Catch Me If You Can (22 page)

A sudden fury, a rage at injustice gripped her, and she stood up and went to the door of the cell, banging her fist against the wall and clanking the door. “I’ll get them to listen. I’ll tell them you saved me, we’ll explain.” 

The two young men watched her quietly and she leaned her forehead against the cold metal bars, unable to look back at them again.

The sheriff appeared. She stepped away.

“Okay, Ma’am, quiet down.” He looked at her, frowning. “Perhaps we’d better sort this out. Come on, into my office.”

She went through the door, glancing back at the two in the cell, their outlines already becoming a blur in her fogged mind. The sheriff took her into another room and informed her he wanted to talk to the other two first. Had it been a trick to quiet her? It was a relief to sit down though. She all but fell into a large worn armchair and rested her head against its frayed wing. Her right wrist ached and around the ragged bandages her forearms was sore and inflamed. With a deep and frustrated sigh she shut her eyes.

“All right, Ma’am, you are free to go.” The voice issued from somewhere, somewhere far away.

Eleanor opened her eyes. The sheriff stood close by holding her saddlebag. She’d forgotten all about it in the confusion, yet the sight of it brought some comfort to her.
The other men must have brought their things afterwards
, she thought.

As she stood she reached out instinctively. “I want you to know, they saved me from a man who meant to do me harm.”

“I know that, Ma’am. They told me all about it. You are free to go now.” 

She looked at his face. He seemed a kindly man. “What about them?” she asked. “Will they get a fair trial?” 

“It’ll be up to the judge. I can’t say.”

It was frustrating to be helpless and unable to take action. “Perhaps it will go in their favor, that they helped me?”

He smiled at her kindly. “Perhaps it will. I’ll do all I can to help them.” 

Encouraged somewhat by this, Eleanor nodded vaguely, holding the saddlebag tight against her for comfort.

He reached a hand to her shoulder and led her from the room. She followed, her concentration taken by the effort of walking. Her head ached and she was hot and nauseous. The sheriff shook her hand and she nodded without speaking. She walked slowly into the street, unaware of what she was doing, or where she was going. After walking for some time, dragging her heavy limbs along, her hand found a railing to hold and she leaned over it, her stomach retching. Sweat trickled down her neck and she tried to straighten up, her hand wiping her face, the bandages trailing in front of her eyes. Her vision blurred then everything went black as her body fell from under her.

Chapter Eighteen

The Lady in Waiting

Eleanor awoke in a narrow room, barely wide enough for the slim bed and a small table, upon which stood a glass of water. A tall window filled the room with the hazy sunlight of late afternoon. Her wrists were neatly bandaged and she wore a white cotton nightdress, not her own. In the corner of the room her saddlebag had been propped up against the wall. A relieved sigh escaped her at the familiar sight of it.

Where am I?

The bed, although narrow, was soft and her eyelids lowered again. A distant sound drew her attention. The door opened and a girl came into the room. Seeing Eleanor awake, she smiled, and came over to her quickly.

“Hello,” she said. “You sure are looking better today. I’ll call Mama.”  She placed a cup on the table and left. A few moments later a buxom blonde woman came in, her brightly colored evening gown rustling loudly as she walked. She sat on the edge of the bed and squinted down at Eleanor.

“Hello, Sweetie, it sure is good to see you awake.” Her voice was friendly and she spoke to Eleanor as if she’d known her forever.

“Where am I?” Eleanor croaked.

“Bell’s place. I’m Bella, and that’s my little girl, Clare, mind you, she ain’t little anymore.” 

The girl preened at the comment, cocking her head from side to side, pleased to be considered grown up.

Eleanor battled her confusion. “What happened to me?”

“You got yourself a nasty fever, an infection, the doctor said, from those wounds on your arms.”  She paused. “The Nelson boys didn’t do that to you, did they?” 

After a moment Eleanor realized that she must mean Kevin and Leo. “No.”

The woman smiled gently. “I didn’t think so.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Over a week now, honey. The doctor came over from Fort Bridger twice. I made sure of that, even if it is a long ride for him.” She winked, chuckling. “Clare’s been looking after you, she’s a good girl.” 

Eleanor frowned, trying to remember how she’d got there. “Did you take me in?”

Bella nodded. “We got all sorts of strays here. I don’t turn another woman away if she needs help.” She smiled. “Anyways, I got to get back to work. Clare will get anything you need, you keep resting. The doctor said it would be some time before you’re fit again.” She patted Eleanor on the arm and with a flurry of rustling taffeta, left the room.

