A Veiled Reflection (36 page)

Suddenly, in spite of knowing Jillian's attachment to the child, Mary wondered if the best thing for Hope wouldn't be to remain with the Navajo. Would they accept her? Would they see her as Little Sister's daughter instead of Cooper's?

“She is Navajo,” Mary said, cradling Hope in the crook of her arm. The dark-eyed baby watched her for a moment, then blinked against the growing light and closed her eyes.

Bear looked at Mary with a pained expression. “You were good to my sister even when I was not.”

“I loved her dearly. Just as I love her child,” Mary replied. “Can you say the same? Can you love Hope and see to her well-being?”

Bear looked past Mary to where Cooper was tied to the ground. “I will be hunted down. I cannot give her a home, but my people will. Will you take her to them? Take her to the daughter of my mother's sister.”

Mary nodded. “I will take her if that's your wish. You're her uncle, the only family she'll have left. You have that right.”

He turned away and spoke in rapid-fire Navajo to the men around him. Quickly they gathered their things and got to their feet.

“We go now.”

“What about Mr. Cooper?” Mary questioned.

“He is dead.”

Mary wondered about taking Cooper back to town, but given his condition, she knew it would only stimulate the people to war against the Navajo.

“Would you help me bury him?” she asked Bear. “Even a bad man deserves a decent burial.”

Bear eyed her for a moment, then nodded. “We will do this, but only because of your goodness. Not because he deserves it.”

Mary hugged Hope close and watched as the men went about the business of freeing Cooper. She wondered how in the world she would ever explain to Jillian the choice she'd made today. In some ways Hope would have an easier life should she return to be brought up by Jillian and Mac. No doubt she would never go hungry and she would sleep in a nice bed and wear good clothes. But her looks would betray her, and the only person of her parentage to love her was her Navajo mother. Was that not reason enough to raise her in the Navajo way?

TWENTY-SIX

WORKING AT THE HARVEY HOUSE did nothing to take Jillian's mind off the obvious problems. The town was still in an uproar over the recent happenings, and it was the topic of every conversation after the train passengers went on their way and the local folks took to the dining room.

Jillian spent most of her time between serving meals polishing silver tea and coffee urns to the Harvey standards. She caught bits and pieces of conversations among her own co-workers and recognized a thread of fear evident in everything that was said.

“The Indians burned down the jail,” someone whispered. “They'll probably burn down the depot and the Harvey House next.”

“Is the telegraph still working? Can we get help?”

“They'll probably burn the whole town down!”

Jillian shuddered at their statements. For all she knew, they could be right. Mary said the various tribes no longer believed a thing the government officials told them. If they all banded together to fight the army, it could get very ugly.

She began to wonder at the sensibility of living in such a remote area. Maybe she had been foolish to fall for the hidden beauty it possessed. After all, Mary herself had said it was a harsh and unforgiving land.

“What's a fellow got to do to get some service around here?” Mac questioned, coming up from behind her.

Jillian, whose nerves were already taut, let out a yelp and jumped. Realizing, with great embarrassment, that it was nothing more serious or threatening than her husband, she forced herself to calm down.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he said, cautiously touching her shoulders.

“No, I'm the one who's sorry. Have you any news?” she asked hopefully.

He shook his head. “No. Nothing. I've made my rounds and checked in on a few of my patients, but no one knows anything. Has Zack come back?”

“No, and Gwen is beside herself. I don't know how she'll ever manage being married to a lawman.”

Just then Gwen entered the room, and spying Mac talking to Jillian, she made her way over to the couple. “Have you heard from Zack?” she asked eagerly.

“No, I was just asking Jillian if you'd heard from him. I'm sure he'll contact us as soon as he can.”

Gwen nodded somberly, her face clearly betraying her emotions. “I was just hoping he'd be back by now.”

“I know,” Mac said sympathetically.

Seeing that there was nothing else to be said, Gwen headed off to tend to her duties. Jillian looked to her husband for reassurance, but Mac's expression didn't offer her any comfort.

