Chapter 5: GALVESTON
Sunday, October 12th... "Dear Mom and Dad... I finally made it to the Sherman Ranch. It is very rustic. Slim and Jess are just as Dad described in looks and temperament—salt and pepper. (Not being disrespectful... they said to call them by their first names.) Dad, Slim said particularly for me to tell you the following because you would appreciate the humor. Quote: Andy is now in school in St. Louis. Jonesy and Nurse Emma got married and they also moved to St. Louis. Miss Sally and Kim (?) got married and moved to Hawai'i. Unquote. I don't see what's so funny about this.
The new housekeeper is a widow called Daisy Cooper. She is very old and very sweet but when she says 'jump' everyone asks 'how high?'. Kind of like you, Mom. Slim is guardian of an orphan boy named Michael. He is nine.
Mom... you were right. Jess got very upset when he read your letter and looked at the other papers and, yes, he decided he needed go to Texas and Florida right away to look for his sister and brother. Slim was upset, too, because he did not want Jess to leave but understands why he has to. If it were MY brother and sister I would sure want to go. I bet you can guess where this is leading and I hope you are not too mad about it.
Being stuck on a train for days on end has to be the most boring way to travel ever invented. I have lost track (no pun intended) of the number of times we have changed lines and cars. At first it was fun, watching the different scenery roll by, but after a while it all starts looking the same. I am sure glad I brought along enough reading material. These hard wooden benches are worse than church.
I would be enjoying this trip a lot more if we could have broken it up with an overnight stay in a hotel here and there and got a good night's sleep, but Jess is anxious to get to where we are going. Twice, when there was a long layover between connections, we had time to visit a bathhouse and eat in a restaurant. Sometimes there is a dining car where the food ranges from inedible to pretty good but nothing to write home about, ha ha. Vendors come up on the platform wherever we stop to take on water or exchange mail so we can still get something to eat if there is no dining car. Sandwiches, usually, and fruit.
Most of the time the cars are not crowded and we have two facing benches to ourselves. Jess has been teaching me to play poker and he tells lots of interesting stories about his days on the drift. (Not to worry, Mom... I like my home comforts too much to want to try my hand in the 'Big Open' as he calls it.) Also, there have been no Indian attacks or train robbers. The most exciting thing that happened was a lady had a baby and other ladies had to help her get it out as there was no doctor on board. (It was a boy. A very LOUD one.)
Well, we are about to reach the end of the line in Galveston, Texas. After this we go by boat to Florida. I'll put this in the mail as soon as I see a post office. Please excuse the ink blots. Trains are a lot bumpier than you would think. Could be worse. We could be traveling by stagecoach.
After daytime highs in the 60s and nighttime lows in the 20s back in Laramie (and snow) the climate here sure is different. I read that the average temperatures in November in Galveston are between 80 and 70 degrees, respectively. It rains a lot and it hardly ever snows.
Your loving son, Jay Dee"
"Dear Slim and Daisy... We are almost to Galveston now. There are a lot more people and buildings than I remember but I was just a little boy last time I was here. I am glad Jay Dee come along for company. First thing I will find us a cheap hotel then look for a boat to take us to Pensacola which is in Florida. Also ask around about Francie as this is the last place she lived I know about. That is all for now. Hope you are all well. Tell Mike I miss him a whole lot.
Your friend, Jess Harper PS It is very hot and sticky here although it is October."
Jay Dee was amused at his companion's ill-concealed nervousness when their train, leaving terra firma on the mainland at Virginia Point, began the two-mile transit over Galveston Bay to the island itself. No parts of the trestle bridge were visible from the windows, giving the illusion that the train was rolling on open water. Jess heaved an audible sigh of relief and mopped his brow with his bandanna when the car thunked over tracks connecting with solid ground once again.
"Didn't you tell me you'd been here before, when you were a kid?" Jay Dee asked.
"That was on a ferry. A BIG ferry..."
