The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4) (13 page)

It was filled with stacks of currency. And gold. That was
why it weighed so much! The package also contained a single sealed envelope
with no name on the front.

Bao began to sweat. He was not a drinking man, but he
suddenly desired the burn of alcohol down his throat and into his chest. He
poured a short drink and swallowed it down whole.

The fire made his eyes stream. When they cleared the
envelope was still there on his desk, waiting. Waiting to strike at him like
the venomous serpent who had written it.

Bao could wait no longer. He slit the envelope and removed a
single page written in a clear, spidery hand, the calligraphy characters formed
with old-fashioned elegance. He began to read, growing amazed then astounded
and alarmed in turn.

You will go to the city called Denver and there discover
where a man called Morgan is imprisoned. In the same place you will find my
son.

With the moneys I have provided, you will bribe officials
to help both of them to escape. Once clear of pursuit, the Morgan man may go
his own way. He is of no consequence, but you will bring my son back to me.

You are not to personally approach the men you hire to do
this. Your face must never be seen by them. The men I send with you will do
your bidding and make every arrangement as you say. They will travel near you
but not with you. You will meet with them secretly and only when necessary.

Have a care, Bao, in this that you do. My son may not
come willingly. The men I send with you know this and they know his strength
and skills. They must ensure he comes to me without harm, but it is you I will
hold accountable.

One thing further. Somehow, my son has seen the chòu
biăozi, the little harlot, who was not worthy of him. He now knows she did
not die by her own hand. He must not be allowed to find her again or know I had
part in her deception. Take much care with this.

Bring me my son, Bao. Or do not expect to ever see your
own.

Bao shuddered.
I must not fail
, he repeated to
himself.
I must not fail.

Early the following morning a black motorcar deposited Bao
at the King Street Station where he boarded a
Great Northern
train
headed east and then south to Billings. In Billings he would transfer to the
Chicago,
Burlington & Quincy
and travel on to Denver.

The car that dropped him pulled away. Minutes later a second
auto stopped at the station. Two men exited the motorcar and boarded the same
train, a few cars down from Bao.

~~**~~

With Grant, Joy, and Billy fully engaged in managing the
store, Rose found herself overseeing renovations on the house, the carriage
house, and the old caretaker’s cottage, while Breona supervised the day-to-day
household duties. Mr. Wheatley and the girls received their daily assignments
from Breona, leaving Rose to deal with (and pay for) carpenters, painters, and
roofers.

And Lord knows what else
! Rose exclaimed to herself
when she received an estimate for repairing the roof. Winter was close on their
heels; the roof repairs could not be put off. Neither could last week’s bill
for firing up the coal furnace, the house’s main source of heat.

Rose hadn’t been alarmed when she saw the charge for filling
the coal bin. Not, that is, until the cheerful man who delivered the coal asked
which day of each month she wished to have him
refill
the coal bin.

“We will use the whole bin each month?” Her voice had
cracked a little, thinking of the tiny house she and Jan lived in for so many
happy years, heated by a single wood-burning stove.

“Well, yes, ma’am,” the man replied. “P’raps not this month,
but certainly when the cold sets in.” He added gently, “This
is
a mighty
big house, ma’am.”

Rose had nodded and mentally added yet another significant
expense to the monthly budget—a budget coming, at present, almost entirely from
her own savings. Even when
Michael’s Fine Household Furnishings
began to
turn a profit and as additional donations from Emily Van der Pol’s women’s
group came in, most of the house’s upkeep would come out of her own pocket.

Until the other girls find work and begin contributing
substantially
, she mused.

Marit and Gretl were helping with the grocery and butcher
bills by peddling their baked goods each day on nearby street corners. Maria,
Flora, and Tabitha were taking in laundry and simple mending under Breona and
Rose’s tutelage. And Nancy was caring for the four energetic children of a
recently widowed school teacher, a man so desperate for help that he was
willing to overlook Nancy’s background on the strength of Emily’s reference.

It isn’t enough, Lord, not nearly enough
.

Rose did not begrudge the drain on her savings. In her heart
she had already pledged her worth to this work. But if they used it all, then
they must be completely self-sufficient.

Or, rather, lean more deeply on you, Lord, our Provider!
she
added silently

They had worked so hard, God had answered so many prayers,
and they had already battled through many obstacles, but Rose could not deny
that she was weary. She thought again of the proposed sewing school and the
small café they hoped to open and sighed.

So much to do. So many demands.

“Missus, I hate t’ bother you,” Mr. Wheatley said meekly. In
truth Rose considered him a welcome interruption.

“Yes, Mr. Wheatley?”

