The Great Plains (10 page)

Aloysius gave a short laugh. Chloe McCalister Wade was of railroad stock, with her father a substantial shareholder of the Missouri–Kansas–Texas Railroad. ‘The McCalisters were hardly going to question an alliance with us, Annie. They have a mixed bag of relatives and a limited pedigree.'

Serena ran past the window, her hair streaming in the wind. Aloysius had always intended to tell Serena the truth. Everyone from the staff at the asylum where Serena had been born to the domestics and staff employed in the Wade residences and businesses across Dallas knew of Serena's lamentable history. He had the
Tribune
to thank for the announcement of Philomena's arrival all those years ago and the gossips for spreading the news of Serena's birth. At first all he'd wanted to do was shield her until Serena grew older, especially as Harry believed the child would be better off not knowing her past.

‘You will have to tell her, Aloysius.'

He watched as Serena tucked the length of her skirt in her pantaloons and began to climb the large cedar tree. The girl disappeared quickly under the drooping branches, reappearing some six feet up to peer through the finely textured leaves. Aloysius scratched at his thinning hairline. Any other guardian would rush outside and stop the girl from such an unseemly, dangerous past-time, but then Serena was not like most young ladies. She preferred to be outdoors and was clearly a competent climber. More worrying was her attraction to fire and her penchant for the collection of dead things. Aloysius didn't need Harry to tell him that the child was displaying inherited characteristics. His thoughts strayed to Philomena. He wondered what she was doing this very day as he watched her grandchild drop to the ground from the branches above to land on all four limbs.

Annie followed her husband's gaze. ‘She is very athletic,' she said softly, ‘and Thomas tells me that she can run like the wind. She certainly didn't get that from our side of the family.'

When the telephone rang, Aloysius walked slowly to answer it. There was a feeling of dread growing inside of him, a feeling validated by Harry, who delivered the news of Gwen's death. Aloysius pressed his forehead against the timber panelling above the hall table as Harry explained the cause of the maid's demise. He suspected a burst blood vessel in the girl's brain, caused by the fall. The sheriff was on his way to the Wade home, standard procedure and all that. Aloysius felt the gossamer lining of their recent life begin to tear and ended the call without a thank-you. He was mindful that although Serena was a minor he had already lied to Harry about the morning's events to protect her name. Now Annie must do the same, not that there was much point. The
Tribune
would concoct a fanciful story regarding Gwen's demise, a story that did justice to the Wade family's colourful history.

Nature versus nurture
, he muttered, recalling all those years ago when he complained to his wife that doctors only knew what they had read in a book, yet he had listened to Harry regarding Philomena and her grandchild for want of any other direction. Now doubt was eating at the edges of that long ago decision.

Aloysius dawdled in the entrance hall of his family home and found himself thinking of Edmund and his expansion dreams. His son was once again considering relocating to start a new newspaper in the fledgling town of Oklahoma City now that the economy had recovered, and Edmund seemed confident enough to actually make good on this long-held ambition.

Indian reservations were continually being opened up, new towns were appearing and the Indians were gradually losing their grip on the land the government had so generously handed out. Even the so-called civilised Five Tribes, who inhabited large reservations east of Oklahoma City and had been lauded for their tribal governments, were facing strong opposition from new settlers to have their lands divided. An Act was in play to divide the Five Tribes' land and abolish their governments without consent. It was a harsh but necessary means to ensuring they negotiated with the federal government.

With such prudent discussions underway, Aloysius wondered if it would not be best to follow Edmund. He and Annie were no longer young and in the future Serena would need a caring guardian. Edmund's brother Joe was a hard worker but he and his wife Susan already had five children and were of an indulgent nature. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the girl would need a strong hand and although he disliked Chloe, his daughter-in-law would ensure that Serena behaved herself, if only to protect her and her family's reputation.

Aloysius looked on the positive side. A new business venture in a new town appealed to him. There was the advantage of keeping a tight hand on the start-up costs of a second major newspaper, of retaining control of Wade Enterprises to the fullest extent possible.

Guilt was a strange bedfellow. At times it had robbed Aloysius of clarity, made him feel unworthy and caused him to question the moral fabric of his being. He'd taken Serena into the bosom of his family because he couldn't have Philomena, or Ginny for that matter. He had been torn by the guilt he felt for his brother's death and, worse, by the need to keep some part of Ginny alive.

