Morning Sky Page 2

  “Then you need not waste your time on him. Surely there must be some other eligible young men in this . . . wilderness. Furthermore, I could tell you stories about soldiers that would make your—” Jarena’s father pointed a warning finger at Lilly. “That’s enough! Thomas is a fine young man. Ain’t no cause for you to be suggestin’ otherwise. Jest ’cause you kept company with the wrong kinda folks all your life don’t mean you gotta imply the worst ’bout others.”

  Aunt Lilly grinned slyly. “I do admit to leading a much more colorful life than you and Jennie.”

  At that, Ezekiel grabbed his worn wide-brimmed hat from a peg near the door. “We both know what you been doin’ down in New Orleans—you was involved with them voodoo witches or whatever they’s called.” He turned to his eldest daughter. “There’s chores that need tendin’ to. I’ll be back in time for supper, Jarena. You gals ain’t got time to be sittin’ around talkin’ all afternoon.”

  Jarena and Grace agreed and stood in unison. The moment their father was out the door, Jarena waved toward the door and asked Grace to bring in the laundry. Jarena announced she needed to snap the beans for supper and then would begin cleaning off a few shelves for their aunt’s belongings. Grace lingered, digging her toe into the hard dirt floor as she longingly glanced toward Lilly’s trunk—likely believing the hefty container was filled with wondrous treasures.

  “Tell you what,” Lilly offered to Grace. “How about if Jarena clears off the shelves and then she and I will come outside to snap the beans and talk with you? It’s too hot to remain indoors. I can unpack that trunk later.”

  Grace’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Then you’re gonna stay on for a while?”

  Lilly beamed an enchanting smile at the younger girl. “Of course! You didn’t think a few cross words from your pappy would run me off, did you? Now hurry on outside, and we’ll soon join you.”

  Grace flitted out the door as if her feet had sprouted wings. Jarena pondered how to use the next few minutes with her aunt. She didn’t want to offend Lilly, yet if they were all going to live under the same roof and maintain some modicum of peace, she’d best speak up now. Jarena sucked in a deep breath. Carefully choosing her words, she asked that Lilly refrain from questioning her father’s authority, live by their rules, and wear modest attire. She exhaled a sigh of relief after completing the requests.

  Lilly’s dark eyes glimmered with amusement. “Is that it? I thought you were going to give me chores. Do you suppose your pappy would prefer that I help with the womanly duties, or shall I plan to work in the fields? Which do you think more appropriate for a woman of my many talents and abilities?” The words slipped over her aunt’s tongue like butter melting on a hot biscuit.

  Jarena stared at the woman. Perhaps her father’s assessment was correct—perhaps Aunt Lilly did enchant people and place them under her spell. Though she couldn’t be absolutely certain, Jarena felt as though someone else had taken control of her being. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  Lilly snapped her fingers in front of Jarena’s face. “Cat got your tongue?”

  Hoping to clear her mind, Jarena shook her head before finally looking up to meet her aunt’s piercing gaze. “I think Pappy would rather you spent your time helping with the housework. Grace helps in the fields sometimes, but I don’t think you’d easily adapt to such strenuous work.”

  Lilly chortled. “I won’t easily adapt to housework, either. I’m accustomed to a more . . . umm . . . leisurely life.”

  Jarena shifted her focus to the dirt floor. “Then you’ve truly come to the wrong place, for Pappy will never allow you to sit idle. From what you’ve told me thus far, I can’t imagine why you came here at all. I’m sure you realized you wouldn’t find a life of luxury and ease out here on the prairie in a town that’s only been in existence for three years.”

  Lilly brushed the folds of her dress. “I knew life would be less than comfortable—just as I knew your father would attempt to sweep me from his doorstep. I came to Kansas because I couldn’t think of anyplace else where I would be out of harm’s way.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Aside from you and your sisters, your mother was my last living relative. And even though we were as different as night and day, I never felt so alone as the day I received the letter saying she had died. Your mother was never willing to compromise her beliefs in order to gain advantage.” She grinned mischievously. “I, on the other hand, found the practice of give-and-take quite advantageous.”

