by Marian Wells
“Is there—do they shoot?”
Reluctantly Crystal admitted, “Yes, sometimes. Mostly it’s the stage driver. The secessionists have a reputation for being perfect gentlemen. Quite a reputation,” she added with a touch of irony in her voice.
After mulling over Crystal’s statement, Amy remarked, “I’m surprised they haven’t caught them, or killed someone.”
“There’s not enough men left to fight our own private war. I suppose you read the Rocky Mountain News, and know that the new army’s first job was to clean out the Bummers.
“Since the Army’s headed south, we’ve had to take care of ourselves.” She glanced at Amy. “This business with the stagecoach is getting to be a gentleman’s game. We hand over the money, the gold and jewels; they tip their hats and off they go. I get the feeling the law is looking the other direction since they can’t do anything about it.” She paused then added, “Or won’t until someone is killed.”
For a long time, Amy studied Crystal and thought about the situation. She noticed the lamplight emphasized the planes of Crystal’s face and heightened the sad droop of her lips. Finally Amy asked, “How much longer are you going to do this? You could be killed.”
“I—I guess I don’t have much to live for.” There was a catch in Crystal’s voice. Immediately she apologized, “Sorry, at this stage of the game, I always get dismal.”
“You need something to eat; shall we go down to the dining room?”
Crystal shook her head. “Right now I don’t feel like being in public.”
“Shall I bring food up here?”
She thought a moment and then sighed. “Would you? I know I need to eat. There won’t be much time for food tomorrow. Also, will you drop off this message at the desk?”
Amy nodded as she watched Crystal sit down at the table. Taking out a sheet of blue paper she began to write. Amy asked, “That’s the contact?”
Crystal nodded and held it out. Amy took the little scrap of blue paper and picked up her handbag. Crystal warned, “You should take care that no one is watching when you go to the desk. Also, make certain you give it to the old man.” The concern in Crystal’s eyes made Amy pause.
Finally she nodded and left the room, carefully closing the door behind herself.
In the lobby Amy looked around. There was only the old man behind the desk. The lobby was empty. Amy handed over the message and noticed the man seemed to know what to do with it. She watched him tuck it carefully into the pigeonhole behind the desk before he smiled at her.
Suddenly aware that she was shaking with hunger, Amy crossed the lobby to the dining room. It took her a moment to adjust to the dimly lighted room, and another moment to see the room was nearly empty. She settled into a corner and gave her instructions to the youth who came to take her order.
Amy was beginning to think she had been forgotten when the waiter returned with the carefully wrapped tray of food. He apologized. “Sorry for the delay, ma’am; the cook is in a bad temper. Shall I carry it upstairs for you?”
“Thank you, no. I’ll manage fine.”
As Amy started to leave the room, she glanced through the doorway and stopped abruptly. Taking a step backward into the dining room she leaned into the shadows and watched the man approach the desk. Without a doubt it was Lucas Tristram.
Amy looked at the loaded tray. What a time for Lucas to return! Just as she decided to sit in the dining room, she saw Lucas was turning away from the desk. He held a slip of blue paper.
While Amy watched he read the paper, thrust it into his pocket, and quickly walked out the front door.
“Ma’am, is everything all right?” It was the youth again. Amy nodded and smiled as she hurried toward the stairs.
Crystal turned quickly as Amy burst into the room. “Crystal—was that message intended for Lucas Tristram?”
The answer was written in the sudden pallor of her face. She bit her lip. “Amy, I’ve considered this possibility. I even suggested it to—All he would have to do is bluff his way into the clerk’s confidence by mentioning me.” She paced the room, pounding her fists against each other. When she came back to Amy she said, “I’d no idea! Tell me what happened.” She listened as Amy described the scene in front of the desk.
“Crystal, all I know is that the paper was blue.”
“And the gentleman behind the desk gave it to him?” She nodded and Crystal sighed and turned away. “Looks as if I’ve been discovered.”
