Refining Fire (12 page)

“Did you hear me?”

She startled. “What?”

Mr. Bowes laughed. “I said the kind of soup doesn't matter nearly as much as the company. I'm pleased to be here just for the honor of sharing a few words with you.”

“You are very kind, Mr. Bowes. But I did notice you've been absent for several weeks. Might I inquire as to the reason? You weren't ill, were you?”

He scowled. “No, not ill. Just wrongly accused.”

“Oh dear. What happened?”

Mr. Bowes shook his head. “The details aren't worth hearing for one so innocent as yourself. I was in the wrong place with the wrong people and got hauled off to the jail. I tried to explain that I had nothing to do with the dealings of the others, but the police wouldn't listen to me. It wasn't the first time this has happened to me.”

“The company we keep is often our downfall.” Abrianna had heard this from her aunts on more than one occasion. “We must be mindful of those people around us, lest we earn their reputation instead of being allowed to prove our own.”

“That's the truth of it, Miss Abrianna. But a poor man like me doesn't get a lot of choices. I sleep where I can, and others do the same. Weren't my desire to sleep with thieves. One day
I'll tell you a story about just such a mishap that kept me locked up for a very long time.”

“I will look forward to it—if a person can look forward to such a tale of woe.” She shook her head, wishing she could offer him more than a cup of soup. Goodness, but there were so many needs to be met. Maybe she could ask Kolbein and Lenore for additional money to open some sort of sleeping house. Then again, perhaps she could allow men to stay in the food house if they promised to leave come first light. She would have to discuss the idea with the others.

“Please do be careful, Mr. Bowes,” she admonished. “I, that is we, won't hold against you the wrongful arrest, but as I said, we are known for the company we keep. You should try to find another place to sleep.”

“And what does that say about you, Miss Abrianna? Are you known for the company of all these raggedy sailors and loggers? Men who haven't got a nickel to their name and have been down on their luck so long they don't remember what luck is?”

“Oh goodness, I hope so.” She beamed him a smile. “What better company could I hope to be associated with? These men are God's children, and they are honorable and kind. I know they have issues and problems that cause sinful natures to rear up. Some of them fight and some speak in abominable ways, but they refrain when around me. I believe I am a good influence.”

“I believe you are, too.” He winked. “I know you are for me. You do this old heart of mine more good than you know. Just be careful who you go trustin'.”

“I needn't be careful. My trust is in God alone. He has never let me down, and He never will.”

The food house closed at one o'clock for cleaning. Thane decided the best thing for him to do was to dry dishes, since
Militine had settled herself at the great sudsy pot of water. As they worked at washing and drying the food-house dishes, it was obvious she was troubled by something. Thane determined he would put her at ease by sharing something about his past. Something harmless. Something perhaps lighthearted. But nothing came to mind. His past was not exactly laden with lighthearted moments.

Wade and Abrianna were arguing at the front of the building over something to do with turning the food house into a hotel.

“I don't know why Wade argues with her,” Thane began, hoping he could coerce Militine into a conversation. “Abrianna never listens to him, and she always gets her own way.”

“I suppose he keeps hoping that one of these days things will change.”

“I suppose you're right. I heard Abrianna mention getting some cats at the school. Do you like cats?”

Militine nodded and handed him a large platter. “I do. I had several when I was young. They were really rather wild little things, but they seemed to like me well enough to visit from time to time.”

“I had two dogs. They were big and obnoxious. Their names were Rusty and Roper, and they were given to us when they were just pups. No one had any idea they would grow to be the size of ponies.” He paused to note if she was listening.

A small laugh gave him all the encouragement he needed.

“I wasn't all that big. In fact, I was rather small for my age. When I'd come outside, they used to come running at me and would knock me on my backside every time. If I tried to run from them, that just made it all the worse.”

“I suppose when you got older, they didn't do that.”

He frowned. “I don't know. I left home when I was pretty young.”

“Truly?” She passed a glass bowl and actually made eye contact. “How young?”

Should he tell her the truth? What if that just led to more questions? Thane squared his shoulders and dried the bowl. If he opened up to her, at least in part, perhaps Militine would know it was safe to tell her tale, as well.

“I was thirteen.”

For several minutes neither one said anything. Militine passed additional bowls, and Thane dried them, but all the while he hoped he'd not ruined his only chance to draw her out. Finally she paused in her task.

“Thirteen is awfully young. You must have been scared.”

“I was,” he admitted. He wanted to shout for joy that she hadn't been afraid to share his secret. “I don't tell many people, but I feel like you and I are good enough friends that we can trust each other.”

