Daylight Comes

by Judith Miller

  “You want yer sister to marry John Rockley.” As she folded the beaten egg whites into the potato mixture, she gave a mirthless chuckle. “I always did know when you was scheming, Truth.”

  Truth silently chastised herself. She should have left before getting ensnared in this conversation. Well, she would leave now. Without a word, she lifted her chin and walked toward the parlor. Her stomach lurched when she realized talkative Dovie might tell someone else what Truth was up to. Please don’t let Dovie share her suspicions with Grace.

  “Not feeling well?”

  She startled at Moses’s question. Where had he come from and what had he heard from the kitchen? “No, I’m fine.Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged. “You seem a bit tired, although you certainly look beautiful in that gown. I’m glad I insisted upon having it made.”

  She touched a palm to his cheek. “So am I.” She glanced at his suit and gave her approval. “I didn’t realize you’d been home long enough to change clothes.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t want to give you cause for concern. However, it looks as if all is in order and there’s nothing for me to do except await our guests.”

  When she heard a carriage pull up outside, Truth fingered one of the combs she’d tucked into her hair and gave it a firm shove. She hoped it would remain secure throughout the evening. “I told Dovie you would see to the door,” she told Moses. “Running back and forth while she’s attempting to finalize the meal would be asking far too much of her.”

  “And would increase her opportunities to speak with John?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice.

  Truth took his hand as they walked to the door. “You wouldn’t believe me if I denied your claim, so I may as well agree.”

  His laughter echoed in the hallway as Moses opened the front door. “Good evening, John. Do come in.”

  As Truth hung up John’s coat, Grace joined them in the foyer. Her honey-brown skin glowed against the pale yellow of the cashmere gown, and Truth marveled at her sister’s transformation. Grace had blossomed since her arrival in Topeka. However, it was John’s undeniable look of approval that delighted Truth. The man was obviously smitten with Grace.

  The foursome hadn’t yet moved from the foyer when Mr. and Mrs. Ditmore arrived. They had little time to visit before Dovie announced supper. As the group dined on thin slices of succulent beef roast and the potato soufflé, Mr. Ditmore quizzed each of them about Nicodemus. Truth let her sister take the lead. She wanted Grace to gain John’s attention, and what better way than conversing about the town they’d grown to love?

  Grace took a sip of water from her crystal goblet. After regaling their guests with tales of their arrival and the settling of Nicodemus, Grace grew more somber. “Now the greatest concern in Nicodemus is that the railroad will pass us by. We’ve heard such an occurrence can mean death for a small community.”

  Nodding his head, Mr. Ditmore helped himself to the creamed spinach. “You are absolutely correct, my dear.”

  “Surely you could help them, Edward.” Mrs. Ditmore’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She looked across the table at Grace. “My husband has a degree of influence with some of the railroads, don’t you, dear?”

  Picking up his napkin, Mr. Ditmore wiped his lips. His lengthy pause caused Truth to wonder if their guest hoped to avoid the question or perhaps thought his wife had placed him in an embarrassing situation. Finally his wife nudged him and he sparked to attention.

  “I’m sorry. I was attempting to decide who might be of greatest assistance.” He glanced at John. “John has handled many legal issues regarding the railroads, so he could lend some insight. I prefer to visit a location before I promote it to my colleagues. We’re all heavily invested in the railroads, along with mining and several other ventures. Capital is needed for all of these new business enterprises.

  Money represents power to these companies. And because my group of investors has money, I can sometimes influence decisions. Of course, there’s never a guarantee of success, right, John?”

  John agreed and then explained that a while back both of them had strongly suggested a railroad route pass through a particular town that they thought held much promise. “We thought the matter had been settled and suddenly one of the railroad officials pushed for another route. Of course, he won and the town was bypassed. To this day, I still believe our suggestion was the better, more cost-effective solution, but someone likely received a more lucrative monetary enticement.”

  Mr. Ditmore eyed the piece of applesauce cake Dovie set before him. “Exactly. And I fear that greedy attitude will be the ruination of many a good business—railroads included.”

