by Indiana Wake
What an earth must Arlon think of her now? Surely, a man who had been all but ejected from the house would think his continued friendship with Jenny more trouble than it was worth. And she couldn’t even get to him to explain now, for he would be back on the barge ready to sail off down the river as soon as the sun came up.
Jenny laid on her bed, suddenly exhausted from all the emotional upheaval, too tired to even change into her nightgown. She didn’t care if her best dress got creased, or even ruined, what did it matter anymore? She could tell her parents that she might walk out any time, but what good would that do her? Arlon would never want to see her again after this and Jenny was back to square one. With no money of her own and no one to turn to, she would have to live in that gentle prison forever. But after tonight, would the prison ever feel so gentle again? She doubted that very much.
And the worst part of all of it was that Jenny knew now, with absolute certainty, that she had fallen in love with Arlon Hurst. She didn’t know or care who his father was, just the same way that she hoped Arlon wouldn’t care about her mother. She didn’t even care that he was a human being after her own heart, a man who wanted to see something of the world. If she had to live in one place with Arlon Hurst her whole life, she’d do it. She was in love with him, and right now that was all that she could see and all that she could feel.
Chapter Thirteen
“You haven’t said a word all morning,” Ted Wallace said cautiously when the two stopped for a break.
It was their turn to scrub the deck of the barge and Arlon was applying his full attention to the task. Anything to take his mind off the events of the previous evening.
“I guess I’m just feeling a bit quiet.”
“Arlon, did something happen last night? You came back sooner than I thought you would, and you didn’t look too good. I wanted to ask you then, but I reckoned you needed a bit of quiet.”
“You’re a good pal, Ted.”
“I do my bit.” Ted chuckled to put his friend at his ease.
“Remember, I told you how my father ran out on my mama? How he’d died before I was old enough to remember him?”
“Sure, I remember that,” Ted said with measured matter-of-factness as he tipped the first pail of water onto the deck of the barge.
Arlon picked up a large scrubbing brush on a long stick and began to work away at the water Ted had just thrown down. Having something to do, somewhere else to focus his attention, somehow made speaking about all of this a lot easier.
“Well, it looks like he has managed to trample my chances with Jenny.”
“But he’s dead.” Ted sounded confused.
“Correct. He has actually managed to ruin my life more than he already had done, only this time from the grave.”
“Well, just how the heck is that possible?” Ted picked up the other scrubbing brush and the two men fell into a rhythm.
“To be honest, I don’t know for sure. I didn’t mention this before, but my father was something of an old dog. The only thing I have to be grateful to him for is that he actually married my mama when she realized that she was carrying me. Beyond that, he didn’t have a lot of involvement. He certainly didn’t provide for us back then and he did not leave a thing for my mama after he was murdered by an angry husband.”
“Ah, that kind of dog,” Ted said and nodded thoughtfully. “But how would any of that have an effect on you, now? Please tell me you didn’t just come right out with it at the dinner table.”
“No, but it couldn’t have been worse if I had.” Arlon laughed but he felt terrible.
For one thing, he realized that he must look almost exactly like the father he had never known. Polly Swain had been floored by his appearance in her kitchen, that was without doubt. Even before she had asked him outright, he was certain that Polly Swain had known exactly who his father was. That kind of certainty only came from the strongest of resemblances, surely.
“So, what happened?”
“Believe it or not, Jenny’s mother recognized me.”
“But she’s never met you.”
“She recognized me as my father’s son. She knew it from the moment she set eyes on me and I can tell you now, Ted, it was just about the most awkward dinner I have ever sat down to. By the time I had taken my first mouthful, she was ready to ask me who my father was.”
“Well, how does she know your father? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
“That is the thing, she never said. Knowing what my father was, or at least knowing what my mama told me about him, it can’t be good.”
“But what does any of that have to do with you? I mean, you don’t even remember the man.”
“I didn’t get as far as explaining that to her. All I can tell you is that that woman does not want me anywhere near her daughter. And if Mr. Swain didn’t know anything about my father before, he sure does now. I heard a god-awful argument strike up as I was walking away from the house.”
“And what about Jenny?”
“I guess she was stunned and furious. I could hear her shouting as I walked away.” He stopped scrubbing and leaned on the long handle of the scrubbing brush for a moment. “I was going to tell her as well, you know. Explain to her the shame of how my father was murdered and why. She’s been so honest with me, you see, that I wanted to be honest with her. I know it shouldn’t make a difference, but I had to give her the opportunity to decide that for herself. But foolishly, I decided to confess all of this after we’d got the dinner with her parents out of the way.”
“It’s hardly foolish, Arlon. How could you have known, how could you have even guessed, that Mrs. Swain would have known your father? For one thing, you and your folks have always lived in California, haven’t you? And from what Jenny tells you, her own parents haven’t strayed far from Oregon since they arrived here. Seems like something of a mystery to me, all of this.”
“We’ll never know, I guess,” Arlon said miserably.
