A Veiled Reflection (10 page)

“I had to come up to change me apron, and Sam had this letter for ya from the morning train.” Sam Capper, the Harvey House manager, was always good about getting the mail delivered in short order. He knew how important a letter from home could be, and he cared about the girls as much as Gwen Carson did. If she were their housemother, he was, indeed, like a father.

“Thank you,” Jillian said, picking up the missive with great reservation. It could have only come from one of two places: Judith or her parents.

Looking at the handwriting, Jillian immediately recognized her mother's penmanship.
Miss J. Danvers, Pintan, Arizona Terr.,
the address read. A wave of worry washed over Jillian. This letter would no doubt contain word from her father as to what he would and would not tolerate. It might even declare what train he would arrive on in order to bring Jillian home.

She waited until Kate had gone, then opened the letter and read. Her mother spoke of missing her dearly and of how the house was so very sad without her. She spoke of Judith's marriage as one of life's greatest disappointments, relating that her heart was completely broken by the missed opportunities for her daughter to be well established in society.

I have only wanted the very best for my girls,
Jillian read,
and while your
sister seems happy at this moment in time, I fear the day will come when she
regrets her choice. Perhaps it is impossible for you girls to understand my
concerns for your welfare, but marrying a man of little means will mean a
hard life with great adversity.

Judith seems content helping her husband put their business together. Why
she should wish to soil her hands at such labor is beyond me, but I must find
a way to resign myself to the matter.

The issue of Judith now put aside, Gretchen Danvers went back to her old nature and spoke of a handsome young earl who would be arriving from England. He had come to see the wild American West and to hunt, and Gretchen had it on the best authority that he was even interested in finding himself a rich American for a wife. Jillian rolled her eyes in exasperation, then continued reading.
He is said to
be handsome and of good standing with the Queen of England. I think he
sounds like a perfect match for you, darling Jillian
.

Jillian laughed. “Why, Mother? Because he's in good standing with the queen?” She failed to see her mother's logic. She finished the letter, then noted a smaller folded piece of paper. Her father's bold, almost arrogant script blazed off the page at her.

Jillian, I think you are six kinds of fool for having allowed Judith to
coerce you into this ordeal. However, you make a good point regarding
the business arrangement of this situation. Therefore, with reservation, I
give my permission for you to stay on to finish out your sister's contract.
After that, I want you on the first train home
.

Jillian felt a moderate amount of relief. She had her father's permission to stay, but her mother was still playing matchmaker. For the first time since Judith's marriage, Jillian actually envied her sister. Their mother could no longer play matchmaker for Judith. It was while contemplating this situation that Jillian hit upon an idea. Perhaps if she took Judith's example and began to stress the point of marrying for love, her mother would gradually change her mind. Maybe, if she saw that Jillian was truly happy, she would be content to let her daughter make her own choices.

Taking up pen and paper, Jillian began to write.

Mother,

Life in Pintan is quite lovely. I've enjoyed my time at the Harvey
House and find that working with my hands brings a great deal of satisfaction.
I have made good friends, although they do not know my true
identity. Please do not worry about me, and please do not try to arrange
for me a husband. I am content to wait for love. In fact, I've met a
wonderful man here in Pintan. He is handsome and quite civilized and
charming. He is a doctor, and while I know you consider that to be
beneath our social standing, he is quite wonderful. I have no interest in
your earl, in light of my fascination with this man. I hope you will
understand and let my heart judge who is best for me
.

She stared at the words for a moment, rather surprised at her boldness in expressing her feelings for Mac on paper. He
was
handsome and charming—not that she figured him to be anything more than a friend. In a few months she wouldn't even be here, and Mac would forget all about her and the deception she'd made him a part of.

Jillian reread the words and thought perhaps she should throw the letter away and start over. But a quick glance at the clock made her realize there simply wasn't time. If she was to get a letter back to her mother in time to dissuade her from further matchmaking, Jillian would have to hurry. She jotted a few more tidbits of information regarding her life in Pintan, then signed her name and blew on the ink to dry it more quickly. With any luck at all, this letter would put her mother in her place and force an end to the constant parade of suitors she had in mind for her daughter.

Jillian felt a bit guilty for involving Mac. After all, he'd been very kind to her, and she hated for it to appear that she was using him. Maybe she should say something to him about it. She considered this, then cast aside the idea. It would be much too embarrassing to have

Mac know of what she'd written. He might even get the wrong impression.

A light knock on her room door brought Jillian's thoughts back to reality. She carefully folded the letter and slipped it inside the envelope before opening the door.

“Good morning, Judith,” Gwen said with a smile. “You have a visitor downstairs.”

“Oh,” Jillian replied, not quite knowing what to think. “Who is it?”

“Mrs. Barnes,” Gwen replied.

Jillian smiled and nodded. “I'll be right there.”

She took up her sunbonnet, something Judith had advised her to always wear when going outdoors, and the letter and made her way to the visitor's parlor. Mary sat waiting patiently, looking rather out of place in the artfully decorated room. Mr. Harvey not only had expensive taste but very particular taste, and the heavily polished English furnishings seemed rather misplaced in Pintan, Arizona.

“It's good to see you again,” Jillian announced, coming into the room.

“Mac mentioned it was your day off,” Mary replied, getting to her feet. “I thought maybe you'd be free to help me.”

“With what?” Judith questioned, surprised that Mac knew her schedule so intimately.

“I'm taking a load of things to the Indian village. I'll also be bringing a load back. Little Sister is too far along to help me, and I'd like to get back to my place before dark so that she won't have to be alone all night. If we really push, we can make it.”

Jillian felt a surge of fear at the idea of being out there among the Indian villages, but she shoved her emotions aside and nodded. What would Mary think if she refused to offer her a helping hand? “I'd be happy to help you. Just let me give Mr. Capper this letter to post.” She paused as a thought ran through her mind. “Am I dressed appropriately?”