The remaining five miles paralleled the harborside commercial district until reaching the terminus. Even Jay Dee, no stranger to big ships thanks to his hometown's proximity to the Pacific Ocean, was impressed by the orderly ranks of wharves extending far beyond the island's shallow sandy shores to the deepwater channel between it and a smaller island to the north. Hundreds of vessels of every size and description were moored alongside. From the slight elevation of the railbed, the neatly-gridded city of Galveston could be viewed almost in its entirety, and beyond that the Gulf of Mexico glittering in the afternoon sun.
Collecting their luggage and hopping down onto the platform, the two travelers paused to stretch their limbs and get their bearings. On the far side of the passenger rotunda stood a line of cabbies unreservedly shilling for fares. The shinier, newer vehicles with the snappiest-dressed drivers and best-kept horses were quickly appropriated by faster-walking passengers.
"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Jay Dee asked as they made their way slowly toward their next mode of transport.
"Nope. But I know who to ask." Jess nodded toward his choice.
Occupying the tail end of the line was a small dun molly mule harnessed to a two-wheeled dray that had seen better days. Standing by her head was an elderly colored man with a short-cropped gray beard. His clothes were old and patched but clean and neatly pressed and his boots shined to a military gleam. The molly, too, was older but sleek and well-fed. As the two white men approached, the elder removed his straw hat and gave a slight inclination of the head.
"H'ep you, suh?"
"Yes, sir, I reckon we sure could use some help," Jess replied in a respectful tone. Jay Dee thought he caught a flicker of surprise cross the old man's face at the 'sir'.
Jess continued. "My friend an' me, we're new here an' we need a place to stay for a few days while we look for a family relation. Someplace clean an' not too expensive, that serves up a good breakfast. Maybe close to a bathhouse? We're quiet an' we won't cause no trouble. We'd be obliged if you could recommend such a place... an' we'll be needin' a way to get there, too."
The old man looked fixedly at Jess' low-slung gunbelt, obviously mulling over the 'no trouble' assertion and finding it wanting. Still, he was there for a reason... and that reason was earning a living, just like everyone else.
"Ah gots your word on dat? No trouble?"
"Word of honor, Mister...?"
"John. John Adams Greene."
"Jess Harper. My cousin here is Jay Dee Kelly." Jess held out his hand, a bold and extraordinary gesture toward a colored man by a white one, Jay Dee knew.
"Pleased t'meetcher, Mistuh Harper, Mistuh Kelly." With great dignity, Mister Greene shook their hands and nodded toward his conveyance. "Ah mostly carries goods, not folks. Ain't no seats. Just straw. Dey room fo one moah on de driver box."
"I'll sit in the back, Jess," Jay Dee volunteered, slinging first his Gladstone bag and then Jess' into the bed of the cart before climbing in.
Jay Dee thought it odd that Jess seemed to take it for granted, without further discussion, that the old man was preparing to deliver them to appropriate overnight accommodations. He would have asked questions—like where and how much and so on. Evidently they do things differently here in Texas... and Jess is a Texan so he must know what he's doing...
Pulling the mule out of the line, John Greene drove one block north on Santa Fe Place then turned south on 25th Street. While he and Jess conversed, Jay Dee marked their progress in case they had to find their way back on their own.
"You been here long, Mister Greene?" Jess was asking.
"Thirty year an' then some."
"So you know this area pretty well?"
"Better'n most, I 'spect."
"If you don't mind me askin', how much you usually pull in on an average day?"
"Depend on folk needin' sumpin toted some'eres. Sometime foah o' five dollah, sometime moah."
"Well... like I said, we're gonna be here a coupla days... maybe a week? I could rent a nag but I'd still need a guide. Whaddya say to five dollars a day to drive me around an' help me look?"
"Five dollah... ev'ry day?" The man's tone was incredulous.
"If that ain't enough..."
"Oh... dat plenny 'nuff. But... Mistuh Harper... yo sure yo doan mind bein' seen ridin' aroun' in a mule cart wid a ole black man?"
"Mister Greene, I useta chop cotton right 'longside your folks. Pride's the least a my worries..."
