Deborah Camp (23 page)

“You were there, too?” Bitsy asked.

“Oh, yes.” Bea flicked cake crumbs from the skirt of her expensive dress. “Proud to be there, I might add. When Carry buried her hatchet in the top of that bar, it was a moment I shall never forget. Those men gave her their full attention and she had some of them weeping before she was done.”

“That must have been somethin’ to see,” Bitsy said, laughing. “We’ve had a bit of excitement around this place ourselves, and we’ve made some money, too.”

“Yes, Jebidiah told me you’ve been keeping busy,” Mrs. Nation said. “If I didn’t have this bothersome trial to dispense with, I would have stayed on tour another week or so. Mr. Tattershall says he can book more for me as soon as I’m finished with Mr. Wilson and his silly charges.” She pushed her wire-framed glasses higher on the bridge of her pug nose. “Help yourself to some tea and cakes, ladies.”

“Why didn’t you wire us that you were arriving today?” Regina asked. “We would have met the train.”

“I wanted to surprise you. Besides, we weren’t sure just what day we’d get here. We made a few whistle-stops,” Mrs. Nation explained. “Anything earthshaking happen while I was away?”

“Mrs. Hampf is becoming more of a threat to our work.” Regina glanced at their guest. “She’s married to a minister and she’s decided to ruin Mrs. Nation over a silly squabble that happened more than a year ago. For a Christian, the woman is woefully unforgiving.”

“What’s she doing now?” Mrs. Nation asked.

“She’s circulating a petition asking that you close this boardinghouse and leave town.”

Bea set her cup and saucer down with a distinct clatter. “Just who does she think she is? Does she
understand what this house is, that it’s a haven for the homeless?”

“Oh, yes, but she also says it attracts bad men to town and promotes violence.”

“Violence? How?” Bea asked.

“The men come after their wives, and they’re rarely in a good mood when they get here,” Lu explained. “I myself am guilty of bringing that kind of trouble to Mrs. Nation’s doorstep.”

“The women and children aren’t to blame for that,” Mrs. Nation noted.

“Would she praise the gunslinger and banish the wounded for bleeding too profusely?” Fire entered Bea’s eyes. “If the saloons didn’t encourage drinking, then the men would be home with their families instead of in the lap of sin.” Bea arched one pale brow. “If you ask me,
saloons
attract a bad element. That’s what this Mrs.—Ham?”

“Hampf,” Bitsy said, almost spitting the name.

“That’s what Mrs. Hampf should be concerned with, instead of with this house. And she’s a minister’s wife?” Bea sighed and glanced up for divine guidance. “What must she be thinking?”

“How long will you be our guest?” Regina asked. She was tempted to pinch herself and make sure she wasn’t dreaming. “A long time, I hope. It’s so thrilling to have you here.”

“I’ll be here until this trial is over and done with. I’m sorely vexed by this whole business of jailing Mrs. Nation and then forcing her before a judge. I understand she damaged some property, but we women have our hands tied and our mouths gagged by all this so-called law and order. The reason women aren’t allowed to vote is so that we can’t change the laws or kick those who create them out of office.”

“Listen to us,” Lu said, laughing. “We sound so … so—”

“Liberated?” Bea supplied. “I certainly hope we do. It’s high time.”

Horse hooves sounded outside, along with the creak and jingle of a carriage. Bitsy pulled back the curtain and looked out.

“Now what? Whoever it is, is stopping in front of the house. Jebidiah’s out there.”

“Oh, that will be my son,” Bea said, gathering up her beaded purse and pale violet gloves. “I sent word that he was to collect me here.”

“You’re welcome to stay here if his bachelor’s dwelling is too small,” Mrs. Nation offered, standing with Bea.

“I might take you up on that. I don’t want to be in his way. He’s very busy and has a life of his own.”

“Your son?” Bitsy repeated. “You have a son living here?”

Bea nodded. “I certainly do. I thought you wrote to them about this, Carry.”

“I did,” Mrs. Nation said, looking perplexed. “Maybe I didn’t get that letter mailed. I’ve been so caught up in my crusade that I’ve let some things slip my mind.”

Bitsy looked out the window again and gasped. “Why, that’s—!”

“Who?” Lu asked, moving toward the window.

Bitsy’s eyes were as big as silver dollars. “I don’t believe it.
He’s
your son?”