To his surprise Militine nodded. “I feel that way, too. I know you care and won't betray my trust. That's something I can't say about any other man.”

“Just men?”

“Well, my experience with women has been quite different. My mother was a gentle woman I could trust with my deepest secrets. But she's gone now.”

“My mother died just a few weeks after my thirteenth birthday,” he told her.

“Was she ill?”

Once again he was on the horns of a dilemma. Did he tell her the truth and risk her rejection? Something inside him suggested that only by baring his soul could their relationship grow. Was that God's prodding? Wade was always saying that God's Spirit would nudge him on all sorts of matters. Was God's Spirit nudging him to be honest with Militine?”

“She wasn't ill,” he finally said. He nearly dropped the slippery bowl she handed him. “She was murdered.”

“What are you two whispering about back here?” Wade's voice made Militine jump. He came to stand beside her, shaking his head all the while. “I've been listening to Abrianna ranting and raving about finding beds for those without, and you two seem to be all private and cozy.” He paused. “Should I come back at a better time?”

Militine cast Thane a sidewise glance and shook her head. “No. I was just thinking on the fact that the April reception at the school is next Saturday. I hate them, you know.”

Wade laughed. “No. I hadn't heard.”

“Well, I do.” She turned back to the pot and began washing the silverware. “I have been desperate to figure some way out of having to attend.”

“And I have come up with the perfect solution.” Thane put the wet dish towel aside to dry and took up a fresh one. “I plan to ask Mrs. Madison if I might escort Militine to Denny Park. There's to be picnicking and a concert. It's to start late in the afternoon and run into the evening.”

“I had heard there was to be a band concert, if it doesn't rain, of course. Sounds like fun.”

“Well, perhaps you can come along, Wade. Abrianna too. We can catch the streetcar and take a picnic lunch. That is, if Militine will pack us one.” He winked.

Wade nodded. “That does sound good. I'm almost sure Abrianna would like to go. Mrs. Madison wouldn't object to the four of us acting as chaperones for each other. I'll ask her about it.” He walked off in the direction of where Abrianna was still wiping down tables.

For several long moments Thane said nothing. He wasn't at all sure what to say. He didn't want to refocus the conversation
on the death of his mother, but he wanted Militine to know his gratitude. “Thank you for saying nothing to Wade.”

She smiled. “Thank you for getting me out of the reception. At least I hope you meant what you said.”

He returned the smile. “I did. I kind of like the idea of asking Mrs. Madison for an afternoon and evening in your company.” He could look at her smile for the rest of his life. If only she'd let him in.

“So long as she doesn't try to force you into a formal courtship.”

“And what would be wrong with that?”

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at his comment.

Thane laughed. “Don't look so surprised. You have to know I enjoy your company. I like the idea of courting you.”

W
hatever happened to that old trunk of costumes we used for the patriot celebration we had in 1885?” Mrs. Madison asked her niece. “It's already April, and we need to gather everything we'll need for the ball's decorations.”

Militine looked to Abrianna, who appeared to be considering the matter in her diligent manner. If anyone knew where that trunk was, it would be Abrianna.

“I believe . . . yes, I'm almost certain we stored those costumes in the basement at the Madison Building. You don't suppose we forgot to bring them in the move?”

“Oh dear,” Miss Poisie declared. “I would hate to think of our belongings lying to waste in Mr. Welby's care. I'm sure he couldn't possibly be bothered by such things.” She stroked a long-haired calico she'd named Miss Muffy. The cat seemed most content on the older woman's lap.

Militine waited for someone to suggest the trunk could be retrieved. It was only a moment before Abrianna offered to do just that. The girl was always willing to brave the unknown for whatever she wanted.

But I've done likewise. I left
the known for the unknown by coming here. And look
at me now. I'm safe and relatively
happy
. She frowned. She hadn't thought of herself being happy before this moment.

“I believe we could make a side trip there on the way home from the food house.” Abrianna reached down to pick up a gray cat whose black mustache had prompted Miss Poisie to name him Mr. Masterson. Militine thought it very interesting that Miss Poisie did so based on memories of a newspaper article about Bat Masterson. Miss Poisie told her that since Mr. Masterson too sported a black mustache and had killed several men, perhaps such a name would lend itself to encourage the tomcat to do likewise with mice.

“Militine?” Hearing her name pulled Militine out of her reverie.

“Oh yes. I'm sure a side trip would be possible.”

Abrianna stroked the happy cat. “I'll just ask Wade to drive us there. He has his own wagon now. I think he tired of having to borrow one to take us and our food stock to the wharf. It's not all that big, but it should suffice for the trunk.”

