Seth chuckled. “I just figured he was agreeing with me.”
Nancy rolled her gaze heavenward. “I can hardly wait until he’s old enough to debate you and tell you exactly what he thinks.”
Chapter 4
Connie had never been happier to arrive at a place in all her life. She was weary from the long days on the train to San Francisco, then the ship to Astoria, and finally the riverboat to Portland. It was truly a wonder of modern innovation to be able to journey across the country in such a short time. It had been fascinating to see so much of America, but it was exhausting, and Connie was more than ready to settle down.
Each time she started to feel sorry for herself, however, Connie remembered her mother’s stories about leaving St. Louis and traveling west on the Oregon Trail. It took months and months of walking and camping in all sorts of weather. Living in fear that sickness or attack would come at any minute. How very brave she must have been, and yet she was only a child at the time.
“A trip like that makes or destroys your faith,” Mama had said.
Connie was glad it had made her mother stronger in spirit and body. How easy it would have been to give up and turn back, especially after the only man in their group died. Of course, Connie also remembered her aunt Grace, who had been married to that man, saying that life got easier after he was gone. What a terrible epitaph. Connie prayed it would never be said of herself.
“Connie!” someone called. She looked up to see her cousins rushing across the dock platform.
“I’m so happy to see you both,” Connie said, hugging first Nancy, then Faith, and then both together. “How wonderful to see you again. You both look just as you did seven years ago.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Faith declared. “Those years have put a few wrinkles on my face.”
Connie laughed and touched Faith’s cheek. “Mama says they are proof of experience and wisdom.”
“She would say that.” Faith grinned. “Speaking of your parents, have you let them know you’re back in Oregon?”
“I sent a telegram from Astoria. Of course, who can tell when they’ll actually get it. I do wish Mama and Papa could have been here to meet us. I’m so anxious to see them again.” She pulled back and motioned to a man standing behind her. “I’m being very rude. This is my good friend Thomas Lowell. You can just call him Tom.”
Tom raised his hat to the ladies. “I’m pleased to meet you both. I’ve heard so much about Connie’s family.”
“We’re rather a lot to deal with when we’re all gathered in one place,” Faith declared. “I’m Faith Gratton. Just call me Faith.”
“Faith is the one who recently married a riverboat captain.” Connie’s explanation brought something else to mind. “I have a gift for you, to celebrate your marriage. I hope you’ll like it. I have something for you as well, Nancy.”
Tom looked at the other woman. “You must be Mrs. Carpenter.”
“I am,” Nancy replied. “But please call me Nancy.”
“Did Clint arrive?” Connie asked, looking around. She had been both dreading and looking forward to seeing him again. There was a time when she had been madly in love with him.
“He’s in town but thought we might like to meet up with you first. He said he’d join us for supper. That way you’d have time to rest and visit with us.” Nancy paused with a shrug. “Of course, at the boardinghouse there isn’t a lot of privacy to be had, but we can still catch up.”
Connie nodded and looked around. “I don’t remember much about Portland before I left, but I know it wasn’t anywhere near this big.”
“No,” Faith agreed. “It’s been growing daily. I’d wager to guess that it’s doubled in size almost every year these past seven years. It’s such a vivacious town, and we have just about any amenity you could want now. Opera, ballet, theater, wonderful restaurants, and so much more. We get some of the best speakers too. I recently invited Helen Hunt Jackson to speak to the town regarding the plight of the Indian Nations, and she said she would come in September. I’m so excited to hear what she has to say.”
“That’s wonderful,” Connie said. “Perhaps we’ll all get a chance to attend together.”
Faith smiled. “I asked Mr. Singleton to speak too, but he conveyed that the government would not allow it. I thought it might be refreshing to hear his perspective, since he lives with the Indians and tends to their needs.”
Tom jumped in at this. “I’m sure he’s right. The government wouldn’t appreciate the son of a senator and brother of a bureau official spouting off about reservation problems.”
