by Ann Shorey
He shook his head. “Business has been slow since the bank failures. Now that winter’s here, railroad work has stopped, so laborers aren’t coming in for meals.” He gestured around the empty lobby. “I had to let my clerk go. When we do have diners, Mrs. Dolan can handle them. I’m sorry, I don’t need extra help.”
14
Luellen left the hotel lobby, trying not to limp until she was out of Mr. Bryant’s sight. Once on the walkway, she bent over and massaged her aching knees. She’d be wearing bruises by morning.
How could she have been naïve enough to believe her job would be waiting for her whenever she asked? Beldon Grove didn’t exist in isolation from the rest of the country. Hard times in the eastern states now affected rural Illinois as well.
Deep in thought, she crossed the road and picked her way toward home around frozen spots. She passed Wolcott’s Mercantile and paused at the corner. The shuttered schoolhouse faced her across the way. Once the Christmas holiday ended, children would be back at their studies. Would any of them need extra help with their lessons? Maybe she could offer her services as a tutor. The wages wouldn’t be much, but anything would help.
Luellen backtracked to the mercantile and hobbled through the door. Mr. Wolcott sat on a stool behind the counter, making notes in a ledger. He smiled at her when she entered. “This is a surprise. Why aren’t you at home with your family?” He gestured around the deserted store. “Everyone else is.”
“Could you post a notice for me?”
“Certainly. What’re you advertising?” Lamplight reflected off his scalp, shining between sparse strands of hair.
“I want to try tutoring. Do you think I’d have any interested families?”
He cupped a hand around his chin for a moment before answering. “Well, the Carstairs boy seems a little slow. He’s around seven now, and still doesn’t know his letters—or so his father says. ’Course I don’t think Orville can hardly read a lick, either.” He grimaced. “Don’t repeat that.”
Luellen smiled. “I didn’t hear a thing.” She rested an arm on the counter. “If you can spare a bit of paper, I’ll write out the information. School doesn’t resume at Allenwood for almost two months, so that would allow time for lessons.”
Mr. Wolcott watched while she printed her tutoring offer. “What happened to your hands? They look raw.”
“I slipped on an icy spot in front of Bryant House. It’s nothing.”
“You planning to tutor and work at the hotel too?”
“Mr. Bryant doesn’t need extra help.” Her cheeks warmed. Somehow being told she wasn’t needed felt almost as humiliating as being dismissed. She pushed the completed notice toward him.
“I’ll be sure folks see this.”
Luellen noticed sympathy in his eyes. “Thank you.”
Once inside her parents’ house, Luellen shed her damp cloak and placed her mittens on the hall table. She’d unravel them later and save the undamaged wool.
Papa met her at the entrance to the sitting room. “What took you so long? We need to leave for the station soon.”
“I’m sorry. Time got away from me.”
He stepped forward and slid an arm around her waist. “You’re limping. Are you hurt?”
“Mostly my dignity. I slipped on the ice.”
“Let me look.” He eased her onto a chair next to the fire and knelt in front of her.
“I’m fine,” she said, sliding her skirt up enough so he could see for himself. “My knees will be bruised tomorrow. My hands are a bit skinned too.” Luellen turned them over, revealing the scrapes on her palms.
Papa pushed himself to his feet. Worry lines etched his forehead. “You’re fortunate you weren’t more seriously hurt. I wish you’d forget this nonsense about working at the hotel.”
“Mr. Bryant doesn’t need help right now. I’m going to tutor children until time to return to school.”
Irritation sparked in his eyes. “You’ve enough savings left to see you through—” Papa gasped and fumbled with the buttons on his collar.
Luellen jumped to her feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just a little breathless. It’ll pass.”
“I’ll get you some water.” She hurried toward the kitchen.
Mama looked up from her sewing when Luellen dashed through the dining room. “Where are you going in such a rush?”
“Something’s wrong with Papa. I’m getting him a glass of water.”
