‘‘How very sad,’’ Grace said, suddenly seeing Peter in a new light.
‘‘Why do you say that?’’ he asked. His tone suggested annoyance as well as anger.
‘‘It’s just that I believe God has made both male and female to be very intelligent and capable. It would be a tragedy if your sister never felt confident enough to stand up for herself and make a few of her own decisions.’’
‘‘Why tragic? Women are the weaker vessel. They are to be protected and cared for. Why should that be a tragedy?’’ He kept his voice very even and calm. Grace couldn’t help but wonder if he was worried that she was too weak to hear the full force of his argument.
‘‘I’m only suggesting that your sister would be better served if she were taught how to handle some things for herself. After all, it is nearly 1900 and women are pressing ever closer to having the vote. Times are changing.’’
‘‘You sound like your mentor,’’ he chided. ‘‘I only do what’s best for Miranda. My entire family seeks my guidance on a regular basis. They trust me to know the truth of most things, and they need me to give them counsel.’’
‘‘How very powerful that must make you feel,’’ Grace replied, finding herself growing rather annoyed with Peter’s arrogance.
He frowned and narrowed his eyes. ‘‘You’re suggesting I do good by my family for my own sake?’’
‘‘I’m suggesting that God would not have you replace Him in their lives.’’
Peter stared openly for a moment and looked as if he might reply, but instead he gave Grace a bow and apologized for needing to get back to his ship.
‘‘I’m sorry if I have offended you, Captain.’’
‘‘Do not trouble yourself with such thoughts. I assure you I am quite capable of hearing your concerns and arguments without buckling under.’’
He took his leave after escorting Grace back to the tent store. She watched him go with some disappointment. She had offended him with her sudden outspokenness, but she couldn’t stand back and allow for his attitude to be viewed as truth and what was right. That attitude, if coupled with a cruel nature, could easily turn Peter Colton into another Martin Paxton. And that would surely break her heart.
‘‘Where’s the captain?’’ Karen questioned as she came out of the tent.
‘‘He’s on his way back to his ship. See,’’ Grace pointed, ‘‘there he is now.’’
‘‘I have a list for him,’’ Karen said, holding up her hand. ‘‘I suppose I must chase him down to deliver it.’’
‘‘I suppose so. Just be cautious. He seems to be in a rather troubled mood.’’
Karen smiled. ‘‘And just what could possibly have troubled the dear captain?’’
Grace shrugged. ‘‘I suppose it was me.’’
Peter Colton was in no mood for any woman, much less Karen Pierce. Her incessant calling of his name, however, left him little choice but to turn and await her.
‘‘What is it, Miss Pierce?’’
‘‘I have a list for you. The supplies and things we need most. The ones we sell the most,’’ she added.
Her blue eyes seemed to twinkle in delight at delaying him, and her long golden red hair caught ever so casually with a ribbon at the nape of her neck blew across her face as the breeze picked up. She easily controlled the hair with one hand, however, as she handed him the list with the other.
Peter stared at her for a moment, almost mesmerized by her hair. Why did a woman her age allow her hair to be down in such a fashion? Didn’t she realize the inappropriateness of it? Peter watched, fascinated as the curls wrapped around her fingers.
‘‘Are you quite all right, Captain?’’
He snatched the paper from her hand and looked at it momentarily. ‘‘I’m very well, thank you.’’ His words were gruffly delivered, but he didn’t care. Miss Pierce had been an improper influence in Grace Hawkins’ life. It was her fault that Grace would question his actions with his family. Before he knew it, she’d have Grace running about with her hair down as well.
‘‘Do you have questions about any of the items?’’ Karen questioned.
‘‘No,’’ he replied angrily. ‘‘I’m quite capable of reading a list and understanding its meaning.’’
‘‘Would that men were as easy to understand as lists,’’ Karen replied snidely. ‘‘Grace said you were a bit out of sorts, but I couldn’t imagine it should make any difference. When aren’t you out of sorts?’’
‘‘If I am in such a state as you suggest,’’ Peter replied, ‘‘it is because of women like yourself.’’
‘‘Me?’’ she questioned, raising a hand to point at her throat. ‘‘Me? Whatever do I have to do with this?’’