Fort Sill was located a scant ninety miles to the south-west of Oklahoma City. It was here that some Apaches and Geronimo resided when the war chief was not roaming about the lands as part of Pawnee Bill's Wild West Show. The savage sought acclaim, and Aloysius was drawing closer to the time when he would feel the need to seek clarity, for Philomena resided at the fort as well. He was beginning to form his own theory and it did not come from any book. At some stage he would need to gather the strength to test his hypothesis, to see if Harry was in fact wrong, that nurture was not stronger than nature. The anger that had lain dormant these many years since Serena's birth was beginning to rise again. For if Aloysius was right, he may lose Serena and he feared it would be too late to save her grandmother.

‘Is it very bad?' Annie asked when he returned to the drawing room.

His wife was still in her nightgown. The fire had gone out, the room was chilly for June. The sheriff would appear at any moment. Aloysius took his wife's hands in his. ‘We have to talk.'

Four years later
February, 1902 – Oklahoma City, Oklahoma Territory

Aloysius folded the newspaper he had been reading and dabbed at the breadcrumbs on the damask cloth. Briefly considering another hot bread roll, he pushed aside his empty plate, poured more coffee from the silver pot at his elbow and ran a finger across the masthead of the newspaper. Oklahoma City had a brand new paper and after only six months Edmund's circulation figures were already impressive. Granted, there was much to write about here. There were scuffles aplenty occurring on the fringes of the city and, further out, residences and businesses were going up and some were being burnt down, new settlers were fighting cowboys, cowboys were fighting sheep-breeders and then there was the continued angst that seeped from the masses as a result of the new economic order. Railroads, utilities and other companies were now massive, powerful corporations and Aloysius had quickly sensed in the public a feeling of powerlessness. His opinion page often drew on the fears of the people in the face of growing economic might. Workers wanted decent treatment, farmers wanted fair rates for the transport of produce and the consumer wanted fair prices. Such concerns morphed into the possibility of these new economic powerhouses corrupting the democratic process.

Democracy in the Oklahoma Territory was flawed, in Aloysius's view. The division of party preferences was geographical, with the northern portion strongly Republican and the southern portion drawing a greater majority of settlers from Texas and the rest of the old Confederacy, making them intensely Democratic. When it came to voting, however, the balance of power often rested with black homesteaders of southern ancestry. They voted for the party of their emancipation, the Union and Lincoln. Aloysius would never understand how blacks had been given the vote. He was still coming to terms with having to pay Thomas a weekly wage.

The sun was warm against the nape of his neck. It slanted through the leaves of the pecan and redbud trees outside the window and angled prettily on the polished patterned timber flooring. The breakfast table, which was situated in the curved alcove formed by the corner tower, was Aloysius's favourite spot in the house. Their new home was in a quiet area, the location chosen specifically so that they remained some miles from the bustle of town life and on a slight rise, which afforded them a distant view of the trees hugging the North Canadian River. Built to his specifications on the outskirts of Oklahoma City, the residence was much smaller than their Dallas home had been. Victorian in style, it featured a second-floor balcony, false dormers and a small ballroom on the third floor. In spite of its reduced dimensions it was considered a residence of note in the fledgling city and Aloysius found his new surrounds much to his liking. There was a city emerging nearby, the interest of a new business venture to attend to and a new environment to explore. He was looking forward to the Saturday morning ahead. Edmund was visiting to discuss their plans of an afternoon penny paper. The cheaper edition had been most successful in Dallas and would be accepted with equal enthusiasm by the masses here.

‘Aloysius.'

Annie entered the morning room, her hair massed atop her head in a waterfall of waves and curls. Streaks of grey fanned out from her temples, the effect rather like the underside of a tiny bird's wings.

‘I have troubling news, Aloysius. Serena has been out gallivanting again and it is worse than last time.' She fidgeted with the high-necked blouse she wore.

Aloysius sighed and offered coffee.

‘I don't care for coffee, Aloysius,' his wife replied, ‘this is far worse than the skipping of lessons, which you seem to so indulgently tolerate. We have left hearth and home on your advices so that Serena could be near Edmund as well as enjoy the benefits of a fresh start, and her behaviour is more appalling than ever.' Annie's hands interlaced, a white handkerchief in her twitching fingers. ‘Thomas found her wandering the streets shoeless, visiting the tent cities.'

