12

Whatever happened to that old trunk of costumes we used for the patriot celebration we had in 1885?” Mrs. Madison asked her niece. “It’s already April, and we need to gather everything we’ll need for the ball’s decorations.”

Militine looked to Abrianna, who appeared to be considering the matter in her diligent manner. If anyone knew where that trunk was, it would be Abrianna.

“I believe . . . yes, I’m almost certain we stored those costumes in the basement at the Madison Building. You don’t suppose we forgot to bring them in the move?”

“Oh dear,” Miss Poisie declared. “I would hate to think of our belongings lying to waste in Mr. Welby’s care. I’m sure he couldn’t possibly be bothered by such things.” She stroked a long-haired calico she’d named Miss Muffy. The cat seemed most content on the older woman’s lap.

Militine waited for someone to suggest the trunk could be retrieved. It was only a moment before Abrianna offered to do just that. The girl was always willing to brave the unknown for whatever she wanted.

But I’ve done likewise. I left the known for the unknown by coming here. And look at me now. I’m safe and relatively happy. She frowned. She hadn’t thought of herself being happy before this moment.

“I believe we could make a side trip there on the way home from the food house.” Abrianna reached down to pick up a gray cat whose black mustache had prompted Miss Poisie to name him Mr. Masterson. Militine thought it very interesting that Miss Poisie did so based on memories of a newspaper article about Bat Masterson. Miss Poisie told her that since Mr. Masterson too sported a black mustache and had killed several men, perhaps such a name would lend itself to encourage the tomcat to do likewise with mice.

“Militine?” Hearing her name pulled Militine out of her reverie.

“Oh yes. I’m sure a side trip would be possible.”

Abrianna stroked the happy cat. “I’ll just ask Wade to drive us there. He has his own wagon now. I think he tired of having to borrow one to take us and our food stock to the wharf. It’s not all that big, but it should suffice for the trunk.”

“If he agrees to go with you and Militine, I won’t object,” Mrs. Madison replied. “I would very much like to have those costumes returned. After all, with our bridal ball theme to be patriotic, it would be a waste of money to create new ones if the old will suffice.”

Delight shone on Abrianna’s face. Militine couldn’t help but wonder if they were getting themselves into yet another of Abrianna’s messes.

“Wade will be here to pick us up in fifteen minutes. I’ll let him know of our need on the way to the food house.”

“I have heard good things about your work there, Abrianna.” Mrs. Madison rose from her chair. Her action startled Mr. Masterson, and he leapt to the ground and scurried from the room. In his place, the final of three cats Miss Poisie had secured sauntered into the room and rubbed up against Mrs. Madison’s skirts. “Go on now, Buddy, I must work.” The cat seemed unconcerned and continued to show her affection until Mrs. Madison bent down to scratch him behind the ears. Buddy had received his name from Mrs. Gibson, who, upon inspecting the gray tiger-striped cat, decided he would make a most congenial buddy.

With the cat satisfied by Mrs. Madison’s attention, the old woman straightened. “As I was saying, I’ve heard good things about your work at the food house.” She moved to a pile of mending that awaited attention. She chose a piece and returned to her seat. “Mrs. Bryant told me that her ladies’ aid group was quite pleased by what you had accomplished. I believe they plan to send some small donation your way.”

“That would be wonderful. I’ve had talks with several of the nearby businesses and have managed to get pledges for monthly help in the form of goods. I’ve been trying to talk the merchants out of blankets, as well. It would seem that so many of those penniless men have no decent place to rest, much less a blanket.

“In fact, I was hoping perhaps we might consider donating some of our older blankets to the cause,” Abrianna said, looking at Mrs. Madison with an expression of innocent hope. “If only you knew how they suffer, Aunt Miriam. Those poor men are left exposed to the elements. Some even sleep on the ground, in the alleyways, or wherever they can go unnoticed. I told Wade I thought we should consider setting up cots at the food house. It’s dry, at least, and they could stay there at night and leave come first light.”

“So now you’re to run a hotel?” Mrs. Madison shook her head. “Honestly, Abrianna, it’s a wonder I’m not given to the vapors. You put me through such ordeals. Imagine what would be said if you were to open that place to bedding down rowdy sailors. No, I think it’s already a huge compromise that I allow you and Militine to do what you do with the feeding.”

Militine couldn’t voice her opinion without offending Abrianna, but she wholeheartedly agreed with Mrs. Madison. There were times when she felt quite exposed to disparaging reminders of her childhood days at the trading post. Gruff, free-speaking men who drank more than their share of liquor were constant visitors. She preferred to have less to do with Abrianna’s homeless men.