“He could focus on other things,” Faith protested. “Although I admit mentioning the problems is more likely to raise funds than talking about all the good things.” She shrugged. “I just want people to understand what’s happening and why the Indians need our support and consideration.”
“Well, it’s nearly lunchtime, and the ladies of the boardinghouse helped me prepare a wonderful meal. I think you’ll enjoy it, as well as meeting all the boarders. They’ve become like a family to me,” Nancy said. “And besides, Seth and our little son, Jack, are there, and you must meet them. After lunch, we’ll let you rest. Faith is going to put you up, Tom. And Connie can stay with the ladies at the boardinghouse.”
“Are you averse to sleeping on a riverboat?” Faith asked Tom.
“Not at all.” He grinned. “Over the last two weeks I’ve slept on trains and ships. I even dozed on the lovely boat that brought us to Portland. I find that I can sleep anywhere—any port in the storm, so to speak.”
Faith smiled. “That’s good to hear. Captain Gratton, my husband, will be back with our ship, the Morning Star, very soon. We’ll give you a room there, since the boardinghouse is women-only, with exception to Nancy’s husband and the occasional family member.” She turned to Connie. “Did your folks write you about the bad storm we had last January? We lost over half the trees in the city. We’re still working toward recovery. The storm hit up and down the coast of Oregon and even the Washington Territory. Your mother wrote to the family that things were bad at Grand Ronde as well.”
“I did have a letter from Mama about it.” Connie glanced around the area. “But Portland looks quite repaired. They must have worked very hard.”
“Yes, the entire city really came together,” Nancy said, smiling. “It blessed my heart to see so many people helping out.”
“I believe I’ll see to our bags,” Tom said. “Where will I find you ladies?”
Nancy pointed across the street to a waiting carriage. “I can call a baggageman, if you need help.”
“No, I’m sure I can manage. I’ll have to make arrangements for the larger crates to be stored here at the docks until we head to Grand Ronde.”
Connie laughed. “Aunt Phinny sent every imaginable thing for Mama and Papa. She sent Papa a dozen new books and so much more, and then there are fabrics and shoes for the Indians.”
“I’ve no doubt. Go ahead and make your arrangements, Tom. We’ll wait for you at the carriage.” Nancy put her arm around Connie. “Come. We have so much to catch up on.”
To Tom, sitting at the boardinghouse table was akin to sitting at a political dinner. Comments were volleyed back and forth, and dishes passed in a whirlwind of constant activity. He hadn’t expected so much candor and insight from the ladies, but they were intelligent and full of opinions.
“Mr. Lowell, do you care for candied carrots?” one of the Clifton sisters asked.
Tom couldn’t remember which one she was, Bedelia or Cornelia. “Thank you, I do.”
She passed him the bowl, then turned her attention immediately to a bowl of potatoes. Tom wasn’t sure what else was in the concoction, but it looked as if the potatoes had been diced and mixed with bacon.
“This is a warm potato salad that the Germans make,” Miss Clifton explained, passing the bowl to him. “It’s quite tasty. Clementine, Nancy’s sister-in-law, learned how to make it from one of her young students�
� mothers. Of course, she doesn’t teach now that she’s married to Nancy’s brother.”
Tom nodded, trying to keep up with all the names and people.
Miss Clifton continued to speak. “We often find it quite satisfying for our main meal. However, since we knew you and Miss Browning were to join us today, we made certain to offer more than just the potato salad. There’s sliced honeyed ham and bread as well.”
“That was most considerate, Miss Clifton.”
“Indeed.” Connie joined in the conversation from across the table. “Riverboat food is hardly the best. I was glad Tom thought to pick up apples and cheese in Astoria rather than depend on the boat’s fare.”
Miss Clifton nodded. “Cheese and apples were a good choice. Quite filling.”
Tom met Connie’s amused expression and raised his brows, mock-challenging her to suggest otherwise. Instead, she merely nodded.
“Was it a decent trip?” Nancy Carpenter asked Tom.
