Authors: Nancy E. Turner
She reached into the shredded wood stuffing and brought out a beautiful little doll with a china head and hands and feet, all dressed in a little dress, with real, soft hair on its head in tiny curls. Oh! she said, Oh! Look, Mama, a Mrs. Lady! She picked up the doll and hugged it tight.
You are a rascal, I said to him. My lips hurt from holding back my tears, so that I had to wait a moment. Then I whispered, I love you.
The train pulled into the Austin station at 4:45, held up some by a snow storm that made the engineer slow down far out of town. By the time we arrived, however, the snow had turned to rain, and all looked dismal and gray.
There was no sign around of anyone looking for us, so we found a place out of the stream of people to sit on our trunks and huddle warmly together. April held her dolly proudly to her, feeling important to be the protector of so beautiful a thing. Mrs. Lady is ’fraid, she said to me.
Well, I said, we will keep her safe won’t we?
Through the people then, I saw Jack leading the string of horses through the downpour, and I counted them, still five, so the little one had made it alive. He was talking to a man, and shaking his hand, slapping shoulders and all the way men do when they are glad to meet each other. Then they disappeared around the side of the building.
Here came those three ladies, the ones who thought they wanted to meet me and then made fun of me. I sat very straight and proud, and tried not to look at them, but they were coming this way, and I could hardly avoid them.
Oh, Mrs. Elliot! called Mrs. Faulkner, We just wanted you to know what a lovely time we had meeting you and your lovely family.
Just lovely, echoed Mrs. Blankenship.
Do pay a call while you are in town, dearie, said old Mrs. Dunn, Here is my card. Ask anyone in town, we are in the big white house. Merry Christmas!
I was about to tell her I would rather walk barefooted to Boston than visit her for Christmas, but April held up her baby and said, Christmas! Papa gave me Mrs. Lady!
The ladies all looked at each other and twittered again, and left with their noses in the air, and I heard Mrs. Dunn say, You know he came from, and, Oh, we’ve just made it for the other train! Then I couldn’t hear any more.
They went to where another train was coming in from the east, and I watched them for a bit. They were across the platform and in a little crowd of people who all seemed to hang on every word they said. They were talking loud so folks would hear how important they were, about Mrs. Faulkner’s son who was arriving on this train all the way from West Point Academy, and how he was high in his class, and an honor student or some such. Well, here came a young looking soldier, so thin his uniform swung around him, up to them, and politely said Hello, and Now, mother, this is not the place for such things, when Mrs. Faulkner tried to hug him and kiss him on the depot steps.
Just then he caught sight of Jack in his uniform, and that boy snapped to attention stiffer than I have ever seen, and cracked his elbow up in a salute and looked like a tin soldier toy I saw in a store window in town.
Jack saluted him back, and said At ease, son, to him.
Yes, sir! the boy said, and made a funny posture with his feet apart, but he still looked stiff enough to knock over with a blade of grass. Then I heard Jack talk to him, and the boy said how he was in his last year, and Jack nodded, and introduced himself, and an odd look came on that boy’s face. Lieutenant John Edward Elliot? he said, Sir, pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. Honored, I mean, sir.
Jack shook his hand then and asked was Colonel Hargrave still teaching mathematics?
No, sir, said the boy. Lieutenant Elliot, sir, I have requested to be assigned to your post, when I graduate, Sir.
Mrs. Faulkner had stood there watching all this, and her eyes ran over me while her son was busy saluting and praising my husband, so I just smiled politely at her.
Jack said, Well, Cadet Faulkner, go have Christmas with your mother, I’m sure she’s cold out here. They exchanged salutes again, and the Cadet walked away.
Mrs. Faulkner had sidled up to me and said Good day, Mrs. Elliot?
I just looked at her, and I saw in her eyes that she was wanting some kind of approval for her boy because of his career ahead, and she suddenly just looked like an old lady, not fancy and rich and frightening. An old lady whose son admired my husband, and who herself would be as helpless in the Territories as a newborn calf and not nearly as useful. Good day, I said back. It is a funny thing how much more proud people can be of themselves if they never step back and take a good look in a glass.
