Conjuring Sight (Becky Jo Chronicles Book 1)

by Teresa Rae

He smirks, and I feel like the mouse telling the lion I will be of some use to him. However, his next words surprise me, “Then you have already succeeded.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about. Nineteenth century guys are weird.

  12

  Service

  Sunday, March 14, 1875

  I feel bad about waking Ida and Clara so early on a weekend, but Rose sent for them when I went down for water. The truth is I was hoping to leave for the day without anyone noticing. As it is the Sabbath, I’m going to church. I told Julia Whitaker I was going to attend her husband’s meeting, and I intend to keep that promise.

  When I have finished dressing and inspecting Ida’s face, I send Ida and Clara back to bed before sneaking out the backdoor. I already told Rose I wouldn’t be eating until later so no one will come looking for me until then. I pull my cloak tight in the cold air, wishing it were as warm as the fur cape. A fur is hardly acceptable attire for church, besides I need the day to clear my head.

  Trying to save Colonel Blair, Gabe, and Henry is going to be a lot harder than I initially thought. I thought I could go back in time, lock Colonel Blair’s bedroom door, and return to my own time without any problems. I am just beginning to see how difficult this rescue mission is. I need to step away from the situation to get my bearings straight.

  Despite the cold, it is a beautiful morning. I enjoy the warmth from the first beams of sunshine. As it is quite a walk on a hurt ankle, I walk small stretches before taking a break to rest. While in my contemplation, I say a silent prayer from St. Columba, “My dearest Lord, be now a bright flame to enlighten me, a guiding star to lead me, a smooth path beneath my feet, and a kindly shepherd along my way, today and for evermore.”

  It is while I am praying on a rock in the sunshine that a familiar carriage comes down the dirt road.

  “Gabe!” I call, happy to see him.

  He pulls back on the reins, stopping the carriage. “Miss Harris, what are you doing out here at this hour?

  “I’m on my way to Sunday services.”

  “It is the break of dawn. Services will not be held for several hours.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “It’s a long walk into town.”

  His face is stoic. “Avoiding James will not stop Samuel.”

  “I’m not avoiding him. I just need to clear my head.” I take a deep breath. “When I left my time, Colonel Blair was a scary ghost who told me to stop practicing my violin and bossed you and Henry around. I know this sounds terrible, but I didn’t conjure myself here to save him. I only wanted to save him so I could save you, Clara, and Henry. I didn’t even like him.”

  “But?” Gabe raises an eyebrow.

  I look down at my hands. “But here everything is completely different. I know this is strange, but now I consider him somewhat of a friend. I just don’t know why he was such a jerk as a ghost.”

  I look to him for an answer.

  He just smiles sadly in response. “Just help me save him. That’s why you’re here.”

  “I really am trying,” I reply

  He steps down from the carriage. “The most important thing is keeping him alive. I believe it is best if you ride with me to town. I have an appointment with William Bird to have my hair cut.”

  Sunday morning, Virginia City is quiet and calm. The people who were up late the evening before are sleeping it off. The churchgoers aren’t a rowdy bunch. Children are scrubbed, and everyone wears their Sunday best.

  “St. Paul’s service does not begin for a couple hours,” Gabe informs me. “I can wait with you. I’m sure William will not mind if I’m a little late. I do tend to tip well.”

  I shake my head. “I have a lot I want to accomplish this morning. Please stop at St. Mary’s School and Asylum so I can begin my day.”

  “St. Mary’s? You are not Catholic. What do you want with the nuns?”

  “I want to help the Daughters of Charity with their orphans. I’m not going to be here very long, and I shouldn’t be lounging about when there are people who could use my help.”

  Gabe watches as I enter St. Mary’s.

  I am met at the door by a woman in a blue habit and a crazy, fly-away nun hat. She smiles kindly. “May I help you?”

  “You must be one of the Daughters of Charity. My name is Rebecca Harris. I would like to help with the work being done here. In what capacity could you use me?” I answer.

  She beams, taking my hand.

