Zerviah left Sadie’s shortly after delivering her opinion that Frannie had been pregnant. She said she had no idea who the father might have been, only that it wasn’t her son. How could she be so sure? I was well aware how many mothers refused to believe the worst about their children, and I prayed I myself would never be put to the challenge. I wondered, too, where Zerviah had trained as a midwife. She was clearly in command both of her profession and the associated vocabulary, using a word like “gravid,” which was not in the common lexicon.
Tilly had laid down for a rest by the time I returned to the sunroom, so I set off meandering through town, as David was occupied until midday, about an hour from now. I strolled deep in thought down the main street of the town, passing a barbershop and a milliner.
Today the glowering sky put a damper on my mood. Gone was yesterday’s lighthearted weather, which had let a newly wed couple splash in the bay and enjoy an al fresco picnic at sunset. Now the air was a swamp of humidity, dampening the neck of my dress with sweat simply from the exertion of walking. Today’s cloud cover was an oppressive ash-colored blanket, reminding me a murderer walked these streets, too.
I paused at the railroad station, which also contained the telegraph office. I’d wanted to write to my father. I pushed through the door and made my way to the telegraph counter.
“I’d like to send a telegram, please.”
The elderly clerk silently passed me a slip of paper and a pencil. I thanked him and stepped to the side to compose my message. I considered how to word it, in light of Tilly now being associated with a homicide investigation.
PLS INFORM HOW TC ACQUIRED F WHY DIDN’T ADOPT. R
There. I’d avoided using names, in case the clerk might gossip. It was exactly ten words. One had to pay for ten words even if the message contained fewer. A line had formed at the window by now, so I took my place at the end. The two women in front of me obviously knew each other.
“The Baxter father isn’t much better than the son,” the taller one said.
She was talking about Reuben and his father. I sidled a half step closer so I could hear better.
The woman continued. “Why, my husband saw him swilling the hooch and doing his redskin dance up in the hills last week.” She pursed her lips and gave a shake to her head.
“I don’t know why we even allow Indians to live here in West Falmouth among decent white folks,” the other one said. “The government should keep them in Mashpee where they belong.”
“Especially if they’re going to go around killing poor girls. None of us is safe, mark my words.”
“I certainly didn’t let my daughter be delivered by that midwife, either,” Shorter said. “The German one in Falmouth was properly trained and doesn’t try to give ladies any strange concoctions like the ones Mrs. Baxter forces on them during their travails. She probably performs savage incantations, too. One can’t be too careful.”
“No, indeed one can’t.” It was Taller’s turn at the window, and the conversation ended.
I shook my head at such judgment against the Indians from these two. Concoctions, indeed. What midwife didn’t make up herbal remedies to assist her women during labor and afterward? Herbs were certainly part of my practice. I hadn’t met Zerviah’s husband or son, but she seemed a most competent and sensible woman. Of course, these women’s prejudicial views were commonly held in our nation. Why else would Indians have been pushed off their native lands and forced to move or to go into hiding? It made me glad all over again to have been raised in the Quaker faith, where we are taught all are equal in God’s eyes.
Finally I slid my telegram to the clerk and paid the seven dollars and forty cents, wincing as I did. David was well situated financially, but I wasn’t used to spending money so wantonly.
The man squinted up at me after he read my words. I feared he was about to question me, but he didn’t. I was sure he wasn’t fooled by my enigmatic use of initials.
One purpose of my walk being accomplished, I headed out. I smiled at the very small library building across the street. Dru had said plans were in place to build a new library across from the Meetinghouse, but they hadn’t broken ground yet. I made my way to the Union Store to talk with Brigid. As promised, she stood behind the counter, today clad in a blue sprigged dress with her hair pinned up. She was quite a pretty girl, especially cleaned up and out of her mannish seafaring garb.
I wondered if I should purchase something in case she had a boss who might disapprove of her spending time speaking with me. I spied a small tin of sweets and brought it to the front. I could give it to Sadie as a gesture of thanks for the meal yesterday. I was sure Dru would enjoy the candy, if not Tilly.
“Good morning, Brigid,” I said.
She had turned her back and was running a feather duster over a shelf of tonics. She faced me, a smile already on her face, but it slid away when she saw who I was. “You’re the lady from the beach, Frannie’s cousin. You wanted to know about Hazel.”
“Yes, I’m Rose Carr— I mean, Dodge.” I laid the tin on the counter. “I’d like to purchase this, please, and I would very much like to know why Hazel harbors ill feelings toward thee.” I kept my voice low.
She blinked at my use of “thee.” “You’re after being one of those Quakers, are you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Frannie attended your church, too.” When her eyes welled, she swiped at them with the back of her hand. “I wanted to go with her once to see what it was like, but me da forbade it. Said walking into a pagan church would be considered a sin or some such twaddle.”
She told me the sweets would be five cents. She pressed the keys on the big ornate cash register, making the drawer pop open with its dinging bell. As she accepted the coins I proffered, Brigid said, “Hazel hated me because I wouldn’t do what she said. She’s a one for going on and ordering her friends about.”
Interesting. “Did Frannie obey her?”
“Not since she was taking up with Reuben Baxter, she didn’t.”
“I gather Frannie and Reuben were openly courting.”
“Yes, ma’am, and Hazel was a right spitfire about it, I’ll tell you.”
“How do you know Hazel?”
“Ah, you know, we all live here, we’re all of an age. I suppose Frannie introduced us first.”
The bell hanging from the door jangled as another customer entered.
“One more quick question.” A thought occurred to me. “Hazel told me she had no siblings, and she lives in a quite large house with her parents. Why does she work at the tag factory if her family is wealthy?”
She tossed her head and leaned toward me. “I think her da won’t give her spending money. Hazel has a weakness for laudanum and the tonics, she does. She’d spend her entire inheritance on it if she could.”
Laudanum, the potent mix of brandy and opium that was a favorite of women of a certain class who were eager to escape the prison of their idle lives. Tonics were often also laced with substances like codeine, cocaine, and alcohol. All were readily available for purchase at the druggist.
“Her mama doesn’t like her associating with us working types, but her father indulges her and lets her earn her pin money,” she murmured, then glanced at the newcomer. “Can I be helping you, Mr. Latting?”
I turned toward my fellow Quaker as he approached. “Good morning, Abial.”
“Hello. Rose, wasn’t it? Brigid, I’d like a word with the owner, if thee pleases.”
“I’m sorry, but he’s out, Mr. Latting.”
Abial pursed his lips. “This is most unfortunate. I am obliged to raise an unpleasant issue with him. Tell him to contact me at my office at his earliest convenience. Good day, ladies.”
The screen door whacked shut behind him. Did the market owner owe Abial money? Or was it a personal matter?
“What was that about, Brigid?” I asked, still staring at the door. Gone was Abial’s solicitous tone in Meeting for Worship. Instead I had witnessed a haughty businessman. Perhaps this was the cause of some of those rumors Huldah had referred to. “Does thee know?”
“I don’t, ma’am, and I’m glad of it. You don’t want to be getting in that man’s way, Quaker or no Quaker.”