In just a few minutes more, there was a man joined us and introduced himself as Jack’s Papa, shaking my hand and talking a blue streak, and I was amazed at how little the two men looked alike. Charles Elliot, or Chess, as he proclaimed everyone called him, was straight talking and to the point, a man not as tall as his son, and obviously used to hard work in the sun by the lines deeply grooved in his face.
He loaded us into a beautiful four-seated buggy pulled by four horses all the same size and weight, and we rode for at least an hour, maybe more, through open, rolling hills dotted here and there with dark shapes of trees. I wished it was a clear day so I could see it all. It gave me a nervous spell to think there are all those trees to hide behind and we were driving directly through any kind of ambush that might await us, but Chess seemed not to care a bit.
We finally came to a stop, nearly frozen and wet despite the hood of the buggy. From outside in the rain I had no idea whether we were entering a castle or a cave, but in the house, warm with fires and brightly lit in every corner with lamps, I felt I had come inside a dreamland. It was a grand house, and its rooms rambled on and on, and the large parlor where we came in was lined with rich looking wood and hung with paintings, and there was real carpets on the floors with fringe on them.
A Christmas tree stood in the center and lent its smell to the place, but the smell of pine did not cover the other smells that came to me. Ham and turkey and goose, and dressings and bread, and spiced pies of apple and mince and sweet potato. I found I was dreadfully hungry, and when we were sent to a room outfitted for us, we all changed clothes quickly.
April was to have her own room, a beautiful place with a little bed with lace coverlets, like a princess. I have never in my days even imagined such a room, and it was wondrous but my first thought was it will spoil her rotten, and now she will never be satisfied with her plain things. It was more beautiful than the hotel we had stayed in. I put our wet things by the fire hung over the backs of chairs, but I was still exploring the room when Jack said, Mrs. Elliot? Are you aware you are holding up Christmas dinner?
I said over my shoulder, Jack, where’s my pistol? I can’t find it.
It’s on top of that wardrobe, out of the reach of Little Bitty. I promise you won’t need it during supper, come on.
December 26, 1885
Chess is a friendly man, and not given to long periods of silent thought like his son Jack. Last night when I got to the table he held out a chair for me, and his eyes fell on the brooch Jack gave me, and I saw something faraway flicker across his face. It made me feel odd inside, like I wasn’t worthy of the brooch, but still proud it had been given to me.
All the food was wondrous and just as good as it was plenty. He had laid a table like he was expecting an Army, though, and there was just the three of us, plus he had also invited an old gentleman friend of his, a Mr. Arlington who struggled to eat it with false teeth. They talked about old times and told stories of the war that I know Harland would love to hear. The men all talked at once, sometimes forgetting I was there, laughing about things and now and then saying something I didn’t understand and chuckling over it. Jack acted mad when his Papa said the Army was full of lace panties nowadays, and he actually raised his voice to his father in a way that would have got my brothers a whipping no matter how old they were.
But Chess just looked at me curiously and asked me, What do you think of that?
I wasn’t sure if he meant his comment or Jack’s, so I thought a bit, and said, Well, sir, no one in the Territories wears lace panties that I know of, and he and Mr. Arlington just about split their sides laughing. I was real embarrassed, and I stood up to leave the table, but Jack had his hand on my arm.
Don’t let him bother you, he said. He’s just trying to see how far he can go before you call him out.
Well, I said, sitting again, the acorn never falls far from the tree, does it?
I thought I had made Chess angry when I offered to help with the dishes to the lady who had served it all. He called her Lupy and said she was his cook and housekeeper, but he didn’t even offer her to sit with us and eat, she just served and cleared, served and cleared. I thought this was mighty unfair, and when I talked to her she didn’t answer at first, so I tried in Mexican, and lo and behold, she just talked a blue streak.
Her name is Lupe, but she didn’t mind the gringo boss, she said, as he is a good man and kind to her and her family, and her husband is a cattle hand and they have a good life. She insisted I shouldn’t do dishes, as I was a guest. So I said to her, I hope I am not a guest, I am family. And I just got up after dinner and helped out.
Finally, she shooed me out of the kitchen, saying, they would be waiting on me to have Christmas, and she was going home. As I came from the kitchen I stopped at the door to roll my sleeves back into place, and I heard the men talking and it was about me.