Twenty-fifth Street ran straight as an arrow for forty blocks before debauching onto the unimaginatively named Beach Road, which snaked along the gulf side of the island until disappearing in the distance in both directions. Between the crushed-shell roadbed and the water's edge, where moderate rollers expended themselves on a pale sandy beach, were primary dunes at the high tide line. These were low enough that they didn't obstruct the view of the water and sported tufts of spartina, panicum grass and sea oats underpinned by a ground cover of dollar weed.
On the verges of the road itself grew thick mats of pink purslane and yellow primrose and lavender and yellow morning glory. To its north side were slightly higher secondary dunes—dotted with woody shrubs of heather, rosemary and goldenrod. Interspersed between these were small rainwater swells—catchponds around which cattails flourished. And beyond these were tertiary dunes tall and stable enough to support wind-sculpted groves of live oak, saw palmettos and pines. None of the dunes were higher than twenty feet. A calm and restful view if one happened to enjoy sand and endless sky merging with endless ocean at a milky horizon.
At intervals, a break would appear in the secondary dune line, indicating an entrance to an enclave of clapboard buildings sheltering in the protection of the taller dunes. A mile or so on, John Greene turned the mule into one of these compounds containing a substantial two-story house and three smaller single-story ones, all elevated on pilings. The property was neat and well-maintained, though there was no grass. The residences white-washed with corrugated galvanized tin roofs and hurricane shutters painted red.
Stunted fruit trees graced a miniature orchard adjacent to a vegetable garden. Flowering vines cascaded from gaily painted coffee cans perched on the railings of the main house's verandah. Chickens roamed the yard. Pig and goat pens projected from the sides of a small red-painted barn.
The overall effect greatly resembled Jay Dee's home, on a smaller scale and without his mother's prized picket fences protecting the flowerbeds. Or grass. For the first time since embarking on this adventure he experienced a pang of homesickness. This sure doesn't look like any hotel I've ever seen...
A covey of bright-eyed kinky-haired barefoot children materialized out of nowhere, in shades ranging from café au lait to aubergine... happy, well-fed, inquisitive children, Jess noted. A few curious dark faces poked around corners and through lace curtains though no adults were forthcoming. Mister Greene pulled up at the bottom of the wide staircase leading up to the verandah of the big house.
"Wait chere, you doan mind..." the old man advised, nimbly hopping off the cart and up the stairs to disappear into the house.
"Jess?"
"Yeah?"
"What're we doing here? Is this some kind of boarding house?"
"Don't know. Reckon we're fixin' to find out. Just sit tight and keep quiet."
"Okay... but..."
Jess hissed. "Whatever you do, don't go talkin' about the war or slavery. These folks might be freedmen or they mighta been slaves. We don't wanna offend any of 'em. You call everyone 'mister' or 'missus', got that?"
"Got it... but..."
"Quiet... they're comin' out."
Mister Greene emerged first, holding the door open as a regal figure advanced to the top of the staircase and paused to regard the travelers with an expression exhibiting something less than approval. The woman was clad in a practical cotton prairie dress—ankle-length, scoop-necked and short-sleeved with no frills or furbelows—and over that a starched white eyelet pinafore. The embroidered tignon concealing her hair was fashioned from a silky fabric in the same moss-green hue as the dress. Below, her feet were bare. No queen ever surveyed her courtiers with more aplomb. She was by far and away the most exotic female Jess had ever beheld. Jay Dee was floored.
"If you gennemuns'd be pleased to come up..." Mister Greene indicated.
Whipping off their hats, the two men scrambled off the cart and came up the stairs to stand inspection, doing their best to appear dignified rather than blown away by this elegant creature.
"May ah present Missus Rosalie Mount. Miz Mount, dis be Mistuh Jess Harper an' Mistuh Jay Dee Kelly."
"Honored to make your acquaintance, m'am," Jess said, his voice quavering.
"Pleased to meet you, Miz Mount," Jay Dee echoed.