‘Yes, well, she never has been very partial to shoes,' he admitted. At least once every day his wife found some small fault with their ward. Aloysius was growing tired of the complaints and interruptions. With Annie now settled and busy with her social engagements and the handful of women she deemed suitable to mix with, he thought her lenient attitude toward their ward would remain unvaried. Instead, Serena and Annie's relationship was becoming increasingly strained. His response regarding shoes had not been met with kindly. Annie appeared as if she was about to suffer a convulsion. ‘Calm yourself, my dear.'

‘Calm myself!' Her throat bobbed. ‘We have given up everything for that child and this is how she repays us. Heavens, Aloysius, the girl has been out all night. Why she is behaving like a, like a –'

‘We have hardly given up everything. We agreed on this move.'

‘You and Edmund agreed on it so that Edmund could follow his ambition and you –'

‘What did you expect me to do? We are no longer young and things had to be put in place for the future. Who would you have chosen to be guardian of her, Annie? Who would have the patience for it? Who would wish to take on the role?'

Annie sat heavily in a blue armchair. ‘Who, indeed? When I think of everything we have endured, your brother's death and Ginny's, the years we all thought Philomena was dead and yet you still hoped for a miracle, Serena's birth, Gwen's death, the sheriff's involvement, the insinuations that muckraker from the
Tribune
made about Gwen's accident. And you refused to take Jeffreys and his paper to court. It was libel, Aloysius, suggesting foul play was involved.'

Aloysius brushed crumbs from the front of his waistcoat. ‘I would have been playing right into those muckrakers' hands, you know that. And heaven knows what a court case may have dredged up for public consumption.'

‘There was nothing to dredge up except Serena's ancestry,' Annie whispered. ‘We are not the only family affected by such a calamity and it is not 1880 anymore, Aloysius. Why, Quanah Parker was the descendant of a white woman and he is a highly respected and contributing member of society. Look at us sitting here in this house you have built in this backwater place, with our old friends back in Dallas wondering why we ran away.'

‘Rubbish.' Aloysius knew he'd been most ignorant in his belief that the actuality of her birth should remain hidden from Serena, but he was also a proud man who believed a family's privacy was sacrosanct.

‘Rubbish, you say? You wonder why we have so few friends here? You with your righteous talk of the need to abolish the five tribal governments, of divvying up their land, of ending Indian authority in the territory completely, does not go down with everybody, my dear. Anyone would think you were one of those brash newcomers from the east. We live in Oklahoma City where many Indians are respected business people in their own right, and yet you can't keep your opinions to yourself. Have you ever thought about how we must look? Here we are with a half-breed in the family and you're espousing the virtue of destroying tribal land ownership. You see it as a barrier to economic progress, as a barrier to the rights of American citizens, so what does that make Serena, my dear?'

He recalled his father's words,
pride cometh before a fall
. ‘Where is she?'

Annie rose and left the room. When she returned a moment later, Serena was with her. Philomena's granddaughter was dressed in a similar style to Annie but all likeness ended there. The girl's golden-blonde hair was loose and unbrushed, the ends tangled. Her skin was dull, her eyes ringed purple with exhaustion and the blouse and skirt she wore carried smears of dirt and had obviously been slept in. At the sight of Serena, Aloysius felt the full brunt of his sixty-five years. He waved a hand at her, directing the girl to sit opposite him at the table. Instead, she remained standing in the middle of the room. ‘Serena, what possesses you to wander the streets at night?'

‘I like it, it's interesting.'

At least today she was speaking. He'd begun to think he'd lost Serena's trust for the free-spirited child they'd once adored had disappeared following Gwen's death. Most of the time she appeared wary of talking among them and over the past year had taken to spending much time on her own. ‘It's dangerous,' Aloysius cautioned. ‘Oklahoma City is not like Dallas, my child. It was built on the back of a number of land runs and there are people here from all walks of life, good and bad, rich and poor, and most have learnt that they must stay with their own kind as you must stay with yours. You are fifteen years of age now, Serena, a young woman. You must behave accordingly.'

‘Why?'

‘Because that is what people of our breeding do.'

Outside a bird twittered. The noise of the maid sweeping the front porch carried into the room.
Swish
,
swish
.

Serena lifted her chin. ‘But I am not of your breeding, am I? I'm Indian.'

