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JOY WAS STILL IN RIVERBEND helping her mother sort through her things and make the difficult choices of what to keep and what to give away. Rose had made up her mind to accompany Joy when she returned to Corinth.
In Corinth at the lodge, things were running smoothly enough. On Sunday morning the household dressed and left for church as usual, all except Mei-Xing, of course, and O’Dell. O’Dell, who did not attend church and who usually stayed at the lodge on Sunday mornings, was feeling a bit stifled with the extra responsibility. What he wanted today was some fresh air and breathing room.
He had so perfected his British persona in Corinth that the townspeople had taken him for granted—which is just what he had intended. He carried his shotgun and could be seen bringing back game to the lodge on a daily basis. It was the perfect cover.
As the churchgoers left, he sent Mei-Xing to the third floor and grabbed his shotgun. Blackie whined and scratched at the door, so he attached a leash and set out for a walk to clear his head and give the puppy some leash training.
The three men hiding within the trees near the lodge waited until he was out of earshot to try the lodge’s back door. It was locked as expected, but one of them gave a nod. The reinforced frame splintered under the repeated impact of a heavy boot.
Once inside, Banner sent Darrow and another man upstairs to search the bedrooms. He remained downstairs and sauntered through the kitchen into the great room. He examined the furnishings, scrutinizing them for any tell-tale sign that Morgan’s flighty “Little Plum Blossom” or the two other girls, Tory and Helen, were hiding or had been hidden within the lodge.
—
MEI-XING HEARD THE crash as the kitchen door broke under Darrow’s boot and froze, but only momentarily. Treading with light steps to the apartment’s door, she opened it a crack and heard the clomping of boots marching up the stairs.
With a shudder, she closed the door quietly and scanned the apartment’s little sitting room. She had been sipping a hot cup of tea—she dumped it into a house plant near Joy’s window. Taking the warm cup with her, she pulled open the sofa hiding place and crawled inside. As she tugged the lid closed, she heard the two men open the door of the apartment. She slid the latch home, grateful that it was well oiled and made no sound.
“Looks like the women live up here,” one man said. He kicked open Marit’s door. “Got a baby bed in this ’un.”
The other man only grunted, and Mei-Xing heard him enter Breona’s and then Joy’s room.
“One room for each of the three women. No extra beds.”
She recognized Darrow’s voice and began to tremble. Clamping a hand over her mouth she stifled the whimper that threatened to spill from her.
At that moment she felt the lid shake above her!
—
DARROW SLOUCHED ON the built-in sofa and stared around the apartment looking for clues. All the rooms on the second floor were empty and perfectly arranged, except for the one that the English gent used. The rest were prepared and waiting for guests.
He snorted. Like they would have guests this time of year, what with the blizzards and several feet of snow!
He studied the apartment and tried to figure where they would hide the little China doll . . . because he knew in his very bones that they were hiding her. Either that or they had somehow used magic to spirit her off the blasted mountain!
“Toss those beds in there, Bob.”
He heard the other man overturning the mattresses and pulling the bedsteads away from the walls. For good measure, Bob pulled out drawers and dumped their contents and opened the wardrobes and pulled the clothes from them, dropping them on the floor and then walking on them.
“Nuthin’, Mr. Darrow.”
Darrow’s eyes squinted. The only upside to this failure was that Morgan was not going to skin him with that . . . that look, that calm yet menacing look. No, Banner would be on the hot seat for that one.
“Let’s go.” He and the other man stomped back down the stairs.
They stopped again on the second floor, and Bob tossed mattresses and linens onto the floor as he had done on the third floor. The wardrobes and dressers were empty, but Darrow had Bob pull out the drawers and drop them on the floor anyway.
—
WHEN O’DELL RETURNED from his walk—carrying the puppy who had run out of steam an hour ago—the kitchen door was standing ajar, dangling at an odd angle, one bent hinge ripped from the splintered frame. Choking on curses of self-recrimination, he set the dog down outside and cocked the shotgun he carried.
Blackie, anxious to be inside, pushed at his legs. O’Dell, not unkindly, used his foot to hold him back. He shot a cursory look around the kitchen then opened the pantry and nudged the pup inside. The great room seemed undisturbed.
He mounted the stairs, stopping on the second floor landing to listen. He heard nothing but the creaking and popping of the house in the cold air.