“What do you mean you’ll never know? Of course, you’ll know.”
“And how am I going to do that?”
“There’s nothing to stop you having your honest conversation with Jenny, is there? You were always going to tell her so why not go ahead and do that? Tell her that you had planned to speak to her about the past after you’d got the dinner out of the way. It’s the truth. I reckon you can’t do any better than the truth.”
“I don’t think I can go right up and knock on the door, do you?” Arlon said bitterly. “That mother of hers will never let me over the threshold again, and that’s a fact.”
“Then go to that place in the woods where you normally meet her. We’ll be back in two weeks, won’t we? There’s nothing to stop you walking through the woods and standing on the riverbank, even Mrs. Swain can’t put a stop to you doing that.”
“And do you really think that Jenny will be there? Even if she can get past her mother, do you really think she’ll want to come? She probably now knows more about my father than I do if her mother has told her how it was that she knew him. I appreciate your kindness, Ted, but I don’t reckon she will be there.”
“And I don’t reckon you’ll know for sure unless you go there yourself. If you stand on that riverbank and she doesn’t show, then you’ll know, won’t you?”
“As always, you are the voice of reason, Ted.”
Ted shrugged expansively and with some drama, making Arlon laugh. He was glad to have somebody to talk to, a true friend he could confide in. For one thing, it sure was going to be a long two weeks and no mistake. At least he could talk to Ted about it and, if he wavered in his determination to look for her, he would have Ted to persuade him it was for the best.
“All right, pail number two coming up,” Ted said brandishing another full pail of water.
Chapter Fourteen
“Mama, I’ve been out into the barn and I can’t find my camping things anywhere. My tent is gone, my little pan is gone, and my fire rack is gone.”
“I know it is,
” Polly Swain said and sighed.
She was ferociously kneading dough to make bread, the heavy wooden table seeming to move beneath the force of it all. Jenny glared at her mother, but Polly didn’t look up from her task, something which infuriated her daughter all the more.
“Where is it?” Jenny said roughly.
“It is gone, Jenny. I don’t want you going out to camp anymore. We don’t want you to,” she said, adding in the idea of Jenny’s father for good measure.
“And what about what I want?”
“You’re only a girl. You don’t know what you want.”
“I’m not a girl, Mother, I am a woman. And as for knowing what I want, I can assure you that I do. I am very clear in my mind about what I want and very determined to have it.” Jenny knew that it was a thinly veiled threat.
But it might also be a toothless tiger in terms of threats. If Arlon never came back, if she never saw him again, then she knew that she was stuck there. She was back at square one with no real money of her own and no hope of ever travelling anywhere beyond the riverbank. And even that seemed like the impossible dream now that her mother had either hidden, discarded, or destroyed her camping things.
“While you live under this roof, you will not go camping,” her mother said, still not looking up at her.
“But Arlon is not even here, Mother. As you very well know, it is at least ten days before he is due to return to this part of the river.”
“Then, why do want to go camping?”
“For the same reason I always did, Mother. I did not begin to camp because I met Arlon and I resent your comment.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Polly said with exasperation as if she were being pestered by an annoying child.
“I have always camped so that I can get away from this house,” Jenny said and stared at her mother for any sign that the comment hurt her at all.
Polly grimaced, her knuckles still buried deep in the dough, her arms ramrod straight. Yes, the comment hurt her. And even now, when it ought to have made Jenny glad, it made her feel guilty. Would she never be free of all of this?
“You make it sound as if you have had a terrible time here, Jenny. You make it sound as if your father and I have been the most awful parents.”
“Daddy hasn’t been an awful parent, except when he gives in to you.”
“And have I been so awful, Jenny?” There was a tremor to Polly’s voice and Jenny knew that her mother was on the verge of tears.
But this was how things went—this was how it had worked so well for so long. Any time that Jenny tried to assert herself, to be her own person, she was knocked back into line by her mother’s tears. The worst of it was, she knew that those tears were genuine. Polly Swain had been tying herself in knots for year upon year trying to keep her daughter safe. But safe from what? What was there in the world that Jenny could be subjected to that wasn’t just the same for everybody else?
“I don’t need you to keep me safe any longer, Mama. The more you try to keep me safe, the more miserable you make me. It is exhausting to work around your rules, to find ways out of this house and yes, even just to be on the other side of the woods is a comfort to me. The pressure of always trying to be exactly what it is you want me to be is too great for me to bear any longer. Do you not see that the way you have held me prisoner for so long is the very thing which makes me want to strike out into the world and look at somewhere else, someplace that isn’t here? It’s all I’ve ever dreamed of; just being away from here.”
“Do you really hate me so much?” Finally, Polly sat down heavily on a chair, her flour-covered arms leaning on the table.
“I don’t hate you. I love you. If I didn’t love you, none of this would have been so hard. If I didn’t love you, I would have done things my own way instead of your way. I would have worked somewhere other than the farm, I would have had my own money.”
“You don’t want for anything, Jenny.”
