Indigo Christmas (2 page)

Hilda frowned. “Many of the children of immigrants do not go to school. They work all day and have no time for games.”

“They seem to have plenty of time for hooliganism! They are a very undesirable element in this community, and something must be done to civilize them!”

Molly Malloy intervened. “Hilda, you'd be very good at working with these children. I've seen you with Erik and his friends. Will you consider helping to form the club?”

The arrival of tea allowed Hilda to consider her answer. She didn't want to be rude to Aunt Molly, but she didn't care at all for Mrs. Elbel's attitude. Undesirable element, indeed!

She poured out the tea and handed round the platters of tiny sandwiches and dainty little cakes, and when her duties as hostess were completed, she sat back. “I do like boys, as Aunt Molly says. And they like me. I might be able to help them in some way, but it will not be easy. I also know about the problems of immigrants, you see.”

“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Elbel studied her teacup for a moment. “Mrs. Cavanaugh, I hope you don't think I was—er—condescending about the boys.”

Since that was exactly what Hilda did think, she kept silent.

“I know that they have problems I may not always understand,” her guest pursued. “That is exactly why I need your help. You—your background—” She paused. “Mrs. Cavanaugh, may I be frank?”

Hilda nodded, her lips set.

“I hope I won't offend you, but you come from much the same background as some of these boys. You have risen above it. You now have the time, and the resources, to help us address some of the evils of modern society. Will you do it?”

Hilda gritted her teeth. Risen above it! There was nothing in her background to be ashamed of, nothing to “rise above.”

However, the woman had come to ask her help. That showed some sense, even if Aunt Molly had been the guiding spirit. She ought to say yes—although—

The doorbell rang. voices were raised in the hall, Eileen expostulating with someone whose voice Hilda knew well. She rose just as a woman burst into the parlor.

Dripping wet, her boots leaving muddy tracks on the carpet, Norah O'Neill ran across the room holding out her hands to Hilda. “Oh, Hilda, oh, ye've got to help me! Sean's been arrested for murder!”

THINKS IT MURDER
Talks of Brother's Death

—South Bend
Tribune
   
December 1, 1904

 

 

2

N
ORAH! TELL ME! no—take off your wet things and sit down. You should not be running now, and you must not get a chill.” Hilda was pulling off Norah's shawl as she spoke, and leading her to a chair by the fire. Heavily pregnant, Norah sank into the chair and dashed tears from her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“I'm sorry—ye've got company—but somebody's got to do something!” The distraught woman began to sob.

Dorothea Elbel looked somewhat helplessly at Molly Malloy. “I should go, unless there's something…”

Aunt Molly pulled the bell cord. “Hilda and Patrick are on the telephone. We can fetch my carriage to take you home. I must stay to help. I'm sure you understand. Oh, Eileen, would you be good enough to ring my house and ask Donald to bring the carriage round? And please get some fresh tea for Hilda's friend, there's a good girl.”

“Has something happened, ma'am?” Eileen ventured.

“This young woman is in trouble, and she needs our help. Quickly, Eileen!”

Eileen vanished. Hilda, meanwhile, had taken off Norah's wet boots and set them on the hearth, and was chafing her hands. “Norah, stop crying and tell me everything.”

Norah continued to sob.

“My child,” said Aunt Molly, putting her hand on Norah's shoulder, “you
must
stop crying. This is doing your baby no good, you know.”

Mrs. Elbel stifled a gasp. Norah's condition was perfectly obvious to anyone with eyes in her head, but it was considered improper to notice babies until they had actually made their appearance in the world.

“If your husband is in difficulties,” Aunt Molly went on, “the last thing he needs is for you and the baby to be in difficulties, too. Now take this handkerchief, dry your eyes and blow your nose, and tell us.”

Molly Malloy might be a tiny woman, but she had a way of imposing her will. Norah pulled herself together, mopped up with the proffered handkerchief, and sat back to tell her story, the occasional hiccup interrupting.

“It happened just now. I was at home when I heard, and I ran all the way.”