Bea laughed. “Is the news
that
alarming?”

The front door swung open and Jebidiah’s voice floated to them. “Go on in. They be in the parlor.”

“Thank you.”

Regina’s knees buckled when she recognized Eric’s voice and she slumped onto the sofa. Dimly, she was aware of Lu clutching her shoulder, then the shock of seeing Eric enter the parlor sent a numbness through her. Theo followed him, and
Regina forced herself up from the sofa. When Theo looked at her, she could sense his discomfort. And he’d lectured
her
about keeping secrets about her family? And why hadn’t Eric said something about having a famous mother?

“If it isn’t Theodora Beatrice right here in Eureka Springs!” Eric exclaimed, embracing the statuesque woman. “It’s so good to see you again. You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

“Eric, you’ve coated your tongue with silver.” Bea patted him on the back, then stepped from his embrace and faced Theo. She propped her hands at her hips and delivered a long stare. “Well, Theo, are you so angry at me that you won’t even give me a hug and a kiss?”

A slow grin spread over Theo’s face before he opened his arms to receive her. He hugged her tightly and his lips grazed her temple before he let her go.

“Are you still speaking to me, too?” Bea asked. She was only a fraction of an inch shorter and could meet him eye to eye.

Theo’s gaze slipped furtively to Regina, then quickly back to the woman before him. He heaved a dramatic sigh and pressed a fingertip to the tip of Bea’s aristocratic nose. “Melodrama becomes you, Mother.”

Mother!

Regina was glad the sofa was behind her. Otherwise, when her knees gave way again, she would have crumpled like a rag to the floor.

T
heo hitched his horse to the post outside Mrs. Nation’s house. He glanced nervously at the house next door, but didn’t see any activity. He was glad it was night and the darkness could cloak him as he moved up the path and front steps of Mrs. Nation’s. People called it Hatchet Hall now, and he wondered if any of the residents knew that. He raised his fist to knock on the door.

“I’m here, Theo.”

Theo turned, lowering his hand. His mother sat on the porch swing and shadows danced over her like so many imps. “I didn’t see you there. Have you been waiting long?”

“We finished supper an hour or so ago. I’m sorry you couldn’t join us.”

“Me, too.” He really wasn’t. The thought of confronting Regina over a dinner table wreaked havoc on his digestive system. “I have a lot of work to do, Mother.” He removed his hat and sat beside her on the swing. “You know you’re more than welcome to stay at my place. I’ll sleep on the sofa and you can have my bed.”

“No need for that when Mrs. Nation has a spare bedroom right here.” She patted his thigh and left her hand there. “You share a place with Eric?”

“Yes. It’s a small two-story house. I live on the
first floor and Eric takes the upstairs. We share the downstairs kitchen, although neither one of us is in there much.”

“That hasn’t changed,” Bea said, smiling. “And you two share office space as well.”

He nodded. Propping his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward so that he could look under the eaves at the moon sailing in a starry sky.

“Are you angry at me for showing up?” she asked.

He glanced back at her. “I’m always glad to see you.” He twirled his hat in his hands for a few moments. The scent of lilac was strong. The gaze of the woman beside him even stronger. “You might not be too happy with me after the trial, Mother. I’m going to win.”

“You relish the idea of putting Mrs. Nation behind bars?”

“That won’t happen, Mother. She’ll be ordered to pay damages.”

“And if she can’t pay them, she’ll be put in jail,” Bea added.

“Well, yes. But I think she can cover the costs.”

“She might not want to pay your client on principle.”

Theo sat back and the swing sawed the air. “That would be just like her. She loves an audience, and going to jail would give her one.”

“Mrs. Nation is
not
a performer, Theo.”

“Oh no?” Theo arched a brow and cast a sideways glance at his mother’s striking profile. Years of admiring her, loving her, seeking her approval were impossible to shake. He wondered how he could win in court and still win her favor. “Mrs. Nation should be in the theater, if you ask me. She missed her calling, and has taken on public demonstrations to feed her need for attention.”

“That shows how little you know about her.”
Bea patted his leg. “I don’t understand you and I don’t think I ever will, but let’s not dwell on our differences. Other than these charges against Mrs. Nation, how is your practice doing here? Is there enough work in this town to keep you occupied?”