“Decent enough. There were a couple of delays, but it wasn’t bad.” Tom sampled the potato concoction and found it quite satisfying. There was a sweet vinegar dressing that surprised his taste buds in a pleasant manner. He’d have to ask for the recipe so that he could have it from time to time. “Train travel is improving all the time,” he continued. “I am happy to see that greater care was given to providing a restful sleep for travelers. The trains were equipped with sleeping quarters for men and women.”
“I doubt I could sleep amongst strangers,” Miss Clifton declared, shaking her head. “It wouldn’t be restful at all.”
“I am afraid I was so desperate for sleep, at times, that I slept sitting upright in my seat.” He leaned a bit closer to the older woman. “I was in good hands, however. Connie watched over me.”
“It is important to be able to place trust in one’s traveling companions,” Miss Clifton declared.
“True,” Connie said. “I think I slept better in my seat because I knew Tom was there. But I very much enjoyed the ride, despite it wearing me out. I didn’t observe much on my trip to Washington. I suppose my young age kept me from appreciating everything as much as I did on the return trip. It was fascinating to see the changing landscape. There are so many areas of wilderness that just go on and on, as well as huge farms that were cultivated in wheat and corn. The mountains were exceptionally beautiful and still had snow on the highest peaks.”
“What a grand journey,” Miss Clifton murmured. Tom thought she sounded envious.
He refocused on his food while the conversation went around the table once again, like salvos being fired in a battle, as the women discussed everything from the presidential race to the price of sugar.
About halfway through the meal, a knock sounded on the front door. Nancy excused herself and was gone only a few minutes. “Sorry for the interruption. That was Ruth. She’s come to visit with Alma.”
They all nodded.
Bedelia leaned close to Tom. “Alma shares a room with Mrs. Weaver. They often take their meals upstairs.”
“I see. Well, clearly this house is home to a great many.”
Nancy gave him a benevolent smile. “It’s a long story, but Alma was once Mrs. Weaver’s slave. She was smuggled into Oregon when the Weavers moved here from back East. You might not realize this, but there are laws against black people living in Oregon.”
Tom hadn’t realized this but nodded as though he had.
“Mrs. Weaver has hidden Alma ever since, but we’ve been working with Alma to encourage her to get out and about. There is a wonderful black church in the city and several businesses owned by former slaves. We finally managed to get Alma to at least accept visits from Ruth.”
“So Alma never leaves the house?” Tom asked.
“Not yet,” Nancy replied. “But I’m hopeful that one day she will. However, until then, I must ask that you and Connie keep our secret.”
Tom glanced at Connie, and they both nodded. “Of course.”
A red-haired man came to the table and took the chair beside Tom. “Sorry for my tardiness. Nancy has a rule about not waking me when I’m sleeping.”
“Only until you’re completely healed,” she replied. “Ladies, be sure to pass the food to Seth.”
They did as she asked, never once breaking pace with their various conversations. Seth looked at Tom. “You must be Mr. Lowell.”
“Please call me Tom. I presume you’re Nancy’s husband, Seth Carpenter.”
“I am. And you must call me Seth. I hope we’ll have some time for conversation after lunch. I don’t get many men to visit with, since this is a ladies’ boardinghouse. Faith’s husband comes when he’s in town, but otherwise only a couple of others are brave enough to dare enter this place.” Seth winked.
“Oh, pshaw. You’ll give Mr. Lowell the wrong impression,” Miss Clifton scolded. “The fact is that we cannot have men running about willy-nilly. We ladies need our privacy and comfort, and worrying about a houseful of men would rob us of that joy.”
Seth smiled at Tom. “Well, I’m just glad they allow me to run about willy-nilly.”
After lunch, Seth showed Tom to his office, which doubled as the boardinghouse library. He sank onto a leather wing-backed chair and sighed. “I’ll be so relieved when my energy returns.”
Tom closed the door. “I was told you were left for dead.”
“I was. I don’t remember a great deal about the attack, but thankfully I haven’t forgotten much else.”