“I know, I have only to ask for it. But don’t you see, that is just another way of controlling me. I don’t want to have to ask for things, I want to have my own money, to save as I wish, to spend as I wish.”
“To pay for your passage east? To pay for your travelling so that you can be away from me?”
“I honestly don’t know. If things had been different, perhaps not. Things are as they are, aren’t they? But I won’t be working on the farm any longer, even if I am under your roof. I am going to head out into the town and find something that I want to do. I’m going to earn some money of my own and then I will decide what I’ll do with it. Surely, you don’t think you can stop me doing that? You might have got rid of my camping things, but you don’t have the right to stop me living. And if you think you do, if you think because I am under your roof that I will have to do just as you say, then not only will I get a job of my own, I will use some of that money to stay in a room in a boardinghouse.”
“Jenny, please don’t do that.” Polly was truly upset, and it caused Jenny physical discomfort as she fought with herself not to simply scoop her mother up into her arms and hold her.
“Whatever it is you don’t like about Arlon Hurst’s father, you must realize that it has nothing to do with Arlon,” Jenny said, determined to talk about the subject which had seemed to become yet another forbidden in that household.
“Travis Hurst was a dreadful man. He was young and every bit as handsome as his son, every bit as charming. Too charming.”
“Meaning?” Finally, Jenny pulled out a chair opposite her mother and sat down at the table.
“He travelled over the Oregon Trail the same time as my family. He courted me all the way, dancing with me every night, sneaking a kiss whenever he thought my father wasn’t looking. Oh, and how I loved him.”
“I see,” Jenny said quietly, not wanting to interrupt her mother’s flow too much.
Finally, she was going to get to hear all about Travis Hurst and just why it was her mother had reacted so badly to Arlon.
“And he was going to marry me, at least that’s what he said. But at the Parting of the Ways, he was to go to California as my family continued on to Oregon. I was heartbroken, but he said he needed to get work in the gold mines, to make his own money before he could come for me. He wanted to make sure I was well looked after, you see, he wanted to be able to provide for me. But I was young and foolish. I was just a girl in love, and he could have told me anything, I would have believed him.”
“So, he never came back?” Jenny asked, thinking that it was an awful thing but certainly nothing so dreadful that her own life should have been so closely guarded all these years.
“Oh, he came back,” Polly said and nodded slowly. “After he had been gone for so long without a word. He tried to win me over then, but it was too late. I’d seen through all his charming ways and I knew well that he had women all over the place. I reckon he thought he would just add me to the list.”
“Well, he must have married Arlon’s mother shortly after that. And I suppose that poor woman was treated as badly as you were. Worse, as a matter-of-fact, for she had a son to look after.”
“Yes, the son. The spitting image of his father and every bit as charming, Jenny. You cannot trust him; you must forget him.”
“But he was just a baby. He’s never even met his father.”
“So, he says. There is no proof of that, is there?”
“I don’t need any proof, Mother. There was no reason for Arlon to lie to me about his father having passed away. There was no reason for him to tell me about how he and his mother had struggled in poverty for so many years, was there? Arlon is a good man.”
“I don’t believe that the apple falls far from the tree, Jenny. I don’t believe he is a good man. I had thought his father was a good man, an honest man, and I had believed that he would come back for me, not leave me wondering where he was for month after month without so much as a letter.”
“Mother, forgive me, but you formed an attachmen
t on the Oregon Trail that you must surely have known was going to end at the Parting of the Ways. You might well have been young and in love, blind to Travis Hurst’s true nature, but I am not you. I do not blindly believe people, blindly trust people, I have my own sense of my own instincts. And in the end, this is my life, not yours.”
“Well, I forbid you to see him again and your father agrees.” Polly sniffed defiantly, her tears all dried as she returned to her old self.
“He really agrees, or he’s just agreeing with you for a quiet life?” Jenny said bitterly as her mother rose to her feet and began to knead the dough once again.
Polly Swain chose not to answer.
Chapter Fifteen
“But how are you going to get out? If your mama is so determined you don’t see him, and she won’t let you camp, what are you going to do?” Joanne asked as they sat at her kitchen table.
“I’m going to sneak out in the darkness, just like I did the last time I met him,” Jenny said and then sucked in her breath when she saw Jeannie Stanton hobbling into the kitchen.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” Jeannie Stanton chuckled, holding a hand out in front of her. “I’m no tattle-tale.”
“I know, Mrs. Stanton,” Jenny said apologetically as she helped the ageing lady into a seat at the kitchen table. “I guess I just don’t want my mama finding out. In the end, there might not be anything to discover. He might not even be there,” she went on, assuming that Jeannie knew as much as she had confided in Joanne.
Not that she suspected Joanne of betraying her confidence, but rather she suspected dear old Jeannie Stanton of having the sort of old-lady-hearing for which thick walls and closed doors were not a problem.
“From everything you said about that young man, I strongly suspect he will be there,” Jeannie said, confirming all of Jenny’s suspicions. “And I think you have to give him a chance.”
