by Ann Shorey
“I appreciate your candid advice. I’ll telegraph my father soon.”
He glanced at a case clock standing between bookcases. “The telegraph office closes at five. It’s three now. You’d best take care of this matter today.”
She stood to leave, her mind racing. The fare and gratuity for the omnibus ride to the railroad depot would be an expense, as would the telegram. She hadn’t planned on all of the secondary costs of life in Allenwood, and certainly hadn’t planned on having her savings disappear. There had to be a way to stay in school beyond this term.
The train platform was deserted. Carriages and riders on horseback filled the street behind the depot. A water wagon had evidently passed by earlier, since the traffic raised no dust. Cool wind blew around the corner of the building, ruffling Luellen’s skirts. She hurried toward the telegraph operator’s office, praying she wasn’t too late.
The operator, a red-faced man, stopped scribbling and glanced up at her. “It’s going on five. Hope what you’ve got won’t take long.”
“I need to send a telegram to Dr. Karl Spengler in Beldon Grove, in Bryant County.” She handed him the message she’d composed during the omnibus ride. “I’ve never sent anything by telegraph before.”
He scanned the words she’d written, then pushed a blank lined page and a pencil across the counter. “Print what you want to say on this form, and I’ll send it for you.” He tapped the paper she’d handed him. “We charge by the word. It will cost a pretty penny if you don’t shorten this. You’re not writing a book, you know.”
Luellen rubbed her fingers across her lips, wondering if rudeness came with the man’s job. She picked up the pencil and printed her name and address on the top line, Papa’s information on the next, then wrote, “Please go to bank and change my savings to gold. Will write a letter explaining everything. Love, Luellen.”
The red-faced man heaved himself to his feet and read what she’d written, shaking his head. He plucked the pencil from her hand, turned the paper around, and struck through half of her words. He replaced every period by drawing a line through the punctuation mark and writing “stop” in its place. The corrected message read, “Go to bank stop change savings to gold stop letter follows stop Luellen.”
“Can’t put in them marks,” he said. “Gotta use a word.” He placed the page next to the telegraph key. “That’ll be sixty cents.”
She gasped. “I had no idea.” Fumbling in her reticule, she handed him the coins.
He grunted, dropped the money in a cash box, and took his seat, fingers clicking the telegraph key. Luellen watched, fascinated at the rhythmic ticks sending her words hundreds of miles away. After several moments, he looked up. “No need to wait here. If there’s a reply, I have a messenger boy who delivers.” He pointed at the top of the form. “You’re at the Normal School?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll find you.”
The omnibus ride back seemed much slower than it had on the day she’d arrived in Allenwood. Luellen dozed in her seat. She’d lost two hours of study time, and once she returned to campus, the first thing she’d need to do was write a long letter home explaining the reason behind her terse telegram. If only she weren’t so tired.
By the time the driver stopped at the corner of College and Chestnut, Luellen was the only passenger left on the bus.
He held out a hand to help her down. “Looks like you’re late for supper. Ain’t nobody around.”
“Couldn’t be helped.” She handed him the fare.
“Maybe they saved you a bite.”
“Maybe.” She plodded toward the Ladies Hall, intending to go straight to her room and write a letter to Papa while she could still stay awake.
Belle stopped her at the door. “Where were you? Matron Bledsoe was concerned.”
“I’ve been to the depot. I had to send a telegram home.”
Belle’s eyebrows shot up. “You went to the depot without a chaperone?”
Luellen put her hands on her hips. “I came from Beldon Grove without one. I certainly don’t need protection between here and the depot. I’m used to being on my own.”
“Well, you can expect a visit from Matron Bledsoe anyway. You know how she is.” Belle took Luellen’s arm. “Supper was perfectly revolting—codfish balls—but I sneaked out some bread and butter for you.” She held up a napkin-wrapped bundle. “Come up to my room and we’ll have a picnic. I visited Mrs. Hawks this afternoon and she sent us a jar of peach preserves.”