“But didn’t Jesus himself say that whatever we do unto the least of these, we do unto Him?” Abrianna stood and clasped her hands to her breast. “Would you have our Lord sleep without a blanket? Sleep in the cold, snow-laden streets?”

Mrs. Madison rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Abrianna, you do make quite a scene. And furthermore, there is no snow for anyone to sleep in at this time of year.”

Militine couldn’t help but smile. She quickly looked away, lest anyone notice. Miss Poisie, however, let go a little snort of amusement that did not bode well with her sister.

“Do not encourage her, Sister. I will not have further bad said about our Abrianna.”

At this Militine looked up. Abrianna’s brow furrowed. “Bad? You just said that my efforts were praised. Did someone else say something bad about me?”

“I didn’t want to make a fuss about it,” Mrs. Madison declared. She turned her attention to the mending. “I’m afraid Pastor Walker was not complimentary about your involvement in such a project. He has spoken several times to me about how troubling it is.”

Militine braced herself for Abrianna’s ire. There was no way she would let this matter go without comment.

“Well, he ought to spend time studying for his sermons instead.” Abrianna began to rant like a fire had been lit beneath her. “That man speaks week after week about one thing or another, and yet he seldom ever uses Scripture to back up what he says. Honestly, I’m not sure he even opens his Bible.” She started to pace.

“How dare he say such unpleasant things about me? I’m answering a calling from God. I’m serving the poor. Wade is even leading a Bible study there, and the men are finally starting to attend in decent numbers. Pastor Walker—and I do use the term pastor with great reservation, for I’ve not seen or experienced anything that suggests the man can pastor—speaks for less than half an hour. I know this because I’ve timed him each Sunday. Pastor Klingle used to speak from the Bible for over an hour.”

“God rest his soul.” She looked to Miss Poisie, who was nodding.

“Amen,” Abrianna said in unison with Mrs. Madison. “See, even Aunt Poisie knows it’s true.”

“I do not give Pastor Walker’s concerns that much attention. You surely realize that if I did, I would have done something to stop you.” Abrianna opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs. Madison raised her hand. “There is no need to offer further defense. I have already spoken to Wade, and he assures me that everything is as it should be.”

“You spoke to Wade but not to me?”

Militine lowered her gaze to the floor. She knew Abrianna well enough to know that this was a most grievous offense.

“Goodness, Aunt Miriam, am I such a child that you cannot trust me to give you an honest answer?” Abrianna plopped into her chair as if the very thought of her aunt’s action had taken the wind from her sails. “I am deeply and profoundly wounded.”

“Well, I’m sure you will recover.” Mrs. Madison gave her a smile. “However, for now you must collect your things. I believe I hear the wagon coming up the drive.”

“Oh, my stars and garters!” Abrianna jumped up again, indeed appearing fully recovered.

“Abrianna, that is a most vulgar expression, and I will not allow it. I suppose this is the kind of thing you’re learning from those sailors.”

At this Abrianna laughed out loud. “Goodness, Aunt Miriam, the very thought threatens to send me into hysteria. I cannot see old Captain Johnson or Hairless Mike ever saying such a thing.”

“Hairless Mike?” Miss Poisie said in a questioning manner. “Is he truly without hair? My, but that must be difficult in the winter months. Does he wear a cap?”

“He does,” Abrianna replied. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t have one if Pastor Walker had his way.”

Militine followed Abrianna from the room. There was no sense even trying to comment on the conversation. Abrianna would no doubt go on and on about it throughout the day and have little need of anyone’s response. Sometimes having a conversation with Abrianna was more like listening to one of Mrs. Madison’s lectures. Abrianna didn’t so much want anyone to interact as much as she wanted to make certain they knew her opinion.

As if to prove her right, Abrianna met Wade at the wagon and began to interrogate him. “Why didn’t you tell me that Pastor Walker was speaking ill against me? For all our years as friends, I thought I could trust you to tell me when people were maligning my good character.”

“Hello, Abrianna. I’m fine, thanks.” Wade helped her into the wagon.

“Thank you. And I’m glad you’re fine. Now, are you going to answer me?” She pointed to a basket of cabbage. “Don’t forget that.”

Wade came to assist Militine and afterward loaded the basket and crate that were to accompany them. He leisurely climbed into the wagon and picked up the reins. Without a word to Abrianna, he urged the horse to walk.

“Are you feeling deep guilt? Is that why you say nothing?” Abrianna pushed. “I do not hold any ill feelings against you for Pastor Walker’s interference, but do tell me that you defended my honor.”