Clare moved into her mother’s place on the edge of the bed, and offered Eleanor the glass of water. With difficulty, she sat up and took it. The water was cold and fresh. She thanked the girl and slipped back against the pillows, the effort draining her.

“What happened to Kevin and Leo?” 

The girl adopted a conspiratorial tone. “Everyone says they killed one of the judge’s men.” Her large brown eyes went into even bigger circles at the idea of it.

“Why?”  

“I heard Mama talking to May the other day and she reckons there’s something odd going on behind it all, a lot of people moved away from the land to the east of Clearwater Creek recently.” 

“Is that where this place is?” She tried to remember the name from her memory of the map.

“Yes, that’s where you are,  the Nelson farm was about five miles out to the east. The judge has been buying all the land out that way. Mama said she don’t know why, but there must be a good reason. Mrs. Nelson didn’t want to leave and there was a fight, or something.” She shrugged, as if the mystery of it all was beyond her.

Eleanor went back through it silently remembering what had been said.

Clare leaned forward again. “They hanged the older one for it.”

It had come to pass.
Kevin is dead.
The young man who’d saved her, like her father, had gone, and it etched another cavern of grief into her soul. Pain lodged inside her and took root. Eventually, she managed to whisper a response. “And Leo?”

The girl frowned. “I think they sent him off somewhere, to jail or to work somewhere.” 

Eleanor closed her eyes.

“I’ll leave you to get some more sleep now,” the girl said and closed the door quietly on her way out.

Eleanor rolled to one side and pressed her face into the pillow, but it was a long while before she slept peacefully again

* * *

The doctor removed the bandages and squinted as he examined her. He was a mild-mannered man with bushy eyebrows, a graying-moustache and a friendly twinkle in his eyes. He reminded Eleanor of Lord Brooks. The odd likeness made her smile.

The doctor returned her smile. “Nicely healed, young lady. We can leave the bandages off now. You’ve been lucky, it was a nasty infection. You’re a strong fighter.” 

There was a pale bruise on the skin of the right forearm, and a small scar. The left wrist looked well enough.

“Another couple of weeks and you’ll be ready to go on home.” Leaning down, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “You’ll be glad to be out of this place. The local whorehouse in a little town like Clearwater Creek is no place for a nice young lady such as you. If I’m not mistaken, your accent places you from the East Coast someplace.”  He stroked his moustache briefly, as if pleased at his own guesswork.

“Further east. England.” Eleanor laughed softly, so unlikely was the conversation.
A whorehouse?
Of course, she’d gathered as much, but to witness it said aloud was quite another matter.

The doctor’s bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. “England? You do have family somewhere here, don’t you, dear?” 

She nodded, thinking about what he’d said. Yes, she had family, loved ones, people who would be worrying about where she was.

He smiled again, relieved.

“In fact, when you get back to...Fort Bridger?”

The doctor nodded.

“Could you please send a telegraph for me?”

“Yes, my dear, of course I can.” He passed her a pad of paper and a pen from his medical case, and Eleanor scrawled a message for Frieda and Rivers. It took some effort to write, but she wanted to let them know she was safe.

The doctor read over her words, checked the address and tucked the piece of paper into the top pocket of his jacket. “Good, good,” he said, reassured. He put on his hat, bade her good-bye and left.

Bella swept into the room a few minutes later. It was after noon, but she was obviously not long awake. She was wearing a pink robe with lots of frothy lace around its neckline. Her yellow-blonde hair fell down around her shoulders in loose coils, and her clean washed face showed Eleanor that she was a lot older than she’d originally thought, probably in her fifties.

“Now, if you’re feeling up to it, how about a nice bath?”

“That would be lovely, Bella, thank you.” She shifted stiffly.

With some help she got up and stood on wobbly legs. Bella helped her and led her along the darkened corridor outside her little room, down to a fancy, ornately decorated room, with a bathtub in the center of the room, all filled with water and ready. Eleanor eyed the tub and with Bella’s help slipped off her nightgown, then sank into it. Bella left her alone to enjoy the treat and Eleanor soaked a while then washed. If only cleansing the mind of unwanted memories could be as easily done.

“I got another treat for you, Sweetie, if you are still feeling strong enough?” Bella said when she was dressed in a robe.

“Please, call me Eleanor.” 

Bella went to the door and called out. “Clare, can you ask Fern to come up here when she can?” Then she said to Eleanor, “Fern does massaging, Sweetie, Eleanor. You know, like they do in Europe?” Eleanor didn’t know what she meant, but Bella carried on as if she surely must, being from England and all. “Well, she can stroke your body back to life, I bet. You’ll soon be feeling better.” 