“If he agrees to go with you and Militine, I won't object,” Mrs. Madison replied. “I would very much like to have those costumes returned. After all, with our bridal ball theme to be patriotic, it would be a waste of money to create new ones if the old will suffice.”

Delight shone on Abrianna's face. Militine couldn't help but wonder if they were getting themselves into yet another of Abrianna's messes.

“Wade will be here to pick us up in fifteen minutes. I'll let him know of our need on the way to the food house.”

“I have heard good things about your work there, Abrianna.” Mrs. Madison rose from her chair. Her action startled Mr. Masterson, and he leapt to the ground and scurried from the room. In his place, the final of three cats Miss Poisie had secured sauntered into the room and rubbed up against Mrs.
Madison's skirts. “Go on now, Buddy, I must work.” The cat seemed unconcerned and continued to show her affection until Mrs. Madison bent down to scratch him behind the ears. Buddy had received his name from Mrs. Gibson, who, upon inspecting the gray tiger-striped cat, decided he would make a most congenial buddy.

With the cat satisfied by Mrs. Madison's attention, the old woman straightened. “As I was saying, I've heard good things about your work at the food house.” She moved to a pile of mending that awaited attention. She chose a piece and returned to her seat. “Mrs. Bryant told me that her ladies' aid group was quite pleased by what you had accomplished. I believe they plan to send some small donation your way.”

“That would be wonderful. I've had talks with several of the nearby businesses and have managed to get pledges for monthly help in the form of goods. I've been trying to talk the merchants out of blankets, as well. It would seem that so many of those penniless men have no decent place to rest, much less a blanket.

“In fact, I was hoping perhaps we might consider donating some of our older blankets to the cause,” Abrianna said, looking at Mrs. Madison with an expression of innocent hope. “If only you knew how they suffer, Aunt Miriam. Those poor men are left exposed to the elements. Some even sleep on the ground, in the alleyways, or wherever they can go unnoticed. I told Wade I thought we should consider setting up cots at the food house. It's dry, at least, and they could stay there at night and leave come first light.”

“So now you're to run a hotel?” Mrs. Madison shook her head. “Honestly, Abrianna, it's a wonder I'm not given to the vapors. You put me through such ordeals. Imagine what would be said if you were to open that place to bedding down rowdy sailors. No, I think it's already a huge compromise that I allow you and Militine to do what you do with the feeding.”

Militine couldn't voice her opinion without offending Abrianna, but she wholeheartedly agreed with Mrs. Madison. There were times when she felt quite exposed to disparaging reminders of her childhood days at the trading post. Gruff, free-speaking men who drank more than their share of liquor were constant visitors. She preferred to have less to do with Abrianna's homeless men.

“But didn't Jesus himself say that whatever we do unto the least of these, we do unto Him?” Abrianna stood and clasped her hands to her breast. “Would you have our Lord sleep without a blanket? Sleep in the cold, snow-laden streets?”

Mrs. Madison rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Abrianna, you do make quite a scene. And furthermore, there is no snow for anyone to sleep in at this time of year.”

Militine couldn't help but smile. She quickly looked away, lest anyone notice. Miss Poisie, however, let go a little snort of amusement that did not bode well with her sister.

“Do not encourage her, Sister. I will not have further bad said about our Abrianna.”

At this Militine looked up. Abrianna's brow furrowed. “Bad? You just said that my efforts were praised. Did someone else say something bad about me?”

“I didn't want to make a fuss about it,” Mrs. Madison declared. She turned her attention to the mending. “I'm afraid Pastor Walker was not complimentary about your involvement in such a project. He has spoken several times to me about how troubling it is.”

Militine braced herself for Abrianna's ire. There was no way she would let this matter go without comment.

“Well, he ought to spend time studying for his sermons instead.” Abrianna began to rant like a fire had been lit beneath her. “That man speaks week after week about one thing or another, and yet he seldom ever uses Scripture to back up what
he says. Honestly, I'm not sure he even opens his Bible.” She started to pace.

“How dare he say such unpleasant things about me? I'm answering a calling from God. I'm serving the poor. Wade is even leading a Bible study there, and the men are finally starting to attend in decent numbers. Pastor Walker—and I do use the term
pastor
with great reservation, for I've not seen or experienced anything that suggests the man can pastor—speaks for less than half an hour. I know this because I've timed him each Sunday. Pastor Klingle used to speak from the Bible for over an hour.”

“God rest his soul.” She looked to Miss Poisie, who was nodding.