As the lady didn't offer her hand, neither did they... unsure of the protocol in this unusual situation. An awkward silence ensued as she took their measure through unblinking pale jade eyes flecked with gold. Before speaking, she turned to exchange murmured confidences with the old man in low tones they could barely hear and in a language they didn't comprehend.
"I understand that you are in need of lodgings… and assistance in locating a missing sister?" It was both a statement and a query in a soft melodious voice that flowed in the ear like the soughing of leaves in the wind.
The short hairs on the back of Jess' neck prickled. I never mentioned nothin' 'bout no sister to that old man…
"Yes, m'am, that's true but… I ain't sure why he brought us here… troublin' you, I mean."
An eyebrow arched just a smidgen. "No trouble. Fate, perhaps."
"Beg pardon?"
"Shall we go in?"
Without waiting for a response, Missus Mount turned and glided away. Mister Greene nodded to the visitors to follow her through a dark hallway into a spacious sitting room. In no way resembling a typical Victorian parlor with all its attendant gloom and clutter, this room was intended for comfortable enjoyment in a casual atmosphere, with overstuffed chairs and deeply upholstered settees. Good reading lamps and an abundance of books and periodicals attested to the literacy level of the home's occupants. On one wall, a sandstone fireplace rose to the ceiling. On the opposite wall, an enormous plate-glass bay window gave onto the beachfront.
Tucked into the window niche, a quartet of high-backed cushioned easy chairs were paired on either side over a low service table. Gesturing Jess toward one of them, Missus Mount took the one opposite and Mister Greene the one beside hers. The old man sat back with hands folded over his belly, evidently intending to let the woman take the floor and direct whatever conversation was to follow. The fourth chair remained empty as—halfway through the room—Jay Dee's attention had been diverted elsewhere.
Feeling like an insect under a magnifying glass, Jess willed his hands to be still as he considered the lady's clear command of the English language, as opposed to Mister Greene's patois. Who's this woman an' what's she want with us? When she spoke again he nearly jumped out of his seat.
"To answer your unasked question, Mister Harper, I was educated at the Ursuline Academy in New Orleans. In this household we speak Creole French and English interchangeably. I presume you would prefer to continue in English?"
"Oh… um… yes, m'am." Dadgummit, kid… get over here an' help me out 'stead a gawkin' at that thingamabob…
Jess' silent appeal for assistance went unaided. Jay Dee was thoroughly engrossed in a fan with six palmate blades revolving lazily above in the high ceiling. He'd seen similar devices before—in hotels in San Francisco—but those had been punkah-style flat swinging fans hand-operated by servants. This contraption was powered by a pulley system running from the fan base to a slot in the wall. Though the newspapers had reported, just this year, the successful development over in Europe of a functioning electrical motor representing the technological wave of the future, Jay Dee wasn't aware of any practical application having yet been invented for it. What, then, was making this thing go? He was startled by a soft voice in his ear.
"Windmill. On the roof." Jay Dee turned to find himself face to face with a girl close to his own age... a very pretty girl with a flawless caramel complexion and green eyes that marked her as a relative of Missus Mount's. Sister... or daughter? A mass of blue-black curls framed her face.
"Hi. I'm Celia... Cecelia Mount."
Without thinking Jay Dee took the hand offered to him. "Jay Dee Kelly... that's initials JD for Joseph Daniel Kelly."
"I don't recognize your accent, Jay Dee. Where are you from?"
Jess' attention was wrenched back to his own business by Missus Mount addressing him.
"I do hope you will excuse my initial hesitation in welcoming you. We've never before entertained white gentlemen in our home. And yes, the young lady over there enjoying the company of your companion is my daughter, Cecelia. Her father was white but he never lived here."
"M'am, I would never..."
"Of course you wouldn't, but it's easier to have these issues out in the open, is it not? Mister Mount went to his reward a decade ago during the Battle of Galveston. He left us quite well off, as you can see. I trust Mister Greene's instincts implicitly. If he says you are honorable men, than it would be an honor to have you as our guests."