In the morning both Amy and Crystal were heavy-eyed from tossing all night. Amy studied the circles under Crystal’s eyes and asked, “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. The stage leaves at ten o’clock. If I’m not on it, Amy, he’ll know I’ve betrayed him. If I go, then—”
“Crystal, have you thought, I mean have you considered the implications? Is it possible he will have you killed?”
They looked at each other. Slowly Amy said, “I got an idea. But I will have to know where to contact Lucas.”
“During the day, most days when he is in town, he can be found in the gaming rooms on the top floor of that big saloon down the street” She paused, asked, “What are you going to do?”
Amy hesitated. “Well, first we are going to have breakfast downstairs. I understand expectant mothers need to eat regularly.”
“You did last night—your own dinner and most of mine.”
Amy grinned and took Crystal’s arm. “Don’t look so sober; everything is going to be just fine. Even better than you can guess. But I think you need to buy more than you can eat.”
Crystal studied Amy’s face for a minute before the smile began in her eyes. “You are a dear friend. But if it doesn’t work, don’t feel bad. I—” She shook her head as they left the room.
After breakfast they quickly returned to the room, carrying the bundle of food. Amy asked, “What time is it?”
“Past ten. I think I hear the stage leaving. What are you going to do if Lucas comes charging up the stairs right now?”
Alarmed Amy asked, “Does he come to see you off?” Crystal shook her head. Amy went to the dressing table and picked up her handbag and the large key to the room.
She turned to Crystal. “Have a nice nap. When I visit you later this afternoon, I am going to find you bound and gagged, with your bag missing. Of course, everyone in Denver City will know about it before nightfall. Including Lucas Tristram.”
The questions were big in Crystal’s eyes, but she only smiled. Amy wagged her fingers as she closed the door and carefully locked it.
In front of the hotel she looked up and down the street. The early morning crowd was mostly housewives and rough-clad miners. There was no white suit among the throng of people. Grinning with satisfaction, Amy started her trip along the street. Now that she had started on her mission, panic began building up inside of her. Dear Jesus, please help me! I’m afraid; so much could go wrong.
Walking slowly, Amy stopped at every shop and studied the merchandise. It was nearly noon when she reached the end of the street. She quickened her steps, crossed the street and walked through the door of the saloon.
The man rearranging bottles glanced her direction.
“Please, tell me which room Mr. Tristram is in.”
He studied her, then finally said, “Maybe he don’t want company.”
“Might be he does.”
“Go up the stairs, turn right. Second door. Don’t know about this, but be quiet. Lucas don’t like noise when he’s with the cards.”
Amy followed his directions. As she walked into the room, Lucas quirked an eyebrow at her and continued to deal cards. “What’s your business?”
“I’ve come to talk about the piano.” She reached into her handbag and pulled out the bill of lading. “Lucas, you’ve directed the piano to me. What do you think my husband is going to say when he sees this?”
“Whoopie?”
“You’re insulting. Lucas, Mr. Tristram. You said you wanted to donate a ‘gift fo
r the church.’ I found that piano in my house when I returned home.”
He paused. A grin creased his face. “You did? How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. But under the circumstances, I think you’d better take it back, unless you can contact my husband and convince him—” Amy stopped and listened. There was the shuffle of feet and a curious thumping coming from the stairs.
Slowly Lucas got up. “Hey, what’s going on?” She studied his tight-lipped face and darkening eyes.
“Why, I don’t know,” Amy frowned, feeling as puzzled as Lucas looked. “But I can’t imagine why you are upset by a little noise like that. Lucas, what is—” She gulped and closed her mouth.
She watched Lucas edge around the table, moving his head, as he glanced uneasily around the room. Was he searching for something? He seemed to consider the window. Just as he backed away from the table and reached for his jacket, the door burst open.
She stared at the people filling the doorway. Lucas backed quickly to the window. “Wait, hold it!” Amy stared at the man rushing through the door. It was Matthew. “Tristram! What are you doing here? You and I have a score to settle.”