Tom took a seat beside Seth, grateful there was no fire in the hearth. The day was already plenty warm, although the clouds suggested a coming rain.
“This is quite the house.” Tom admired the craftsmanship of the room.
“It was built by my wife’s first husband. He didn’t offer her much in the way of love, but he lavished her with everything else. When he died, she decided to turn the place into a boardinghouse. I wasn’t sure at first that it was something she should continue after our marriage, but I’m thankful she did. I haven’t been able to work at the law practice since the beating, and the money generated by the boarders has kept us from dipping into savings.”
“How many people actually live here?”
Seth considered the question a moment. “Well, there’s Nancy, the baby, and myself. The two Misses Clifton, and occasionally Faith is with us when her husband is on a lengthy trip or she’s committed to something here in town. We also have Mrs. Bryant. She’s a widowed schoolteacher. My sister used to live here, but she’s married to Nancy’s brother, and they have a little house elsewhere in town. He runs his family’s sawmill.” He hesitated. “There are two others, but most folks outside of the house only know of one.”
Tom remembered the secret Nancy had shared with him. “I heard about them at lunch.”
“They are dear women. Mrs. Weaver is far too old to do much work, but Alma likes to help with the housework and laundry to, as she tells it, earn her keep. She’s been a great help to Nancy and me. I hate that she’s afraid, however. She’s so worried someone will find her and force her to leave the state. No one really enforces those laws, but occasionally, you’ll hear of someone getting on their high horse and demanding the laws be adhered to, and then a black person is whipped and told to get out of town.”
“So she hides?”
Seth nodded. “Nancy didn’t even know for quite some time that she lived with Mrs. Weaver. She was moved into the house in a blanket box, and then Mrs. Weaver snuck food upstairs to her and did whatever was necessary to keep her secret hidden from the world. I must ask that you keep this between us. Connie’s letter prior to your arrival said you could be trusted.”
“Of course. I’ve already promised your wife I’d say nothing.” Tom frowned. “Besides, I have some secrets of my own. I hope you don’t mind, but I need to speak frankly with you about one of them.”
Seth raised a brow. “With me?”
“Yes.” Tom crossed his legs, a habit he was hard-pressed to quit. “I know about your work wi
th the government and the situation with the Indians. I was recruited to come and continue the investigation.”
Seth looked surprised. “Well, I must say I wasn’t expecting this course of discussion.”
“I’m sure. They told me in Washington what had happened to you and that there were still so many unanswered questions. Ever since they started to suspect Connie’s folks of being involved, she’s wanted to find a way to prove them innocent.”
“So she knows too?”
“Not about you. Does your wife know?”
“Yes. She’s been knowledgeable about everything for some time.”
Tom nodded. “Then I figure once Connie and Nancy have an opportunity to talk, Connie will know about your involvement as well. Mercy and Adam Browning know they’re being watched. They know they are suspected of inciting the Indians to war and sneaking weapons and whiskey onto the reservation. Connie has convinced me they aren’t guilty, and we’ve come to prove their innocence, all while working for the Bureau of Ethnology and recording the culture of the various tribes.”
“They knew of Connie’s connection and still hired her? I find that pretty surprising. I figured they’d think her too close to the matter.”
“Yes, well, they don’t know she knows. Connie approached me last year, and in turn I put myself in a position to be approached to help the investigation. Connie has been in on it from the start, but she and I have kept her role just between the two of us. I recommended the government hire her on to work with me for the cultural recordings, noting to them that Connie was already known to the Indians and, of course, her parents. I made it clear that I could use her as an asset to gain closer access, and they accepted the idea.”
“That was brilliant. However, do you think Connie can be objective? I mean, these are her folks.”
“I realize that.” Tom uncrossed his legs and stretched them out. “But since you don’t know her like I do, I can honestly say I believe she’s able to do just that. She’s a remarkable woman and wants to see justice win out. If she finds out that her folks are involved, she’ll move heaven and earth to convince them to change their minds. And she’d probably be successful. Connie has a way about her.”
Forever by Your Side Page 4