Luellen’s mouth watered. “All right, but just for a few minutes. I must write a letter to my father. I want to post it first thing tomorrow.”
“Speaking of mail, there was a letter for you on the table downstairs.” Belle reached in her pocket and handed an envelope to Luellen.
“It’s from my brother Franklin.” The evening brightened. She slid her thumb under the flap. “I can’t wait to read about his latest adventures.”
8
Ward Calder lay in his bedroll, savoring the stars strewn across the deep black sky. The heavens shimmered with light. No wonder Franklin believed the thousands of tiny specks were glimpses of glory. They’d traveled three days northwest of Independence, and each night had been more radiant than the last.
Across the campfire, Franklin stirred and said something.
Ward peered through the darkness. “What did you say?”
Franklin sat up, wrapped in a blanket. “I said, we’d better get moving. We’re pushing daylight.” He slipped on his buckskins and moccasins. “I’ll stir the coals and put coffee on.”
Ward wrapped his bedroll and tied it with a leather strap. Early on this survey expedition, the two men had established a routine. Ward packed their simple camp while Franklin cooked breakfast. Now Ward gathered bedrolls under one arm and loaded them on the back of a mule tethered a short distance away.
He shivered in the crisp morning air. The sun touched the eastern horizon, but did little to warm the morning. A coyote yipped in the distance. The aroma of boiling coffee drew him to the campfire, tin cup in hand. “Got our gear stowed. We can be on the trail soon as we eat.”
“Where to today, Lieutenant?”
“Funny.” Ward cuffed Franklin on the shoulder. “You’re supposed to be guiding me. Captain Block would never have given permission if he’d known what a lark this was.”
“Well, I didn’t tell him. He asked if I’d guide you on a survey since I’ve been through this country before.” Franklin grinned. “I acted like we’d face Indian peril daily once we got off the steamer at Independence. You saw the Indians at Shawnee Mission—no peril there.”
“Yeah. Sad.”
“It is.” Franklin pushed a skillet into the coals. “When I was a boy, they still had their own hunting lands. Now they’re pushed out all along the trail. Railroads are going to finish the job.”
Ward looked over the landscape. He’d never experienced such freedom. He could imagine himself and Franklin as the only people on the prairie. He kicked at a clod of dirt. “I know.”
His survey equipment waited in one of the panniers on the mule’s back. Railroad speculators wanted a line between Independence and St. Joseph. Once he took his report back to Jefferson Barracks, he’d be one of the people responsible for destroying the peace that surrounded them. He hunkered down across the fire from Franklin. “Until I saw this country for myself, it was easy to map out roads and railways. Now I’d rather be posted somewhere out west, watching the sun go down.”
“You’ll never get a promotion if you say that back at the barracks.”
Ward tossed the remains of his coffee on a clump of switchgrass. “Right now rank doesn’t seem important.”
Franklin scraped bacon onto two plates. They stood, backs to the fire, contemplating the vastness around them while they ate.
Ward placed a ranging rod at a destination point in the survey, then walked back to where he’d left the Gunter’s chain.
Franklin rose to his feet. “Ready?�
��
“Yes.” While he worked, Ward thought about locomotives shattering the quiet. The finches and sparrows feeding on seed heads around them would be driven away, as would cottontail rabbits and prairie dogs. He recorded measurements in his notebook and moved rods without enthusiasm.
What would happen if he turned in a negative report? If he claimed the terrain was unsuitable for development, perhaps the idea of a rail line would be abandoned. His conscience clamored that the idea was dishonest. Could he propose an alternate route? One farther east, through established settlements? He considered the plan. The Army expected him to follow orders, not be an independent thinker. He knew what would happen to his career if he were found out. On the other hand, he knew what would happen here if he endorsed the speculator’s plans.
“Almost finished,” he called to Franklin. “We should be at Fort Leavenworth tomorrow. Then it’s back downriver.” Ward lifted one end of the chain and folded it while walking toward Franklin, who mirrored his actions.
As they rode away, Ward leaned forward in the saddle and pointed east. A dark mass covered the prairie near the horizon. “Was there a fire? See how black the grass is.”
