Episode 11

The next day, Phee did not at first have the opportunity to continue reading what she began thinking of as “The Ballad of Chief Half-Moon”. So strong was her interest in the male protagonist, she all but forgot the “teller” of the adventures was a woman.

Miss Eugenia was in a moody state that Thursday. She was again gazing out her parlor window with a faraway countenance when Phee checked in on her. But the younger woman decided to make an effort in engaging her aunt.

“Auntie, do you look upon me as an old maid with few prospects? Is that why you are so eager for me to give attention to Mr. Gatewood?”

Miss Eugenia turned from her window to her niece.

“Niece, I do not desire you go through your twilight years of your life in a lonely state. A companion can help ease that condition.”

“But Aunt Eugenia, have you not had enjoyment in your maiden state these past many years completely without a companion of the opposite sex?”

The elderly lady again returned her attentions outside. There was the hint of a smile, and perhaps a twinkle in her eyes.

“It is true I have been surrounded by my earnest nephew and his charming daughter, to whom I am most devoted. My presence here is most comfortable, if not almost ostentatious. But, dearest girl, you may not always be so fortunate as to have others around you to whom you are related.”

Turning to face her niece, she continued. “Though you might remain financially well-provided for due to the generosity of your grandfather and the ambitions of your father, there is no guarantee whatsoever such shall always be true.” She arched an eyebrow and paused to allow her words to settle.

Phee closed the chamber door and continued.

“Auntie, I have sometimes considered I might someday be required to provide solely for myself. The money I have earned teaching violin, piano, and voice is in savings over which Father watches. And I believe this house is unmortgaged. If needed, I could take in boarders should Father not live forever. Actually, I should say, if you do not leave me in some way. I believe you are immortal!”

Miss Eugenia chuckled, having renewed the enthusiastic congeniality to which her relatives were accustomed.

“Not immortal, nor would I wish for such. But I have gotten this far, beating down illnesses which polish off others of my age, so I suspect I am made of a strong constitution.”

Phee crossed over to the oak straight chair which she pulled close to her aunt.

“Auntie, may I ask something?”

“Of course, dear heart.”

“Do you ever long for the kind of companionship my father and I cannot offer?”

Miss Eugenia scrunched her forehead. She was uncertain what was meant, and she asked for further explanation.

“Are you asking if I wish there were others, say, friends or close companions? Or do you mean a marriage partner?”

“Either.”

“Of the former, I have had them. Perhaps not in the past several years once my infirmities tied me to this house, but prior. Of the latter? Well, I have had plenty in my imagination. As you shall see as we make our way through the story.”

Phee brightened. Perhaps they could continue reading, after all.

“Auntie, I am going to retrieve some gingersnaps to have with our tea, and I shall promptly return!”

The journey to another part of the house was Phee’s excuse to open the chamber door, then somehow “forget” to close it. Upon her return, after depositing the cookies on the small parlor table, she stood near the door.

“Ophelia, you have been standing in the doorway the past couple of readings. Might I ask why?”

Phee suspected her aunt would eventually ask, and she was prepared.

“My back sometimes tires out if I am sitting or pacing, but I found that if I stand here in the doorway, with the edge running the length of my spine, it brings me relief.”

Miss Eugenia cocked her head in mild disbelief but spoke no objection. Phee, as it turned out, had pain between her shoulders in leaning against the doorframe, but her desire in sharing the tale with Mr. Gatewood exceeded any discomfort she felt. She began.

I did not see Zora again that night. The chamber in which I stayed was down the hall, next to the nursery where the children sleep.

So much remains new and mysterious to me. I have heard about Indians who live on plantations similar to those owned by Whites. I was aware, though surprised, that they own slaves, including Indian ones. I also understand a few White women who marry Indians come from respectable families. But I never expected someday I would be thrust into the middle of such a situation.

¨¨¨¨¨

Before breakfast the next day, which I was told a servant would bring to me, I learned Mrs. McQueen was asking for me. I found a dress amongst my belongings, which was not mine. It appeared as though it would fit, although I suspected it would be a hint short on me. It was elegant and of the newest fashion. I searched further and could not find my own frocks.

I opened my door a little and called to Jordie, the servant who seemed to always be near when I needed her. She is Black and speaks English very well.

“Jordie, where are my frocks? And where did this one come from?”

“Oh, Miss Jones, I am mending yours. I hope you do not mind. This new dress is Mrs. McQueen’s which was given to her but did not fit. Nor could I wear it after she gave it to me.” The temerity yet generosity of Mr. and Mrs. McQueen extends to their servants, apparently. 

Chief Half-Moon had gotten up soon after dawn. I heard footsteps going from room to room, then silence for a bit. I imagined he was sitting alone, perhaps reading the paper. It was not long before I heard him go out the door, so I watched out my window. The groom led the same horse to him I have before seen him ride. He mounted it without a saddle as easily as I climb a step when I am not stumbling.

The chief had on a tunic and a jacket similar to those he wore for the festival. Perhaps he was going somewhere on official business. Just before he left, he glanced up and caught a glimpse of me in my nightclothes as I had not yet donned my borrowed dress. I quickly stepped back from the window, embarrassed to admit I wanted Half-Moon to see me. I wondered if he noticed anything of interest to him. He rarely shows his emotions and is loyal to his wives. He has been nothing but gentlemanly. Why would I wish him to behave more like a rake?