  Truth didn’t see how Mr. Ditmore’s attitude differed from that of the other wealthy investors he’d vilified, but she remained silent.

  Mrs. Ditmore patted her husband’s arm. “Now, now, my dear. No need for talk of gloom and doom—especially during such a fine meal.”

  Mrs. Ditmore leaned forward and good-humoredly shook her finger at Truth. “If you’re not careful, I’ll attempt to steal your cook away from you. This applesauce cake is divine. I especially like the burnt sugar glaze. Do tell me you’ll share the recipe.”

  Truth swelled with pride at the compliment. “I would be delighted. It’s one of our family’s favorites, isn’t it, Grace?”

  “Indeed.” Without further comment on the recipe, Grace turned her attention back to Mr. Ditmore. “Do you think you might be willing to travel to Nicodemus, Mr. Ditmore—to help folks learn what will make the town more appealing to the railroads and to take a look at the town to see if you might recommend us for a route?”

  The older gentleman thoughtfully tugged on his vest before speaking. Truth decided that if he ate one more bite of food, his buttons would pop off and go sailing in all directions. She could picture the ornate silver studs flying about the room like a scatter of buckshot.

  He leaned back in his chair. “I’d be willing to consider making the journey so long as the weather cooperates and both Grace and John are willing to accompany me.” He tilted his head toward Moses. “In addition, there’s the possibility that your brother-in-law’s political power may aid in the cause, also.”

  “I doubt my position will be of much help in this matter,” Moses said, “though I will do all in my power to see Nicodemus is on the route of one of the railroad companies.”

  “Then you’ll join us when we visit the town?” Grace inquired.

  Wait! Truth didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken. She didn’t want Moses traveling to Nicodemus before the baby’s birth— especially if she couldn’t go along. Who could say when a snowstorm would strike and keep him stranded for longer than anticipated?

  What was Grace thinking? Surely she realized the unpredictable weather meant travel would be unwise for several months. Perhaps she longed to visit Silas and determine why he hadn’t yet written to her. . . . Uh-oh.

  “Certainly you aren’t planning to go until spring,” Truth put in.

  Grace’s shoulders collapsed in exasperation. “There’s more than sufficient time before the baby is due.”

  Truth drew in a deep breath and focused her attention on Mr. Ditmore. “You do realize that a portion of the journey to Nicodemus must be traveled by horse and wagon.”

  Mrs. Ditmore looked surprised, then she tapped a finger on the table. “Truth is correct. No sense taking undue risks, my dear. Imagine trying to survive a snowstorm with nothing more than a horse and wagon. And it isn’t as if this matter can’t wait until spring.”

  Mr. Ditmore reached out and patted his wife’s hand. “I suppose you’re correct on that account. I’ll talk to some of my acquaintances. If all goes well, we can plan to make the journey at winter’s end.”

  Grace avoided the frown Truth directed her way, but she dutifully agreed they should wait until the weather was better. Pushing away from the table, Moses beckoned the guests into the parlor, where they could continue their conversation in comfo
rt.

  Mrs. Ditmore clung to her husband’s arm as though she planned to walk several miles rather than a few steps into the adjoining room. She settled beside him and waved her fan in rapid fashion.

  Her husband frowned at the accessory and his wife snapped the fan together with a flourish. “Edward surprised me with tickets to the theater for next Saturday night. I understand an excellent new play is opening. What was the name, my dear?”

  Her husband shrugged and directed a bemused look at his wife. “I have no idea, Ruth. I merely know that when a new play comes to town, I’m expected to purchase tickets.”

  Mrs. Ditmore laughed but she didn’t dispute her husband’s statement. Instead, she shook a finger at Moses and instructed him he should learn to do the same.

  When the older woman turned toward John, he reached into his pocket and held up two tickets. “Before you set your sights upon me, let me assure you that I’ve already purchased mine.” He settled into a chair beside Grace. “And if I can convince Grace to accompany me, all the better.”

