkness of her eyes and hair. As she stared at herself, an odd thought struck her: she did not look so different from Star of the Morning. Her hair had the same dark radiance, her eyes…

  She dropped her head. It was true, she knew it was. She really did possess Ute blood. Drained of her enthusiasm, she removed the dress and changed back into her faded clothes. Gingerly, she carried it back outside to hang it up again. “That color must be stunning on you.” The helpful saleslady rushed up, obviously hoping for a sale.

  “It’s a very pretty dress,” Elisabeth sighed. “I need to think about it.”

  “Don’t think long,” she replied, taking the dress from Elisabeth to rehang. “We just got it in, and I daresay it won’t stay here long.”

  Elisabeth nodded. “Thank you.” She walked out the door and headed to work, her thoughts whirling. What if it was true? What if she was Ute? Was that so bad, after all?

  Confusion filled her mind like a winter fog. She had to think about her job, she had to get her mind on what she was doing.

  Her steps quickened as she hurried to work, glancing around her at the people crowding the sidewalks. Some of the men were dressed in red shirts and buckskins, others in dark business suits. It was exciting to live in a busy town, in one sense, but she missed the wide-open views and fresh air of her home. She thought of Star of the Morning and then, of course, Adam.

  She wondered about the place he lived. She must remember to ask Mrs. Tillotson more about him.

  As she turned into the shop, she saw that her new employer was busily packing up his supplies.

  “Since you can stay here today, I’m going into the mountains,” he announced, carefully loading a camera into its case.

  I’ll take good care of things,” she offered, removing her cloak and smoothing her cotton dress. Automatically, she headed for the broom closet to tidy up the shop.

  That evening, she sat before the fire with Mrs. Tillotson, listening to more news of the benefit cake sale that the Ladies’ Missionary Society was planning.

  When the little woman had finally run down, Elisabeth ventured a few questions about Adam.

  “He is a wonderful young man, don’t you think?” Mrs. Tillotson asked, cocking her little white head to one side and studying Elisabeth thoughtfully.

  “He is nice, and he seems dedicated to his mission work here.”

  “Yes, he is.” She looked into space, remembering. “His mother was a Cherokee in Tennessee. He had a calling to help all Indians.”

  Elisabeth dropped her eyes. She had not told Mrs. Tillotson the full story of her life. She was waiting for the right moment or for a time when she had settled the issue in her heart.

  “Adam has done so many kind things for his people.”

  “Tell me about the area where he lives.” Elisabeth slipped to the edge of her seat, anxious to hear about him.

  Studying her, Mrs. Tillotson smiled and began to explain what she knew. “Adam lives up in a lovely valley on the back side of the mountains. There are only a few rough pine buildings there, however—a small general store, a stable and blacksmith shop, a building that serves as a community hall for circuit doctors and ministers and anyone doing something for the community. The community hall needs work, and that’s one of our projects with the Missionary Society. We want to equip it with facilities for starting a school and church. I think Adam will be an important part of our dream.”

  Elisabeth nodded, considering her words. Everyone seemed to have a “part” in something. Star of the Morning had her mission in life; Adam had his. She had nothing—no identity, no family, nothing but a blank future staring her in the face.

  “What’s wrong, dear? You look troubled.”

  Elisabeth put her teacup on the table and stood. “Actually, I’m pretty tired. It’s been an adjustment learning my new job. I think I’ll say good night now.”

  Mrs. Tillotson nodded. “Of course. Get a good night’s rest. And, Elisabeth, I’d like you to accompany me to church on Sunday.”

  Elisabeth hesitated then nodded slowly. She had a real hunger to know more about the God who seemed to fill them with such goodness. She wished she were more like them.

  “I’d like that,” she replied. “Good night.”

  As soon as Elisabeth reached the quiet of her little room, the tears she had fought to keep back flooded forth, pouring down her cheeks. She sank onto the bed, burying her face in her hands. Her life seemed so empty and bleak, and she had never felt so lonely. Was God working in her life? Was He preparing her for some mission? Or would she have to live with this awful emptiness from now on?

  Chaptern Twelve

  Adam

  The muscles of the big black horse
rippled beneath his satin-like coat as he pulled up the steep hill. Adam sat on his horse, gazing out across the snowy hillside, searching for animal tracks. He had seen some deer tracks, at least two days old, but yesterday’s winds had practically obliterated them. His eyes traveled upward to the bald eagle soaring above a craggy peak. To Adam the eagle symbolized the wild, free beauty of Colorado.

  He drew rein and sat back in the saddle. From his vantage point, he could see east to the dome of the mountain peaks, blanketed with fresh snow. His brown eyes returned to the valley below, to his rough, slab-pine cabin; food was scarce, so he had taken up hunting. Some folks thought it was wrong to kill animals, but his father had told him early in life the Bible taught that man was to have dominion over the animals.

  “But dominion is different from waste,” his father reminded him. “We never kill an animal just for the sport of it. We only take an animal’s life when we need food.” As he thought of his father, a deep sadness welled in his heart. He needed to make peace with him, particularly now with the conflict raging between the North and South.

  The wind stirred through the pines, and Adam looked around, thinking maybe the deer would be bedding down. He had always felt a kinship with the animals, with all of nature. He believed this was due to his Cherokee background.

  Suddenly Elisabeth Greenwood came into his thoughts. His prayer for her was that she would come to terms with her background, as he had. In his mind, the Ute heritage was a heritage to be proud of.

  He dropped down from his horse, looped the reins around a pine trunk, and sat down on a dead log. A bitter wind howled down the mountain, ruffling his dark hair, but he didn’t notice the weather now. He was consumed with thoughts of Elisabeth, and he didn’t know how to deal with his feelings. It had been a week since his departure, and she had scarcely left his mind. He knew there could be no future for them until she found peace in her soul, and that meant turning to God for help. She would have to do this on her own; he had said all he was comfortable to say to her while she was still unsaved.