Fear shone in the boy’s deep blue eyes. “Evil eye?”
“Yes. I use it to put a curse on those who don’t do what they promise. Shall I say the words that will place you under the spell of the evil eye, Georgie?”
“No
ooo
! I’ll be good. I promise.”
“But that’s not all. You must promise to tell me anything your mama or papa says about me.
Anything
. Do you promise?” Lilly slowly twisted her fingers as she moved the stone closer to the boy. The eye appeared to come to life, following Georgie’s darting glance.
“I promise, I promise. I’ll tell you everything I hear. Can I go now?”
She nodded. “Now go to your room. When Alma awakens, we’ll go outdoors and you and Joey can play.” The boy jumped to his feet. But before he could bolt out of reach, Lilly stood and took hold of his arm, shoving the glass ball at him one final time. “Don’t forget, Georgie.”
As the boys’ bedroom door slammed shut, Lilly dropped to her bed with a laugh. She hoped her performance had been successful. Throughout the years, she had effectively persuaded countless individuals she could conjure spells. Lilly knew her true skill was not voodoo or witchcraft, however, but the power of persuasion.
Only the future would reveal if she had succeeded, but there was precious little time to dwell on the matter since Alma was now up from her nap and peeking out from her bedroom doorway. After safely tucking away the handkerchief and its contents, Lilly gave the room a fleeting glance. She truly needed a lock for her door.
She motioned to Alma and tapped on the boys’ bedroom door as she walked by. “Come along, Georgie and Joey. Alma’s awake. Let’s go outdoors—and no trouble.”
The boys needed no further encouragement. They bounded down the stairs and out the front door before Lilly and Alma had cleared the upper hallway.
While Lilly prepared a plate of cookies and a pitcher of lemonade, Alma returned upstairs to pick out a favorite book. She held up a book of Grimms’ fairy tales for Lilly’s approval as the two of them walked to the porch.
“Excellent choice.”
Alma beamed at the praise and snuggled close, carefully pointing at the pictures and turning the pages on cue. Lilly had nearly completed the first story when the sound of an approaching wagon captured her attention. She hastily read the final lines and then snapped the volume together, certain the horse and wagon belonged to the man she’d seen entering the Johnsons’ general store earlier in the day. Lilly stepped off the porch and sauntered down the sidewalk as the buggy slowed.
The man tipped his hat and pulled back on the reins. “Lovely day.”
She appraised the man for a brief moment. “New in town, aren’t you?”
“Making my way to some of the smaller towns with my sample books. I’m hoping to discover whether I can turn a profit passing through once or twice a month.”
Lilly wiped the beads of sweat from her lemonade glass as she further evaluated the man’s appearance. His clothing spoke of money, but Lilly knew any salesman worth his salt dressed to exude prosperity.
“And are you meeting with success?”
The man removed his hat and pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket. “Not much.” He swiped his forehead and nodded toward Lilly’s glass. “I don’t want to appear bold, but I could sure use a cool drink. That lemonade looks mighty inviting.”
“Then you had best come and have a glass. You can tie your horse to that post. Mr. Nelson won’t be home anytime soon.”
“Charlie Holmes,” the man said as he approached. “Nice to see a smiling face. Can’t say as folks around these parts have been too welcoming. Seems as though they’d rather wait till the train is due to arrive in Ellis and then take their wagons down there and collect their goods.”
Lilly introduced herself and took the man’s linen fedora. The inner band was greasy and discolored. Mr. Holmes clearly used an abundance of macassar oil to slick his wavy hair into place. But she wouldn’t fault him. At least he cared about his appearance—unlike most of the men in these parts.
Mr. Holmes leaned against one of the ornate wooden columns flanking the porch stairs while Lilly went into the house to get a glass and then poured some lemonade for her new acquaintance. “Do sit down, Mr. Holmes.”
Alma scooted off one of the cushioned wicker chairs and tugged at Lilly’s sleeve. “May I go out back and play with my brothers, Miss Lilly?”
“Of course, Alma. But remember, you know right from wrong. If your brothers are doing something improper, you must come tell me.”
The child’s curls bobbed up and down, circling her head like a bouncing blond halo. “I will, Miss Lilly.” Alma waved a chubby hand as she descended the porch steps and skipped off.