‘‘Plenty. You have poisoned the mind of that beautiful young woman with your claptrap about women’s rights and personal capabilities. I know she has run away from the authority of her father, and you no doubt had a hand in it.’’
‘‘I did,’’ Karen replied proudly. ‘‘The man her father would have seen her married to beat her. His demeanor was something similar to yours. Women were nothing more than property to him. They were to be silent when told to be silent and useful when told to be useful. You would have liked him, no doubt.’’
Peter felt his face redden as his hands balled into fists. The list was crumpled in his anger and forgotten as he considered how best to put Karen Pierce in her place.
‘‘Either way,’’ Karen continued, ‘‘I know you’ve hurt my dear friend’s feelings. If that is what you consider proper, then I will continue to encourage Grace against your brand of male civilization.’’
‘‘It was not my intention to hurt Miss Hawkins, but she made some rather strong statements regarding the way I do business with my own family members.’’
‘‘Good for her!’’
Peter felt his control slip away. Raising his voice, he challenged the woman before her. ‘‘I understood you both to be god-fearing women. It was even suggested that you put much of your faith into the teachings of the Bible.’’
‘‘That’s true,’’ Karen replied. ‘‘What of it?’’
‘‘Is it not a matter of your spiritual teaching that the man is to be the leader of the house?’’
‘‘In a manner of speaking, you are correct. The spiritual leadership of the house is indeed the position of the man. He is also to be a civic leader and provider for his family. Oh, and a protector as well.’’
‘‘Very good. Then I suggest both of you remind yourselves of this when looking to cast disparaging comments on the role I take with my family.’’
Karen Pierce was undaunted. ‘‘It also provides that women are to be the
despot
of the
oikos
. That’s Greek, for your information, and a roundabout definition would be ‘controlling ruler of all that encompasses her house.’ Women are to be the keepers of the home. They are to work with their hands, feed and clothe their families, purchase and plant the lands, and make all other manner of individual choice and decision while their menfolk are off learning God’s truth for them in spiritual training and acting as leaders for the community, as well as earning a living to provide those things the woman is incapable of growing or making on her own.’’
Peter looked at Karen in amazement. She always had an answer for everything. Now she was even quoting Greek to him.
‘‘Perhaps it is you, Captain Colton, who should take another look at the Word of God.’’
‘‘I have no time for such things,’’ Peter replied. ‘‘I believe the Creator of this world to have endowed human beings with great capacities for learning and knowledge through their daily living. I believe I am quite capable of making sound judgments to guide the steps of my family. I don’t need a list of rules and regulations to tell me what is sound.’’
‘‘Ah,’’ Karen said with a knowing nod. ‘‘It isn’t Grace who bothers you half so much as what she represents.’’
‘‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Pierce.’’
‘‘God is what I’m talking about.’’
He shook his head. ‘‘Are you now telling me that Grace is God?’’
Karen laughed. ‘‘Hardly. I’m saying that Grace’s relationship with God is intimidating to you. You aren’t half as angry with Grace or with me as you are with the idea that you might need someone bigger than yourself to get through life.’’
Peter had all he was going to take. Pocketing the mangled list, he tipped his hat. ‘‘Good day to you, Miss Pierce. I will endeavor to secure the items you’ve requested.’’
‘‘I will pray for your safety and quick return,’’ Karen replied with a smile. ‘‘And perhaps I will even pray that God might open your eyes to the possibility of His love and direction.’’
‘‘Do what you think best, Miss Pierce. So long as you leave me alone and only pester God.’’
Karen laughed and continued to chuckle even as he turned and walked away from her. How was it that in such a short time he’d left one woman behind with a grievous expression of hurt, and another with a laughter that suggested complete joy? Things were certainly not as they should be. Chaos had crowded in on Peter’s very organized life and that was a completely unacceptable condition to be in. He would have to find a way to take charge again—at least so far as his own thoughts were concerned. But while he was confident he could control his own thoughts, he wasn’t at all sure about controlling his heart.
THE HEAVY BROCADE DRAPERIES that lined the floor-to-ceiling windows of Frederick and Myrtle Hawkins’ bedroom were pulled shut against the daylight. Myrtle sat silently beside her husband’s sickbed. He seldom said more than a few words at a time, but she wanted to be there should he awaken and attempt to explain the dealings they’d endured over the last few months.