  Jarena clasped her hands together; she didn’t want Aunt Lilly to see them tremble. “What do you mean about being out of harm’s way?Was Pappy right? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “Let’s just say there are people who encouraged me to leave New Orleans. You surely know there are those who take pleasure in blaming others for their difficulties. Throughout the years, I’ve become a favored target. That fact sometimes places me in a perilous position.”

  Jarena licked her dry lips. “What kind of difficulties?”

  Lilly shrugged. “Anything from lost fortunes to the death of a loved one.”

  “But how could anyone truly believe that you have the power to influence such things?”

  A combination of anger and triumph flashed across Lilly’s face, and though the temperature in the soddy remained sweltering, a shiver coursed through Jarena’s body. Her aunt squared her shoulders and peered across the table with an undeniable intensity. Jarena knew her question had been misguided.

  “Don’t underestimate my powers, Jarena. Many have suffered from such folly.”

  “No disrespect, Aunt Lilly, but if you hold such power, why did you leave New Orleans? Couldn’t you have cast one of your spells on those people who threatened you? Not that I think such behavior is acceptable under any circumstances.”

  Lilly arched her brows. “So you don’t believe in voodoo or any of the magical spells associated with witchcraft?”

  Jarena shook her head. A tapping noise at the front door was soon followed by Miss Hattie’s familiar voice. The old woman glanced about the room as she entered. “Who you talkin’ to, Jarena?”

  “Afternoon, Miss Hattie. This is my aunt Lilly. She’s come from New Orleans for a visit.”

  Miss Hattie plopped her ample body onto one of the too-narrow chairs and cautiously eyed the newcomer. “A visit, huh? You brought a lot of baggage for a visit. Hope you brought along some decent clothes, ’cause what you got on ain’t proper garb for these here parts.” She added under her breath, “Ain’t proper nowhere, for that matter.”

  “I believe my clothing is quite acceptable most anyplace, though after seeing the attire you ladies wear, I’ll admit I am a bit overdressed.”

  “Um-hum,” Miss Hattie confirmed.

  Jarena watched the scene unfold with curiosity. Both Miss Hattie and Aunt Lilly were strong women, she knew that much, yet they were opposites—like spring rain and summer drought.

  Jarena flashed a look of caution toward her aunt. “Before you arrived, Miss Hattie, Aunt Lilly mentioned she knew that she needed to change into more suitable attire. And she’s already planning to help with the household chores.”

  “So you done seen the error of yer ways,” she said, her features beginning to relax, “and you come out here to begin a new life—that the way of things?”

  After a long moment of hesitation during which Jarena fidgeted nervously, Aunt Lilly said, “Something akin to that, yes. At least that’s my plan for now.”

  Miss Hattie bobbed her head up and down. “Then there ain’t no time like the present to begin learnin’ ’bout your new life. Get outta them clothes and come on outside when you’s changed. I’s gonna make a special effort to teach you all we’s learned about survivin’ out here on the prairie. That way Jarena won’t be slowed down teachin’ you while she’s tryin’ to keep up with her chores. Come on, Jarena. Reckon we got us beans that need snappin’ and clothes to be folded.”

  The older woman used the heavy
wooden table for leverage as she lifted her body from the narrow chair. “I know your pappy made these chairs hisself, but they is the most uncomfortable thing I ever set on.”

  Lilly bent over her trunk and unlatched the metal hasp. “A woman should always take care with her appearance. After all, it’s beauty that provides us our greatest advantage.”

  “Hmmph! Men is more interested in fine vittles than that fancy-smelling perfume you’s wearing,” Miss Hattie retorted.

  “You can go on believing that nonsense about a man and his stomach, but I know better,” Aunt Lilly replied.

  Jarena looked back and forth between the two women as the sparring began again. Life was going to be interesting with Lilly Verdue around!

  CHAPTER

  2

  New York City • June 1880

  Macia Boyle carefully straightened her shoulders, arched her neck, and thrust her chin forward. Her hands were properly folded in her lap as she concentrated upon Mrs. Wendall Rutledge, matron of the Rutledge Academy of Arts and Languages—a school of distinction for young ladies. At least that’s what the advertisement on page twenty-two of The Ladies’ Treasury boasted. Macia now rued the day she had handed the magazine to her mother. She’d purchased the publication to help her mother while away a few hours. Instead, Macia’s mother had planned for her daughter a summer filled with French lessons and social gatherings at Rutledge Academy. Macia had voiced her disagreement with the plan, but the entire matter had culminated in Macia’s enrollment.

