Morning Sky (3 page)

“I believe my clothing is quite acceptable most anyplace, though after seeing the attire you ladies wear, I’ll admit I am a bit overdressed.”

“Um-hum,” Miss Hattie confirmed.

Jarena watched the scene unfold with curiosity. Both Miss Hattie and Aunt Lilly were strong women, she knew that much, yet they were opposites—like spring rain and summer drought.

Jarena flashed a look of caution toward her aunt. “Before you arrived, Miss Hattie, Aunt Lilly mentioned she knew that she needed to change into more suitable attire. And she’s already planning to help with the household chores.”

“So you done seen the error of yer ways,” she said, her features beginning to relax, “and you come out here to begin a new life—that the way of things?”

After a long moment of hesitation during which Jarena fidgeted nervously, Aunt Lilly said, “Something akin to that, yes. At least that’s my plan for now.”

Miss Hattie bobbed her head up and down. “Then there ain’t no time like the present to begin learnin’ ’bout your new life. Get outta them clothes and come on outside when you’s changed. I’s gonna make a special effort to teach you all we’s learned about survivin’ out here on the prairie. That way Jarena won’t be slowed down teachin’ you while she’s tryin’ to keep up with her chores. Come on, Jarena. Reckon we got us beans that need snappin’ and clothes to be folded.”

The older woman used the heavy wooden table for leverage as she lifted her body from the narrow chair. “I know your pappy made these chairs hisself, but they is the most uncomfortable thing I ever set on.”

Lilly bent over her trunk and unlatched the metal hasp. “A woman should always take care with her appearance. After all, it’s beauty that provides us our greatest advantage.”

“Hmmph! Men is more interested in fine vittles than that fancy-smelling perfume you’s wearing,” Miss Hattie retorted.

“You can go on believing that nonsense about a man and his stomach, but I know better,” Aunt Lilly replied.

Jarena looked back and forth between the two women as the sparring began again. Life was going to be interesting with Lilly Verdue around!

CHAPTER
2

New York City
•
June 1880

M
acia Boyle carefully straightened her shoulders, arched her neck, and thrust her chin forward. Her hands were properly folded in her lap as she concentrated upon Mrs. Wendall Rutledge, matron of the Rutledge Academy of Arts and Languages—a school of distinction for young ladies. At least that’s what the advertisement on page twenty-two of
The Ladies’ Treasury
boasted. Macia now rued the day she had handed the magazine to her mother. She’d purchased the publication to help her mother while away a few hours. Instead, Macia’s mother had planned for her daughter a summer filled with French lessons and social gatherings at Rutledge Academy. Macia had voiced her disagreement with the plan, but the entire matter had culminated in Macia’s enrollment.

As a result, Macia now found herself sitting across a highly polished desk facing an austere Mrs. Rutledge. Wisely, the advertisement had depicted the academy rather than the beak-nosed woman with a tight knot of hair perched atop her head.

A sheaf of papers sat neatly stacked in the center of the broad desk.

Mrs. Rutledge tapped the pages with her bony index finger. “I see you’ve been teaching school out on the prairie for the past couple of years, Miss Boyle.” Her eyebrows crinkled into two question marks.

“That’s correct.”

Mrs. Rutledge pursed her thin lips into a pout. “I can only assume you’ve found your abilities lacking since you’ve come to us for further education.”

The muscles tightened in Macia’s shoulders. “Actually, I believe my teaching skills are exceptional. I am attending your academy at my mother’s insistence.”

“Yes. Her letter conveyed a hope that you will expand your horizons and perhaps find a young man who is your equal in society. She also mentioned that you’d been considering marriage to a blacksmith. Disheartening! And it is most distressing that your father forced his family to leave a lovely home and move to uncivilized country. It’s difficult to imagine a man of education and wealth behaving in such a foolhardy fashion.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Macia adamantly defended her father’s decision to move west. And although Jeb Malone hadn’t yet requested her hand in marriage, she also defended her right to marry him. Ironic, since she had so vigorously argued against the move to Kansas and had turned up her nose at the likes of Jeb Malone only a few years earlier.