A white-faced Tristram glared at Amy. “A trap. Crystal is in this somewhere.”
“Crystal! Don’t even mention her name.” Matthew’s voice rose. Amy turned and could only stare at Matthew’s livid face. With one big step, his hand lashed out and fastened on Lucas’s brocade vest. “What have you been up to? You bought me into bondage. Is that what you are doing with my wife? And don’t tell me any of the old lies. I don’t believe them now. I’ve started doing my own thinking.”
Amy was conscious of others pushing into the room. She forced her fascinated gaze away from the two men and turned. But she needed to blink before she really saw the three. “Daniel!” She dashed to him.
For a moment she felt his resistance, and then he was kissing her. In his arms she patted his beard and pressed her hand to his face. “Oh, Amy,” he groaned. “What now?”
“Watch out!”
Tristram plunged through the group with Matthew limping after him, grasping for that white coattail. Daniel dropped Amy and fled after them.
Amy staggered against the wall. She heard a shout, followed by the thud of feet on the stairs and then there was silence. Amy ran to the window, only to find it opened on an empty side street. Bewildered, she turned and looked at her parents. “Gone! Again my Daniel is gone, just like last time, when he went running after Matthew.”
She sighed heavily and slumped against her mother and father as they encircled her with outstretched arms.
Chapter 32
Amy was panting by the time she reached the hotel. She took a moment to arrange a smile on her face before she crossed the lobby to the stairs. One, two, up the stairs, around the landing, there, they can’t see me. She took the rest of the stairs and dashed down the hall. With a quick dab at the perspiration on her face she fumbled for the key with a trembling hand. She shoved in the key, twisted and pushed.
Crystal pulled the door open and caught Amy as she burst into the room. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Amy gulped and tried to steady her wavering voice. “Someone came and they—ran. Crystal, who is Matthew?” Slowly Crystal pressed her hands to her face. Amy took her wrist and said, “I think you had better tell me all about it. Crystal, it is important, because I don’t know what to say until you do.”
Slowly Crystal sat down. Amy bit her lip to keep silent as she waited. Crystal was watching Amy’s face as she whispered, “Don’t hide it from me. Just one thing. I must know—is he dead?”
“No, he’s very much alive. Now, it’s your turn.”
“Matthew is my husband. Amy, the story is confusing, but you must believe one thing. I love him with all my heart.”
“I believe you.”
“I was involved in the Underground Railroad; do you know what that is?”
“I’ve heard Mother mention it, that’s all.”
Crystal paced the room, twisting her hands together as she talked. “You’ll never understand unless I go back to the beginning of all this mess. See it started before Matthew and I were born; the problem was slavery.
“After Nat Turner’s time, back in the thirties, the slaves and those who wanted to see them free knew there was only one way this could be accomplished. It was by escape, running away from slavery. Escape into freedom, Canada.
“All these years there’s been a movement to filter the slaves out of the South, but it has been growing in intensity since the talk of war started.” She stopped and looked at Amy, searching her face.
Amy shook her head, saying, “Crystal, you’re rambling. What are you trying to say? What does this have to do with Matthew?”
Crystal ducked her head and paced the floor. When she finally faced Amy, she said, “I’ve only told a half truth about myself. I am Creole, but in addition, I am illegitimate. My grandparents adopted me after I was born to their daughter and a man who was of both Negro and white blood, a mulatto.
“I’ve never met my mother; I understand she has married well and is happy. But I feel a tie to the slaves. It’s blood deep.” She went to the window and looked out.
When she turned she asked, “Have you heard of Harriet Tubman?” Amy nodded and Crystal added, “In the South she’s nearly venerated among the slaves. I’ve heard of her for years, and her story caught fire in me—even before I knew about my father. I can’t tell you the details, but I was thrown in such a position that not only could I help these people, but it was imperative I do so.” She glanced at Amy. “In Pennsylvania I finally became well acquainted with your mother and became involved with her in the movement.”