  “Miss Harris, you are an answer to my prayers! We are helping the children dress for Mass and find ourselves shorthanded this morning. Would you be kind enough to assist the girls?” I barely have time to nod before she says, “Wonderful! I am Sister Frederica. Come, we do not have a moment to lose.”

  There are a lot of children at the school and orphanage. It’s a whirlwind of dresses, petticoats, stockings, and shoes. There is a lot of hair to be brushed and faces to wash. The older girls help with younger girls, and everyone looks presentable by the time Sister Frederica comes for them.

  “Are you joining us, Miss Harris?” she asks, taking a young child by the hand.

  “Thank you, but no. I am on my way to the Episcopal services,” I explain.

  Her brow wrinkles in confusion. “Why would an Episcopalian want to help at a Catholic school?”

  “I am not Episcopalian. I’m Baptist, and I want to help at a Catholic school because I was taught that we are all God’s children.”

  She smiles before patting my cheek with her free hand. “Bless you, my child. Bless you.”

  Reverend Whitaker is taking his in place in front of the congregation as I walk into St. Paul’s. Julia waves me forward to a seat on the pew next to her. I sit just before the services begin. Bishop Whitaker gives a sermon on avoiding temptation, which is pretty relevant for the people living Virginia City in 1875. I listen in rapture. It’s not that it’s an overly interesting topic; I just think it’s amazing to be able to hear a real sermon given in the surge of hell and damnation. It’s pretty cool.

  When the sermon is over, Julia wraps her arm around mine. “Miss Harris, I am overjoyed you were able to attend today’s services. I was beginning to worry you were unwell.”

  “I apologize that I was late. I was helping the Sisters of Charity with the children.”

  She pulls away, giving me a surprised look. “You did not tell me you were Catholic.”

  I’m beginning to feel like a broken record. “I’m not. I’m Baptist. Colonel Blair, however, is Episcopalian.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “And where is the Colonel this morning?”

  “I really do not know. I assume he was still asleep when I left.”

  She rewraps her arm around mine. “I have heard you are an orphan, Miss Harris. Tell me. What exactly is your relationship with the Colonel? As you are well aware, it is inappropriate for an unattached woman to stay with a bachelor.”

  “I am merely staying a guest in his home, until I leave on the twenty-first.”

  “That is not the impression held by many in society. In fact, word of you attending the opera with him has spread through the city like wildfire.”

  “Why would the citizens of Virginia City concern themselves with my social activities?”

  She laughs. “Miss Harris, Colonel Blair is one of the richest men in the country. There is not a woman in America who would not like to catch his eye.”

  “And has he shown interest in anyone?” I ask, hoping for a direction to steer his attention.

  “The only woman, in whom Colonel Blair has shown any interest, is you, Miss Harris. Forgive my frankness, but what exactly is his interest in you?”

  I silently sigh, wishing there was another woman in the picture. It would sure be a lot easier.

  “Mrs. Whitaker, I will hold you in my confidences. Colonel Blair sees me as nothing more than a younger sister. I am just passing through Virginia City and will not be staying,” I explain.

  She pats my hand. “This is a mining town. The entire population
is just passing through.”

  We talk for several moments about the Episcopal charities when Mrs. Whitaker turns her attention to a group of boys tying sticks to the tail of a stray dog. I walk through what remains of the congregation to a group of familiar children playing in the street.

  “Miss Harris!” Mary exclaims, running to me. “Ma said to thank you for the apple.”

  “You are very welcome,” I reply, giving her a hug. I notice she is wearing a nicer dress than before. “Did you attend Mass this morning?”

  She nods. “Yes, but then Da had to work in the mine. I’m supposed to watch the little ones to let Ma rest.”

  “Is your mother unwell?” I ask with concern.

  She shakes her head. “No, she’s going to have a baby.”

  “That’s wonderful news.” I pull my small coin purse out of a pocket and give her fifty cents. “Give this to your mother, and tell her it’s to buy something nice for the baby.”

  “My ma is ill, Miss Harris.” A little boy tugs on my skirt. “Da says the medicine is too expensive.”