Perhaps it was Mrs. Rutledge’s condescending attitude that only the uneducated or poor would consider living west of the Mississippi that forced the angry rebuttal—or the judgmental woman’s pitying look. But no matter the reason, Macia argued with a vengeance that surprised even her.

Mrs. Rutledge tilted her head to the side. “Based upon your spirited defense, I can only assume your father has converted you to his school of thought on this particular topic.”

Macia pulled a handkerchief from her tapestry bag and twisted the lacy square between her sweating palms. “Then you will be surprised to learn that my parents concurred in their decision regarding my attendance at your school, Mrs. Rutledge.”

The woman beckoned toward the two gentlemen who stood near the doorway. “Do come in and meet Miss Boyle.”

The two men drew near and patiently waited while Mrs. Rutledge introduced them as her husband, Wendall, and a distant cousin, Marvin Laird. Mrs. Rutledge pointed at the paperwork on her desk. Rising from the chair, she requested her cousin complete the tedious duty.

Mr. and Mrs. Rutledge moved to the chairs on either side of Macia while Mr. Laird circled behind the desk. While he shuffled through the papers, the couple turned their full attention upon Macia. Their questions flowed like a swollen brook after a spring rain and Macia shifted back and forth as she attempted to keep pace. Their ongoing inquiry continued while Mr. Laird shoved several printed pages across the desk and held them in position with his open palm. He lifted the top page and tapped the nib of his pen along a blank line at the bottom, requesting Macia’s signature.

Macia gingerly tugged on one corner of the page. When Mr. Laird didn’t immediately release the documents, she curtly informed him she’d sign once she’d had opportunity to review the papers.

Mr. Laird sighed wearily as he slid his hand away from the sheaf of papers. “Merely a formality stating that you plan to remain with us throughout the summer months.”

The cover page was emblazoned with the name and address of Rut-ledge Academy, and Macia’s name had been inscribed in the middle of the sheet in a delicate script. Before commencing her review of the form, Macia informed Mr. Laird that she thought her father had completed the school’s required paperwork long ago.

Mrs. Rutledge scooted to the edge of her chair. “In my haste to send the information to your father, I failed to enclose a few of the documents.” The older woman’s voice quivered as she spoke. “I fear I’ve become somewhat forgetful in my old age.”

As Macia scanned the document, Mrs. Rutledge began to sniffle.

Moments later, the woman’s husband bent forward and peeked over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses with a look of concern in his eyes.

“You’re not old, my dear. I specifically recall you were in a hurry the day you posted the letter to Dr. Boyle. Purely an oversight. Happens to all of us from time to time.”

Macia didn’t miss the gentle plea in the older man’s voice. Tears had begun to pool in his wife’s eyes. Perhaps she suffered from bouts of dementia and her husband was attempting to protect her. If so, Macia understood. After all, hadn’t her family spent the past several years attempting to protect her mother during recurring bouts of illness?

Mr. Rutledge handed his wife a handkerchief. The older woman began to dab her eyes while Macia attempted to console her. She’d given the paperwork a cursory review. No need to have Mrs. Rutledge reduced to tears over such an insignificant matter. If signing the documents without a fuss would allay the woman’s concerns, so be it. Taking pen in hand, Macia hastily signed where Mr. Laird indicated and shoved the papers back across the desk.

Mr. Laird tapped the pages into a neat stack. “Do you anticipate your parents or other family members might visit while you’re in New York, Miss Boyle?”

She shook her head. “No. My mother suffers from poor health. The journey would prove difficult for her—especially when I’ll be here only twelve weeks.”

“And your brothers? Your application indicates you have two older brothers.”

“Yes. Carlisle and Harvey. However, Carlisle serves with the army and is now stationed in Virginia. Harvey is currently traveling abroad.”

Mr. Laird removed his glasses and tucked them into his jacket pocket. “A shame. We encourage families to visit the school in order to observe the fine educational opportunities offered their children. Of course, few are able to do so—particularly those who send their daughters from great distances.”

Seemingly recovered from her bout of tears, Mrs. Rutledge picked up a small brass bell perched on the corner of her desk. “We serve tea at three o’clock.” She jingled the bell, and the young Negro servant who had met Macia at the train station hastened to the doorway. “Silas will assist you with your baggage and see you to your room.”

