Faithful (30 page)

“I wrote him back at once,” Papa said. “I told him you are now spoken for, and that he must not come here for you.” He sighed again. “Your grandfather has contacted me. He favors George over this young man, at any rate, however worthy he might be.”

“I know.” My old life was fading behind me. “It doesn’t matter.” I meant Edward. He no longer mattered. I could not go back to him, not when I knew he wasn’t what I wanted. But what if I wanted Tom? My heart fluttered at the thought. I began to realize that I faced another choice, that I stood close to another edge. “What if I don’t want to be spoken for?”

“That’s impossible, Maggie. Your grandfather will only drop his claim against me in favor of your marriage to Graybull. He feels Graybull’s a man of impeccable standing. Your grandfather has made it clear: your entire inheritance from your mother’s side depends upon your marriage to Graybull.” He paused and continued more quietly. “My entire career depends upon it. It’s our future. It’s the only way.” I felt that Papa was pleading with me.

Tears welled in my eyes and I sank into a chair. I couldn’t hold back my bitter words from Papa any longer. “So, that’s it then? My life is spoken for? A life with a man I can’t stand, because he can bail us out?”

“George Graybull can give you the life you want. The life you had before. The life I can’t give you now. It’s what you want.”

He was partly right: It was what I had wanted, but so much had changed since we arrived in Yellowstone. I had changed. I’d wanted love but I hadn’t known what that meant. Now I was beginning to understand. It wasn’t Graybull, and it wasn’t even Edward. I didn’t know yet if it was Tom, but I wanted to find out. I took Papa’s hand.

“What if that’s not what I want anymore? What if there are some things he can never give me, Papa?” I bent my head and bit my lip to hold back the full weight of my feelings. “He can’t give me love.”

Papa cleared his throat. “Maggie.”

I looked up at him, thinking he’d lost patience with me. He shifted his feet and clenched and unclenched his fists. But when he turned his face, he had tears in his eyes, and he looked desolate.

“I’m sorry, Maggie.” His sadness was so deep; it brought back those months after Mama died.

I held my breath. He was beginning to understand my loss, just as I was beginning to understand his. “Must I go with George Graybull?”

He looked away, his jaw working with emotion. Then he cleared his throat. “The park superintendent wants to look at the idea of improving accommodations at Tower Falls, near Yancey’s camp. At some point I must make a trip there.” He was not looking directly at me, but I watched him closely. “I require your presence to help me document my observations with photographs.” My heart leapt. Papa had given me this. “We could leave in a few days, if we can gather the provisions and equipment by then.”

I threw my arms around him, hugging him hard.

He held me for a moment, then pushed me away. “But, Margaret. When we return from this trip, you must make amends with George. You must settle with George Graybull. He’s your future, the only future I can give you now.”

“But . . .” My mood changed from elation back to misery. Papa had only gone partway.

Papa held up his hand. “George is a powerful and wealthy man who wishes to make you his wife. It’s not impossible to fall in love after knowing someone for a time. He’ll take you back to Newport. He’ll give you what I can’t. You may come to love him, in time. Graybull is your intended. Your grandfather will insist. And I must insist.”

“But . . .” I no longer dreamed of returning to Newport. I dreamed of something bigger, and I was only beginning to discover it.

“I’m taking you to Tower to give you a final chance to do—” he hesitated—“something you enjoy.”

I stepped back, holding my tongue. At least for the moment, I had what I wanted. I didn’t have to accompany Graybull. I could take photographs at Tower for Mrs. Gale. Papa gave me that. And without knowing it, he’d given me something else. He’d made me aware of the scope of my dreams.

I dreamed of a life I’d never known was even possible. I was drawn to the fearful beauty of Yellowstone. I desired not a marriage of convenience, not an easy life, but something impulsive, unexpected. I wanted to do something extraordinary, not watch and wait. Mama had tried to escape, but she came back for me. I had failed her, but now I understood that I couldn’t fail myself. I did have choices, and in choosing I would be forced to face things that terrified me.

The window of my tower was open, and my unchained soul flew out and away, high over the vast pine forests and broad meadows, high over the precipitous yellow cliffs and billowing plumes of steaming water, high over the narrow ribbons of rushing rivers; fearless, and far, far from the sea.

July 21, 1904

“TRY TO TAKE PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE PEAKS,” MRS. GALE instructed. She and I were going over the last preparations before my trip with Papa. “Panoramic shots are tricky. You must have something that puts the distance into perspective.” She knew that I preferred close-ups and the pattern of detail. “And the sky—the exposure—you must account for it.”

I handled the new equipment with trembling fingers. The camera, which arrived within two days from Bozeman, was less bulky than the one Mrs. Gale had lost. It folded more compactly and used only celluloid film. “I’ll do my best,” I said.

“And please, watch for grizzlies,” Mrs. Gale said. “They’re rumored to be abundant in that part of the Park.” We would be camping on this trip, as the roads were not yet improved and there were no hotels north of Canyon.

Grizzlies. I recalled those flat, black eyes. “I think bears are my talisman. So maybe they like me.” I smiled, trying to be brave.

Mrs. Gale raised her eyebrows. “In that case, definitely watch out. You usually attract your talisman to you, you know.”

I didn’t know. I tapped my fingertips together and pursed my lips. My brave front slipped away.

Kula still avoided me. I wanted her to understand why I hadn’t helped at the accident, to tell her why I’d acted so badly. And I wanted to ask her why she tried to take my cameo.

