An Uncertain Dream (29 page)

‘‘We teach by example, Mr. Clayborn. How can we expect children to behave in church if the adults around them won’t follow the rules?’’

‘‘My apologies, Mrs. Priddle. I will do my very best to see that it doesn’t happen again.’’

She opened her parasol, a large black contraption that defied the sun’s rays. ‘‘I don’t believe Charlotte mentioned you would be calling on her today.’’

Matthew ducked his head to avoid the umbrella’s pointed spoke. ‘‘A surprise. She didn’t know I was going to meet her in church. I do hope you don’t have any objection. I had hoped she would permit me to escort her to the park this afternoon.’’

The older woman tipped the parasol and looked at Charlotte. ‘‘Well? Do you want to invite Mr. Clayborn to join us for lunch, or shall I send him on his way?’’

Charlotte turned toward Matthew and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘‘Are you certain you weren’t followed?’’

‘‘Positive,’’ he whispered.

Charlotte glanced over her shoulder toward the older woman. ‘‘Mr. Clayborn would be pleased to accept an invitation to dine with us.’’

Instead of leading the way, Mrs. Priddle took a position directly behind Matthew and Charlotte. They hadn’t gone far when the older woman tapped Matthew on the shoulder. ‘‘Is the news in yesterday’s
Tribune
correct? Has the strike ended?’’

‘‘Not exactly. While the defeat of the national strike is a blow to the Pullman workers, the strike can’t be considered over. There’s no doubt the American Railway Union is in grave danger. There are many who believe this latest defeat may signal the end of the union’s battle. But who can tell? They may still rally and prevail. Stranger things have happened.’’

Charlotte had read the newspaper article with interest. The story indicated the majority of the Pullman residents were eager to return to work on any terms. She’d found that statement difficult to believe. News in the
Tribune
generally aligned with management. The workers had given up so much in order to wage their battle. Would they now simply return to work without having gained anything? She couldn’t imagine Fred would be willing to accept such terms. On the other hand, men with wives and children—men such as Olivia’s cousin Albert, or Mr. Quinter, who lived with the DeVaults—might consider decreased wages better than no income at all.

Morgan insisted upon walking, and Charlotte leaned down to capture his hand in her own. She turned to Matthew. ‘‘You’re not required to attend today’s parade and write about it?’’ In the same news report, Charlotte had read that a parade was planned to honor the National Guard, and the uniformed guardsmen were going to perform drills for those in attendance.

‘‘One of the other reporters agreed to write the story. Unless another battle occurs, I don’t think there will be much to report.’’ He grasped Morgan’s other hand. ‘‘Besides, I’d much rather spend my day with you and Morgan.’’

Morgan tugged on his mother’s hand, and Charlotte looked down at her son, who had planted his feet firmly. He pointed to a rock that sparkled in the sunlight. ‘‘Woc,’’ the toddler announced before he stooped down to pick up the shiny object.

‘‘That’s dirty, Morgan.’’ Charlotte attempted to remove the item from the boy’s hand, but the more she insisted, the tighter he clutched the object.

‘‘It’s only a rock. If you don’t make such a fuss, he’ll soon forget about it,’’ Matthew said.

‘‘Or he’ll stick it in his mouth and choke,’’ Charlotte rebutted.

‘‘I suppose that is a possibility, but why don’t you trust me on this? Little boys like to pick up rocks and sticks—it’s what they do. At the moment that rock is his treasure. Let him enjoy it.’’

‘‘Matthew’s correct, Charlotte.’’

Mrs. Priddle had agreed with Matthew, and it appeared he could hardly believe his ears. He grinned at Charlotte.

She playfully squeezed his arm. ‘‘You don’t have to look so pleased with yourself,’’ she whispered with a mock frown. ‘‘Don’t forget that I can still withdraw your invitation to dinner.’’

He chuckled. ‘‘Please don’t. I promise I’ll behave.’’

The group turned to go up the front walk leading to Prid-dle House. Charlotte refrained from asking any question about Mr. Rehnquist or discussing her employment until they were alone after dinner. With a promise they would go to the park after his nap, Morgan willingly permitted Fiona to take him upstairs.

Charlotte joined Matthew on the front porch and sat down beside him. ‘‘Perhaps you’ll tell me exactly why you decided it was safe to come here after agreeing we shouldn’t be seen together.’’

‘‘Mr. Rehnquist hasn’t made any effort to follow you except on two occasions when you left work during your lunch break.’’

She clasped her palm to her bodice. ‘‘How do you know that Mr. Rehnquist followed me?’’

