Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (5 page)

Georgia read either Ellen’s mind or her expression, for she started for the door. “Can’t hurt to check in at Mr. McKenna’s office.”

As the two women descended the front porch stairs into the morning sunshine, a lone rider appeared on the horizon, coming from the direction of town. He’d just dismounted and tied up at the hitching post when Ellen and Georgia reached the stairs.

“Was that a breakfast bell or an alarm I heard a few minutes ago?” the stranger asked.

“Alarm bell,” Ellen said and led the way inside. One of Ian’s clerks—the one Ellen liked least—stood up when she and Georgia opened the office door.

“The warden’s not here,” he said, glancing up toward the ceiling. “Some kind of ruckus up on the third floor. Underhill’s offered to go to town after Doc Mason. Guess the one we’ve already got isn’t good enough for ‘Miss Dawson’s lambs’.” Sarcasm tainted the man’s voice as he said the last phrase.

At the sound of Ian’s voice behind her, Ellen whirled about, relief flooding through her at the sight of him standing in the doorway across the hall, asking one of the clerks to pull an inmate’s file. The stranger who’d just come in with Ellen introduced himself.

“Max Zimmer.” He shook Ian’s hand. “Dr. Zimmer, actually. We had an appointment, which you’re obviously too busy to keep. Someone mentioned a doctor. Can I help?”

“There’s been a stabbing in the female department,” Ian said. “The wound isn’t serious, but the victim was expecting a child and she appears to have gone into premature labor. If you’re willing to help—“

The doctor nodded. “Happy to.”

“As to supplies—“

“No need to worry over that. My mentor said a doctor should never be more than five minutes from his medical bag. I’ve always tried to follow his advice.” He tipped his hat to Ellen and Georgia, and with a promise to be right back, exited the building.

Ian smiled down at Ellen. “I won’t pretend not to be amazed that you came over, but I’m pleased you did. I’m sure Miss Dawson will appreciate your help. I’ll trust you to direct the doctor through turnkey, and I’ll have someone waiting to escort the three of you upstairs.” He called out to turnkey. “Tell Underhill we’ve a doctor. No need to be Paul Revere today.” He bent down and kissed Ellen’s cheek, then headed into the clerk’s office. All Ellen wanted to do was go back across the road where it was safe. But here came the doctor bounding in the door, black bag in hand.

“Has either of you ever attended a confinement?”

“G–Georgia has a great deal of nursing experience,” Ellen stammered.

“I’m no midwife,” Georgia said, “but I’ve helped a dozen or so babies into this world.”

“Excellent,” the doctor said and headed up the hall.

Ellen took a deep breath. Ian had told her that the warden’s wife over in Iowa served as the matron to the female department. The doctor clearly assumed she could be counted on. This was no time to disappoint. With a little shrug, she motioned for Georgia to follow her and headed after the doctor.

As Vestal groaned her way through another contraction and Agnes kept pressure on the wound, Jane tried to murmur encouragement even while she wondered where in tarnation the doctor was and why Pearl Brand had chosen Vestal as a victim. When the contraction passed and Vestal lay back, Jane muttered the question.

Agnes Sweeney looked at her like she thought she must be nearly as dumb as dirt.

“Why do you think? Because she’s the least likely to be able to defend herself, that’s why.”

“I heard… something,” Jane said. “I should have—“

She broke off. Shook her head as a sense of shame descended.
What’s happened to me?
She’d been downright pugnacious as a girl, ready to defend the underdog, even if it meant getting into scraps. Had Owen beaten that out of her for good? She’d never forgive herself for hiding beneath a blanket while Pearl Brand hurt someone.

Agnes snorted. “Who
didn’t
know something was going on? You think we’re deaf?”

“Then why—?” Jane glanced around at the others. “Why didn’t you do something?”

“Didn’t know it was Vestal,” Susan Horst offered. She shrugged. “Just thought it was more of the same.”

“More… what?” Jane frowned.