“It's in God's hands, Jilly.”

“But with all He has to take care of these days,” she said with a weak smile, “He might overlook something.”

Mac laughed and kissed her forehead. “Not likely. You know better.” He stepped back and admired her work. “I see Mr. Harvey's silver is benefiting from your concern.”

Jillian looked back at the sideboard and noted the gleaming pots. “I suppose so. It's better than sitting with nothing to do.”

“How long are you going to keep working here, Mrs. Mac-Callister?”

Jillian frowned. “I don't know. We've never really discussed my working, have we?”

Mac shook his head. “I presumed if we were to take over the task of caring for Hope, you would resign your position here. Also, there's always plenty I could keep you busy with. I could teach you to be a first-rate nurse.”

“I doubt that. I get queasy every time I so much as see blood.”

He grinned. “That could be a problem.”

Jillian sighed and reached out to touch her husband. “They will find her, won't they, Mac?”

He pulled her close and stroked her cheek. “I'm sure they will, Jilly. I'm sure they will.”

After finishing with the silver, Jillian went to work polishing the oak tables in the dining room. She remained at work because the idea of doing anything else was unthinkable. Mac was off setting the leg of a busted-up cowboy, and to sit idle at home would have caused her to go mad.

In the afternoon her mother and father came into the dining room. They weren't looking to be fed, but rather desired a private audience with her in the parlor. At least, she figured, it was a diversion. Gwen quickly gave her permission, and Jillian led them down the hall to the more private of the two rooms.

Feeling rather uneasy, Jillian closed the door and turned to greet them. Before she could say a word, however, her father addressed the current affairs of the town.

“Jillian, this life is not for you. Your mother has been beside herself—barely sleeping or eating. You must listen to reason and heed my advice. You're my daughter, and I won't see you thrown into harm's way.”

“I'm not merely your daughter anymore,” Jillian said, taking her seat on a brocade-covered chair. “I must yield to my husband's decisions, and Mac desires a life here.” She paused, realizing that she made it sound as if this were all Mac's idea. “And,” she quickly added, “I love it here and want to stay as well.” Despite her earlier worries, Jillian knew her heart in the matter. Life anywhere had its dangers.

Gretchen began to sob quietly into a lace-edged handkerchief. For all her mother's emotional trauma, Jillian had never seen her without an adequate supply of handkerchiefs.

Jillian attempted to ease her worries. “It's not a bad place to live. You just happen to be here when some upsetting things have occurred. It's actually quite peaceful most of the time. Why, in all the time Judith lived here, she said that nothing overly exciting ever happened.” Mentioning her sister gave Jillian an idea for changing the subject. “By the way, when does Judith arrive?”

“Tomorrow,” her father replied sternly. “She's coming to see you and the doctor married.”

This seemed to perk her mother up. “Will there still be a wedding?”

Jillian instantly felt sorry for her mother. Fretting over Hope wouldn't make things any better, and perhaps Jillian would even feel better if she focused on her mother's plans. At least it would fill the time. “Of course there can be a wedding. If it means so much to you, Mother, we can have a lovely wedding at the church and then bring everyone over here for the reception. I know Gwen will approve.”

Gretchen dried her eyes. “And you'll wear the dress I had made for you?”

Jillian nodded. “Of course.”

“This is madness. You two sound as though you're planning tea parties in the middle of a war. This land lacks civilization, and I won't stand by and watch you waste your life here. I want you to use your influence to persuade your husband to move to Kansas City. I won't deny you anything you need. I'll set him up in business, even see to him being added onto the staff of the most prestigious of hospitals. I'll gift you with a new house, any house you like—just convince that man to move east.”

“I won't do that, Father. Mac is a good man and he knows what is best for him, and I like to believe he knows what's best for me as well.”

“He doesn't show that he knows what is best,” Colin Danvers countered.