  A heavy, uncomfortable silence cloaked the room as they awaited Grace’s reply. The aroma of Mrs. Ditmore’s too-sweet perfume hung in the air like a cloying accompaniment to the unnerving quiet.

  Unable to bear the silence any longer, Truth tapped Moses on the arm. “We could attend the performance with Grace and John. Perhaps you could purchase tickets tomorrow.”

  Though the others twittered, one look at Grace’s frown revealed she was unhappy with Truth and her hastily proposed solution. No need discussing the matter further, Truth decided. There would be time enough to argue about the theater tomorrow. But for now, she ignored her sister’s scowl.

  Truth smiled to herself, pleased that this evening of entertaining had gone so well. She’d managed to postpone any possible journey to Nicodemus until spring, and if all went according to plan, Grace and John would be attending the theater together next week.

  A small pang of guilt struck; she didn’t want to impede the possibility of a rail line passing through Nicodemus. She wanted progress for the town, for she and Moses planned to return to their grand Nicodemus home once his term as state auditor had been completed. However, sending a delegation in the middle of winter made no sense, especially if Grace planned to accompany the group. Truth had nearly assuaged any feelings of guilt by the time their guests departed.

  As they waved good-bye to their guests, Grace clutched her arm and tugged her into the parlor. “We need to talk before you retire for the night.”

  As she had feared, the talk was much more a speech than a conversation. In fact, Grace didn’t pause long enough for Truth to interject one word. Truth half listened while her sister rambled on about the impropriety of attending the theater with John, as well as John’s obvious interest in courting her. Then she took Truth to task for what she considered Truth’s blatant disregard for the residents of Nicodemus.

  Those particular comments stirred Truth to defend herself, but only briefly. Finally, she raised her hand and signaled her sister to stop. “I’m tired and I’m going to bed. Moses is already upstairs, and Dovie has likely been asleep for at least half an hour. You may feel free to continue your lecture tomorrow.” That said, Truth rose from her chair. She longed to glide swiftly across the room with an air of decorum. Instead, she swayed back and forth in an ungainly fashion, feeling more like a waddling duck than a regal woman.

  She could feel her sister’s glare follow her as she departed the room. Relief washed over her as she ascended the stairs, for at least Grace had finally terminated her lecture.

  CHAPTER

  25

  Nicodemus , Kansas • March 1883

  It was only March, but thoughts of spring loomed in Ezekiel Harban’s mind, and he’d noticed recently that most of the Nicodemus residents seemed to be suffering from cabin fever.

  Though the weather remained unusually cold and snow covered the ground, it wouldn’t be long until the crocuses poked through the frozen soil of the small flower gardens in the township and announced spring’s arrival. Ezekiel had no complaints about the snow—it provided a blanket of protection to his crop of winter wheat—but he sure was looking forward to warmer weather.

  He wrapped his large hands around a cup of coffee and eyed the letter lying on the table. He figured Grace had saved postage and sent his letter along with one to Silas. No one could deny that Grace had been faithful in her letter writing, though he didn’t think Silas had been keeping up on his end. The young man struggled with both his reading and writing, and Ezekiel was of no help to him. Silas had gone to Jarena on a couple of occasions to ask her assistance, but Jarena had told Ezekiel that Silas hadn’t been to see her recently. He understood that—what young man wanted someone else scrutinizing his words of endearment?—but he wondered if Silas had managed to send even one letter. And what was Grace thinking about the lack of correspondence?

  Since Grace’s departure, Silas had continued to help Ezekiel with his farm even though the young man had more than enough to keep him busy on his own acreage. Ezekiel was thankful for both the help and the young man’s company. Accordingly, he didn’t alienate him with prying questions about letter writing.

  Silas came into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down opposite Ezekiel. Silas tapped the folded piece of paper on the tabletop. “Guess you already figured that there letter’s fer you. I picked up the mail when I was in town. It’s from Grace.”

  Ezekiel grunted in the affirmative. “I figured that myself. Ain’ no one else gonna send us letters in one envelope.” He straightened in his chair. “Mebbe she’s writin’ to tell me Truth’s had her young’un.