Mary's chuckle assured Jillian that such matters were probably not of great concern. “You look fine. Just make sure your boots are good for walkin' and your bonnet wide enough to keep the sun off your face.”

Jillian nodded. “I had dressed in just such a manner. I suppose it was Divine Providence.”

“God knew I'd need you,” Mary said, then winked conspiratorially. “And God knew I'd be in a hurry as usual, so He readied you before I got here.”

“I'm sure you're right,” Jillian replied, though she wasn't all that certain. Mary talked about such things in the same way that Grandmother Danvers had always talked of her superstitions and omens. Was there really much difference just because Mary determined that hers came from God instead of stories handed down from family lore?

After leaving her letter to be posted and explaining to Mr. Capper where she was off to, Jillian climbed up into Mary's ancient wagon. Appearing more solid than she had expected, Jillian took a seat on the well-worn bench and waited for Mary to join her. Clarence and Dobbin hardly seemed concerned at Jillian's added weight as Mary flicked the reins. They moved out in a sluggish sort of disinterest that Jillian was sure must be their normal attitude toward the task.

“I was hoping to see more of the countryside,” Jillian told Mary as she tied her bonnet securely.

“That mule expedition didn't show you enough, eh?” Mary questioned. Jillian hated carrying on this deception. She had come to think of Mary as a friend, and maintaining her identity as Judith was causing her to lie to many people she had come to care about. Shifting uncomfortably, Jillian tried to think of something to say.

“I suppose seeing a bit of the landscape has only encouraged me to view more.”
There,
Jillian thought,
that wasn't a lie.
She had been fascinated by her views from the train. Mile after mile of sage and tumbleweed, arid rocky mountains, and rugged pinon pine had drawn her attention all the way from Kansas City.

The Arizona landscape spread out before Jillian in a bevy of colors. Red and yellow sandstone rock, wild scrub, and tamarisk trees dotted the vast open expanses. At first it appeared quite desolate and lifeless, but as Jillian looked closer, she found much evidence to prove her initial conclusion wrong. Rabbits, mice, lizards, and snakes could be seen moving among the rocks and sage, and wild flowers were growing in abundance wherever the sandy dirt would allow growth.

“This is lovely,” Jillian stated as Mary urged the mules forward.

“It is, isn't it? Takes a special eye to appreciate it, though,” Mary replied. “Some folks just see the wasteland.”

“Kind of like some folks just see the color of someone else's skin?” Jillian didn't know why she was compelled to bring up that subject, but it seemed appropriate, given their destination.

Mary nodded. “Just the same. Only the land doesn't get its feelings hurt if you say that it's ugly and useless.”

“Tell me about the Navajo, Mary. How do they live, and what do they do with their lives?”

Mary laughed in a loud, guffawing way. Not at all the ladylike, almost lyrical laugh that Jillian had been taught as acceptable.

“Oh, girly, that's a loaded basket of apples. The Navajo are a fascinating people. They have many hidden talents and abilities, just like anyone else. You've seen their baskets and blankets, haven't you?”

“Yes, they're beautiful. How do they make those blankets? The patterns are so intricate.”

“They weave them on looms. Have you never seen someone weave?”

“Never,” Jillian had to admit.

“They claim to have been taught by Spider Woman.”

Jillian frowned. “Spider Woman?”

Mary chuckled and gave a clucking sound to the mules. They picked up the pace as Mary continued. “Sounds a little strange, I know. Spider Woman's husband, Spider Man, constructed the first weaving loom from the cross poles of sky and earth cords—or so they say. Spider Woman taught the
Dine
, as the Navajo call themselves, the art of weaving on a loom. Spider Woman is quite important to them. She is very revered and honored. Some of the mothers even warn their children that if they won't be good, Spider Woman will come down on her webbed ladder and take them away to eat them.”

“How awful,” Jillian said, shuddering. “I can't imagine living with that kind of threat over me. Don't they worry about giving their children bad dreams?” She thought of her grandmother's threats and omens and knew the depth of fear a person could sustain when exposed to such stories.

“It's a hard life out here. You have to motivate the children in order to keep them safe. There are so many dangers.”

“I can tell that much is true,” Jillian replied. “Until coming here, I certainly never had to beat my clothing to make sure it was free from varmints. Still, I know what it is to live in fear that something bad might happen.” Mary looked at her strangely, and Jillian couldn't help but elaborate—just a bit. “My grandmother held to superstitions all her life. She used to terrify me, particularly about death. I suppose she thought she was keeping me in line, but I found it cruel. I still do. I'm sorry if the Navajo think it necessary to train their children with such stories.”

“The Navajo have a good system,” Mary said, turning her gaze back to the mules. “Their children are their assurance of the circle of life continuin'. They wouldn't risk them by not teachin' 'em the hazards of life out here. It ain't like livin' in the city, where things are pretty much labeled for you. The Navajo have cultivated the earth, and in spite of the barren appearance of the land, they have found ways to grow crops and tend sheep. They get their wool for weaving from their own flocks. They are a very efficient people.”

“But what kind of beliefs do they have? You said they revered this Spider Woman. Do they have other gods?” Jillian questioned, noting that there was now no sign of Pintan or civilization. How in the world did Mary stand traveling out here all alone?

“They have their Holy Ones, as they call them. But ultimately, they believe there is power and energy in everything. They believe the land itself is partly where they get their power for healing and life. They hold special regard for the four directions and believe they have bearing on their lives. The East is the place of dawn, which is their thinkin' direction. The South is a plannin' direction. The West is where they do their livin', so it's their life direction. And finally, the North is a place for evaluatin'. They find their satisfaction here and determine what changes they can make to improve their lives.”