“That was a very foolish thing to do in your condition, my dear,” said Aunt Molly. “You must promise me you will never do such a thing again. Now go on. You were at home.”

“Well, ye know I'm not workin' now, bein' so near my time.”

Hilda nodded. The Hibberd family, who employed Norah as maid, were unusually considerate. Many servants worked right up until the labor pains started. Norah and Sean could ill afford to lose her wages, but a first pregnancy can be tricky, and they were taking no chances.

“So I was home, sewin' things for the baby, when me brother Flynn came poundin' on the door. He works with Sean, ye know. And I wondered what he was doin', leavin' work in the middle of the day, and in such a storm, too. And he told me—” Here Norah threatened to break down again, but Aunt Molly gave her a cup of fresh, hot tea and a stern look. Norah sipped, sniffed, and went on.

“He said there's been a man killed, on a farm just out of town. It was a while ago, in November, and everyone thought it was an accident. Burned up in a fire, he did. But somebody started askin' questions, and now the police think it was maybe murder, and they've taken Sean away!”

“now, you're not to cry again,” said Aunt Molly briskly.

“Dorothea, I believe the carriage is here. So sorry you have to leave. I'll talk to you again soon. Hilda, we need to get this child into some dry clothes. Have you anything that will fit her?”

“There is the kimono you gave me, but it is silk and not very warm.”

“It'll be warmer than these wet things. Let's get her to your bedroom. Is there a fire there?”

“Yes, a small one.”

“It can be built up. now, norah.”

norah allowed a few tears to track down her cheeks as she obediently went upstairs, but she didn't sob. She didn't dare to. Molly Malloy was the dead spit of norah's great-granny back in Ireland, who had terrorized the whole family even in her nineties. When they had attained the bedroom, norah obediently suffered herself to be undressed, dried off, wrapped in Hilda's silk kimono and a warm shawl, and settled in a cozy armchair before the fire.

eileen was sent for once again, to build up the fire and take norah's wet things to dry, and as she went downstairs to fill the coal scuttle, Hilda called after her. “eileen, if you can find it, bring up this morning's
Tribune
when you come back.” She turned to Aunt Molly and said quietly, “There was a story in it, I think about this death. I want to read it carefully. It might tell me something new.”

norah heard and was instantly combative. “It won't tell you anything about Sean doin' it, cause he didn't!”

“norah Murphy, do you think I would not have noticed if Sean's name had been in the newspaper? Do not be foolish! of course the
Tribune
did not say he did it. I want to read what it did say, and see if there is anything that will give me an idea.”

norah tried to get to her feet. “Then ye'll do it? Ye'll find out? And me name's o'neill, now.” She was plainly feeling a little better.

“You should not try to get up,” reproved Hilda. “I will do what I can. I do not even know where the farm is.”

“If the fire was the one I recall,” Molly put in, “it's actually

quite close to Mr. Malloy's property. You know where that is, Hilda, just south of the city limits. The city has grown so, Mr. Malloy is thinking about selling the land for building. It's good rich soil, though—'twould be a pity to cover it with houses.”

Hilda frowned. “Why would the police think Sean might be involved in a murder out of town?” she asked norah. “He has his work to do. He does not travel around the county.”

“See, that's it. He was workin' out there, just for two days. Me cousin Barry was helpin' build a new barn for a relation, and they needed more men, and o' course Sean went when they asked. Barry's family.” norah was getting teary again. “But if I'd known what was goin' to happen, I'd have made him stay at home!”

“But what
did
happen? norah, if you cry again I will leave the room!” Hilda stamped her foot.

“An' you'd cry too, if it was your man in jail!”

“I would not! I would find out what had really happened! And so I will for you, if you will stop being foolish and
tell
me!”

norah gave a last sniff and glared at Hilda. “Foolish, am I? It's the police who are being foolish. There's not one single thing to tie Sean to the man's death, not one thing, except he's Irish an' ye know how they treat the Irish. An' ye don't need to look at me that way. I'm tellin' ye all I know. Sean was workin' there that day, the day the man died.”