Agnes rolled her eyes. Shook her head. She looked down at Vestal. Something passed between the two women. Agnes looked up at Jane and said, “Vestal don’t want to say, and that’s her business.”

Jane couldn’t imagine strong-willed, stubborn, downright sassy Vestal Jackson having nothing to say. Whereas Jane had made it her goal not to cause anyone trouble and never to draw attention to herself, Vestal caused Miss Dawson no end of frustration. But even Miss Dawson couldn’t resist the charm lying just beneath the surface of Vestal’s sass. The two bantered back and forth in a way that reminded Jane of sisters who annoyed one another on the surface but, when it came right down to it, grudgingly admitted mutual respect.

Jane looked away from Vestal and the group of women, wishing she could escape this moment with a woman about to give birth to a child she could not keep. She’d tried to keep her distance in recent months, even as Vestal babbled on and on about how active “he” was (she was certain the baby was a boy)… how he kept her awake at night turning somersaults inside… how he didn’t mind the breakfast gruel but objected strongly to the tough meat. Something about Vestal’s condition had drawn the other women together in recent weeks, as if they were a flock of birds guarding a single nest. But not Jane. Jane kept her distance.

Reaching out to say, “I understand,” would have brought Aunt Flora’s betrayal too close to the surface. I’ll read Rose every letter, she’d promised. I’ll send you a new cabinet portrait every year on her birthday. I’ll bring her to visit. We can come for Sunday services. I’ll explain it so she won’t be harmed. Goodness, doesn’t the warden’s own family come to services? Rose wouldn’t even be the only child there.

Jane had wondered over Aunt Flora’s lies for weeks. How could someone do that? Smile and make promises she never intended to keep? Jane hadn’t received a single letter, let alone a cabinet portrait of Rose. What had Flora told Rose to explain her mother’s disappearance? Did Rose think she was dead? Jane could recite that final postcard.
Rose has mourned her loss and is happy with me as her new mother. It is not wise to stir up memories of the tragic past.
Not even a letter. Two sentences scribbled on a postcard.

Jane had found a way to survive the betrayal, but she wasn’t willing to open that wound… not even to help Vestal Jackson. Not even when she learned that Miss Dawson’s sister—whose name was Manerva, although Miss Dawson called her Minnie—had “made arrangements” to have Vestal’s baby taken in at the Home for the Friendless. Not even when Vestal’s saucy attitude transformed to a sadness that cast a pall over every woman in the dormitory—with the exception of Pearl Brand, who didn’t seem to have one drop of compassion, one drop of motherly instinct, one drop of…
womanliness
about her.

And now Vestal had been stabbed… and her baby… Jane closed her eyes and willed the threatening tears away.

Vestal, her dark eyes wide with terror, sucked in a breath and began to groan. “When’s the doctor coming?”

Someone shouted from out in the hall, and Miss Dawson hurried to unlock the outer door. Jane heard… a woman’s voice? She looked up. What was the warden’s wife doing here? And that man… and those gray-green eyes. Suddenly, it was as if everything in the dormitory had receded into the distance and a glass dome lowered over Jane’s head, closing out everything but the sound of her own heartbeat and the sensation of the blood pulsing in her temples, as a blush crept up the back of her neck and spread across her cheeks.

Max Zimmer.

I
n a panic when Max caught her eye and smiled, Jane looked toward the far corner of the dormitory where everyone except Agnes, Susan, and she had gathered. It was as if someone had drawn an imaginary line between the scene by the door and the women over there. Jane wished she could join them, but Vestal would not let go.

The warden arrived. Jane heard enough snatches of his conversation with Max that she knew the plan had been to take Vestal across the hall to the unoccupied Negro dormitory to deliver her baby. But that was before they realized Pearl Brand was missing. Vestal’s confinement was little more than an unwelcome distraction in light of a possible escape, and the warden had taken steps to remove it. “I’m having a wagon hitched and brought to the front door. She’ll be transported to town.” He glanced at Max. “I’d be grateful if you’d agree to ride along.”