Lilly handed her guest the lemonade and permitted her fingers to rest on his a moment longer than necessary. “If only her brothers were so easily managed.”
Mr. Holmes nodded before taking a deep swallow of his beverage.
“Boys can be more difficult—more energy.”
Choosing a nearby chair, Lilly sat down and carefully arranged the folds of her skirt. “You have youngsters of your own, Mr. Holmes?”
“Goodness, no. I’ve never married—too much traveling. I’ve been around my sister’s boys, though—and of course I remember my younger years.” His eyes glimmered with amusement.
“I’m sorry you haven’t met with greater success during your recent travels. I suppose the life of a salesman can be most trying.”
He blotted his upper lip with his kerchief. “No more vexing than that of a housekeeper and nursemaid. While I can take a brief respite from the drudgery of my daily travels, there is no escape for you.” His look conveyed genuine sympathy.
Lilly fluttered her lashes and refilled his glass. “Thank you, Mr.
Holmes.”
He lightly touched her hand. “Please. Call me Charlie. I feel as though we’ve already begun to develop a kinship. I only wish there were some reason for me to return this way more often. Unfortunately, Mr. Johnson placed only a small order with me, though he suggested I stop in Nicodemus.”
“Did he?”
The children’s laughter floated from the backyard as Mr. Holmes scooted forward on his seat. “Perhaps you know some of the folks over there? I could explain that we’re acquainted and it might help my sales.”
Lilly stifled a laugh. “I’m afraid not, Charlie. Though my brother-in-law farms outside of Nicodemus, I came to Hill City shortly after my arrival in Kansas.”
After draining the contents, Charlie handed her the empty glass. “I thank you for your hospitality, but daylight’s wasting and I need to be on my way. With your kind permission, I would like to stop next time I pass through town.”
Mrs. Nelson would frown upon such visits, but Lilly enjoyed the man’s company. “Mrs. Nelson is away from home on Tuesdays. Otherwise . . .”
“I’ll be certain I’m in Hill City every other Tuesday.” He picked up his hat and offered Lilly his arm as she walked him to the front gate.
She patted his arm. “And in the meantime, I’ll be thinking of some way to help you become more prosperous, Charlie.”
New York City
•
July 1880
T
ruth followed the servant girl into the mahogany-paneled office and emulated a faint bow as the owners of the Rutledge Academy introduced themselves. They were a formidable group, and Truth once again wondered why she had agreed to make this journey.
Mrs. Rutledge twisted her lips into a knot as she examined the letter of introduction Truth had handed over upon being presented to the woman. “This says you’ve come to fetch Miss Boyle home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The younger of the two gentlemen stepped to the side of the desk and picked up the letter. “How are we to know this isn’t a forgery or that you didn’t take this letter from someone else?”
Truth cocked her head to one side. Were these people jesting with her? Why would anyone else want to come and take Macia home? “Macia can identify me, and if you fear the letter is a forgery, I believe you have other papers with Dr. Boyle’s signature. I suggest you compare them.”
Mr. Rutledge glanced at Marvin Laird. “She’s a smart one, isn’t she?”
Mr. Laird ignored the question. “How is it that Dr. Boyle happened to send you, Miss Harban? We wrote and told him that Macia was ill and that he need only send money for her treatment. Didn’t he receive my missive?”
“Yes, he did. However, as he states in his letter, he will be more at ease caring for Macia himself. Had it not been for Mrs. Boyle’s ill health, he would have come himself. I was hoping to begin our return journey tomorrow or by week’s end, at the latest.”
Mr. Laird laughed. “
You
may leave whenever you desire, Miss Har-ban, but Miss Boyle is in no condition to travel. I explained that in my detailed letter to Dr. Boyle. I trust he sent sufficient funds to cover her medical expenses?”
Truth fingered the clasp on her reticule and shook her head. “No. He said he would send you payment for the additional expenses once Macia arrived home.”
The man’s back straightened. “I don’t believe you.”
Truth pointed at the ivory stationery. “It’s right there in the second page of his letter.”
Mr. Laird snatched the paper from Mrs. Rutledge and ran his finger along the page. He looked up and glared at Truth before whispering something to Mr. Rutledge. The older man bowed his head in agreement, and both of them stormed from the room.
Truth fidgeted for a moment while hoping to gain her courage. “May I see Macia?”
