War is Coming
The door to Cordia’s father’s office was slightly open so she only rapped her fingers lightly on the glass and peeked her head inside. “Hi, Daddy.” Her father was hunched over a stack of papers, one of which he was examining closely with a magnifying glass. He saw Cordia noticing this and quickly shoved the tool into a drawer. Both his wife and his daughter had been on him for several months saying that he needed to have Dr. Walters check out his eyes and get him a pair of spectacles. He refused. He was only fifty-three and that was no age to have to wear glasses, he insisted.
Cordia pretended not to notice, though she mentally noted that she would mention this to her mother when she got home. She sat the basket down on the edge of her father’s desk and opened it up. “Mother has sent you some ham and a few other things.” She began to take the items out of the basket, but her father seemed famished and began to take them out himself.
“Wonderful,” he stated, digging into the basket. “I’m starving.” Cordia laughed. Her father had a reputation around town as quite an eater, though you wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking. He was still a fairly fit man for his age. Her mother, on the other hand, had become quite plump as she aged. As her father dug into the well-prepared meal, she removed her hat, revealing her dark brown hair. Normally, she would have preferred to keep it down all day, but her mother insisted that if she was going to the bank, she had to have it pinned up properly. It seemed ridiculous to Cordia, especially in a town where all of the farm girls and their mothers seemed to be so much more practical, but it was not an argument she wished to have. So here she was with all three feet of brown wavy hair piled underneath her new blue and white flowered hat, direct from New York, which she had received a month before on her eighteenth birthday.
Cordia wandered around her father’s office as he continued to eat his lunch. She peered out the window and could see dozens of houses spreading out from the square. She found it interesting to see how the town was growing. Just a short while ago, it seemed that the houses were only a block or two away from the square, with a sparse dwelling here and there dotting the distant horizon beyond. But now, houses stretched well past her line of sight, new ones popping up even as much as six blocks away from this main artery of life. And that wasn’t even counting all of the new farms that had sprouted up out in the countryside. These houses belonged mostly to new residents, which the railroad had brought this way. Some were craftsmen, others traders, businessmen, such as her father, who were now able to make their way in this thriving little community. And Lamar wasn’t the only such town. Lots of little places that weren’t even on the map not so long ago were spreading all over Missouri and into Kansas, the border of which was only about 25 miles to the west. It was amazing what the mines over near Minden, and the railroads that were needed to bring the coal out of them, had begun, bringing a flourish of growth to the area.
Once again, Cordia realized she had not been paying attention. Her father was talking to her, and she had not heard a word he was saying. She tried to pretend she had heard the first part of the story and figured out what she had missed by catching the rest of it. “Then I told old Mr. Liverpool that he could take his farm and move it to China for all I cared, but I was not going to support him giving money to any cause that had anything to do with ol’ John Brown’s supporters,” he was saying between (and occasionally in the middle of) bites of ham. “I’m all for supporting the Union cause but not by the means that fellow employed.” Her father had always stood behind the idea that the Union should be protected, though there were other men in the county who thought otherwise. This debate seemed to be taking place more and more these days. “Boy, this is good! Your fine mother has really outdone herself this time,” he mumbled more to himself than to Cordia.
John Brown. There was a name that Cordia could have done without hearing for the rest of her life. It seemed that most people around here were just now slowly beginning to realize what a name of significance that would be for the future of Kansas and Missouri. Though they certainly didn’t want to admit it. It seemed to Cordia that the days of pretending away the affairs of the nation were numbered. But, like everyone else, she was not likely to begin any conversations with notions of what that might mean for their way of life in Lamar.
“I am sure that he didn’t take that kindly,” Cordia noted, walking back over toward her father’s desk.
“Oh, no, he stormed out of here faster than you could believe a man of his age could ever move,” he replied, the grin on his face marred a little by the wrinkle that grew between his eyebrows. “Oh, well,” he said, smiling. “That is not a matter to discuss with a fine young lady such as yourself, my dear.”
Cordia sighed and smiled at her father. Sometimes she was very offended by the way men treated women and their ability to partake in such conversation. But, in this case, she knew that her father was simply trying to protect his little girl from the concerns of the outside world. She wondered how much longer that would even be possible. And then it occurred to her that it might be her husband who held those concerns in the not so distant future; which prompted her to hesitantly say, “You know, Daddy, I bumped into Mrs. Margaret Adams downstairs.” She watched his face for a reaction as she sat down in the chair across from his oversized oak desk.
His face didn’t seem to change too much, although she thought she saw a hint of something in his green eyes. “Such a lovely woman. So kindhearted. Wonderful family,” he commented, still eating his lunch.
“Yes,” Cordia agreed, straightening the pleats in the front of her dress. “She said to tell you hello and that they would see us on Sunday.” Again, she studied his face for some sort of clue—perhaps Jaris had come to him, asked him for her hand, given an indication that maybe he intended their courtship to come to an end and a wedding to take place soon. But Isaac Pike only nodded and took a bite out of the roll he was holding in his hand.
Sighing again, Cordia stood and walked away from the table, back to the window. She thought she heard her father chuckle quietly. Her head turned quickly, and she gave him a questioning look. Finally, he said, “Oh, Cordy, always has to know the future. Always has to find a way to pick everyone else’s brains. Why can’t you just let things unfold my dear?” He stood then, walked to his daughter, and hugged her. Instantly, at his touch, she became his little girl again and even laughed at herself. She turned and crossed back to the desk, wrapping up the leftovers, and packing them back into the basket.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she agreed, nodding her head. “I guess the Good Book does warn us not to go looking for soothsayers and the like. Just wondered if there was anything you could tell me.” She closed up the basket and put it over her arm.
He joined her at the desk, leaning a strong hand against it. “And what if there were? Would that be my place, dear? No, I think not. Now, you go on home and practice that new sheet music I got for you. All the way from Boston, you know. I will want to hear you play when I come home.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. New sheet music. Maybe she could think about that on the way home, instead of all of the other things that had been preoccupying her mind this morning. “Have a good afternoon,” she added as she closed his office door. She made her way down the stairs and back toward the entry, waving goodbye to Mr. Sulley, who was now with a customer.
On her way back home, the thought of running her fingers over those piano keys did occupy some of her thoughts. But other ideas also sprang to mind. What would happen if this notion in the south that they needed to be an independent country escalated? What would happen if more John Browns raided along the border of Missouri and Kansas? And of course, she could not help but wonder what would happen this Sunday on a stroll through the park with Jaris Adams. If he asked her to be his wife, would she say yes?