  As a result, Macia now found herself sitting across a highly polished desk facing an austere Mrs. Rutledge. Wisely, the advertisement had depicted the academy rather than the beak-nosed woman with a tight knot of hair perched atop her head.

  A sheaf of papers sat neatly stacked in the center of the broad desk.

  Mrs. Rutledge tapped the pages with her bony index finger. “I see you’ve been teaching school out on the prairie for the past couple of years, Miss Boyle.” Her eyebrows crinkled into two question marks.

  “That’s correct.”

  Mrs. Rutledge pursed her thin lips into a pout. “I can only assume you’ve found your abilities lacking since you’ve come to us for further education.”

  The muscles tightened in Macia’s shoulders. “Actually, I believe my teaching skills are exceptional. I am attending your academy at my mother’s insistence.”

  “Yes. Her letter conveyed a hope that you will expand your horizons and perhaps find a young man who is your equal in society. She also mentioned that you’d been considering marriage to a blacksmith. Disheartening! And it is most distressing that your father forced his family to leave a lovely home and move to uncivilized country. It’s difficult to imagine a man of education and wealth behaving in such a foolhardy fashion.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, Macia adamantly defended her father’s decision to move west. And although Jeb Malone hadn’t yet requested her hand in marriage, she also defended her right to marry him. Ironic, since she had so vigorously argued against the move to Kansas and had turned up her nose at the likes of Jeb Malone only a few years earlier.

  Perhaps it was Mrs. Rutledge’s condescending attitude that only the uneducated or poor would consider living west of the Mississippi that forced the angry rebuttal—or the judgmental woman’s pitying look. But no matter the reason, Macia argued with a vengeance that surprised even her.

  Mrs. Rutledge tilted her head to the side. “Based upon your spirited defense, I can only assume your father has converted you to his school of thought on this particular topic.”

  Macia pulled a handkerchief from her tapestry bag and twisted the lacy square between her sweating palms. “Then you will be surprised to learn that my parents concurred in their decision regarding my attendance at your school, Mrs. Rutledge.”

  The woman beckoned toward the two gentlemen who stood near the doorway. “Do come in and meet Miss Boyle.”

  The two men drew near and patiently waited while Mrs. Rutledge introduced them as her husband, Wendall, and a distant cousin, Marvin Laird. Mrs. Rutledge pointed at the paperwork on her desk. Rising from the chair, she requested her cousin complete the tedious duty.

  Mr. and Mrs. Rutledge moved to the chairs on either side of Macia while Mr. Laird circled behind the desk. While he shuffled through the papers, the couple turned their full attention upon Macia. Their questions flowed like a swollen brook after a spring rain and Macia shifted back and forth as she attempted to keep pace. Their ongoing inquiry continued while Mr. Laird shoved several printed pages across the desk and held them in position with his open palm. He lifted the top page and tapped the nib of his pen along a blank line at the bottom, requesting Macia’s signature.

  Macia gingerly tugged on one corner of the page. When Mr. Laird didn’t immediately release the documents, she curtly informed him she’d sign once she’d had opportunity to review the papers.

  Mr. Laird sighed wearily as he slid his hand away from the sheaf of papers. “Merely a formality stating that you plan to remain with us throughout the summer months.”

  The cover page was emblazoned with the name and address of Rut-ledge Academy, and Macia’s name had been inscribed in the middle of the sheet in a delicate script. Before commencing her review of the form, Macia informed Mr. Laird that she thought her father had completed the school’s required paperwork long ago.

  Mrs. Rutledge scooted to the edge of her chair. “In my haste to send the information to your father, I failed to enclose a few of the documents.” The older woman’s voice quivered as she spoke. “I fear I’ve become somewhat forgetful in my old age.”

  As Macia scanned the document, Mrs. Rutledge began to sniffle.

  Moments later, the woman’s husband bent forward and peeked over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses with a look of concern in his eyes.

  “You’re not old, my dear. I specifically recall you were in a hurry the day you posted the letter to Dr. Boyle. Purely an oversight. Happens to all of us from time to time.”