“All that mapping has weakened your eyes. Those are buffalo.” Franklin’s horse snorted and sidestepped when he halted the animal to study the herd. “Hundreds.”
Ward slowed as the herd came closer. Fascinated, he watched the dark mass separate into a wall of shaggy beasts. Huge and broad-shouldered, the animals rumbled in his direction, flattening grass and raising clouds of dust.
One more reason to keep railroads off the prairie.
Luellen entered the foyer of the Ladies Hall and checked the mail rack suspended next to the entry bench. A letter from Papa! She tucked her parcel and the letter under one arm and hurried up the stairs to her room, shoving her key in the lock.
“Miss McGarvie.” Matron Bledsoe puffed up to the landing. A dumpling of a woman, her round cheeks were pink from exertion. “A word with you, please.”
Shoulders slumped, Luellen turned the key and opened the door. She yearned to rip open Papa’s letter and read the news from home. Dealing with Mrs. Bledsoe’s fluttery reprimands was the last thing she welcomed, now or at any time. “Come in. I just arrived from town, so I’m afraid my room may be a bit cluttered.”
“That is exactly what I wish to speak to you about.”
“My cluttered room?”
Mrs. Bledsoe splayed her fingers across her chest and sucked in gasps of air. “No. Your unchaperoned trips to town.” She dropped into a chair.
Luellen placed her paper-wrapped parcel and Papa’s letter on the table. She remained standing. “I needed to visit the bookstore. They had a zoology text that Allenwood’s library lacked.” She hung her bonnet and shawl on a peg. “Why would I need a chaperone to visit a bookstore?”
“My dear, anything could happen to you.” Her several chins wobbled. “In the absence of your parents, I am responsible for you girls. We can’t allow questionable activities. I’ve spoken to you in the past regarding your behavior. Any more infractions and I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to speak to Dr. Alexander.”
Luellen pinned her with a look. “I’m an independent woman, Matron Bledsoe. I earned a living before coming here, and needed no one’s help to pay my way. By my standards, that sets me beyond the seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds who arrive straight from the bosom of their families. If I ever give you cause for suspicion, you’ll have every right to report me. But in the meantime, please allow me the same freedom you enjoy.”
“Well!” The matron plucked a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m only looking out for your reputation, and this is the thanks I get.” She sniffled.
Lord have mercy! Luellen softened her tone. “I apologize. My words were too sharp. I’ve had a trying day, but I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on you.” She slid open the top drawer of the chest and removed a bag of peppermints Belle had shared with her. “Would you care for a sweet?”
“Why, thank you, dear. I would.” Mrs. Bledsoe tucked a mint into her cheek and palmed two more, which she dropped into the pocket of her flowered calico skirt. She stood and patted Luellen’s arm. “I enjoyed our little talk. Feel free to come to me anytime.”
Luellen closed the door behind her and leaned against the solid wood. Five weeks under Mrs. Bledsoe’s watchful eye already felt like months. Somehow when she’d dreamed of an education, she hadn’t taken the Mrs. Bledsoes of the world into account.
“Luellen?” Belle’s voice carried through the door. “Are you receiving guests?”
Chuckling, Luellen stepped aside. “Why yes, do come in.” She hugged Belle when she entered the room.
Belle walked to the table and took a peppermint. “Matron waddled past me down the stairs just now. What did she want this time?”
“I went to town without a chaperone again.” Luellen lifted the parcel from the table and removed the string and paper, revealing an olive-colored volume. “Elements of Zoology. Once I master this I’ll be ready to be tested again.”
“You’re pushing yourself too much.” Belle’s forehead wrinkled with concern. “You don’t look well—you have dark smudges around your eyes.”
Luellen rubbed her temples. “I admit I’m always tired, but I don’t know what else to do. The term ends in late November, and you know the bargain I struck with Dr. Alexander.”
“I don’t think he expected you to memorize the entire discipline.” Belle held out her hand. “The Literary Society is meeting tonight. We’re discussing Uncle Tom’s Cabin. It’s bound to be a stimulating evening.”