Before Max had a chance to respond, the warden’s wife spoke up. “Bring her to the house.”

Jane and Agnes exchanged amazed glances. Everyone had felt a bit wistful over the loss of the former warden’s wife—mostly because of pie. Once a month, she’d hosted a Ladies Aid meeting in her home. Each member brought one or two pies with them, and after their meeting, those pies were delivered to the guard’s dormitory and to the “friendless women” on the third floor. While Jane hated being thought of as friendless—even if it was true—that home-baked pie was a welcome treat. Apparently, Mrs. McKenna neither belonged to the same women’s group nor baked pies. In fact, so far she’d acted as if the female department didn’t exist. And now she was offering her house as a birthing clinic?

The warden seemed just as surprised as everyone else. In fact, he looked about ready to say no, but then Mrs. McKenna put one dainty hand on his forearm and said, with what Jane thought sounded like steel-edged sweetness, “You cannot expect a woman about to give birth to endure a wagon ride into Lincoln.” And with that, she waved for her maid to follow her as she said to Miss Dawson, “Have her brought to the house. Georgia and I will make preparations.”

Miss Dawson quickly agreed, and the warden went to the door and gave orders for a cot and two guards to bear it—and Vestal—across the road. From the look on Vestal’s pale face, it was obvious she didn’t know whether to be relieved or even more frightened. But then Max began to talk to her in that soothing voice of his, and she lay back while he examined the wound on her leg and reassured her it wasn’t much and he’d take good care of her.

After a brief exchange with Miss Dawson, the warden motioned for Jane to follow him into the parlor. Jane had braced herself to be questioned about her knowing Max Zimmer, but the warden didn’t mention Max. “Miss Dawson tells me she would have appointed you trustee last month, but that you declined.”

Jane glanced back toward the dormitory. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. Miss Dawson’s nice enough. I just don’t want…” She paused. “I just want to mind my own business, sir.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d look me in the eye, Mrs. Marquis.”

“Prescott,” Jane said quickly. She met his gaze, hoping she wouldn’t be punished for talking back. Was that kindness in his eyes?

“I–I’m not using that other name. If you don’t mind.”

He nodded. Seemed to be thinking through something. When was he going to ask her about Max? But again, he had something else on his mind. “Normally, I’d assign a guard and the matron to accompany Miss Jackson and the doctor over to my house and be done with it. But I need Miss Dawson here right now to help me with this Pearl Brand business.” He paused. “So I’m asking: Will you do the job of a trustee even though you refused the title? Would you go with Miss Jackson and stay with her for the duration?”

Jane wanted to say no with everything in her being, and the desire had nothing to do with Vestal or the birthing—and everything to do with Max Zimmer. What was he doing here? He didn’t seem to have let on that he knew her. Should she tell the warden? Vestal hollered again. The poor thing shouldn’t have to go through this alone—she just shouldn’t. Knowing that she would likely regret the decision, Jane nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m willing.”

“Do I have your word that you won’t try to escape?”

It was odd having a warden ask a woman serving time for manslaughter for her word. As if he could trust it. Why would he do that? She shrugged. “There wouldn’t be any point.” Would he still believe her when he found out about Max? The first visit had happened on the other warden’s watch, and Max hadn’t contacted her since. So unless one of them told him—and she wouldn’t—the warden would have no reason to know. For her part, she was going to pretend she’d never seen Max Zimmer.

Apparently satisfied, the warden nodded. “All right, then.”

Together, they went back into the dormitory where Miss Dawson reached out and squeezed her arm. “Thank you for your kindness to Vestal.”

Jane shook her head. “I’m not—kind. I’m just not willfully cruel. Vestal’s frightened. She shouldn’t be alone. Even an animal deserves company when it’s suffering.” Was she out of her mind? What had she done? And why had Ian allowed it? Not half a minute after Ellen so confidently offered her home as a medical clinic, she began to have doubts. As she and Georgia headed out of the facility, Miss Dawson caught up with them.