Karen Mercury (24 page)

“Right.” Worth remembered. “You cabled him, asking about Firestone.”

Harley looked grim. “I suppose it’s all right if I tell you—especially you, Tabitha.” Harley rattled the piece of paper but apparently had memorized its contents. “This buddy does a lot of business with Firestone, and he has met the boy Abe on a dozen occasions. Never has the kid been known to cry or act morose—he’s very spoiled with toys and childish treasures, actually. He has many friends, children of the privileged.”

“Well, then,” mused Jeremiah, “what was that abominable stupid bitch whining about?”

Both Tabitha and Worth chuckled at Jeremiah’s characterization of Orianna.

Harley replied, “Well, of course my buddy quite possibly hasn’t seen the child throw tantrums. That’s entirely possible. But I doubt he’d get it wrong that Firestone tried to boot Orianna and Abe from his house about six months ago. So far she’s refused to go, and Firestone is getting quite fed up, as there’s some society belle he wants to wed. A girl sixteen years old, ripe to give him the children he really wants.”

“Not some used child,” Jeremiah agreed. “With some old heifer in her late twenties.”

“Well,” Worth said flatly. “That pretty much explains her presence here. Between that and the gold claim Foster told her about, she’s looking for her next fancy man. Are you going to bring that telegram to Foster right now, Harley?”

“Yes. He’s probably done signing the lease on his new office.”

“Well, make sure Orianna doesn’t see it. I’m sure you’ve thought of that. And can you let Foster know today is Tabitha’s birthday?”

“Worth!” Tabitha slapped Worth’s arm, but she didn’t seem genuinely angry.

“I shall!” Harley agreed. “And we should warn Josefina we expect a very fancy, formal dinner for you tonight.”

“That’s not necessary,” said Tabitha. “Worth and I are going to listen to the music at the First Baptist Church later on. I heard the Jubilee Singers have come all the way from Nashville, and maybe we can convince them to stay for the rodeo.”

The Jubilee Singers were not there by six o’clock. Jeremiah claimed he had seen them on First Street around five, all nine members just huddled in a group.

“Are you sure it was them?” Tabitha asked.

Jeremiah smirked. “Now, how could I mistake that? Nine negroes, and not one of them was building a railroad?”

“Could they have been refused service at the Cactus Club?” Worth asked.

“I’m sure they’d be served there,” Tabitha replied. “Harley owns it, after all. He’s spent a lot of time in Africa.”

“Yes,” Jeremiah agreed, “getting speared through the jaw by Somalis.”

Tabitha ignored him. “Perhaps I should ride down to First Street and find the singers. Maybe they need a place to stay. They’ve been having trouble on this tour finding places that will allow them to sleep.”

“No!” Jeremiah gasped, more urgently than the situation called for. He clasped Tabitha’s forearm and held her tight to her pew. “They’ll be here soon enough. Why don’t you just sit back and enjoy the soothing and tranquilizing sounds of the Laramie Loons.”

Tabitha frowned. “Laramie Loons? Is that what you call these out-and-out fatheads onstage banging on drinking glasses and hoes?”

“Well, yes,” Jeremiah admitted. “They were the best we could do at short notice. Would you rather I get onstage and amuse everyone with my puppets?”

Tabitha sighed and sank down farther in the pew. “The Laramie Loons are fine. But I’m telling you. I’m not listening to this claptrap for long. If the Jubilee Singers don’t show up, I’m going home to drink an entire bottle of champagne.”

Tabitha was really angry about Foster ignoring her birthday. That had been around one o’clock when they had instructed Harley to inform Foster of her birthday. And Tabitha didn’t want to think about what he’d been doing that required him to cut such a figure somewhere. Now that they knew Firestone wouldn’t be accepting Orianna back anyway, why did Foster have to kowtow to Orianna? She had nowhere better to go.

“Look,” said Jeremiah with false cheer. “It’s Nellie Bradshaw onstage. She’s been known to put on her best bib and tucker and cut quite the jig.”