“not on the man's farm?” “no, the next farm.”

eileen returned with the coal and Hilda's newspaper. As the fire grew warmer, norah settled more comfortably into her narrative. “See, it's raw land yet, but me cousin Barry's cousin on his mother's side, he came into a bit of money and bought the land. And come spring he's going to start farming it, but first he needs a barn.”

Hilda nodded. That made sense. You had to have a place to keep the animals and to store the crops. City people might think a house came first, but Hilda's family had been farmers in Sweden, and she knew the vital importance of a barn.

“So he needed a barn,” she prompted.

“So o' course he got family to help. I reckon there's enough strong Irishmen around these parts to build a dozen barns. Most of the women went, too, with food, but Sean wouldn't let me go. He said it was too much work an' standin' for me now, as tired as I get these days.” Norah sniffled again at that, but a black look from Hilda stopped her tears.

“So they was almost done with what they could do that day, an' the walls was framed and the roof on, an' anyway it was gettin' too dark to see. So they was all gettin' ready to set down to their supper when somebody smelled smoke. And they looked over across the fields an' saw flames, an' thick smoke risin', an' they thought it was a brush pile burnin'. But that was dangerous-like, what with the dry weather we'd had. The grass could've caught, an' there's some swamp land out there with mucky soil; a fire can burn along under the ground for weeks.

“So some of the men went runnin', thinking to stomp out the brush fire if they could, or throw dirt on it maybe. They hadn't got no water; Barry's cousin hasn't dug his well yet. But when they got close enough, they saw it wasn't brush atall, but the barn on the neighbor's property.”

Hilda shook her head sadly. A barn fire was hard to fight even with plenty of water. With none, or what little the men could have pumped from the well on the older farm, there was no hope at all.

Norah nodded at Hilda's unspoken comment. “Nothin' they could do but watch it burn. It was too bad by the time they got there to even see if they could get the animals out. But the way it turned out, there wasn't no animals inside. The fire brigade came, after a bit. Somebody in town saw the smoke an' turned in the alarm, an' they got out with a pumper wagon as fast as they could, but the barn was far past savin' by that time and they could see no animals hadn't tried to get out. There was only the man, though they didn't know that till later.”

Hilda shuddered, and Aunt Molly put a hand on her arm. “Who was the man, my dear? The owner of the farm?”

“I don't know. I never heard. And Sean was sad and sorry about it when he heard, like everybody, but it wasn't nothin' to do with them, really.”

“Jenkins,” Hilda said. She had picked up the newspaper and was scanning the front page. “James Jenkins. He was a hired hand on the farm, it says here, not the owner. He sometimes slept in the barn.” She skimmed the rest of the story. “The coroner said it was an accident, but his brother—Mr. Jenkins's brother Robert—is certain it was murder. He says Mr. Jenkins was robbed and then murdered. His billfold was not found on his body.”

She looked up from the paper. “Norah,” she said slowly, “why did the police arrest Sean?”

Norah threatened to dissolve again into tears. “Are ye say-in' Sean robbed and killed that man? Hilda Johansson, I never thought you'd end up as bad as the police! I told you, he's Irish and the police always—”

Hilda looked Norah squarely in the eye. “They were all Irish, Norah. everyone there that day was Irish, except some of the firemen. You said so yourself. You will not dare to accuse me of hating the Irish. I have married into an Irish family. I know they are good people. You will tell me, Norah, why of all the Irishmen at the scene of the fire, the police have arrested Sean.” She held the gaze.

It was Norah who broke the eye contact. She looked down at her lap. “It's nothin' atall, only the police takin' a little thing an' blowin' it up. It doesn't mean nothin'.”

“What little thing?

Norah shut her mouth firmly.

Hilda was relentless. “What little thing?”

“The billfold.” Norah's voice was almost inaudible.

“What did you say?”

“The billfold!” Norah turned defiant. “Sean found a man's billfold outside the barn. It wasn't burnt, and it was a good one. Not new, but good leather, and Sean hadn't but an old cheap one as was fallin' apart. He asked if it belonged to anybody there, asked even the firemen, and when it wasn't nobody's, he kept it.”