It was almost as if he didn't hear the words. Somewhere a clock was ticking, an errant rooster crowed and in the middle of the room a young woman swayed gently. Aloysius wished he could reach into the heart of the girl before him and yank out the part so foully made.

‘You should have just told me the truth, instead of making me call you Grandpapa and pretending my parents didn't exist. I had a right to know.' Serena's voice was tight.

‘Who told you?' Aloysius finally asked.

Serena hunched her slight shoulders. ‘People talk. Gwen, Edmund, his precious Chloe.'

‘You shouldn't eavesdrop.' Annie was now totally composed.

Serena scratched one foot with the toes of the other and turned to the woman who had been the mother figure in her life since birth. ‘And people shouldn't lie.'

Swish, swish
.

Aloysius lifted the sash window. ‘Can you please stop that infernal noise, girl?' The maid stopped immediately and disappeared. ‘Annie and I only ever wanted the best for you, Serena.' He recognised Philomena's determination, yet it was a strength mixed with inconsistencies of character and for the first time he acknowledged that he was afraid for the young woman standing before him, for her future. He sat back down at the breakfast table.

‘Are my parents really dead?'

Aloysius felt his wife's gaze upon him. ‘Your mother died in childbirth at the Dallas asylum, as for your father, I am not sure whether he is alive or dead. Nor do I know who he was.'

Serena appeared to process this information with little emotion. ‘And the white lady that was abducted many years ago, Philomena?'

‘She was my brother's daughter, your grandmother.'

‘So I am of your blood?'

This clearly came as a surprise to Serena, for she looked from Annie to Aloysius as if seeing them for the first time, then turned to stare at the oil painting hanging above the fireplace. Completed only recently, the artist had done a fair rendering, particularly as he only had the miniatures to work from. Here then was Aloysius's dead brother and his family. Joseph and his beloved wife Ginny were seated on a chaise-lounge, their little boy on their left, Philomena on the right. Aloysius had them rendered as he remembered them before they left for the territory of New Mexico; Ginny wore lilac silk, the white lace collar complemented by a large brooch; Philomena, a pale peach dress. Joseph was suitably attired in a three-piece suit; his son in short pants and coat. It was a splendid portrait, if only because Serena was depicted standing next to her grandmother. It was as if time had stood still.

Aloysius left the table and, walking to Serena's side, pointed at the image of Philomena. ‘That is your grandmother, Philomena Wade, with your great-grandparents.'

‘And my real mother?'

‘We have no picture of her.'

The girl studied the painting. ‘So my mother was Indian, which means Philomena –'

‘Yes, yes.' He couldn't speak about Philomena's undoing out loud. Aloysius turned his ward by the shoulders to face him. She pulled free of his grasp before he could think of suitable words and left the room quietly. Serena was light on her feet, lithe and quiet. She missed the squeaky board Aloysius usually trod upon.

‘You must pack that thing away, Aloysius.'

He was still staring at the open door, a hand outstretched. He dropped it quickly. ‘What?'

‘The painting.'

His wife thought the family portrait was an old man's folly. She did not agree with its commission nor Serena's inclusion. Her only remark on first sighting the work was that she'd not noticed in life the thickness of Ginny's neck.

‘What is done cannot be undone.' Annie tucked a handkerchief into the sleeve of her blouse. ‘It is best she knows the truth, but now she does, perhaps we should seek some advice. There will be ramifications, I fear, knowing the nature of the girl.'

‘No, no advice.' His faith was dented in that regard. Faced with the unknown all those years ago, confronted with what appeared to be the very epitome of the noble savage, Aloysius feared he may have been too eager to listen to the many voices who condemned Philomena.

‘Clearly Serena was under the impression she was not related to us.'

Aloysius gave a vacant nod in response.

‘What is it, what's troubling you, my husband?'

Aloysius rolled the newspaper sitting on the edge of the table and slapped one end of it into his palm. ‘What if nature is the stronger pull? What if nurture does not define a character? Is it possible that Serena is incapable of becoming the young woman I want her to be? Was I too quick to judge Philomena?'

‘Don't let Serena undermine your convictions. She is still young and quite willful. I've always maintained that she needed a stronger hand. Perhaps a private school for young ladies would be beneficial. If she won't learn respect and decorum from us she can jolly well learn it from someone else.'