“Oh, Abrianna, no one needs to defend you. You do quite enough on that count. However, if it makes you feel any better, I did tell Pastor Walker that you were well supervised and protected from any harm.”

“Supervised? Protected? That’s all you told him?” She gave a heavy sigh. “It is truly a burden beyond measure to be me. As if having red hair isn’t enough of a curse, I cannot even count on the defense of my friends in times of trouble.”

Wade chuckled, which did not sit well with Abrianna. With a huff she crossed her arms and looked away from him. Militine could tell he was only amused at her pretense to give him the cold shoulder. However, after a few minutes of silence, Wade spoke.

“I am sorry that I didn’t defend you in the way you believe I should have. I did do my best to point out to Pastor Walker that you were serving God by serving the poor. He doesn’t have to understand your actions for them to be right. I don’t know why you worry about what he thinks, anyway.”

“Because he worries Aunt Miriam and the others with his constant complaints against me.” She whirled back around. “Don’t you see, Wade? He doesn’t like me, so he figures to put a stop to my ministry.”

Wade gave her a stern look. “Your ministry? I thought it was God’s.”

Abrianna closed her eyes. “Yes. You are right. I am wholly out of line. Goodness, but the man so upset my senses that I have been given to wrong thinking. Forgive me.” She straightened and looked toward the sky. “God, please forgive me. Of course it is your ministry. It might be my calling, but it has always and ever been your ministry.”

To hear her friend so quickly humble herself impressed Militine. Abrianna might be the first to head into trouble, but she was always good to yield to correction. Well, at least when she could see that she was in error. Militine admired her for that. The very idea of admitting to such a thing was yet another area that left Militine feeling vulnerable. In time, she hoped she might be able to be as willing to give in to such a point as was her friend.

Of course, maybe such humbling required a better relationship with God. It bore some consideration.

Hours later, Abrianna was still fuming over the pastor’s unkind remarks. Her frustration was such that she hadn’t even bothered to get Wade’s help in accompanying her and Militine to the Madison Building. Now they had to deal with Mr. Welby’s man without Wade’s protection, and for once she questioned her decision.

“Mr. Welby ain’t here,” a tall man with brown hair and a scar on his forehead told Abrianna and Militine. He leered. “I’m sure I could help ya.”

Abrianna looked past him to the closed office that Lenore’s father had once occupied when the bridal school had resided upstairs. “Do you know when he’ll return?”

“No. Why don’t you tell me what you need.” He let his gaze travel the length of her body.

“There is a trunk of costumes that my aunt believes was left behind in the basement. If you would allow us, we can just make a quick search and be gone. However, I suppose if the trunk is found, we might need you to carry it upstairs for us.”

“I can’t allow you in the basement.” He scowled and his lewd nature faded. “Ain’t no one allowed down there. Got some repairs going on.”

“I suppose we can return another time. We do need that trunk, and it would certainly put Mrs. Madison in your debt if you were to at least look for the trunk.”

“I tell you what. Once you go, I’ll be happy to go downstairs and take a look. I’ve been down there many a time and can’t say I’ve ever seen any sign of a trunk, but I’ll search it out.”

With nothing else to be done, Abrianna nodded. “Thank you. Please tell Mr. Welby we were here.”

“He ain’t often here, but I’ll tell him if I see him,” he called after them.

Once they were outside Abrianna was surprised when Militine touched her arm. “We should go back to Wade’s and get him to take us home.”

“Nonsense. He would only question me as to what I’ve been doing. We can catch a streetcar. I have the coins.”

They hurried up the street and across the intersection to wait for the streetcar. Abrianna once again allowed her thoughts to go to what the pastor had said. His remarks were uncalled for, and she felt new determination to make certain he knew exactly what she thought on the matter.

“Thane wants to court me.”

A bustle of people momentarily separated them. Abrianna looked at Militine and shook her head. “I’m not sure I heard you right.”

“Thane wants to court me.”

Two men tipped their bowler hats and hurried past the girls, giving Abrianna a moment to consider the comment. “I do not know whether to be happy for you or alarmed. You’ve told me on more than one occasion that you do not intend to marry. It was our secret.”

“I know. I’m not suggesting that I would marry, but I rather like the idea of courtship.”

“But courtship is set aside for the ultimate goal of marriage. Courting without marriage in mind would be like planting potatoes with no thought of eating them.”

“But courtship doesn’t always work out.” Militine pointed down the street. “The streetcar’s coming.”

