Chenneville by Paulette Jiles

Author:Paulette Jiles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-09-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

December 1866 / The Woman in White, Colbert’s Station, Red River

He walked up on to the porch of the Colbert house. It was impressive in this country; it had the look of a storybook about it, gleaming white. Vines tumbled down the railings, bare now in winter and penciled against the white walls in calligraphic lines. The cottonwoods bent over it with the wind in their branchy hands. John stood holding his hat. He didn’t like to take it off, but this was a house, after all. He didn’t want people to see the scar, but there was no help for it.

A small woman opened the door. She wore a sort of turban, and she had a long pole with a wad of wooly fluff on the end of it.

He said, “Good morning. There is a message for a John Chenneville. That’s me.”

“Yes!” she said in a bright tone. “There is a message for John Chenneville. We’re cleaning house here for Christmas, and so pardon the wreckage if you would, Mr. Chenneville. I’m Mrs. Colbert.”

“Pleased.”

“It came two days ago. Our operator isn’t here; he’s down at Rock Bluff. The telegraph apparatus thing is back here.”

John followed her through the hallway, where a young girl was scrubbing the floor, avoided the bucket, passed through a parlor where a settee had been stripped of its cushions and a whacking noise told him the cushions had been hauled outside and were being enthusiastically beaten. A heap of glass ornaments lay on the mantel. The small woman marched through the parlor bearing her dusting pole with its streaming cobwebs drifting like gossamer banners. She was very attractive and of course married, but John could not help smiling at her—at any rate, at the back of her head.

“This place is being reduced to rubble!” Mrs. Colbert stopped to pick up a can of brass polish. “The telegrapher went down to Rock Bluff to see if a herd has come up from Waco. He’s supposed to report on it. Keota isn’t answering, he said. He’s trying to relay through Fort Gibson.”

“Keota is not replying?” John was momentarily surprised, then told himself the line might be down again, Robertson might be out of battery, any number of things.

“No, sir, that’s what he said.”

As they passed through the parlor Mrs. Colbert heard the tall man’s footsteps behind her stop suddenly. She turned to see that he had picked up a book from the end table beside the settee. He turned it over in his hands. Wilkie Collins, The Woman in White. The winter light shone on the gilt lettering.

“Do you enjoy reading, Mr. Chenneville?” she said.

“I do.” He opened it and then said as if to himself, “‘Burnet to ship one hundred pounds maize’.” He closed the book and stood holding it. “Where did you get this?”

“There is something wrong,” she said. “What is wrong?”

The man said nothing. A strange, cold feeling took him. A foreboding. He regarded the book and then after a short silence he raised his eyes to her.

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