Jack’s voice came through like he was answering a question that had been put to him, Well, I’d rather be back to back with her than in a troop of soldiers, when push comes to shove. That made me feel good for sure.
Mr. Arlington said, There’s no real ladies any more, just fluffy priss and hard stuff.
Jack sounded angry then, and said, You wouldn’t know a real woman if she ran over you with a flatbed, old man!
Mr. Arlington and Chess both laughed, and Chess’ voice said, Look at him, Bobby! He’s fit to take you on, crutch and all. You poked him in a nerve that time. He’s bad all right!
Mr. Arlington said, Yep, he’s bad. Sickern’ I ever saw over a pretty little…
I didn’t want to hear any more and I burst through the door making a loud bang.
They all three stood, nodding to me, and Chess said loudly, sweeping his arm toward me, And here she is, my new daughter! But I could tell there was something mocking in his voice, and he was making me feel edgy, and I could see it in Jack’s eyes too. Like there was some reason to keep my eyes open and my powder dry. Did you get Lupy straightened out? Chess asked.
No, sir, I said. I was getting real fed up with his mocking tone. Lupe is doing the best she can considering the characters in
this
room.
Ah-hah! he said. Look at her eyes. The flint emerges! You are wrong Bobby, here at last, is a real lady! and he took my hand and kissed it softly, and said, Welcome to the family, Miss Sarah. Let’s have Christmas!
Chess had gifts for all, even Lupe, but she had left for home and would have to get her lace shawl later. He gave Jack a beautiful saddle, shiny with polished leather, and I admired it along with him. April got a most wonderful little dress and coat, and although it was too big for her, I said I will take it up a bit, and then when she grows I’ll let it out. It was just too beautiful, and I am only sorry that someday she will outgrow it.
Chess just looked at me funny and said, Well, pass it down to the next one, honey, if it’s a girl, of course. Then he grinned real hard at me and I finally saw some of Jack’s looks in his face, in that smile and those straight white teeth.
Then he handed me a large box, and a small one. Open the little one first, he said. Jack tells me you’re a hand with a gun, but you’re fond of a long barrel?
Well, I said, my hand on the lid of the box, I take all the caliber I can get, and I like a repeater with a smooth pull.
Chess grinned again, Well, honey, maybe you can use this in your lighter moments, say for church or the opera. So I opened the box and inside was a little tiny pistol with two barrels like I had never seen before, and wavy white handles, and a silvery barrel and sights. It’s only two shots, he said, but likely in church that’s enough to get your point across, and then he and Jack and Mr. Arlington just laughed and laughed.
Pearl handles, said Jack, just the touch for the well-attired lady about town.
Jack! I’m no lady about town!
Put your feathers down, Jack said, That just means in social circles. Open the last one. It’s from me.
But you already gave me so much, I said. Well, then I opened the box and inside there was a paper wrapping, and under the paper was a bundle of cloth. It was an amazing color of dark red, with shining little fur that stood right up, and felt soft as a horse’s nose.
I stared kind of addle-headed into the box, and he said, Well, take it out, Sarah, see if you like it.
Oh, I like it, I said, I like it fine. But I couldn’t bring myself to lift it out of the box. I felt the cloth and whispered, What is it?
He looked odd at me, and came over and said again, Take it out and stand up and try it on, and he took my hand and raised me up, and lifted the thing from the box. Here, he said, It’s a cloak, nice and warm for the winter. We don’t get much winter but what we get is damned cold. Look, velvet on one side and black linen damask on the other, if you want it plain for some different dress. He draped the beautiful thing around my shoulders and arranged it, and fastened a big shiny soft cloth thing in the front. Sarah, do you like it? he asked. It’s real velvet, do you like it? Look in the glass there.
I stared hard at my reflection, and I touched the cloth and lifted it and looked at it close, feeling the softness.
Mr. Arlington was saying behind me, What kind of man gives his wife a scarlet cloak for Christmas?
Chess answered him back, Oh, it ain’t a bad color, that’s a fancy red. It’s what the snooty busy bodies in the Art Society call dove’s blood or some such nonsense.