Her mother stood, dropping the fabric on the floor. “Is he having trouble breathing?”
“Yes.” Luellen cocked her head. “This has happened before?”
“Usually at night. He sleeps propped up, but sometimes he slips off the pillows.” Her eyes glistened. “I lie awake listening.” She took a step toward the doorway.
Luellen watched as Mama hurried away. Why hadn’t she been warned about Papa’s illness?
When she returned to the sitting room, he had buttoned his collar and was breathing normally. Mama hovered beside him, a hand resting on his shoulder.
“You two are making too much of this.” He stood and accepted the water. “It’s time to head for the station. I’ll go hitch the carriage.”
“Let Franklin do it,” Luellen said. “I’ll call him.”
“No need.” He strode from the room. His determination not to be coddled was apparent in the set of his shoulders.
The train waited, billowing clouds of dense steam over their heads. Light snow melted as soon as it touched the boiler on the locomotive. Ward glanced toward Luellen and her parents. They stood close together, as though bound by a secret. He wondered what had passed between them while he was upstairs. Luellen clung to her father’s arm, casting worried glances at him when he wasn’t looking.
Ward handed his luggage to the baggage master and followed Franklin to the shelter of the station. After hugging his mother, Franklin clasped Luellen’s hands. “Will you write me often? I don’t want any more surprises.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
He grabbed her in a bearlike embrace. “You’re forgiven. Just take care of yourself, please.”
She placed a hand on his cheek. “I will. You too.”
Ward stepped closer to Luellen, missing the family he’d never had. What would it have been like to have sisters or brothers who cared about him? He cleared his throat. “I’d appreciate it if you’d drop me a letter from time to time, also. Franklin’s not always at the barracks to share your news.” Embarrassed, he gazed into her doe brown eyes, hoping she didn’t think he was a fool for asking.
A smile tipped a corner of her mouth. “I’d be happy to. As long as you promise to answer.”
Once Beldon Grove faded from view, Ward settled in his seat and opened his folding writing box. He lifted the sloping surface and extracted half-finished survey reports. How would he phrase his recommendations to discourage development of western land, yet satisfy investors’ desires to extend the railroad?
He uncorked the inkwell and dipped his pen, but Luellen McGarvie’s courageous face intruded. Whatever possessed him to ask her to write? Ward wiped ink from the nib and laid the pen down. A woman with Luellen’s spirit didn’t come along every day. He couldn’t deny the admiration he felt, but he couldn’t act on it, either. His goal when he was admitted to West Point was to make the Army his career, and there was no room in that ambition for a wife.
Franklin jostled his shoulder. “You’re going to stare a hole in that paper. You still trying to control the future?”
His mind still on Luellen, Ward frowned at him. “What future are you talking about?”
“The railroad. Have you figured out a way to avoid our country’s pursuit of ‘manifest destiny’?” He spun the phrase with sarcasm.
The word settled in Ward’s brain. Which destiny was he avoiding? Railroads? Or Luellen?
He shook his head. “I’m still mulling it over.”
Whiskered with frost, trees lining the parade ground rose li
ke ghosts through the fog. Shivering in spite of his heavy wool overcoat, Ward watched with sympathy as recruits practiced cavalry drills. In a few minutes he’d be inside the officers’ quarters, but the men would be out in the cold for hours. If he were fortunate enough to command a post one day, he’d see to it that enlistees were treated with more respect.
Franklin nodded toward one of the buildings. “Let’s get out of the wind.”
Nudging their horses forward, they rode through the wide doors of the stone stable. Once inside, the musky smell of horseflesh enveloped them. A young private jumped up from a chair near the door and took the reins of Ward’s mount. “I’ll take care of him for you, sir.”
“Thank you.” Ward slung his saddlebags over one shoulder and turned to Franklin. “You’ll be on the post for a few weeks?”
“Far as I know.” He dismounted, grinning in the direction of the retreating soldier. “Looks like I get to put up my own horse.”