“Why? Because he wouldn't take your money? Frankly, Father, I would think you'd rather honor and respect the man for the fact that he can stand up to you. As far as I can tell, Mac is the only person in the world who hasn't fallen at your feet in the hopes that you'll throw him a bone. Mac is content to make his own way and to care for me. I would think that would make you happy.”

Her father sat looking at her for a moment, saying nothing, seeming to consider her words. Finally he stood. “I only came here because your mother has her heart set on this wedding. Judith will be just as bad, I'm afraid.”

Jillian stood and walked over to her father. She had always feared him, but seldom had she allowed herself to feel love for him. Colin Danvers wasn't one for allowing much affection and had certainly never tolerated public displays of emotion.

Without warning, Jillian stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on her father's cheek. “I do love you both,” she said and turned to kiss her mother. “I know it's hard for you to understand, but money and social standings mean little to me. I've had both all of my life and neither one has ever made me happy. I have fallen in love with a wonderful man, and that has brought me the happiness I had only dreamed of. I can only hope that we will share half as much love as you two have known.”

This seemed to soften her father, who looked awkwardly away. Her mother, however, began to regain her composure. She looked to her husband with open admiration, causing Jillian a warm wash of happiness. Everything would surely be all right.

Obviously embarrassed by Jillian having turned the tables from something he understood and openly felt comfortable with, Colin extended his arm to his wife. “We should be getting back to the hotel. I have a meeting.”

“Here?” Jillian questioned.

He nodded. “Just a little business. We'll be tied up through dinner, so don't expect us here this evening.”

Jillian watched them go, feeling content and confident. She had taken a stand and her father respected her now—maybe for the first time—and he would be more willing to see value in her decisions.

Toward evening, Jillian made her way back to the same parlor where several of the Harvey Girls relaxed and discussed the affairs of the town. Word had come that Mac was having trouble with the wounded cowboy and would probably be late getting back into town. Jillian couldn't help but wonder if this was how it would always be.

Kate came to Jillian and offered her a comforting smile. “Yar lookin' a bit worn, Mrs. Mac.”

Jillian nodded. “I feel weary to the bone.” She dropped onto the sofa and sighed.

Kate sat down beside her and reached out to squeeze her hand. “I know this is hard for ya. I know yar worried about Mary and the baby, but surely God is watchin' over them both.”

Jillian knew Kate was right. It didn't do any good to fret about the situation. “I should be getting home,” she said with a sigh. “Mac's off on some ranch patching up a wounded cowboy, and I don't know when he'll return. He didn't come here for supper, so he'll probably be starving.”

“Ya could probably get Cook to give ya a wee plate to take home.

Ya don't want to be worryin' over cookin' at a time like this.”

Jillian smiled. “That's a good idea. I'll go get him some of that wonderful baked chicken.” She got to her feet with new determination. At least this gave her something to focus on.

The Harvey chef was very accommodating, and with food in hand, Jillian stepped out the back door and made her way across the street to Mac's little house, now her home as well. To her surprise, light shone brightly from the front room. Apparently Mac had made it home and hadn't yet come to tell her.

Opening the door, she was startled to find not only Mac but Mary as well. “Mary! You're safe! Oh, thank God!” Jillian exclaimed. She thrust the plate of food at Mac and embraced the little woman in a powerful hug.

“Where's Hope?” she questioned, pulling away and glancing around the room. “Is she safe? Oh, please tell me she isn't hurt.”

“She's just fine, Jillian. I left her with the Navajo,” Mary said, reaching out to take her hand.

“Why? I thought you said they hated her.” A growing sense of dread caused a lump to grow in Jillian's throat.

“They never had much of a chance to know her,” Mary replied, then added, “until now.”

Jillian looked at Mac and noted the worried expression on his face. His blue eyes were fixed upon her, as if awaiting her reaction. Jillian tried to make sense of what Mary was saying. “You gave her to the Navajo? Forever?”

Mary nodded. “It's a long story, Jillian, and I'd like to be able to explain it all to you.”