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Conquest

<h2>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> BEGINNING OF THE END <div class="drop"> <ANTIMG src="images/drop_i.jpg" alt="I" width-obs="90" height-obs="90" class="cap" /> I WAITED to hear from my wife in Chicago but at the end of two weeks I had not heard from her, although I had written three letters, and a week later I journeyed to Colone and took a train for Chicago. When I called at the house the next day her mother admitted me, but did not offer to shake hands. She informed me Orlean was out, but that it was the first time she had been out, as she had been very sick since coming home. When I asked her why Orlean had not written, she said: </div> "I understand you have mistreated my child." "Mistreated Orlean!" I exclaimed. Then, looking into her eyes, I asked slowly, "Did Orlean tell you that?" "No," she answered, looking away, "but my husband did." Gradually, I learned from her, that the Reverend had circulated a report that Orlean was at death's door when he came to her bedside; if he had not arrived when he did, she would have died, and when she was well enough to travel, he brought her home. It was at last clear to me, as I sat with bowed head and feeling bewildered and unable to speak. I recalled the words of Miss Ankin eighteen months before, "the biggest rascal in the Methodist church." I remembered the time I had called and saw him driving his wife, who was now sitting before me, and the rest of it. I saw all that he had done. He had[Pg 274] abused this woman for thirty years, and here and now, out of spite and personal malice, because I had criticized the action of certain members of the race, and eulogized the work of Booker T. Washington, whom the elder, along with many of the older members of the ministry, hated and would not allow his name mentioned in his home, I was to lose my wife, to pay the penalty. He had disliked me from the beginning, but there had been no way he could get even. He was "getting even," spiting me, securing my wife by coercion, and now spreading a report that I was mistreating her, in order to justify his action. "Mrs. McCraline," I said, speaking in a firm tone, "Do you believe this?" Evading the direct question, she answered: "You should never have placed yourself or Orlean in such a position." And then I understood. When Orlean had written her mother of the coming of the child, Mrs. McCraline had not written or told the Reverend about it. I now understood, further, that she never told him anything, and never gave him any information if she could avoid it. What my wife had told me was proving itself, that is, that they got along with her father by avoiding any friction. He could not be reasoned with, but I could not believe any man would be mean enough to deliberately break up a home, and that the home of his daughter, for so petty a reason. It became clear to me that he ruled by making himself so disagreeable, that everyone near gave in to him, to have peace. He had only that morning gone to his work. On[Pg 275] hearing me, Ethel came downstairs and called up Claves. A few minutes later her mother called me, saying Claves wanted to talk to me. When I took the receiver and called "hello," he answered like a crazy man. I said: "What is the matter? I do not understand what you are talking about." "What are you doing in my house, after what you said about me?" he shouted excitedly. "Said about you?" I asked. "Yes," he replied, "I hear you treated my wife like a dog, after I sent her out there to attend to your wife, called me all kinds of bad names, and said I was only a fifteen-cent jockey." "Treated your wife ugly, and called you a jockey," here I came to and said to myself that here was some more of the elder's work, but I answered Claves: "I haven't the faintest idea of what you are talking about. I treated your wife with the utmost courtesy while she was in Dakota, I never mentioned your name in any such terms as you refer to, and I am wholly at a loss to understand the condition of affairs I find here. I am confused over it all." "Well," he answered, "suppose you come down to where I work and we will talk it over." "I'll do that," I answered, and went down town where he worked on Wabash avenue. One thing I had noticed about him was, that while he was ignorant, he was at least an honest, hard-working fellow, but was kept in fear by his wife and the elder. I saw after talking to him, that he, like Mrs. McCraline, did not believe a word of what[Pg 276] the Reverend had told about my mistreating his daughter, and that he submitted to the elder, as the rest of the family did, for the sake of peace. But they were all trained and avoided saying anything about the elder. During the conversation with Claves he told me he kept up the house, paid all the grocery bills, and half the payments. He had been advanced to a salary of eighteen dollars a week and seemed to be well liked by the management. I went to a hotel run by colored people, and at about seven-thirty that evening, called up the house to see if Orlean had returned. She came to the phone but before we had said much, were accidentally cut off. Hearing her voice excited me, and I wanted to see her, so hung up the receiver and