Martin Paxton had been as good as his word. He had seized control of the family businesses and stripped them of every hope of earning a living. Myrtle had immediately weaned the house of its staff, retaining only their butler and her personal maid. Together, the three of them worked to prepare meals and see to the household chores, but it was a poor attempt by people who were better suited to their known, traditional ways.
Myrtle failed to understand why her life had so suddenly taken a turn for the worst. Her daughter was now thousands of miles away, and she couldn’t even write to Grace and tell her that Frederick had suffered a heart attack. Ever since Paxton had threatened to search their mail, Myrtle had realized the man to be far more powerful than she’d given him credit for. Maybe the suggestion was a bluff—something to spur her into action. But maybe it was the truth. Maybe Paxton had the ability to control every aspect of their lives.
She shook her head and calmed her own raging heart. No, God alone had control. She’d not give Paxton that power. The pastor had said they were under God’s grace—that like Job in the Old Testament, the way might not make sense or seem reasonable. But who were they to question God? God had His reasons, and it was Myrtle’s job to trust.
But trust came hard as she watched her ailing husband struggle for breath. He was so weary and so very sick. His color was a pasty yellow and he made gurgling sounds when he drew in air. He was dying. The doctor said that couldn’t be helped now. The heart had suffered too much damage to sustain life for long. If Frederick remained completely bedfast, he might live as long as another six months, but even at that, the doctor had given her little hope.
‘‘Oh, my darling,’’ she whispered, drawing Frederick’s hand to her lips. ‘‘We had a good life and now you are being taken away from me. I don’t know that I can bear the pain of losing you.’’ She thought of Grace and how hard it would be for her to learn of her father’s illness. She would blame herself— just as Myrtle did.
‘‘No,’’ she whispered, ‘‘I blame Mr. Paxton more. If I am to blame, it is for somehow failing to obtain the truth of the matter from your own lips, my dearest.’’
‘‘Mrs. Hawkins,’’ Selma, her maid, called from the doorway. ‘‘Mr. Paxton has come again.’’ Myrtle felt her resolve toward Christian charity fade at the announcement. ‘‘I told him you were indisposed, but he said he’d heard about Mr. Hawkins and wished to discuss the matter with you.’’
Myrtle had worked hard to see to it that no news of her husband’s illness reached Paxton’s ears, but apparently she hadn’t worked hard enough. Suddenly she wanted to see him. To tell him what she thought of him.
‘‘Put him in the Oriental parlor and I’ll be there shortly,’’ she commanded.
Selma left without another word, and Myrtle kissed her husband’s hand once again and gently placed it at his sleeping side. Perhaps it was the effect of the sleeping medication the doctor had given him, perhaps it was a lack of will to live. Either way, Myrtle knew her husband had no concept of her presence.
She prayed on her way down the stairs. Prayed that God would give her strength to deal with Paxton and that He would also show her the truth that had so long eluded her. Something that dwelled within this evil man’s heart had taken away the comfort and peace that she had come to rely on. It had also taken her daughter from her and would soon claim her husband’s life. And while she could forgive Paxton for rendering them without funds, she could not forgive him for depriving her of Grace and Frederick.
‘‘Mr. Paxton,’’ she declared, pushing back the sliding doors. ‘‘I see you have once again come to plague me.’’
The man, looking far more worn than Myrtle expected, smiled rather coldly. ‘‘I feel honored that you have finally decided to share your presence with me.’’
‘‘Don’t,’’ Myrtle said, holding up her hand. ‘‘I haven’t come here to make you feel honored in any way. I might as well have called this meeting.’’
He looked rather surprised. ‘‘How so, madam?’’
Myrtle took a seat and stared at him hard. ‘‘You have done your best to see my family destroyed. I think it’s about time you explained yourself.’’
‘‘I think you already understand perfectly well,’’ he replied.
‘‘No, I don’t believe I do.’’ Myrtle folded her hands. ‘‘I’m no fool, Mr. Paxton. I’ve realized from the start that there was more to this than mere gambling debts and a desire to marry into our family associations.’’ She refused to look away from him. She memorized his piercing green eyes and the way his thick black brows narrowed as he considered her statement. She felt that if only there were some way to read his expressions, she might very well figure out the thoughts behind them.