Eleanor looked with curiosity at the woman when she entered the room, for Fern was an Indian woman. She was tall and striking in looks, her blue-black hair tied at the back of her neck. Her face was strong and attractive, with wide bold cheekbones and eyes that reflected light in their darkness.

“Can you give Eleanor one of your nice body squeezes, Fern?” Bella spoke over the edge of her teacup. The other woman nodded.

“Fern don’t say much,” Bella said. “She was a stray, like you, she stayed with us for a time and made this her home now.”  Eleanor looked at the woman again, realized she was waiting for her to make a move. She stood.

Fern led her down a big staircase. It was surrounded at the top by a large ornate wooden screen, intricately carved. It closed off the upstairs from the downstairs, where she assumed the customers came in.

The stairs went down into a hallway and to one side Eleanor saw a series of small brass bells, under which plaques were mounted. The names Susie, May, Pearl and Bella, engraved on the small plaques. Fern led her to a room that had a long, low and wide couch in the center, and little else, other than a screen to one side. She stood by the couch and Fern removed her robe for her, hung it over the screen, then guided her to the table.

As she lay out face down, as directed, the woman stroked and kneaded her body, across her shoulder blades and up to her neck, pressing deep into the intricate mesh of bone and muscle there. Tension resisted Fern’s supple fingers, then quickly relinquished.

“That feels good,” Eleanor said over her shoulder, as her whole body eased.

The native woman beamed, her cheeks warming and nodded at Eleanor.

“Soon all this will be gone and you will be happy again,” Fern said. “I know it here.” She put her hand to her heart.

Eleanor could only hope it was true.

* * *

The atmosphere in the telegraph office was stifling – the air was dusty and dry. Rivers watched as the man tapped the message. The glint of the sun on the man’s glossy black visor drew his attention to the window, to the unexpected early spring sunshine outside.

They’d been riding for days. It was time to rest and refresh. He would go and wait for Frieda’s reply at the saloon opposite, then meet the others and find somewhere to stay for the night. As he waited for the man to finish transmitting the message, he looked out the window at the busy street of Salt Lake City. He watched the shifting crowds, hoping to catch sight of a face he knew, the face that occupied his mind and heart. His thoughts were far away when he realized the man was speaking to him again.

“You’ve got a reply coming back through straight away, Sir. It’s coming through now.” 

His heart missed a beat. If the reply was on its way already, it meant Frieda had set up a message with the local telegraph office, to be sent as soon as he made contact. She had news. Frieda must have heard from Eleanor.

He watched as the man scribbled the words out, his attention fastened.

ELEANOR SAFE. TELEGRAPH CAME FROM FORT BRIDGER.

TRY TO FIND HER THERE. ELEANOR THINKS YOU ARE HERE. FRIEDA.

At last
. Rivers breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe.

Something inside him buckled. Despair had begun to bite into him. They’d found no clues to her whereabouts since St. Joseph, weeks ago.

He paid the man and set off. As he exited the office he grinned to himself. She thought he was there, with Frieda. “I don’t give up on a challenge that easily, my love.”

In the early morning light of the next day the four riders left the city, sweeping up a dust storm behind them as they rode back toward Fort Bridger.

* * *

As the days passed Eleanor grew stronger.

The women of the house welcomed and protected her. When they all gathered together for a meal, she listened as the working girls of the house gossiped about the men who came to Bell’s place. May, Susie and Pearl sat like three different gemstones, sparkling together on a bracelet. Clare was her constant companion, and the young girl was pleased to chat away to her new friend, telling her about the people of Clearwater Creek and pointing out the men who came in to Bella’s place, through the fretwork screen on the landing.

“That’s Charles, he works in the bank,” Clare whispered one day. “Lots of the girls in the town flirt with him, but he doesn’t go with any of them. He comes here and the girls in the town they’re annoyed.”  A delighted giggle escaped her.

Eleanor peeped through the wooden screen at the figure below, letting Clare’s amusement and curiosity infect her. Her spirit was slowly healing.

As the winter truly turned to spring, Eleanor had settled into her routine.

Then, one day, as she stood pressed against the screen with Clare whispering at her side, Bella came along the corridor.

“Clare, I told you to go study today, how are we ever gone to make a lady of you, if you stand there gawking at folk all day? You go on over to the store, then I want to find you reading those books I bought for you.” 

Clare scuttled off with a sulky expression on her face.

“That girl is getting far too interested in what’s going on downstairs,” Bella said to Eleanor. “I’m going to have to start thinking about her future soon. She’ll be sixteen in a couple of month’s time, I don’t want her to spend her life here the way I have. She’d make a fine ladies’ maid, I reckon.” She shrugged, then flounced down the stairs into the hallway.