They boarded and Abrianna paid the toll before they took seats toward the back. Uncertain how she should respond, Abrianna reached out to pat Militine’s arm. “Whatever you decide, you know I am a faithful friend. I will neither condemn you for your choice nor advise you toward it. I will simply support you either way. I know from experience that I am given to doing things in an unconventional way, and I cannot fault you for desiring to do the same.”

“Thank you, Abrianna. No one has ever been so accepting of me or my choices.”

On Sunday, Abrianna could hardly contain herself as Brother Mitchell rose to give the benediction. It hadn’t been easy to sit for the short sermon Pastor Walker had given, nor to sing every verse of the final hymn with the rest of the congregation. Pastor Walker finally left the pulpit and moved down the aisle to the back of the church. It was his habit to greet the parishioners as they exited the building, and today was no different.

Abrianna slipped out while the pastor was occupied with one of the elders who seemed to have quite a bit to say. The day outside was fair, and most of the congregants seemed happy to mingle on the church lawn and catch up on news with their friends. Abrianna was determined to have a word with Pastor Walker, but first she needed to assess the situation and determine if there was enough time. She knew that Aunt Miriam was off in search of Aunt Poisie, who had told her of some problem in the children’s Sunday school. Abrianna overheard Aunt Miriam instruct Aunt Selma to gather the others to wait for their return, so they could all walk home together. This gave Abrianna the perfect, if not God-appointed, time to berate Pastor Walker for his maligning comments. But she would have to wait until he was alone. There was no sense in humiliating him publicly. Even if he was given to speaking ill of her to others.

When the last man bid the minister good day, Walker started back inside the church. Abrianna approached him with what she hoped was a look of confidence. “Pastor Walker.”

He turned back, looking reluctant. “Good day, Miss Cunningham.”

“No, it is not a good day, and you are the reason.” He appeared shocked by her outburst, but she didn’t allow that to deter her. “You have been given to the sin of gossip and dissension.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You should. How dare you approach my family with your so-called concerns about my work with the poor? You have no right to condemn me. I am answering a call upon my life and will continue to do so whether you understand such a thing or not. It’s no different from what Deborah did in the Bible. That’s found in Judges, just in case you are confused.” His eyes widened and mouth fell open.

“Apparently you aren’t used to seeing people follow the Scriptures. I think in all the weeks I’ve listened to you preach, you’ve only quoted the Bible on three occasions. Instead, we’ve been forced to hear stories of a personal nature that seldom correlate to Scripture and often upset old ladies’ sleep.”

“Now just a minute, Miss Cunningham. You are at fault to speak to a man of God in such a manner. I spoke to your aunts out of concern for your well-being. Not only that, but as far as the Bible is concerned, you should not be in a position of leading men.”

“I’m not leading them. I’m feeding them, something the church should be doing. Perhaps it is foolish to speak to you about this. It might be better for me to take it up with the deacons and elders. After all, they know me and my heart. You have been here for only a couple of months and apparently have decided to judge my actions with no regard to the fruit being produced.”

“I have to say, Miss Cunningham, I did consider the matter, and that is why I spoke with Mrs. Madison. It is not appropriate for a young unmarried woman to display herself in such a manner. You put yourself in grave peril, and risk not only your reputation but your life.”

She couldn’t help but smile. A calm came over her that Abrianna hadn’t expected. “Such things are only of this world, Pastor Walker. The Bible makes it clear that we needn’t worry about those who can take our lives but not our souls. I am not afraid to die. However, I would be afraid to face my God and not have done all that He gave me to do.”

“You are an arrogant woman, Miss Cunningham. Furthermore, I know very well what the Bible makes clear. I know more about what is in this book,” he said, holding up the Bible, “than you could ever know.”

“I didn’t realize it was a contest. Seems to me your job is to teach the Word so that all in your congregation might know. If you believe there is a deficit, perhaps you should search your own soul for the reason.”

His mouth dropped open, and it seemed words were stuck in his throat.

Abrianna knew she had no need to further chide this man. It was obvious he felt the impact of her statement. She walked from the church with a peace she hadn’t thought possible. Perhaps the confrontation was uncalled for. For certain her actions done out of anger had been wrong. She prayed God would forgive her for allowing her temper to get the best of her. However, now instead of anger, she just felt sorry for Pastor Walker. There was something of a void in his spirit. She could sense it but not truly understand it. Perhaps God would show her in time. If not, it didn’t matter. Only the truth did. Of course, the truth might include her aunts learning about what had just transpired, and then she would have to smooth those troubled waters.

“It simply isn’t easy being me,” she murmured to herself.