Mrs. Rutledge didn’t reply. Instead, she stared into the distance acting as though she’d not heard a word. Truth loudly cleared her throat, and Mrs. Rutledge startled to attention. “Well, I suppose Daisy can take you upstairs, though Miss Boyle is likely asleep. You shouldn’t disturb her.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be quiet as a church mouse.”
Truth followed Daisy up the staircase and down the hallway.When Daisy reached to turn the doorknob, Truth touched her arm. “What’s going on in this place? Why do those people act so odd?”
Daisy shrugged and pulled away. “I jest do my job and keep my mouth shut. I don’t know nothing about nothing. Your mistress is in there.” That said, Daisy shoved open the door and retreated at a lope.
The sight of Macia’s sallow complexion and sunken cheeks sent fear coursing through Truth’s body. She barely looked like the vibrant young woman who had departed Hill City just over a month ago. Truth paced back and forth with an occasional glance toward the canopied bed. She didn’t know how to proceed. She’d come to New York fully expecting to begin her return journey within a day or two. Instead, her plans had begun to go awry from the moment she’d set foot in the city. Aunt Lilly’s assurances that she would have little difficulty navigating in the city had proved untrue. Outside the railway station, the street had been jammed with carriages, wagons, carts, omnibuses, and trucks, all packed together in helpless confusion. People scurried about in ill-fated chaos while policemen waved and shouted at the passing parade of humanity. Hailing a cabriolet had been a daunting task, but dodging a racing omnibus had placed Truth’s very life in peril. And as if to add insult to injury, the omnibus driver seemed quite jubilant when she’d dropped her valise while jumping into the cab.
Having survived the harrowing incident with the omnibus, she’d been treated as an interloper when she had finally arrived at Macia’s school. How Truth longed for the assistance of some kindly soul who would direct her along the proper path. If only Macia would awaken, perhaps she could help. However, Macia wasn’t stirring in the least. Truth plopped down in the oversized chair near Macia’s bed and drifted in and out of a restless sleep until a knock on the bedroom door awakened her. Before she could answer, Mr. Laird and Mrs. Rutledge entered the room.
Mrs. Rutledge drew near and touched Macia’s cheek. “Has she awakened at all?”
Truth shook her head. “No, ma’am, and she looks much too thin— and pale.”
“Well, what did you expect?” Mr. Laird looked down his nose at Truth as he spat the words. “She’s ill. We told you she’s in no condition to travel.”
“Maybe if another physician examined her, we could gain further information about her illness.” Truth’s suggestion was met with icy stares.
Mr. Laird brushed past Truth and neared Macia’s bedside. “When I want your opinion, Miss Harban, I shall ask. In the meantime, I suggest you return to Kansas. There is nothing you can do here in New
York. Miss Boyle is well cared for, and you’ll only be in the way. Moreover, you can’t remain in the room overnight—it’s against the academy rules.”
Truth’s stomach lurched at the comment. “I-I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll sleep on the floor beside Macia’s bed. There’s nothing in the rules against someone remaining in the room to care for a sick student, is there?”
Mrs. Rutledge tapped her finger on her chin. “You are not a trained nurse. Our rules specifically state that only paying students may remain in the rooms.”
“But I’ve traveled so far. Surely in this instance you could make an exception.”
“I suppose you could stay in the servants’ quarters with Daisy until you decide to return home,” Mr. Laird allowed.
There was no sense arguing. She wouldn’t win this battle. “So long as I can attend to Macia’s needs during the day, I’ll accept your kind offer to sleep in the servants’ quarters. I do hope Daisy won’t object.”
“Daisy? She has no right to object to anything. She’s a servant who knows her place, Miss Harban.”
Mr. Laird’s words stung like an angry slap. Obviously, he wanted Truth to argue. Instead, she decided to remain compliant and disappoint him. “Thank you, Mr. Laird. I accept your offer of accommodations in the servants’ quarters. Dr. Boyle will be pleased to hear how well I’ve been treated here at the Rutledge Academy. I’ll simply plan to spend my days in this room with Macia. Does the doctor make daily visits?”
Mrs. Rutledge arched her eyebrows. “Doctor?”
“Yes. Dr. Anderson. Your letter to the Boyles said Dr. Anderson was caring for Macia. Dr. Boyle asked that I speak with the physician upon my arrival in New York.”