He ran gnarled fingers through the grey tufts standing up on
his head. “Don’t know how t’ put this delicately, but . . .
well, th’ latrines are all backed up.”

Rose put a hand over her eyes.
Dear Lord! Please help
me—you didn’t design me to handle plumbing problems
!

“I’m real sorry, missus,” Mr. Wheatley apologized, as though
he had caused the problem. “They built this house real fancy with toilets and
all, but I can’t say as I have much experience with ’em.”

“No, no, Mr. Wheatley! You certainly did not cause the
plumbing to stop up,” Rose remonstrated. And then, perhaps because she needed
to laugh rather than cry, she slyly added, “
Or did you
?”

The look of consternation that washed over Mr. Wheatley’s
face was what Rose needed to draw a low chuckle from her. “I am only teasing,
dear Mr. Wheatley. The joy of the Lord is our strength. I am in need of a
little joyful strength at the moment!”

With that, he relaxed and grinned. “I know just what you
mean, missus. I am certain th’ wall of pyracantha on the side of this house
holds a personal grudge against me.” He pushed a sleeve up to his bony elbow
and revealed a thoroughly poked and scratched forearm.

“Goodness! I believe you are right!” Rose said with a little
rueful laugh.

Mr. Wheatley re-buttoned his shirt cuff. “Pardon me for my
boldness, missus, but I was wondering if I could make a suggestion?”

“Of course, Mr. Wheatley. Please do not apologize,” Rose
replied.

“Well, it’s this way,” he said slowly. “When Pastor David
and his family and Flinty were down here couple of months ago helping us move
in, Flinty, he kinda mentioned that he’s awful lonesome up on the mountain, now
we’ve moved away.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve been meaning to mention it,
but we’ve all been working s’ hard.”

“Thing is,” he continued, “Flinty, he knows a powerful lot
about such things as plumbing and carpentry and furnaces and so on. Built that
lodge himself, he did. He might not be s’ strong himself these days, but he
could direct us in the right way, if you take my meaning.”

Rose nodded thoughtfully, but Mr. Wheatley wasn’t quite
finished. “I been praying on it for a while, too, ’cause I’m thinking Flinty
ought not t’ be living alone much longer. Don’t think he eats right, for one
thing. If he came t’ live here, he would earn his keep, I don’t doubt that, and
it would cheer him to no end t’ have folks he loves about him. And I’m thinking
Marit might put some meat back on his old bones.”

Rose thought on his suggestion. What a relief it would be to
have a knowledgeable person to advise her!

“Thank you, Mr. Wheatley. I will discuss your idea with
Grant and Joy. I believe we would all love to have Flinty here. Where would he
sleep, do you think?”

“Well, that butler’s room next to mine has a lot of funny
shelves and what-not for silver trays, fancy dishes, and wine bottles, but I
don’t think Flinty would mind a-tall.”

“Oh, Mama! It would be so good to have Flinty here,” Joy
exclaimed later. “And his advice would be invaluable, especially for you.”

Grant, who did not know Flinty well, was willing to respect
Joy and Rose’s opinion in the matter. “Will he be satisfied with room and
board?” he asked. “We certainly cannot pay him.”

Rose smiled and thought of Flinty for a moment. “I wouldn’t
be surprised if he were willing to pay
us
room and board,” she finally
said. “With his boys grown and gone out into the world, we are as close to
family as he has.”

“Well, he cannot come soon enough for me!” Grant laughed. He
and Billy had spent hours plunging out stopped up toilets. Even after all their
efforts, only the commodes on the first floor flushed cleanly.

Reluctantly, but fearful of a disastrous overflow, he had
mandated that the second and third floor toilets not be used until the problem
was fully resolved. They would wait to have the plumbers in until after Flinty
arrived to advise them.

“I am certainly the least liked person in the house at the
moment,” he added ruefully.

“I must agree,” Joy replied, the sarcasm in her voice a
reminder of how far the toilets were from their third-floor bedroom.

—

Rose composed a letter and sent it off to Flinty the
following day. At dinner that evening she told the household that they had
invited Flinty to come live with them.

Breona, Billy, Marit, and Mei-Xing responded
enthusiastically. But not everyone reacted as well.

“What? That old man?” Tabitha asked incredulously. “Don’t we
all have enough to do without having to care for another old geezer?”

Mr. Wheatley looked down at his plate, and color flooded
Rose’s face as she attempted to control her anger. “Tabitha, Flinty will carry
his own weight here just as you do,” she replied tightly.

She paused and stared at Tabitha, clearly incensed. “We
need
‘that old geezer’ in our home, my dear, as much as he needs us. And perhaps
it would do your heart some good to stop and consider where
you
would be
if this house were not here for you.”