“Spend a few years at the Academy and you too can have your horse stabled for you.”
“No thanks. I’d never survive.” He touched his hand to his forehead in a mock salute and followed the private down the center aisle.
Smiling, Ward left the enclosure and walked toward the officers’ quarters. He’d finish his report for the investment company, then organize his thoughts for an upcoming class on military tactics to be taught to the enlisted men.
Luellen’s goal to become a teacher set his mind adrift from his own assignment. Would she succeed? He didn’t see how. No matter what she thought now, caring for a baby would bring her ambitions to a halt. “Too bad,” he murmured, dropping his bags on the bed.
“What’s too bad?” Mark Campion slouched into Ward’s room.
Ward whirled around. “Don’t you knock?”
“Not when the door’s open.” He dropped into a chair. “You going to the New Year’s Ball on Thursday? I heard young ladies from the finishing school in town are invited.” He rubbed his hands together. “Should be a worthwhile event.”
“Maybe for you. I’d rather greet the New Year without a headache.”
He snorted. “You’re living like a monk. Who are you trying to impress with your studies and reports? You’ll likely be stuck on this post for years, just like the rest of us.”
Ward bit back a retort. His plans were none of his fellow officer’s business. He leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. “You didn’t stop by to discuss my career. What’s on your mind?”
“Well, I figured you wouldn’t go to the ball—you never do—so how about loaning me your sword belt? Mine’s in sad shape. I want to look good for the ladies.”
“That’s all?” Ward asked, suspicious.
“All for now. Say, how’s that report about the rail line progressing? I heard you’re recommending against the cheaper route over the prairie.” A sly look crept over his pudgy features. “I was born in St. Joseph—I don’t think your suggestion will hold water. I plan to submit my own recommendations.”
Anger roared in Ward’s ears. “You heard what I’m recommending? No one knows what’s in that report.” He grabbed the front of Campion’s shirt and lifted him from the chair. “Next time I find out you’ve been poking around in my papers, I’ll turn you in.” He released his hold on the shirt and the man stumbled backward, catching himself against the desktop.
“You don’t have to get rough.” His voice shredded into a whine. “I must’ve been mistaken about the railroad plans. You know how rumors fly.” He inched toward the door. “We’re still friends, aren’t we? You gonna loan me that belt?”
Luellen stood at the window of an upstairs bedroom, looking down on the shoveled path between their house and her father’s office. Snow lay drifted against the wall of the building. Half of January had passed and she’d received no responses to her tutoring offer. Winter chill crept around her heart when she considered her meager savings. The money Papa received from Bryant County Bank would barely last through the upcoming term.
She felt as though she were standing on one side of a snowy forest, her goal out of sight through impenetrable brush. Lord, there must be a way.
Mama joined her at the window. They both watched as Papa opened the door to his office and disappeared inside.
“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with him? He seemed tired at breakfast,” Luellen said.
“I wish I knew. He says he has a touch of asthma. He won’t go see Dr. Gordon, no matter how much I urge him.”
“You can’t stay awake listening to his breathing every night. You’ll collapse again.” She dropped the curtain and crossed the upstairs hall to Mama’s sewing room, where the pieces of her green worsted dress were laid out for basting.
Mama threaded a needle and settled herself in a low rocker, fabric spread across her lap. “Most nights he’s fine. He seems to have the greatest trouble when something’s upset him during the day.” She sighed. “I have no control over that. In spite of office hours, he still travels all over the community. You know what a doctor’s life is like.”
Luellen nodded. “I’ve always been so proud of him. Everyone loves Dr. Karl.”
“They do, don’t they?” Mama’s face glowed. “He’s been a wonderful father to you children too.”
“The very best.” She jumped at the sound of a knock on the front door. “Drat. Just when I thought we’d get the basting finished. I hope it’s not one of the neighbor ladies come to call—that’ll take hours.” Luellen dropped a half-completed bodice on the table. “I’ll go see who it is.”
