Читать книгу Allegheny Hideaway - Kimberly Tanner Gordon - Страница 7

4

Two days later, Hattie and Iris joined the Sellers trio in church. Apparently, Mister Sellers had been the minister in the community for years, but had recently stepped down. A younger minister, Orville Shepherd, probably in his mid to late thirties, now took the pulpit. His wife, Tina Louise and four children, all boys, sat in the first pew. Iris noted about fifty people in the church house. It was located just near the river running south of town.

In the past two days, she had made friends with the good family. She learned that thirty year old Tom was a captain in the military and lived in a camp outside of Harrisburg. He was able to come home occasionally to visit. He had never been married, much to his mother’s dismay. His older brother, Wayne and his wife and four children, lived in Scranton, about seventy miles away. They came home twice a year. Both parents, Betsy and Gerald, were wonderfully kind. Iris thought that Gerald Sellers was being overly gratuitous to Hattie, practically waiting on her hand and foot. It was very odd behavior.

Tom had slept in the loft these last two nights since his old room was taken. He was intrigued by this woman and her slave-servant. There was a mystery about her that made him interested. He wanted to find out more of this raven haired beauty and her real story. She was kind, and obviously well bred, but he just knew there was something she was holding back. He would get to the truth in time.

After church, Gerald introduced his house guests to the townsfolk. He even inquired as to property that Missus Blackheart might purchase. There was only one suggestion made. The Myers’ house.

“Mister Sellers, would you be willing to show me the Myers’ house anyway?” Iris asked during the drive home.

“If you’re sure, I’ll take you,” he agreed.

“It won’t hurt to look,” she told him. “Besides, I’ve no other choice.”

“We can go this afternoon, after dinner if you want to,” he decided.

Iris agreed. Why not? It was a fine day.

After lunch, Hattie and Betsy were swapping recipes. Iris had not told her servant what she was up to. She knew Hattie would be vexed at the thought of living in a ghost house. Expecting to go with Gerald Sellers, Iris was disappointed to find him asleep in his chair by the fire within minutes after eating.

“He does this every Sunday,” Tom whispered. “He will sleep for two hours exactly.”

Iris’ face pouted.

“What’s wrong?” the well-groomed soldier asked.

“Your father was going to show me the Myers’ place this afternoon. I guess it will just have to wait,” she answered.

“I can take you,” he offered eagerly.

“Would you?” Iris caught herself showing too much eagerness and appreciation. She did not want to give this man the wrong idea. “I mean, that would be very kind, thank you,” she answered in a more normal voice.

“I’ll hitch up the team. Ma, I’m taking Missus Blackheart for a drive. Be back in a while.”

Once outside, he offered information. “This place is just north of town. Not too far from everything, maybe three fourths of a mile. It’s set up on the side of a hill.”

“How big is it?” Iris asked as she climbed into the seat.

“I’ve never actually been inside. But it looks big enough from the road,” he answered honestly.

Tom climbed up and flicked the reins.

As the horses moved, Iris asked, “How did Missus Myers kill her husband?”

“They say she ran him through with a fire poker. Can you imagine? What on earth could have made her so crazy as to go and do something like that?” he asked.

Iris knew all too well why a wife might want to kill her husband. She remained silent for a moment before asking, “Why did she do it?”

“Who knows? Some say she was getting even for something he’d done. Thing is, nobody knows what he did.”

“What did she say at the trial?”

“She said it was self-defense, that he was hurting her, but nobody believed her. We all knew him and we never saw him hurt her. He was a nice man. He went to church and everything. The town hated to hang his wife, but the law is the law,” he concluded.

Iris wiped away a small tear which had escaped from her eye. She turned away so Tom would not see and wonder. Her heart broke for this woman. Iris was glad her story would not turn out the same way. She was even more grateful now that she had left him back in Lexington. Her thoughts were drawn to the present when she noticed that the buggy was slowing down. Iris looked ahead. An older woman, dressed in homespun wool and wrapped in a shawl walked toward them.

Tom smiled. “Good afternoon, Missus Reed,” he greeted politely.

Iris’ mind perked up. Missus Reed? This was Samuel’s grandmother.

“Afternoon, Mister Sellers. Good to see you again,” she greeted in a sweet elderly voice.

“Missus Reed, this is Missus Blackheart. She’s just moved here from Georgia. I’m taking her out to look at the Myers’ place,” he explained.

“Missus Blackheart,” the elder woman acknowledged. “All the way from Georgia, you say? My, my!” The woman looked at Tom and smiled. Then she turned back to Iris. “What brings you here, dear?”

“My health, ma’am. I needed cooler air.”

The old woman nodded her head. “So I hear it is unbearable hot down there. I’ve family in South Carolina myself you see. My son and grandson. My son was just here visiting earlier this month, but he’s gone back home now.” She paused. “Got any children Missus Blackheart?”

Iris quenched the little pain in her heart and pursed her lips together. “No, ma’am.”

“Where’s your husband, dear?” the lady innocently questioned.

“He passed away, ma’am, at sea this past winter.” At least her story was solidifying. Once it was told and retold, the entire town would believe it.

“Oh, that’s too bad. My husband passed away years ago, but I haven’t quit looking for another. Neither should you. Mister Sellers here is a good catch,” the lady said with a wink.

Iris laughed at the woman. She was sure full of questions and opinions.

Tom coughed. “Missus Reed, when are you going to stop trying to set me up with a wife? You know I don’t want to be tied down. I’m still holding out for you!” he teased.

“Oh go on now,” the grandmother giggled. “Missus Blackheart, it was nice to meet you.”

Iris nodded.

“Good day, ma’am,” Tom spoke before starting the team again.