hurried to the house, some ten or twelve blocks away. When I rang the bell, Claves came to the door. Before he could let me enter, Ethel came running down the stairs, screaming as loudly as she could: "Don't let him in! Don't let him in! You know what papa said! Don't you let him in," and continued screaming as loud as possible. I heard my wife crying in the back room. Claves had his hat on and came outside, saying: "For God's sake, Ethel, hush up! You'll have all the neighborhood out." She continued to scream, and to stop her, he closed the door. We went together on State street and I took a few Scotch highballs and cocktails to try to forget it. The next day being Sunday, Claves said he would try[Pg 277] to get Ethel off to church and then I could slip in and see Orlean, but she refused to go and when I called up, about the time I thought she would be gone, she was on guard. My wife was at the phone and told me to come over and she would try to slip out, but when I called, Ethel had made her go to bed. It seemed that she ran the house and all in it, when the elder was away. Mrs. McCraline came outside, took me by the arm and led me over to Groveland park, near the lake. Here she unfolded a plan whereby I should find a room nearby, and she would slip Orlean over to it, but this proved as unsuccessful as the other attempt, to steal a march on Ethel. She held the fort and I did not get to see my wife but one hour during the four days I was in Chicago. That was on Tuesday following, after Claves had tried every trick and failed to get Ethel away. This time he succeeded by telling her I had left town, but when I had been in the house an hour, Ethel came and started screaming. I had to get out before she would stop. The next day I called up and suggested to Orlean that I bring a doctor and leave her in his charge for I must return to Dakota. She consented and I went to a young negro doctor on State street and took him to the house, but when we arrived, Ethel would not admit us. The doctor and I had roomed together before I left Chicago, while he was attending the Northwestern Medical School, and we had always been good friends. He had been enthusiastic over my success in the west and it made me feel dreadfully embarrassed when we were refused admittance. When I called up the house later Ethel came to the phone, and said: "How[Pg 278] dare you bring a 'nigger doctor' to our house? Why, papa has never had a negro doctor in his house. Dr. Bryant is our doctor." Dr. Bryant, a white doctor, is said to have the biggest practice among colored people, of any physician. That recalled to my mind some of the elder's declarations of a short time before. He had said on more than one occasion: "I am sacrificing my life for this race," and would appear much affected. After I returned home, my wife began writing nice letters, and so did Claves, who had done all a hen-pecked husband could do to help my wife and me. He wrote letters from the heart, declaring his intention to be more than a friend. He would be a brother. I received a letter from him, which read: <blockquote class="small"> Chicago, Ill., May 30, 19—. Dear Friend Devereaux: Your kind and welcome letter was received a few days ago and the reason you did not receive my last letter sooner was because I left it for Ethel to mail, and she didn't do so. I am glad to hear you are getting your flax in good shape, and the prospects are fair for a good crop, and now I will tell you about Orlean. She seems happier of late than she has been at any time since she came home. Now, I don't know how you will feel, but I know it relieves my conscience, when I say that your wife loves you, and talks of you—to me—all the time. Those papers, and pamphlets you sent telling all about the display Nicholson brothers had on at the Omaha land show. She had opened it and when I came home she told me she could not wait because she was so anxious to hear about the Little Crow. She told me that Nicholson brothers were your best friends. I imagine they must be smart fellows for every paper in the batch you sent me had something about them in it. She took the money you sent her and bought some shoes and had[Pg 279] some pictures made, so as to send you one. Mrs. Warner was over the next day, and said; "Where did you get the shoes?" and she answered, "My husband sent them to me." Now, I hope you will not worry because she told me as soon as she was well enough she was going back to Dakota, and as for me, I intend to be more than a friend to you. I'm going to be a brother. From your dear friend, E.M. Claves. </blockquote> My wife had written at the same time and used many "we" and "ours" in her letter, and I felt the trouble would soon be over and she would be at home. That was the last letter I received from Claves, and when I heard from my wife again, it was altogether different. Instead of an endearing epistle, it was one of accusation, downright abusive. I made no complaint, nor did I write to Claves to inquire why he had ceased writing. I had always judged people by their convictions and in this I knew the cause. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> [Pg 280] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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