Rose’s pointed words hung over a very still table. Finally
Tabitha shrugged. “Fine then. Just so I don’t have to clean up after him.”

The rest of the meal was uncomfortably quiet, and Rose was
still angry when dinner was over. She went immediately to her room and knelt
beside her bed.

Lord
, she prayed silently.
Please help me. Draw
near to me, Lord, and guide my steps and words aright. I am sorry I lost my
temper and I forgive Tabitha, Father God. I do! I just don’t know how to cope
with her selfish outbursts. O Lord, I need you.

As she often did, Rose looked back on her marriage to Jan
and those many happy years in their tiny prairie home for comfort. She had been
raised in relative ease and modest wealth and had never worked hard a day in
her life, but still, the day she stepped off the train in RiverBend, the
prairie had called to her. It had beckoned for her to let God dig deep into her
soul and let him bring her up to higher ground.

Lord,
she prayed,
when I arrived in RiverBend, I
was as unprepared for the hardships of prairie living as I am now for the new
responsibilities you have laid upon my shoulders. Yet I found you in that
place, our beloved prairie, and I learned to face and overcome adversity in
your strength.

You have instilled that same strength and faith in my
daughter Joy—and now you have given us, Joy and me, many daughters to raise!
Help us, O God, to walk faithfully before you. Help us, Lord, to shoulder the
work you have given us and to faithfully pass on to our girls the heritage you
instilled in us.

Lord, I ask you to break the yoke of bondage that is
holding them and our home in its grasp. O God, I am asking in the name of Jesus
for you to come with power and set these captives free!

~~**~~

Good morning, Lord. Thank you for your new mercy each
morning. I know you will strengthen me this day for all that you place before
me, especially for reaching these young women. You are my refuge and my
fortress! You are my God and I trust in you.

I am reminded today of the mystery of the locked attic.
Emily is coming to visit tomorrow. I will ask her. Surely she will know
something of this house’s secrets!

—

Emily Van der Pol came to tea at Palmer House that
afternoon. Rose was grateful for the reprieve from her duties.

“My dear Mrs. Thoresen, I do not like to see you looking so
fatigued,” Emily said with a little frown.

Rose smiled. She knew she must appear tired. “I admit that
the responsibility is sometimes more than I can handle. It can
be . . . challenging.” She did not mention her growing concerns
about the atmosphere in the house.

“I pray for you daily, Mrs. Thoresen,” Emily replied. “This
entire venture is uncharted territory.”

Rose passed Emily her tea and hoped to change the topic.
“Emily, when Pastor Jamison visited weeks ago, he said a puzzling thing. It was
when we reached the attic stairs and I said the door was locked. He replied,
and I recall his exact words:
I do understand. Perfectly
.”

She looked at her friend steadily. “Emily, what did he mean?
What is the secret hidden in this house?”

Emily closed her eyes. “Oh dear. I had forgotten that you
did not know.” She moistened her lips with another sip of tea. “Where shall I
begin?”

Rose urged gently. “How about at the beginning?”

Chuckling, Emily said, “Always the best place, yes? Well.”

She sighed. “Chester and Martha Palmer had only one child, a
daughter, who was the light of their lives. They had quite despaired of having
children, you see, and Martha was, I believe, in her forties when their baby
arrived. Elizabeth-Ann was her name.

“She was a lovely young thing, so sweet and pure. My parents
and the Palmers were such good friends, and Bethy-Ann and I were often playmates,
although I was older than she.”

Emily smiled in remembrance. “We called her Bethy, even
after she wasn’t a child. As I matured and my social obligations took more of
my time, I did not see Bethy-Ann as frequently. Then I was engaged and married.

“Bethy should have come out into society during her
sixteenth year, but for some reason the Palmers decided to delay her debut.
They did not speak of their reasons to anyone, but slowly some rumors began
circulating—a few tales of odd behavior on Bethy’s part.”

Rose waited, a little frown creasing her forehead.

“I dread to speak of this, I truly do. It breaks my heart,”
Emily said slowly. “I called on Bethy-Ann one afternoon after my parents had
announced my engagement. She was so happy to see me, so
very
happy and
effusive that I started to think it a little odd. While we were taking tea, she
began to confide in me about some
people
who were bothering her. I asked
their names, but she would only call them
those people
.

“I really could not understand what was happening to my
little childhood friend. She was 16, but seemed to be retreating into childhood
rather than maturing.

“I mentioned it to my parents and I will never forget my
mother’s face. She knew what I did not know, that Bethy-Ann was going mad. The
doctors could not cure her. They gave her potions to calm her but those made
her nearly catatonic, and Martha forbade their use after a few months’ trial.