Tabitha wrinkled her face. “By blowing on a comb through a piece of paper? Couldn’t they have at least gotten the string quartet that was at the Fowler’s party? Or the folks that backed up Foster at the Elks fandango?” But just thinking of the Elks fandango filled Tabitha with even more gloom. That had been such a happy night, aside from the heaving.

“Well,” said Jeremiah. “I think they’re all in the brig for disorderly conduct.”

“All of them?”

“Well, the Elks Club musicians, more so than the string quartet.”

Tabitha exhaled with irritation. She had no idea why Worth was forcing her to sit through this ridiculous excuse for entertainment. Not that her birthday last year had been any better. It had occurred right after Parker had died, so she’d barely taken note of it.

No, this was better. She supposed. She was sitting next to a man she knew she loved dearly, and she now shyly took his hand. He gave her that dimpled smile that never failed to reassure her, and she smiled back when he cradled her hand in both his broad, manly ones.

With her free hand, she removed from her reticule a piece of Bettina’s notepaper. Tabitha had discovered this recent diary entry on her writing desk this morning after being forced to listen to the animal rutting of the two men she loved through the papery wall. She could tell by Worth’s strangled groans and Foster’s slurping what was going on.

Frustrated and lonely, Tabitha had perhaps drunk too much sherry in her room. For the next thing she knew, sun was streaming through the window onto her face, and there was a new diary entry on her writing desk.

It is our tradition to throw a loved one’s name to the wind. My father was killed when kicked by a horse while crossing a ferry. I mourned forever before throwing his name to the wind, so I could move on in life.

The many beaches here at Campeche would be excellent for throwing someone’s name to the wind. I will not throw yours, Pierre! I will never give up on you!

Reading this had frightened Tabitha. Instantly, she was reminded of what Foster had said to her while they groped in the Fowler’s glasshouse. “I will not throw your name to the wind. I will not give you up, and I will never forget you.”

Such a similar, and odd, thing to say! Tabitha had never heard of throwing anyone’s name to the wind, although she supposed it might have a pleasant psychological effect on someone. For someone who needed to move on, and be rid of the ghost of a past love.

Tabitha settled into Worth’s shoulder as the stage lamps were dimmed. The “soothing” caterwauling of the Laramie Loons faded as the members drifted from the stage, dragging their hoes and washboards, and a nice near-silence fell inside the church. Tabitha looked forward to the Jubilee Singers and was disappointed when a lone silhouette of a fellow appeared, pacing in front of the blue-lit altar, a guitar slung over his shoulder.

However, Tabitha’s heart soon lurched with recognition when the fellow in the Panama hat hit the first few sentimental guitar chords and sang out in a clean, soaring tenor,

Thou wilt come no more, gentle Bettina

Like a flower your spirit did depart.

Thou art gone, alas, like the many

That have bloomed in the summer of my heart

Though the only other activity coming from the stage was an unseen, melancholic harp off in the shadows, accompanied by a dissonant, jarring piano, everyone in the audience stilled in anticipation. Tabitha’s entire row sat forward on the pew, nearly bowling it over.

The shadow that was Foster now crooned,

Shall we never more behold thee

Never hear thy winning voice again

When the springtime comes, gentle Bettina

When the wildflowers are scattered over the plain?

When some fellow lit a few lamps to illuminate Foster’s white, handsome face, tears did spring to Tabitha’s eyes. She had heard the song called
Gentle Annie
before, but now Foster looked directly at her. Pierre was lamenting Bettina’s loss.

The beauty of his voice was so soaring and affecting that Tabitha saw many women in the audience holding handkerchiefs to their noses. One corrugated grandmother even bawled out, “O, Eliza! If only I could hold you again!”

Nobody laughed, however, and Foster paced the stage, belting out his sad melody. He cut a fine figure in his leather leggings, his gold-threaded brocade waistcoat showing his muscular torso to its best advantage, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He pinned Tabitha with his intense forest green gaze, his eyes dazzling in the red and blue oil pots another fellow now lined the stage with.