  “Then you must have something, too.” I give him some coins as well. The children tell me of their worries and challenges, and I give them the small amount I have to help ease their plights. Soon all my money is gone.

  “Tell your brother to get lots of rest,” I say, patting the last child on the head. I put the empty coin purse away.

  I am just about to make the return walk home when someone grabs my hand. I look down to find the previously bashful Chinese boy pulling on my arm.

  “I’m sorry. I just gave away the last of my money,” I tell him.

  He pulls on me harder.

  “H-Help!” he says in broken English. He takes off running. Whatever it is, the boy is frantic. I quickly follow.

  It’s a struggle to keep up. He runs very quickly, and my ankle hasn’t recovered. By the time he stops, I’m out of breath, and the ankle is throbbing with pain.

  The boy points to the corner of the alley. My eyes follow his trembling hand. I’m stunned to see a small, Chinese man lying on the ground. He is being violently kicked by a massive man in huge work boots.

  “I told you to stay down, Chink!” the large man growls in an eerily wheezy voice. “We don’t want your kind here!”

  “Stop it!” I yell, charging into the alley. “Stop hurting him!”

  The large man slowly turns around. When I catch a glimpse of his face, it causes chills to run up and down my spine. I’ve seen greenish skin like his before. Finding a zombie in 1875 has caught me off guard.

  “What have we here? A little girl who cares about chinks?” he wheezes, kicking the poor man again. “He is dead. I’m lucky you came around to entertain me!”

  “You’re a terrible human being!” I yell.

  He laughs hilariously, like I’ve told the funniest joke he’s ever heard.

  “It will be a pleasure to strangle the life from you,” he pants, lunging for me.

  I step aside just in time. He hits into a stack of wooden crates, breaking them apart as though they’re made of paper. Even with his immense size, he shouldn’t have been able to cause that amount of damage. I am suddenly filled with fear, but I’m not filled with fear for my own life: I am afraid I won’t be able to protect the boy from this monster; I’m afraid I’m too late to help the man on the ground; and I’m afraid my mission will be cut short, and I will fail Colonel Blair, Gabe, Clara, and Henry.

  “Come little one,” he taunts in his freakish voice. “I want to stop your heart from beating.”

  “Run!” I push the boy away from me, trying to buy him a head start.

  He doesn’t run. Instead, he starts throwing rocks. They just bounce off the oaf like pebbles hitting a boulder.

  “You’re next, son of a chink!” he roars while charging me.

  There’s nowhere to run. Besides, I can’t risk the boy getting hurt. I’ve failed everyone. The only person I may have saved is Clara. My journey has been wasted. The thought fills me with despair.

  I pray pleadingly from Psalms, “O Lord, hear my voice when I cry unto you; have mercy on me and answer me. Do not hide your face from me; nor thrust me aside in displeasure: For you are my helper: cast me not away; do not forsake me!” I’m so distressed I don’t defend myself. I simply wait for the tyrant to hit. Impact never comes.

  A shot rings out.

  One moment the monster is charging, the next he literally turns to dust, falling to the ground in a pile of ash. I scream, grabbing the boy. I protectively wrap my arms around him, shielding him.

  A war cry sounds as Paiutes jump over a wooden fence into the alley. They immediately surround us. White Cloud puts down a rifle.

  “Miss Harris, are you hurt?” he asks, scanning me for injury. I shake my head, and he says, “We must get you to safety.”

  “First, he needs our help.” I gain control of my emotions. I hurry to the wounded man. I carefully move his arms out of his face. He is covered in blood and unconscious, but he is alive.

  Before I can object, two of the Paiutes pick him up. White Cloud grabs my arm and the boy’s arm. We’re literary drug from the alley.

  “We shouldn’t be moving him,” I say, trying to keep up with the Native Americans.

  “He will die if we do not,” White Cloud says impatiently. “We must get to a safer part of the city!”

  When we emerge on the street with St. Paul’s church, we find a group gathered. Among the people are Bishop and Mrs. Whitaker, Gabe, Henry, Clara, and a furious-looking Colonel Blair.

  “There she is!” Julia exclaims.