“Amen,” Abrianna said in unison with Mrs. Madison. “See, even Aunt Poisie knows it's true.”

“I do not give Pastor Walker's concerns that much attention. You surely realize that if I did, I would have done something to stop you.” Abrianna opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs. Madison raised her hand. “There is no need to offer further defense. I have already spoken to Wade, and he assures me that everything is as it should be.”

“You spoke to Wade but not to me?”

Militine lowered her gaze to the floor. She knew Abrianna well enough to know that this was a most grievous offense.

“Goodness, Aunt Miriam, am I such a child that you cannot trust me to give you an honest answer?” Abrianna plopped into her chair as if the very thought of her aunt's action had taken the wind from her sails. “I am deeply and profoundly wounded.”

“Well, I'm sure you will recover.” Mrs. Madison gave her a smile. “However, for now you must collect your things. I believe I hear the wagon coming up the drive.”

“Oh, my stars and garters!” Abrianna jumped up again, indeed appearing fully recovered.

“Abrianna, that is a most vulgar expression, and I will not
allow it. I suppose this is the kind of thing you're learning from those sailors.”

At this Abrianna laughed out loud. “Goodness, Aunt Miriam, the very thought threatens to send me into hysteria. I cannot see old Captain Johnson or Hairless Mike ever saying such a thing.”

“Hairless Mike?” Miss Poisie said in a questioning manner. “Is he truly without hair? My, but that must be difficult in the winter months. Does he wear a cap?”

“He does,” Abrianna replied. “But I'm sure he wouldn't have one if Pastor Walker had his way.”

Militine followed Abrianna from the room. There was no sense even trying to comment on the conversation. Abrianna would no doubt go on and on about it throughout the day and have little need of anyone's response. Sometimes having a conversation with Abrianna was more like listening to one of Mrs. Madison's lectures. Abrianna didn't so much want anyone to interact as much as she wanted to make certain they knew her opinion.

As if to prove her right, Abrianna met Wade at the wagon and began to interrogate him. “Why didn't you tell me that Pastor Walker was speaking ill against me? For all our years as friends, I thought I could trust you to tell me when people were maligning my good character.”

“Hello, Abrianna. I'm fine, thanks.” Wade helped her into the wagon.

“Thank you. And I'm glad you're fine. Now, are you going to answer me?” She pointed to a basket of cabbage. “Don't forget that.”

Wade came to assist Militine and afterward loaded the basket and crate that were to accompany them. He leisurely climbed into the wagon and picked up the reins. Without a word to Abrianna, he urged the horse to walk.

“Are you feeling deep guilt? Is that why you say nothing?”
Abrianna pushed. “I do not hold any ill feelings against you for Pastor Walker's interference, but do tell me that you defended my honor.”

“Oh, Abrianna, no one needs to defend you. You do quite enough on that count. However, if it makes you feel any better, I did tell Pastor Walker that you were well supervised and protected from any harm.”

“Supervised? Protected? That's all you told him?” She gave a heavy sigh. “It is truly a burden beyond measure to be me. As if having red hair isn't enough of a curse, I cannot even count on the defense of my friends in times of trouble.”

Wade chuckled, which did not sit well with Abrianna. With a huff she crossed her arms and looked away from him. Militine could tell he was only amused at her pretense to give him the cold shoulder. However, after a few minutes of silence, Wade spoke.

“I am sorry that I didn't defend you in the way you believe I should have. I did do my best to point out to Pastor Walker that you were serving God by serving the poor. He doesn't have to understand your actions for them to be right. I don't know why you worry about what he thinks, anyway.”

“Because he worries Aunt Miriam and the others with his constant complaints against me.” She whirled back around. “Don't you see, Wade? He doesn't like me, so he figures to put a stop to my ministry.”

Wade gave her a stern look. “Your ministry? I thought it was God's.”

Abrianna closed her eyes. “Yes. You are right. I am wholly out of line. Goodness, but the man so upset my senses that I have been given to wrong thinking. Forgive me.” She straightened and looked toward the sky. “God, please forgive me. Of course it is your ministry. It might be my calling, but it has always and ever been your ministry.”

To hear her friend so quickly humble herself impressed Militine. Abrianna might be the first to head into trouble, but she was always good to yield to correction. Well, at least when she could see that she was in error. Militine admired her for that. The very idea of admitting to such a thing was yet another area that left Militine feeling vulnerable. In time, she hoped she might be able to be as willing to give in to such a point as was her friend.

Of course, maybe such humbling required a better relationship with God. It bore some consideration.