“I heard that when Bethy-Ann had spates of joy and those
around her did not celebrate as she did, she would become angry. When her
condition worsened, she even became devious and vindictive, playing terrible
pranks on anyone she thought had offended her or, as she saw it, was intent on
harming her.

“Martha and Chester built this house and moved in when Bethy-Ann
was eight years old, you know. How she loved this house! As she descended into
madness, she would roam the halls, morning to evening, more and more a child
than an adult, talking with her dolls and playing make-believe.

“Bethy-Ann’s behavior became so erratic and her emotions so
unpredictable, that Chester and Martha were forced to hire two full-time nurses
to watch over her. After three years, the doctors insisted that the Palmers put
Bethy-Ann away, but they could not bear to.

“The stress on Chester and Martha was terrible, but Martha
kept a level head. She had to, when Chester became ill. Martha realized that Chester could not recover if he were constantly exposed to the stress of Bethy’s eroding
behavior. So she bought the home she presently lives in and moved the two of
them into it. She left Bethy-Ann in the care of her nurses and the house staff,
and focused her attention on Chester’s recovery.”

Emily shuddered. “I heard that Bethy-Ann missed her parents
terribly and ran through their rooms and the upstairs halls screaming and
crying for them at all hours of the day and night. Eventually—thank the
Lord—she calmed and adjusted.”

Emily dabbed at her eyes. “I was 29 the last time I visited
Bethy-Ann. She did not know me, but we had a lovely little lunch party in the
gazebo. Two men, dressed as servants, stayed close by but at a respectful
distance while the housekeeper served the lunch. Bethy-Ann had three of her
favorite dolls at the table and we talked of nothing but happy nonsense for an
hour and a quarter until it was time for me to go.”

“As I gathered my things to leave, she declared she did not
wish me to, and threw herself into such agitation that the two men standing by
had to subdue her. They were gentle but firm; I could see they were accustomed
to handling her mad fits, but I could not stand to see it. I fled from this
house and never returned. Until Martha gave it to you.

“Bethy-Ann was a prisoner here, but at the same time this
house, with its long halls and many rooms, its stairways and turrets, and the
wide attic she loved to play in, became her entire world.”

Emily gazed at Rose with sadness. “
It was supposed to be
safe here
.”

Rose shivered, unable to bear what was coming, yet unable to
stop listening. “What . . . what happened to Bethy-Ann?” Rose
had to know!

Emily turned and stared into the distance. “She died the
next year. I cannot repeat everything I know. I will only tell you this.
Someone, some man who had access to her, took advantage of her innocence.
Martha never did discover who it was. The terrible wrong only came to light
because Bethy-Ann became pregnant.”

Rose took a deep breath. Her heart was breaking for the
little mad girl.

“She was perhaps four or five months gone, but no one
realized she was with child. They only discovered it when she miscarried.

“The poor girl. She could not have known what was happening.
She fled, bleeding, to the attic where she felt safest. There, alone, and in
what must have been terrible confusion and pain, she lost her baby.” Emily fell
silent.

It was several long minutes before Emily sighed and looked
down. “She was allowed to roam the house freely, as you know, and was often
quietly occupied for hours. By the time the staff became concerned and began
looking for her, following the drops of blood . . . she had
died, curled on the floor of the attic, clutching one of her little dollies in
her arms. She was 25 years old, but had never grown up in her mind.” Emily
wiped away a stray tear.

“Martha had the house shut up. She refused to let anyone tell
Chester, whose health was so tenuous. For five years she let him believe
Bethy-Ann was alive. He passed away seven years ago never knowing she had gone
before him.”

Emily smiled wanly. “You know, Martha once said she would
never sell this house and would see it burn before someone else lived in it.
For many years she struggled to come to terms with losing both Chester
and Bethy-Ann. I have to believe that her heart melted when she heard you and
Joy speak the needs of these girls, all of them younger than Bethy-Ann when she
was taken advantage of.”

“Yes,” Rose replied thoughtfully. “She said
the Holy
Spirit
told her to give us this house.”

Emily nodded and clasped her hands in her lap. “My mother
urged Martha to either sell the house or tear it down, but Martha said she
could neither bear to see someone, some stranger, live where Bethy-Ann had
died, nor see it torn down, for the same reason. It was an untouched, unvisited
monument to innocence lost.”

“So that is why the Lord spoke to Martha to give it to us,”
Rose said slowly. “It will be used by our girls—and they are no stranger to the
violation and pain Bethy-Ann suffered.”

Emily nodded in agreement.

“Thank you for telling me this, Emily. Thank you.”

~~**~~