‘‘I have someone watching—a friend who works as an investigator. He used to be a policeman. I trust him. And it wasn’t Rehnquist who followed you. It was one of the cash boys. No doubt Rehnquist paid him and figured no one would be the wiser.’’

Charlotte did recall seeing Douglas, one of the cash boys who worked in Mr. Rehnquist’s department, while she was out during her midday break on Wednesday. She’d gone to the bank for Mrs. Priddle. The idea that the boy had been persuaded to follow her was disquieting.

‘‘You’re certain he wasn’t merely walking in the same direction? A coincidence?’’

Matthew shook his head. ‘‘No. Each time he waited out of sight while you completed your errand and then followed you back to the store. Mr. Rehnquist observes your arrival and departure from a corner window on the top floor. He takes up his sentry post each morning and evening with precise regularity.’’

‘‘Your friend has told you this, also?’’

Matthew nodded.

‘‘How can he imagine he would ever win my affection or even my friendship by threatening to go to Mr. Field? He must realize that even if he should thwart our relationship, it will not help his cause. I am baffled by his frightening actions. I’ve even considered going to Mr. Field myself.’’

Matthew straightened his shoulders. ‘‘But what if he immediately terminated your employment? I thought that was your fear—the reason you told me to stay away.’’

She nodded. ‘‘It is, but Mr. Rehnquist’s behavior is more offensive than anything I am doing. Union supporters are banned from the store, but I’ve never been told I could not associate with anyone on that list. Employees assume that is true, but Fred and Olivia support the union, and I don’t hesitate to visit them or Mrs. DeVault.’’

‘‘I doubt if Olivia or Mrs. DeVault is on Mr. Field’s list of names, although Fred may be. Unless you’re certain you are willing to suffer the consequences of losing your job, I wouldn’t talk to Mr. Field.’’

A mother pushing a carriage strolled down the sidewalk, the warm breeze tugging at her bonnet ribbons. The woman’s carefree countenance served to underscore Charlotte’s situation. Did she want a stranger dictating whom she could or couldn’t visit? The idea that her every move was under scrutiny caused both fear and anger; she didn’t want to live a life filled with either. She must decide upon a plan.

After Morgan awakened from his nap, the three of them spent several hours at the park before returning to Priddle House. When they arrived in front of the house, Morgan insisted upon clinging to Matthew’s neck. ‘‘Since Morgan doesn’t want to turn me loose, I’d be more than pleased to stay longer,’’ he said with what he hoped was a charming smile.

‘‘It’s kind of you to offer, but Morgan needs to learn he isn’t in charge. Besides, I must write a letter to my mother. I’ve been negligent in keeping her posted of Morgan’s latest antics. A fact she pointed out to me in her latest missive.’’

Morgan planted a sloppy kiss on Matthew’s cheek before finally permitting Fiona to escort him indoors. He waved enthusiastically and called good-bye until they were well inside the house.

‘‘Unless you send word to the contrary, I won’t plan to see you except on Sundays,’’ he said.

She grinned. ‘‘You could always come by in the evenings for Bible study. I’m certain Mrs. Priddle wouldn’t mind an extra student.’’

‘‘Did I hear my name?’’ Mrs. Priddle opened the screen door and walked onto the porch.

‘‘You did. Charlotte was inviting me to attend the weeknight Bible study and prayer meetings. She said she didn’t think you would object.’’

Mrs. Priddle glanced back and forth between them. ‘‘I don’t want visitors at the house every night, but once a week would be fine. Wednesdays.’’

Charlotte giggled. ‘‘There you have it. Come prepared with your Bible on Wednesday night.’’

‘‘If I don’t have a work assignment, I’ll be here.’’ Matthew waved and strode down the sidewalk, wishing he’d had a few minutes to tell Charlotte good-bye in private. He figured that was exactly why the older woman had joined them. He smiled at the thought of Mrs. Priddle protecting her brood of chicks like a mother hen. She was a fine woman.

After a late supper at the Good Eats restaurant and a visit with several patrons of the establishment, Matthew headed off for Uhlich Hall. The lights were still ablaze when Matthew approached the meeting hall, and he instinctively jogged up the steps. He might discover some new item that could be developed into a story for the paper. After a quick scan of the room, he spotted Fred. He waved and threaded his way through the crowd until he arrived at Fred’s side. ‘‘I’m surprised to see so many men here this evening.’’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘‘Is it because of the parade, or is something else happening?’’

‘‘Partially because of the parade, but also because we’ve received word that the chaplain and officers of the First Regiment have called a meeting of the Pullman strikers at the Market Building tomorrow evening at eight o’clock.’’