Foster strummed the last guitar chord, choking a sustained sound from it as he quietly mouthed to Tabitha, “Happy birthday, my pet.”

She could not hear him above the explosive applause, but she could tell by his lips.
That’s what he said! Happy birthday!

She had been squeezing Worth’s hand so tightly he now had to wrench it away. “See, Tabitha? He didn’t forget. He was helping the Jubilee Singers with some legal issues.”

“You reminded him,” she chastised Worth. Glancing over at Jeremiah, she saw that he, too, had a handkerchief to his mouth, his eyes all screwed up. “Oh, Jeremiah! You really are quite sentimental!”

Jeremiah took the cloth from his mouth, drawing out a string of snot. “I miss my nana!” he sobbed.

But this wasn’t the end of Foster’s act. He strode to the side of the stage to put down the guitar and pick up the same fiddle he’d whaled upon at the fandango.

“All right! A fiddle!” shouted the same roostered tycoon from the Fowler’s ball, apparently a fiddle enthusiast.

This exuberant bellow seemed to be the galvanizing lightning bolt the churchly audience needed, for on a sudden nearly everyone leaped to their feet in expectation of something miraculous. The purple-lit curtain drew aside to reveal the nine Jubilee Singers, who had already started spryly chirping out the opening line to some lively spiritual.

O, rise! Shine! For thy light is a-coming

Rise! Shine! For thy light is a-coming

O, rise! Shine! For thy light is a-coming

Ezra says he’s coming by and by

They instantly set up an energetic and brisk tempo that was lifted up by Foster’s threading fiddle melody. The five Jubilee women called out, “Rise!” and the four Jubilee men answered “Rise!” in the next beat. “Shine!” called the women, and the men answered, “Shine!”

By the time they swiftly reached the next chorus, the entire audience was stomping and clapping. It was amusing that some of the more upstanding citizens were clapping on the off-beat, Tabitha noted, completely out of synchronization with the choir. Jeremiah was one of these people, unusual given his circus background. But Worth was in the swing of things, and he twirled Tabitha into the nearest aisle. They hooked their arms around each other’s elbows and lifted their knees high in an impromptu hoedown.

Foster fiddled up a storm, and it seemed that the Jubilee singers sped up the tempo.

This is the year of Jubilee

Ezra says he’s coming by and by

My Lord has set his people free

Ezra says he’s coming by and by

Many Baptists, and many plain old roostered railroad men and ranchers, took up the chorus. They shuffled their boots loudly on the wooden floorboards and stomped so heavily, shouting, “Rise! Shine! For thy light is a-coming!” Some of the more pickled rummies took to hollering, “Moon! Shine! Thy juice is coming!” But for the most part, the citizens of Laramie stuck with the original lyrics.

Foster sawed so speedily his bow was a blur, and the original Laramie Loons could not resist reeling back onstage to bang on their drinking glasses and hoes. The pianist pounded away in a fervor, and McCormack, owner of the Frontier Hotel, picked up Foster’s guitar and twanged away.

The Jubilee Singers didn’t lose their composure, and Worth handed Tabitha off to a crazed Montreal Jed. Jed was supposed to hook his elbow in hers and swing her in a half-circle so she could switch arms with whoever was closest. But on one of the swings, Montreal Jed flung up his arms in a religious seizure, and Tabitha went spinning into Henry Zuckerkorn.

Her employer gladly grabbed ahold of her, but by this time there wasn’t much room for twirling or hoedowns. So many people jammed the aisles they only wound up vigorously moving in a vertical manner, leaping up and down like prairie dogs and flailing their arms. Some men had taken shorter men onto their shoulders so their arms could wave over everyone’s heads, and the general mood was of a very strident, husking frolic.

I intend to shout and never stop

Ezra says he’s coming by an’ by

Until I reach the mountain top

Ezra says He’s coming by an’ by

Tabitha had no idea if the original lyrics involved Ezra or not. Was it just one of those bizarre coincidences that the choir from Nashville sang about Ezra?