Silent as a cat, he crept up the stairs to the attic apartment. Here he found destruction—broken chairs and vases, a potted plant and its soil strewn across the carpet. The three bedrooms, wrecked.
Standing in the middle of the sitting room he called in a low voice, “Mei-Xing! It is O’Dell.”
Nothing.
A cold hand gripped his heart.
He was about to open the hiding spot himself when the lid began to rise. He yanked it open and lifted her out and then put an arm about her shaking shoulders. “It is all right, little one. They are gone.”
Mei-Xing took in the destruction and then turned her brimming eyes to O’Dell. “It was Darrow. And two other men.” She bowed her head and sobbed. “This is my fault. All I do is bring ruin wherever I go.”
O’Dell shook his head. “No, you’re wrong. This is my fault. I allowed myself to become complacent, and I broke my own rule. I left you alone.”
He held her at arm’s length and glared into her face. “It is not your fault that those . . . men are evil. Joy is right. We cannot fix all the evil in this world—we can only fight it when it is in front of us.”
As Mei-Xing wept on his chest, O’Dell ran his hand through his hair in rage and frustration. “By God, I am near ready to go to war over this little town.”
—
WHEN THE OTHERS RETURNED from church O’Dell met them and gave them the sobering news, not sparing the blame for his own actions. “This is my fault and my responsibility. I apologize to all of you, but particularly to Mei-Xing for the fright this gave her. Breona and Marit, I am sorry about your rooms and your things.”
He had already forced the kitchen door into its jamb to keep the cold out, although it would no longer latch or lock. It was obvious that both the door and the fame needed to be replaced.
“I let my guard down,” O’Dell said through gritted teeth.
“Looks like we all did,” Billy answered. “We started thinking they weren’t watching us no more. Well, they were.”
Flinty pressed his lips together in a way that said he agreed with O’Dell—the blame lay with him. But the old man did not utter a word of reproach. He and Mr. Wheatley set out for Flinty’s shop to gather what they needed to remake the door.
Breona and Marit went upstairs to survey the damage and there they found Mei-Xing, humming to herself, tidying up. She had swept up the broken pottery and potting soil, placed all the drawers back in the dressers, and remade the beds.
Not knowing how Breona and Marit wanted their clothes refolded and placed in the drawers or hung in the wardrobes she had gathered them and laid them on the beds. In Joy’s room, Mei-Xing was doing for Joy what she was not present to do for herself.
Breona remarked to Marit. “Let’s be givin’ Mei-Xing a hand. I’m not wantin’ Miss Joy, on top o’ all her grievin’, to be a-coomin’ home t’ this.”
—
ROSE BROWNLEE THORESEN was leaving RiverBend, perhaps for the last time. She had kept that thought from intruding as she and Joy wrapped and boxed a few treasures Rose would store in the attic, and as they sorted her household and Rose made herself choose what to keep and what to give away.
Søren’s youngest son, Jon, and his fiancée would be marrying in the fall. Rose had offered the house for them to live in and they accepted with gratitude. Rose had spent her last day in RiverBend packing her trunks in preparation for morning when Søren would take them to the train.
But when Søren had loaded their luggage and they were in the wagon, Rose looked back and, with great gulping sobs began to truly say goodbye—goodbye to her prairie home and goodbye to the precious life she had shared with Jan.
Joy held her mother’s hand, but she and Søren set their faces forward, allowing Rose the dignity of her grief.
—
WHEN THEY ARRIVED IN Denver, Emily Van der Pol met them and took them to her home. They were to spend two nights with her so that they could meet with the small group of women Emily had assembled. She assured Joy that the women were honor bound to keep her confidences.
“I want to let you know that we sent Tory and Helen to dear and trusted friends in Philadelphia.” Emily told them. “Sadly, Helen passed away not long after they arrived.”
Joy and Rose received her announcement with grave acceptance. The news was not unexpected to Joy, but she knew Tory would grieve for her friend. “And Tory?”
“She is settling in. We have found a place for her with two older women, sisters, both widows and well off. They have apprenticed Tory—with her approval, of course—with one of the finest clothiers in their city. A personal friend of theirs, I might add. Tory, with her strong sense of style and elegance, may do well there.”