  The group turns and many of those assembled pale at the sight of the armed Paiute warriors and White Cloud. Colonel Blair isn’t one of them. He sprints to me, scrutinizing my state of health.

  White Cloud releases my arm before angrily getting in his face. “Colonel Blair, you and I must have a serious discussion about Miss Harris’s safety!”

  “Would you forget about my safety?” I snap, pointing to the wounded man. “There is a man who needs medical care!”

  White Cloud says something in Paiute to his warriors. They carefully put the man in the back of a wagon. The Paiutes also get in.

  “You are right, Miss Harris. I will care for him at camp,” White Cloud explains. The wagon begins to drive away.

  The boy becomes frantic, darting after the wagon. “Father!” he calls. Gabe grabs a hold of him.

  I go to the boy and calmly take his hand. “What is your name?” I ask.

  “Chun,” he answers.

  “Chun, your father is not well. My friends are going to care for him. Right now he is going to need you to be brave.”

  “Mother,” he says, watching the wagon.

  “I will take him to his mother,” Gabe offers.

  “Chun, my friend Gabe is going to take you to your mother. Then he will take your family to your father. Do you understand?” I ask.

  He nods. Then he bravely climbs into the wagon next to the enormous Gabe, and the two set out for Chinatown.

  “Miss Harris, I must insist on accompanying you…” Colonel Blair begins.

  The world starts spinning. In the excitement, I realize I haven’t eaten anything all day, I’m tired and stressed, my ankle hurts, and my corset is restricting my breathing. I take in fast, shallow breaths, barely able to focus on his words.

  I interrupt, “Colonel Blair, please catch me. I feel like I am going to faint.”

  Then the world goes black.

  * * *

  I open my eyes to find I am my room in the Blair Mansion. Clara is at my side, brushing my hair and singing in Paiute. Ida is holding a cool cloth to my forehead.

  “What happened?” I ask, blinking my eyes.

  “You fainted,” Clara answers.

  It comes back to me, and it’s actually pretty embarrassing. I just fainted in front of a whole bunch of people.

  “Stupid corset,” I grumble, realizing I’ve been changed out of my clothes and into a com
fortable nightgown.

  Both Clara and Ida laugh with relief.

  “How is he?” I ask, remembering Chun’s dad.

  Clara lovingly moves the hair out of my face. “White Cloud said that he was severely wounded, but he should recover.”

  “Good,” I say with my own relief. The encounter was worth it if Chun’s father survived. Thinking of the zombie in the alley, I say, “I have some things I would like to discuss with White Cloud.”

  “Miss Harris, you’re gonna need to eat first,” Ida says, getting to her feet. “You done made yourself sick by not eatin’. I’m a-go for soup.”

  The moment she opens the door, Colonel Blair calls loudly, “Is she awake?”

  “Yes, Massa James,” Ida answers.

  His footsteps can be heard running all the way up the staircase. He dashes into the room.

  “How are you feeling?” he demands.

  “I’m fine,” I respond, feeling stupid. I try to sit up.

  He stops me. “You are most certainly not fine! From what I have been able to piece together: you left the house at the break of dawn – without eating, walked a great distance into town, worked at St. Mary’s school for two hours, attended church services, gave away all your money, saved a man – only to be assaulted by his attacker, and then were rescued by the Paiutes. Miss Harris, this is not a typical day for a lady!”

  “You make it sound worse than it was,” I argue.

  “No, I make it sound better than it was. I have seen the injuries on the man you rescued. You are fortunate to be alive!”

  “Thank you for your concern, but I really am fine. I need to get up and check on Chun’s father.”

  “I must insist you remain in bed.”

  “He is right, Rebecca,” Clara interjects. “You need rest and nourishment.”

  I sigh loudly as Ida returns with my soup. I angrily cross my arms. Nineteenth century rules for girls are more than infuriating. “Colonel Blair, I cannot be confined to this bed when there is so much to be done. I will eat my lunch, as you wish, but then I have every intention of getting out of this bed and checking on Chun’s father.”

  He glowers. “Ida, Clara, please excuse Miss Harris and me.”