On the morning before Papa and I left for Tower, I found her walking. I followed her out from the hotel into the woods, to the edge of the canyon. She moved like a dancer, weaving through the woods. She was too fast, far too fast for me to catch up. As I chased after her, I was reminded once again of something about her that troubled me, some niggling memory.

The roar of the falls grew, and I fell back, cursing my fear.

Kula slowed as she reached the edge of the canyon, stopping at an overlook. She was alone for a moment when, coming up the path from the opposite direction, Tom Rowland walked toward her, a broad smile on his face, his lanky arms swinging.

I hadn’t even known Tom was here in Canyon. He hadn’t come to see me.

I couldn’t breathe. He put his hand on her shoulder, and spoke to her, but between the roar of the falls and the thick woods and my distance from them, I heard nothing. I watched his expression of pleasure, saw her tilt her head, her long thick braid hanging behind her like black rope. I turned away, unable to watch more, stumbling through the woods away from the ravine. I was so jealous that I hated myself; I was so jealous that I hated Kula and Tom, both.

I went back to the hotel and sat alone on my bed, my legs bent at the knees, hugging myself and rocking.

About an hour later, Kula came to pack my things. “Don’t fold it like that!” I snapped.

“Don’t shout at me,” she said in an undertone. “You, who can’t even get your precious things dirty to save a life.”

“I didn’t help with Mrs. Gale because I couldn’t.” I didn’t care anymore what she thought of me. I wanted a reason to argue with her.

Her back was to me as she moved from the wardrobe to the canvas packs. “Of course not.” Her tone was smug.

“I was frightened.”

Kula gave a snort. “You’re frightened of everything.”

She was right about that. I held myself back. But I was changing. I fought on. “That’s not true. I went into the lake.”

“Well, there, you were being stupid. Lord knows why.”

I snatched the skirt Kula was folding from her hands, trying to grab her attention. “The only one who’s stupid is you.” I could no longer control my jealousy, my rage.

She turned on me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Me! What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting snippy for the past week!”

She stared straight at me with those dark eyes, her expression filled with hate. “You’re rich. You have a good life. You have that rich man. You have all these beautiful things, and still you’re not happy.”

“Take them!” I lifted a handful of clothes out of my trunk and thrust them at Kula. “Take them! I don’t want them!”

Kula paused, staring at me with a half smile. “You said you’d treat me fair and square.”

“And I have.” Tears filled my eyes. I’d begun to try and think of her as a friend and not just a servant. She was my age, my contemporary. But she repudiated me, slapped that attempt back in my face. She’d tried to steal Mama’s cameo. She’d stolen Tom. “You’re nothing but a thief, anyway.”

She was quiet. Then, “I’ll leave now.” She headed for the door.

“Kula.” I reached for her arm, stopping her. We looked at one another for a long moment. I released her arm. I was wrong; she could never be my friend.

She turned away. “I know you were looking for her.”

My blood turned to ice. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve known for a while,” Kula said, looking back at me, her lips curling in a thin smile. “I figured it all out. Your mama’s gone.”

“I told you that when we first talked.”

Her smile grew. “Yes. But you didn’t tell me you were
looking
for her.”

I took a step back. I couldn’t imagine how she knew this. I hadn’t even told Tom.

“She’s gone but there’s someone else to find, isn’t there? Someone your daddy wants to find? Maybe someone who could really shake up your life.”

I was breathless. “What do you know?” Maybe she knew Uncle John. Maybe he talked openly among his friends. Maybe there were rumors.

“As if I would tell you now,” Kula said. “As if I would tell you that I’ve got some answers for you.” She relished this position of power. She picked up the blue velvet gown, my birthday gown, examining it, holding it up from the shoulders as if trying to decide whether or not to wear it.

“Take it,” I whispered. “It’s yours.”

Kula looked at me. “Why, thank you, miss. I surely can use it.”

I snatched at a small beaded purse, a pair of white leather opera-length gloves. “Here. These, too.” I went to the dresser and took a pearl necklace from my box. “And this.” I tossed it onto the bed with the other things. I’d give her anything. Everything she wanted if she would only tell me what she knew.

“How kind.”

“Please, Kula.” I moved toward her. “Please tell me what you know.”

Kula held her head up, triumphant. “I’ll tell you this. Your uncle talks a lot. He says things he shouldn’t. He makes assumptions about people. So do you.” She regarded me with dark eyes. “Lots of folks think they know things, by the way someone looks, or by their position. They don’t know anything.” She gathered the dress and other things in her arms. “I can sell these. Make a pretty penny.”

“Please, tell me,” I pleaded.

“You have everything,” Kula said, low. “Money, a rich fiancé, a lazy life . . .”

“My mother . . .” I began.

“My mother’s gone, too, Miss Perfect,” she snapped. “All I have is ghosts, and hard work—something you’ll never understand—and now you, thinking you’re so sad.” She imitated a whimper. “Lording it over me.”

I sank onto the bed. I had no idea she hated me so much. I hadn’t treated her badly; I’d tried to be nice. I couldn’t imagine . . . Tom. She wanted Tom.

I wanted Tom. I couldn’t look up at her.

She moved toward the door. “You were right. I was stealing your pin,” she said. “But it wasn’t for me.” The velvet dress rustled softly in her arms as she gathered it up. “It was for someone I love.”

I sat on the bed for a long time after Kula shut the door. I couldn’t cry, couldn’t move. One soft leather glove lay on the floor where she dropped it, like a disembodied hand.

July 22–23, 1904