Missus Reed resumed her walk.

After going on a bit, Tom turned to Iris. “You’ll have to excuse what she said. She’s been trying to find me a wife for ten years now. Please don’t feel threatened by me. Besides, I’m leaving in the morning and won’t be back for another month.”

“You are? Well, it’s of no consequence anyway. I’ve no intentions of remarrying. Ever,” she stated boldly.

This intrigued him. Most young women were anxious to marry. “Why not?” Tom asked.

“I have my reasons, sir. Are we close to the house yet?”

Tom ignored her. “Don’t you want children? Every other woman I’ve ever met, your age, wants a husband and children.” Mothers had been tossing their daughters at him since he was twenty. He was so tired of it.

Iris bit her lower lip until it hurt. She closed her eyes to fight back the memory of her unborn child. “No Mister Sellers, no children for me,” she finally answered with as steady a voice as she could muster.

“Hmm,” was all that he said.

They were in town now. Tom spoke greetings to a few people he knew before turning the buggy onto a small road that lead north from town. It meandered around a steep hill before opening up to more level ground.

“Where does this road go to?” Iris asked.

“There’s a small village about fifteen miles north. If you keep following the road though, it will lead you all the way to New York state, to a town called Elmira.”

“New York? Goodness!”

After half a mile more, Tom informed his passenger that the house was just ahead. Iris strained to see it. The white washed home was set back off the road, up against a hill. It was two stories, with a slender front porch. Several boards were missing, and the entire structure needed care. The glass window in the upper room was broken out. Leaves and limbs littered the yard from years of neglect. Tom pulled the wagon into the yard and offered his hand to Iris.

“Dare we go in?” she asked him.

“I guess we could,” he answered.

“Who owns it now?”

Tom responded, “I think it went to Mister Myer’s brother in Harrisburg. He’s had it for sale ever since the funeral.”

“Is it really haunted?” Iris questioned skeptically.

“I don’t know,” Tom answered, stepping onto the porch. The floorboards squeaked beneath his boots. A chill ran down his spine, but he didn’t tell Missus Blackheart.

A thick layer of dust covered everything inside. All the furniture stood as it did the day of the murder. Tom and Iris carefully wandered around the first floor. There was a large kitchen, a parlor, one bedroom, and a closet beneath the stairs for storage.

“It’s spooky in here,” Tom confessed his fear.

“It’s just unkempt,” Iris assured him. “I’m going to look upstairs.” She took the steps carefully, making sure the boards would hold her. She reached the top without incident. “There are four rooms up here,” she called out to Tom.

“They say she killed him in their bedroom,” Tom warned her. He came up the stairs too, warily.

Iris boldly opened each door in turn. One was undoubtedly the master bedroom, the other was tastefully done as a guest room. The third was set up as a nursery, and the fourth was used for storage. None of the rooms were remarkably large, but they would nicely suit her purpose as a boarding house.

“I’ll take it,” she declared to an astonished Tom at the top of the landing.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” he questioned.

“Yes. I want to open a boarding house and this will be perfect,” she told him.

“You’re crazy!” he stated, turning to go back down the steps.

Iris questioned, “Do you know how I can get in touch with Mister Myers?”

Tom shook his head. “No, but my father will know. He will help you with everything.”

And so it was done. Within a week, Iris and Hattie were setting up in their new home. Hattie was absolutely terrified about living in a supposedly haunted house. But Iris assured her that they would be safe, that it was just a house. Hattie took quarters in the room downstairs off the kitchen. Iris set herself up in the guest room upstairs. She would keep the master room open for paying guests. In time, she would set up the other two rooms for guests as well. For now, they had their work cut out for them. Everything had to be cleaned and dusted. The drapes, the linens, the furniture, the dishes, even the walls had a layer of dust. Plus, the window in the nursery had to be repaired and the boards on the front porch replace.

Late in the afternoon on the first day, Hattie had her hands in a large wash pot soaking all the curtains. She had spent her entire day in the kitchen cleaning every inch. All the dishes were on the counter waiting to be washed. All of a sudden, a bowl crashed behind her.

Hattie screamed in terror and ran out of the house as fast as she could through the back door. Iris left her spot in the parlor where she was sweeping and looked into the kitchen.

“What happened?” she asked out loud. Iris saw the broken pottery bowl on the floor and went through the open door to find her servant. “Hattie, what happened?” she repeated.

“There’s a spirit in that house, ma’am. I ain’t goin’ back in there!”

“What happened with the bowl, Hattie?”

“It flew off the counter! All by itself!” Hattie answered in a panic.

“That’s just impossible Hattie. Things just don’t move by themselves. I’ll go clean it up while you compose yourself, but I expect you to return to your chores in five minutes. I can’t clean this place by myself,” Iris scolded.

Hattie returned, but she was not happy. “I could just leave,” she thought to herself. “I don’t have to stay here. I’m in the north. I can be free.” But she didn’t leave. She had no money and no place to go. Besides, she did like Iris, most of the time.

Iris had purchased food from the small store in town and had everything delivered to the house. When the goods arrived, she helped unload all the staples into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you bought this place,” the store owner told her. “Grown men are scared of this house.”

“Well Mister Harris, I am not,” she told him curtly.

Hattie was out behind the house stringing a clothes line so she could hang her dripping linens. Her mind began to wander. How nice it would be if she could have a house of her own. And a husband too. She was the only colored person in town at the moment though, for she had not seen another in over a week. She was twenty after all, and a woman had dreams. She let out a sigh. Hattie was a little lonely for her own kind. She missed some of the other maids back home. She thought about what they might be doing. It had been two weeks now since they had left Lexington. She wondered what the master was doing too.