“To keep me out of trouble, you mean,” he said, laughing. “Always the diplomat, aren’t you?” He put his arm around her shoulders and set the swing in motion. The chains creaked, challenging the crickets’ racket. “Yes, I’ve been busy. This town is growing. I also have business in the surrounding towns.”

“And you like the slower pace here?”

“Very much. I was being run ragged in Kansas. This is better for Eric, too. It’s easier to get established in a smaller place. Eric enjoys getting to know his clients, and this practice gives him that time. In a bigger city, you just can’t waste a minute or someone will run you over and take your practice away from you.”

“You don’t fool me with this talk about Eric. You like to get to know people, too. It seems to me that you’ve become familiar with one of the women here. She seemed to take the news of our relationship rather hard.” Bea took one of his hands between hers. “Why have you kept me a secret, Theodore? Are you ashamed of me now?”

He shook his head. “Don’t be foolish.”

“Is that what I’m being?” She angled forward for a closer look at his face. “Why else would you be so secretive about me?”

“I’m not. I just never thought to say anything about your hobbies. To me you’re just my mother.”

She released his hand to fold hers in her lap. “And that should be enough. That’s what you’re implying.”

“Once again, you’re putting words in my
mouth.” He ran a finger along the crease in the crown of his hat. “Of course, I recall a time when being my mother and my father’s wife was enough for you.”

“It was never quite enough, Theo. You and your father just assumed that you two were all any woman would ever need. It’s typical of the male mind.”

Theo stood up and paced to the other end of the porch. “For God’s sake, Mother! You sound just like them.”

“Just like who?”

“Them.” He waved toward the dark windows of the house. “Carry Nation and all those W.C.T.U. women.”

“I
am
one of them, Theo, and proud of it.”

“Why couldn’t you have stuck to gardening or that quilting circle? Those were nice, sane ladies.”

Bea rolled her eyes. “Boring ladies, you mean. And I still enjoy gardening, but no rose or lilac bush is going to change the world for the better. What I’m doing now can pave the way for the next generation of women.”

“This isn’t the way to get over Father’s death or to make any sense of it. He wouldn’t have wanted this, Mother.”

“I knew him longer than you did, Theo, so don’t tell me what he’d want. Besides, I’m doing this for me, not for him or for you. This has nothing to do with your father’s death.”

“The hell it doesn’t!”

“Theodore, do not forget to whom you are speaking. I’m waiting for an apology.”

He pushed his hands into his trouser pockets and dropped his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry, but you do vex me, Mother. Do you really believe that this … this holy crusade you’re on has nothing to do with Father’s death?”

“Your father’s death made me examine open saloons, but I’m not trying to
punish
anyone for Clayton’s demise or to seek revenge. I’ve merely seen injustices and I’m trying to rectify them, much as you do in your work, Theodore.”

Theo lounged against the porch railing and stared moodily at the polished toes of his boots. “I yearn for the old days, Mother, when life was much simpler. I knew my world then and the people in it. I knew that Father would be home at suppertime and that you would meet him at the door. We’d all sit around the claw-footed table and eat while Father told us about his day. Then I’d help with the dishes and do my homework while Father read the newspaper. Sometimes he’d play checkers with me before I went to bed. Other times we’d sit out on the porch and wave to the neighbors. What happened to that life, Mother?”

“You grew up, your father died, and I found more interesting things than cooking and cleaning.” She patted the swing. “Come sit by me, Theo.”

He joined her on the swing again and told himself to give up trying to make her see that her W.C.T.U. activities weren’t good for her. He used to be amused by her avid gardening, her Wednesday afternoon quilting circle, her Friday morning sewing circle. Bea Dane had always been full of energy and interests. But this saloon smashing and her rabid homilies in those women’s pamphlets were ludicrous. She had the whole family wondering when she was going to realize she was making a fool of herself. He knew his father wouldn’t have approved. He would have put his foot down. Theo wished he had that kind of influence on his mother, but he didn’t. Nothing he could say would have much effect on her. She was totally
out of control now that Clayton Dane had gone to his great reward.

“You’ve gotten close to Miss Rose?”

Theo felt his heart stop, then start again. He chose his words carefully, wondering if Regina had spoken with his mother. “We’re acquainted, Mother. I’m acquainted with all the women here at Mrs. Nation’s.”