‘‘Is that as much as you know?’’

Fred raked his hand through his hair and gave a nod. ‘‘I’m certain rumors abound in Pullman, but all I know is what’s written in this message that was delivered to me a short time ago.’’ He handed the note to Matthew. ‘‘Has Mr. Pullman returned to Chicago?’’

Matthew shook his head. ‘‘Not to my knowledge, but he manages to slip in and out of town in secret. He could have come in last night or early this morning without anyone knowing.’’

‘‘Or even during the parade and drills. No one would have noticed. They were too busy watching the exhibition.’’

‘‘Quite a show, I take it?’’

A hint of irritation shone in Fred’s eyes. ‘‘The public appeared in droves. I’d guess there were at least five thousand spectators. People in Pullman are starving, yet the children here were offering the soldiers baskets of fruit and bouquets of flowers. I was disgusted that the soldiers accepted the gifts.’’

Matthew nodded toward a couple of chairs along the outer perimeter of the room. ‘‘You have to accept the fact that the people of Chicago don’t have a stake in this strike like those who live and work in Pullman. I fear they’re ready to move on, and the newspapers aren’t helping. They’re fueling that attitude.’’

‘‘Believe it or not, there were a number of Pullman residents among the spectators. I personally saw at least thirty or forty scattered throughout the crowd, so you know there were even more. Seeing them truly disappointed me.’’

The two men sat down, and Matthew more closely perused the message Fred had handed him. Looking up, Matthew saw a couple of reporters from the
Tribune
. ‘‘Let me go talk to those fellows. I’ll see if there’s anything new to report.’’

Matthew ambled toward his two colleagues with an air of disinterest. He didn’t want to appear greedy for news or they’d lock their lips tighter than a clam’s shell. With a light slap on the shoulder, he greeted first one of the men and then the other. ‘‘You’re keeping late hours, aren’t you?’’

They glanced at each other, and Julius shrugged. ‘‘Not too bad. With the picture our photographer got, the parade and the meeting scheduled in Pullman should give me enough for a front-page story.’’

‘‘I saw one of the other reporters for the
Herald
at the parade, and he said you had taken the day off,’’ the other man said. He appeared to be eyeing Matthew with a degree of misgiving.

‘‘I was on my way home after supper at the Good Eats, and I saw the lights on in here. Reporters—we’re all the same. I couldn’t go home without checking to see if there was something going on.’’ He gave an exaggerated hike of his shoulders. ‘‘You heading to Pullman tomorrow evening?’’ he asked.

‘‘Just me,’’ Julius said. ‘‘No need for two reporters when everyone already knows the scoop. I’m just going to check out the employees’ response when Mr. Howard asks for authority to go to Mr. Pullman.’’

Matthew did his best to remain nonchalant. ‘‘I didn’t know Mr. Pullman was back in Chicago.’’

‘‘Oh, he’s not, but my sources tell me Robert Lincoln went to Long Branch, New Jersey, to visit with him. Rumor has it they’ve reached a decision to reopen the car works.’’ Julius frowned. ‘‘Surely you heard?’’

Matthew deflected his question with another one of his own. ‘‘So the meeting is to determine whether the Pullman workers will end their strike?’’

Julius shook his head. ‘‘No. Only to give the chaplain authority to speak with Mr. Pullman and to get his assurance that all strikers will be rehired if the union pledges to call a halt to the strike. Tomorrow night they will vote on whether to give the chaplain authority to wire Mr. Pullman on their behalf. If they agree, I’d say the strike is over.’’

Matthew glanced toward the other side of the room and then extended his hand to Julius. ‘‘If you’ll excuse me, I see an acquaintance I’d like to speak to.’’

‘‘Sure. We were leaving anyway. I think the janitors are trying to get everyone cleared out so they can sweep up and lock the doors for the night.’’

Taking long deliberate strides, Matthew returned to the other side of the room and motioned for Fred to join him. ‘‘I don’t know what you’ve got scheduled for tomorrow, but you might want to return to Pullman. Sounds as though things are coming to a head. Do you think the men will want the chaplain to deliver a message to management?’’

‘‘Who can say? I didn’t expect to see any Pullman workers at today’s parade, but I did. There’s no way I can leave before tomorrow afternoon. Bill’s supposed to be released from the hospital in the morning. I promised Ruth I’d take him home.’’ Fred glanced at the clock at the rear of the hall. ‘‘It’s not too late to stop and talk to Mr. Heathcoate. I can let him know what you’ve told me. If he thinks the matter warrants immediate attention, he’ll have time to catch the last train to Pullman tonight.’’