Macia had obviously been dismissed, for when she inquired if any of the other students had arrived, Mrs. Rutledge ignored her question and once again declared that tea would be served in the drawing room at three o’clock. Macia shrugged. Clearly, Mrs. Rutledge was once again in control. The woman was a complete mystery, with her moods changing as rapidly as the prairie wind.

When they arrived in the upper foyer, Silas led her midway down a hall. He stopped outside one of the rooms and nodded. “This here’s your room, ma’am.”

Macia turned the knob and pushed open the door. The room was smaller than she had anticipated, though well appointed and nicely arranged. Without a word, Silas placed her bags inside and then hurried back down the stairs. A short time later, he returned with her remaining trunk. After thanking Silas, Macia inquired how long he’d been working for the Rutledges.

The young man inched toward the door as he muttered a response.

Macia could barely hear what he’d said. “Five years? Then you must enjoy working for the school. Have the other students arrived?”

“Ain’t seen no one else, but that don’t mean nothin’. Folks come and go ’round here all the time. Mr. Rutledge says I’m s’posed to go to the train station again this afternoon.”

“Do you live here at the school?”

He took another step toward the door, his fear palpable. “I got a room in the carriage house at the back of the property. I gots to go, miss. I ain’t supposed to visit with the students. Mrs. Rutledge don’t allow that.” Before Macia could question him further, he was out of the room and heading down the hallway.

Macia stared at the closed door and wondered why the employee of a girls’ school would harbor such obvious fear.
Strange!

She pushed thoughts of Silas and his fears aside. She eyed her trunks and fleetingly longed for Truth Harban’s assistance with the daunting task of unpacking. Her journey had been tiresome, and the bed was inviting. Nonetheless, Mrs. Rutledge would likely consider her an uncivilized westerner if she didn’t immediately unpack her baggage and prepare for tea. Though her mother and Truth would have taken more time with the process, Macia quickly yanked the dresses, shirtwaists, skirts, and nightgowns from her luggage and hung them in the wardrobe or shoved them into the wooden chest of drawers. She hoped Mrs. Rutledge wouldn’t perform a neatness inspection, for she would surely fail. The bell rang for tea as she slipped the last of her sewing supplies and handkerchiefs into a drawer. Taking only a moment to peek into the mirror and pat her hair into place, Macia hurried out the door and down the stairs. She hoped she could elicit some information about the other students and the school’s schedule during tea.

Though Macia was the only guest, Mrs. Rutledge presided over the afternoon tea as though overseeing an event of grand proportion. Her mood had greatly improved, and she insisted Macia drink several cups of the acidic brew. Macia had barely finished her final cup of tea when Silas entered with several young ladies in tow. Macia stared in astonishment when Mrs. Rutledge immediately rang for the young maid and ordered the tea cart removed.

Remembering her weary journey, Macia motioned for the servant to leave the cart. “I thought the arriving students might find a cup of tea refreshing after their travels.”

Mrs. Rutledge frowned at Macia and the servant. “
I
said to remove the tea.”

The maid scurried to collect the cart, and Mrs. Rutledge turned to greet the new arrivals. Her icy gaze instantaneously thawed and radiated warmth as she began introductions. The woman was completely unpredictable. If she truly suffered from a mental condition, should she be operating a school for young ladies? Yet she did have the assistance of her husband and cousin and the school’s instructors. . . .

One by one, each girl was escorted into the office while Macia remained in the parlor and visited with those awaiting their turn.

Amanda, Lucy, and Rennie were from Massachusetts, while Janet and Inez had traveled from Maryland. Not one of them was pleased to be spending the summer at boarding school.

Inez plopped down on the settee beside Macia. “When Mother inquired if I would like to spend the summer in New York, this is
not
what I thought she had in mind. I was planning a summer of un-chaperoned pleasure. Instead, I have twelve weeks of French lessons and Mrs. Rutledge’s prying questions.”

Rennie giggled. “She
is
rather meddlesome, isn’t she? All three of them, for that matter.”

Amanda nodded. “They wanted to know if my parents would be visiting me this summer. I laughed. My parents use their precious time to travel here and visit me for a few hours? They would find the idea ludicrous. Besides, they’ve already sailed for Europe.”