“I wish I could spare the time. It’s a fascinating book. I’d love to hear what others think of the issues Mrs. Stowe raises.” She shook her head. “But I really must study. If I can finish early enough, maybe I’ll get a full night’s sleep for a change.”
“Well, at least come to supper with me. Who knows? Perhaps they’ll serve something edible.”
As soon as she returned from supper, Luellen removed her tight brown skirt and changed into her nightgown and wrapper. As bland as the food tasted, she still felt herself gaining weight. At home, meals didn’t rely on bread and gravy at the expense of vegetables and meat. Her mouth watered when she remembered Mama’s savory stews, filled with venison and carrots. And her apple dumplings . . . Next month couldn’t come soon enough.
Luellen picked up Papa’s letter and stretched out on her quilt to read it.
September 30, 1857
She’d sent the telegram on the eighteenth of September. Now they were partway through October. Why did he take so long to write?
I’ve delayed responding to your telegraph so I could include all the news. What I have to tell you is both good and bad. I know you’re anxious for the good news first, so here it is—the Circuit Court granted your divorce from Brendan yesterday. He did not appear. Thankfully, you are now free to be Luellen McGarvie again.
Luellen dropped the letter to her lap and closed her eyes. Tears slipped from under her lashes. Beneath her humiliation and anger ran a stream of sorrow. She’d given herself to Brendan believing he loved her as much as she loved him. Love dies, but it won’t be buried. A corner of her heart still treasured the joy she’d felt during their brief courtship and even briefer marriage.
She let out her breath in a long sigh, blotted her tears, and continued reading.
My other news is not so uplifting. Bryant County Bank allowed me fifty cents on the dollar in gold for our savings. It’s a good thing you telegraphed when you did. They’ve promised to make good the rest of it as soon as current economic conditions improve. I had no choice but to accept the offer—I couldn’t risk leaving the funds there in case of bank failures like the ones during Jackson’s presidency.
Half her savings, gone in an instant. Luellen’s mind raced. How could she earn enough to make up for her losses and finish her schooling? She stood and paced the room, considering her options. There
must be jobs available at the school, or even in town. During vacations she could tutor children in Beldon Grove as well as work at the hotel.
Stopping at the window, she surveyed the campus. Most of the women she roomed with were walking along the gravel path toward the lecture hall for the literary meeting. With the exception of Belle, she hardly knew any of them. She’d hoped to forge friendships once this term ended, but if she had to work after classes . . .
Luellen shuffled through the papers on her desk, looking for the school calendar. First, she’d calculate the amount of money left to her, then decide how much she’d need to earn for the next three terms. She ran her finger along the calendar spaces, counting weeks. Suddenly she stopped, perspiration prickling her body. How long had it been since she’d had her monthly flow? She sank into the chair and rested her head in her hands. It was before Brendan left. Luellen feared she might faint. I’m going to have his child.
9
After a sleepless night, Luellen rose at dawn and selected the work dress she’d often worn at the hotel. Round-necked and high-waisted, it would be more comfortable than the brown skirt and tucked bodice she’d been wearing.
Luellen lifted her nightgown, studying her body for signs of pregnancy. Her abdomen looked slightly rounded, her breasts were fuller, but all in all she didn’t see much change. If she could conceal her condition, she’d be able to complete the school year.
Lord, why? You know how much I want to teach.
The breakfast bell tolled across the campus. Luellen jerked the laces of her corset together, dropped a chemise over her head, and buttoned the soft yellow calico dress. Dipping a comb into the water pitcher, she swirled her hair up at the back of her head, pinning the curls in place.
She grabbed her books and opened the door just as Belle stepped into the hall from the next room. “We’re both late,” she said. “If we hurry we’ll have time to eat.”
Sounds of chatter and clinking cutlery greeted them as they dashed down the stairs. Once in the dining hall they collected their plates from the cook’s assistant, who dropped viscous white globs onto slices of bread. “Ham gravy this morning, girls,” she said. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