She went back to her pacing. Amy could see the strain building on her face. When she stopped to wipe the tears from her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry. But this is bringing back things that are very difficult for me to talk about. Amy, will you forgive me if all this seems incomplete?
“Matthew? He was part of the movement, too. But I don’t think he was ever a true believer. His sister and a friend were deeply involved, and Matthew was just caught up in the tide of it all. That was unfortunate, because misery is doing something your heart doesn’t really own.
“At that point in Matthew’s life, I think the only valid part was the love we had for each other.”
She faced Amy. Her voice was without emotion as she lifted her chin and said, “Matthew left me. This I’ll say for him, even as angry as he was, I know it was a difficult decision for Matthew to make. I can’t blame him. It was my fault. There was a moral issue involved. A lie he couldn’t forgive.
“See, I allowed him to know part of the details of my life. He knew the family name of my adopted parents, and he knew of their prestige in the South. That was important to him. What he didn’t know was about my father’s bloodline. I dared not tell him.”
Amy watched her compress her lips before she added, “It caused us both a great deal of heartache; Matthew is a proud man. In addition, our marriage created a problem impossible to resolve.”
“What is it?” Amy asked slowly.
“Matthew’s family was old South. The family had been slaveholders and plantation owners since the 1700s. Their position was important to them. Pure blood.
“Matthew really sympathized with the slaves. In the beginning he helped them escape because he was their friend. Later he was torn by their yearning for freedom. But complicating all this was the pull of his family ties.
“In the end the South won my husband away from me. To be honest, I can’t blame him. I was living a lie.” She stopped for a moment, and Amy could see her struggle to hold back tears as she added, “Perhaps if I had been brave enough to tell him, and to trust the God I claimed to serve, then things might have been different. I like to think that, anyway. Amy, I still love Matthew very much. Until just recently I dared hope that someday he would come looking for me.”
In a moment she continued. “As
the only son, he was to inherit the land. And he knew it was impossible to run a cotton plantation without slave labor. In the South it would be impossible to uphold the family traditions if slavery were abolished.
“Early in our marriage I began to realize this was a problem. But we were foolish and young. He ignored my dark skin and I forgot everything except loving him.” Crystal was silent as she slowly walked back and forth across the room.
At last she lifted her face and said, “Amy, I believe, if it hadn’t been for the threat of war—” She stopped and continued slowly, “It is possible, if he’d had enough time, if we could have talked without so much hurt and anger between us, he might have stayed with me.”
“I’m guessing there was pressure. Was his problem the plantation?” Amy asked.
“Partly. But also politics, and position in the community. It is not easy to be a Southerner and be different. The pressure was money. The South desperately needed his wealth.”
She was quiet. A gentle smile touched her lips as she added, “But this I will say for him, there was a love in his life stronger than these loves of family and home—me. At least for a time.”
Abruptly she turned. Amy watched the warm, gentle expression harden and turn cold. Her words were sharp as she added, “I like to think that in the end I would have won out if it hadn’t been for the war and Lucas Tristram.”
“What did Lucas have to do with it all?”
Amy watched bitterness twist the beauty out of Crystal’s face. Her angry pacing underlined the ugly passion in her expression.
Finally she stopped. “Lucas? You know he’s trained as a lawyer. So is Matthew. They were in school together. See, there was another strong tie pulling them together. Money. Matthew’s money. The Confederate states desperately need it, and I’ll believe until I die that Lucas was drafted to get that money.”
When Crystal spoke again, she said, “Back in Buckskin Joe I really misled you, and deliberately. I had just left Pennsylvania. True, I had worked as a cook just before coming to Buckskin Joe, but the rest—” She shrugged. “I couldn’t bear talking about my past. Matthew had just left me to return home, alone of course.” She took a deep breath. Her voice was bitter. “The truth had come out and—Amy, I can’t talk any more about us.”