She dashed downstairs, her slippers making little sound on the polished wooden steps. Pausing, she settled her shawl around her middle, then opened the door.
“Daniel. What are—” A flush warmed her cheeks. “I beg your pardon. Please come in.”
Why was he here? Luellen remembered him asking her to dance at the Christmas party. She prayed he hadn’t come courting.
Daniel stepped into the entryway, his hat clutched in one hand. His rust-colored hair stuck out around his ears. “Miss Luellen, Ben Wolcott said you’re a reading tutor.”
“Yes. I’m studying to be a teacher. I’ve had practice with youngsters over these past months.”
“Daniel!” Mama called from the top of the stairs. “How good to see you.” She hurried toward him. “I’ve missed you since you moved to the other side of town. Won’t you come into the sitting room? Coffee’s still warm, if you want some.” She patted his arm. “This is like old times, having you at the door. I’ve never forgotten how much you helped me when I was alone with the children.”
He turned scarlet. “Glad to do it, Miz Spengler. Besides, my ma would’ve had my hide if’n I slacked off.” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “I thank you for the offer of coffee, but I just stopped by to see if’n Luellen would learn me how to read. I’ll be proud to pay whatever it costs.”
Luellen stared at him. “You already know how to read. I remember when you finished school.”
“I finished by memorizing. Never could get the hang of letters too good.” He dropped his gaze, rolling the brim of his hat between broad fingers. “I reckon you must think I’m stupid.”
Mama’s eyes met Luellen’s. Be kind.
Tutoring adults wasn’t what she had in mind. Especially someone as old as Daniel. She bit her lip to keep from smiling at the image of six-foot-something Daniel Griffith reading “The Pancake.”
She extended her hand, and he grasped it. “I think it’s a brave thing to ask for help. When do you want to start your lessons?”
15
Luellen closed the door behind Daniel and looked at her mother. “Saturday morning will be here before I know it.” She blew out a breath. “I haven’t had any practice teaching adults. I’m grateful for the promise of income, but this isn’t what I intended.”
“The Lord sends help in unexpected ways.”
“That he does. I can’t help but wonder, though. Why would Daniel seek me out?
I pray he’s not using reading lessons as a means of courtship. Did I tell you he asked me to dance at the Christmas party?”
Mama’s face clouded. “If that’s why he’s here, his timing’s inappropriate, to say the least.” She turned toward the stairs. “Let’s get back to our sewing. Maybe we can have that dress finished by next week.”
“You go ahead. I need to look through my books and find the first reader. I’ll start by seeing how much Daniel already knows.”
On Saturday after breakfast, Luellen placed a slate, pencils, and the reader on the dining room table.
Papa watched her, thumbs tucked around his suspenders. “Looks just like a schoolroom.”
“I hope so. I can’t imagine teaching someone older than me how to read. I worried about it all night. What if—”
He put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “Don’t think about your ages. Focus on your skills as a teacher. You know something you can share with Daniel. That’s what you need to remember.”
“You’re right. Thank you.” She relaxed against his side. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Right now you’d better answer the door. I hear footsteps on the veranda.”
At a loss how to begin, Luellen stared across the table at Daniel. He’d slicked his hair back with oil, and wore a tie under his fold-down collar. “Can you write your name?” She bit her lip. How insulting. “I mean, do you know your letters?”
He avoided her eyes. “I know the ABCs. Just can’t do nothing with ’em.”
She printed GRIFFITH on the slate and turned it to face him.
“What’s this say?”
“Griffith, of course.” He sounded defensive.
Luellen turned the paper to face her, and printed GRUFF.
He shook his head. “I told you, I don’t know words. I can do my name because I memorized how.” Daniel loosened his collar.
She studied him with compassion. He really didn’t know how to read. “I’ll be home for four more weeks. By that time, I promise you’ll know words.” She lifted the slate. “Tell me the ABCs, and I’ll write them down.”