  Macia didn’t miss the gentle plea in the older man’s voice. Tears had begun to pool in his wife’s eyes. Perhaps she suffered from bouts of dementia and her husband was attempting to protect her. If so, Macia understood. After all, hadn’t her family spent the past several years attempting to protect her mother during recurring bouts of illness?

  Mr. Rutledge handed his wife a handkerchief. The older woman began to dab her eyes while Macia attempted to console her. She’d given the paperwork a cursory review. No need to have Mrs. Rutledge reduced to tears over such an insignificant matter. If signing the documents without a fuss would allay the woman’s concerns, so be it. Taking pen in hand, Macia hastily signed where Mr. Laird indicated and shoved the papers back across the desk.

  Mr. Laird tapped the pages into a neat stack. “Do you anticipate your parents or other family members might visit while you’re in New York, Miss Boyle?”

  She shook her head. “No. My mother suffers from poor health. The journey would prove difficult for her—especially when I’ll be here only twelve weeks.”

  “And your brothers? Your application indicates you have two older brothers.”

  “Yes. Carlisle and Harvey. However, Carlisle serves with the army and is now stationed in Virginia. Harvey is currently traveling abroad.”

  Mr. Laird removed his glasses and tucked them into his jacket pocket. “A shame. We encourage families to visit the school in order to observe the fine educational opportunities offered their children. Of course, few are able to do so—particularly those who send their daughters from great distances.”

  Seemingly recovered from her bout of tears, Mrs. Rutledge picked up a small brass bell perched on the corner of her desk. “We serve tea at three o’clock.” She jingled the bell, and the young Negro servant who had met Macia at the train station hastened to the doorway. “Silas will assist you with your baggage and see you to your room.”

  Macia had obviously been dismissed, for when she inquired if any of the other st
udents had arrived, Mrs. Rutledge ignored her question and once again declared that tea would be served in the drawing room at three o’clock. Macia shrugged. Clearly, Mrs. Rutledge was once again in control. The woman was a complete mystery, with her moods changing as rapidly as the prairie wind.

  When they arrived in the upper foyer, Silas led her midway down a hall. He stopped outside one of the rooms and nodded. “This here’s your room, ma’am.”

  Macia turned the knob and pushed open the door. The room was smaller than she had anticipated, though well appointed and nicely arranged. Without a word, Silas placed her bags inside and then hurried back down the stairs. A short time later, he returned with her remaining trunk. After thanking Silas, Macia inquired how long he’d been working for the Rutledges.

  The young man inched toward the door as he muttered a response.

  Macia could barely hear what he’d said. “Five years? Then you must enjoy working for the school. Have the other students arrived?”

  “Ain’t seen no one else, but that don’t mean nothin’. Folks come and go ’round here all the time. Mr. Rutledge says I’m s’posed to go to the train station again this afternoon.”

  “Do you live here at the school?”

  He took another step toward the door, his fear palpable. “I got a room in the carriage house at the back of the property. I gots to go, miss. I ain’t supposed to visit with the students. Mrs. Rutledge don’t allow that.” Before Macia could question him further, he was out of the room and heading down the hallway.

  Macia stared at the closed door and wondered why the employee of a girls’ school would harbor such obvious fear. Strange!

  She pushed thoughts of Silas and his fears aside. She eyed her trunks and fleetingly longed for Truth Harban’s assistance with the daunting task of unpacking. Her journey had been tiresome, and the bed was inviting. Nonetheless, Mrs. Rutledge would likely consider her an uncivilized westerner if she didn’t immediately unpack her baggage and prepare for tea. Though her mother and Truth would have taken more time with the process, Macia quickly yanked the dresses, shirtwaists, skirts, and nightgowns from her luggage and hung them in the wardrobe or shoved them into the wooden chest of drawers. She hoped Mrs. Rutledge wouldn’t perform a neatness inspection, for she would surely fail. The bell rang for tea as she slipped the last of her sewing supplies and handkerchiefs into a drawer. Taking only a moment to peek into the mirror and pat her hair into place, Macia hurried out the door and down the stairs. She hoped she could elicit some information about the other students and the school’s schedule during tea.