—
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON Joy and Rose accompanied Emily to Grace Minton’s home where they took lunch with seven distinguished-looking women. After lunch, Joy shared about the work they were doing in Corinth and the ideas she and Uli had formed. When she finished, she answered questions. Then Joy asked Rose to address the group.
Rose was frank with the women, some her age, but most a few years younger. “As you have no doubt already noted, my daughter is very committed to helping women escape from prostitution, a life of . . . shall we call it what it often is? A life of slavery. A life in which a woman’s body is not her own but is subject to the whims and debasing acts of any man with money.
“For many of these women, prostitution was a ‘choice’ between starvation and daily bread, homelessness and the very roof over their head. I have often thought there but for the grace of God go I.” She smiled, but her smile was pained.
“We are here today to talk about the practical aspects of funding a home where a few of these women can find refuge, forgiveness, and hope for the future. Joy has provided you with the details, and I . . . I have committed to using my own funds to buy such a house.”
As the eight women heard this, they looked on Rose with new respect.
“My purpose today is to challenge your group. Will you do no less than I?” She looked at each of them in turn. “I know that some of you are blessed as I am to have your own money. Perhaps, for some of you, your husband holds the purse strings, which makes helping our work financially a bit more difficult. However, what I propose is this: Every dollar we raise toward these endeavors you, as a group, will challenge yourselves to match.”
Several of the women began to whisper together; one or two asked additional questions. For a few minutes the group lapsed into silence, and then Grace spoke.
“Mrs. Thoresen, Miss Thoresen, would you be so kind as to excuse us for a few minutes? We would like to discuss this and pray over your proposal. Perhaps you would enjoy seeing our small collection of paintings in the library?”
Joy and Rose went to the library to wait. After thirty minutes a maid brought them tea. Another thirty minutes went by before Emily came into the room, smiling.
“Would you please rejoin us?”
When they returned to the parlor, Joy could not help but notice the smiling accord of the women waiting for them. Grace spoke for the little group.
“We have been praying for months—ever since Emily called on us to help remove Tory and Helen from Corinth to a place of safety.” She laughed a little. “I will admit that endeavor was more excitement than I perhaps wish to experience on a regular basis, but . . .” and here her face crumpled, and she struggled for composure.
“But when we realized what we had saved them from, it has been our fervent prayer that the Lord would show us how to enter more fully into this work. You have provided that guidance today.”
She looked around the room to approving nods and turned back to Rose and Joy. “We accept your challenge.”
—
THAT EVENING EMILY, Rose, and Joy had just finished dinner and were discussing in what areas of the city to look for a house when the door to the parlor opened and a gentleman with graying hair entered. As the three of them stood to greet him, Joy noticed how disconcerted Emily appeared.
“Ah, there you are, my dear. I apologize; I did not realize we had guests.” The man who greeted her was affable—until he caught sight of Joy. He halted mid-speech as though thunderstruck.
She, too, froze for a moment, but she recovered before he did and stared directly into his disquieted eyes. Yes, she knew him. He was the man who had looked her over and tipped his hat to her in a brazen manner at the little Corinth station.
She remembered him—and she knew that he recognized her.
Emily made awkward introductions. “I believed you would be out of town one more night, Randolph. My friends are on their way in the morning, but we have had . . . a delightful visit.”
Mumbling hurried pleasantries, Emily’s husband retreated from the room. Emily took a deep breath, and Joy and Rose glimpsed the pain Emily usually managed with such dignity, that of an unfaithful marriage. She turned to them.
“Randolph was not himself just now. He seemed quite . . . undone, particularly when meeting you, Joy.” Her chin dipped and she was red with shame. “Perhaps you have encountered him before?”
Joy nodded. “I am sorry, Emily. I have. And I am certain he recognized me . . . from Corinth.”
Emily shook her head in regret. “I had not anticipated that he would be home early. Well, I have always placed my many problems in the Lord’s hands, especially those concerning Randolph. I must trust that my God is orchestrating things to his good pleasure.” She sighed and looked at Joy and Rose. “Sooner or later he will know what I have undertaken in partnership with you.”
She added—somewhat to herself, “Sooner or later there will be a confrontation and all the lies will be laid bare. God grant me the strength on that day to do what I must.”
~~**~~