  Can you read it for me?”

  “Truth ain’t had the baby yet. I read my letter afore I come inside.”

  He held up the sheet of paper. “You still want me to try an’ read this?”

  Ezekiel nodded before downing another mouthful of coffee. Silas read slowly, stumbling over several words, but at the first mention of the railroad, Ezekiel waved his hand and slowed him to a snail’s pace.

  He listened carefully, wanting to understand every word Grace had to say about the Ditmores. The railroad coming to Nicodemus was his greatest wish, and he didn’t want to build false hope by misunderstanding. This letter sounded very encouraging: Grace and a couple of influential men might visit Nicodemus in the spring.

  Ezekiel slapped his beefy hand on the table, and his coffee cup skipped across the wooden surface. He grabbed hold of the cup and gulped the final drops of coffee. “That there is some good news. Folks is gonna be mighty excited to hear ’bout this.”

  “We’ll see if she keeps her promise this time.” Silas folded the letter and handed it back to Ezekiel.

  “What’s that s’posed to mean? Grace ain’ broke no promises.”

  “Mebbe not to you, but she told me she’d be home for a visit afore the baby was born. I sure ain’t seen her darkening any doorways in Nicodemus. Have you?”

  “Nope, I ain’ seen her. But you’s smart enough to know folks ain’ gonna be making extra trips back and forth across this here state during the dead of winter. I don’ care what Grace tol’ ya.” Ezekiel touched his index finger to the side of his head. “I think you’s got enough up there to a knowed better, now ain’t ya?”

  Ezekiel reached across the table and gave the young man a jovial slap on the shoulder. Instead of being pleased Grace would soon be paying him a visit, the young man was busy feeling sorry for himself. Pushing aside his intention to remain aloof, Ezekiel decided to jolt Silas out of his pitiful self-righteous mood. “I s’pose you posted a letter to Grace when you went into town to pick up this here mail.” Ezekiel waved the piece of paper back and forth.

  Silas folded his muscular arms and met Ezekiel’s piercing stare. “Naw. I ain’ been able to find the right words to put in a letter. I know what I wanna say, but it never seems to sound right when I get it on the paper.”

  “Iffen you ain’ even writte
n one letter, I’d say you got no complaint. Fer all that gal knows, you found someone else to take her place. You ever think ’bout that?” he said, pointed a warning finger in Silas’s direction.

  “Grace knows better. Ain’t no one could turn my head when I’m hopin’ to marry her. ’Sides, she knows Jarena or someone else would write and tell her if I was looking at another gal.”

  Ezekiel shrugged his broad shoulders. “Womenfolk don’ think the same as us. Iffen you’s smart and want to hold onto her, you best set a pen to paper and tell her so.”

  Silas shoved his long arms into his heavy wool coat as he headed toward the door. He pushed a floppy-brimmed felt hat onto his head and waved as he opened the door. “I’ll stop back over in a couple days.”

  “You mind what I tol’ ya, Silas.”

  The door closed with a heavy thud. Ezekiel had said more than he’d intended, and now he wondered if he should have remained silent. He would have except for Jarena’s comment last week. “Sounds to me like Grace might be developing more than a mere friendship with John Rockley,” she’d said. He figured Jarena knew exactly what was going on between Grace and Mr. Rockley, but she didn’t reveal any specifics, and Ezekiel wouldn’t inquire. Right now, he was more interested in finding out about the town’s chances of wooing one of the railroad companies to run a line through Nicodemus.

  The town had gathered and discussed the issue at length. In fact, some of the residents had written letters to several of the railroad lines pledging support and requesting a commitment. Thus far, they’d been unsuccessful in receiving any promises. But if these men Grace had mentioned would lend their assistance, perhaps they’d stand a better chance. Possibly one of the roads would push farther west with a northern route across Kansas even sooner than anticipated . . . maybe even this summer!

  Truth stared at the envelope. The handwriting was neat, the letters well formed—superior to what she would have expected from Fern. Though she had never asked, Truth assumed the housekeeper had received little in the way of education.