Jess was truly flustered. "Oh no, m'am. We can't do that. He was 'sposed to take us to a hotel... an' you don't know us..."
"You will of course stay here with us until your business is concluded. We have extensive contacts throughout the city that I expect will prove helpful."
And so it was settled. Celia was dispatched to ask two of the older boys to bring up the travelers' luggage to their rooms on the second floor. After a sumptuous luncheon served on the verandah, Jess and Jay Dee were grateful to find hot baths prepared for them in the combination bathing/laundry room off the kitchen. What was intended to be brief afternoon naps lasted until knocks on their bedroom doors alerted them to the advent of supper, which also took place outdoors.
As Missus Mount explained, one of the advantages of living on the underappreciated gulf side of the island was that the prevailing and never-failing breeze kept away the worst of the flying pests. The more populated harbor side of the island, laced with swamps and marshes, was plagued with a veritable scourge of mosquitoes and midges.
Formalities gradually eased as the evening wore on, until everyone was on a first name basis. The shirttail relatives living in the other three houses sidled around to satisfy their curiosity and be introduced. Soon the verandah was thronged with merrymakers—laughing and dancing, singing and clapping to a guitar, a harmonica and an accordion. Jess particularly was a big hit with the children... especially the little girls. Even the reserved Rosalie seemed to fall under his spell. Jay Dee made mental note on the Jess Harper Method of winning over females, fervently hoping he could remember half of it by the time he got back home to the girls of his acquaintance there.
When Jess delicately inquired as to the presence of so many unrelated children, he was informed that they were spillovers from the orphanage run by the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word. The recurring yellow fever epidemics had left so many orphans that the taxpayer-assisted facility had simply run out of space and funding. Went without saying that colored children, last to be accommodated in the public domain, were dependent on members of their own communities for shelter and sustenance.
"We got that same problem back in Laramie," Jess said. "Only it's with Injun kids, mostly smallpox an' measles."
Jess and Jay Dee tumbled into bed around midnight, thoroughly exhausted but counting their blessings that they inadvertently fallen in with such welcoming and supportive company... all because of an old man and his mule.
Monday, October 13th... The next morning found them gathered for breakfast, again on the verandah. Jay Dee noted the absence of children and commented on it. Jess gave him a warning glance.
"It's Monday," Rosalie observed. "They're all in school."
"Oh... of course. I didn't... why didn't I think of that?"
"We have a little subscription school up the road... payable in goods and services as very few of our people have cash to spare. Our teachers are all volunteers, and we depend on cast-off books and materials from the public school district. We make do and we get by."
Jay Dee had also, the previous day, marked that children seemed to make up the majority of servants in the household. "And the older children... they work here for their bed and board? Just asking, not judging. Back home orphans are bound out to earn their keep. My mother says it's a Dickensian practice that should be abolished... no offense."
Jess was about to intervene in what he feared might be a dangerous conversational tack when it occurred to him that the very same treatment was condoned in Laramie.
"The children here are more fortunate than others," Rosalie admitted, "because I can afford to look after them. But yes, they are required to learn the basics of running a house or a farm. The older ones, boys and girls alike, learn how to manage the younger ones. In future, when they have homes and children of their own, they will need the knowledge they otherwise would have acquired from their parents."
"Makes sense to me," Jess said, letting a sigh of relief. The lady of the house seemed disposed to answer sensible questions and not at all offended.
"Of course, the greater hope is that the education they receive will provide a firm foundation on which to build career paths greater than menial employment. I don't pay them, as such, for the work they do, but the ones who are old enough to be assigned chores receive a small allowance. Mister Greene—who goes by 'Uncle Jack'— drives them into town once a month to make deposits in their savings accounts and make purchases. Learning money management at a young age is also beneficial."
"Miz Rosalie, it seems to me you ought to be the one in charge of running the school district," Jay Dee said in admiration.
"I'll take that as a compliment. Now, why don't we discuss your agenda for the day, Jess..."
"My what?"
"Your plans... what would you like to do first?"
"You got any suggestions, I'd sure like to hear 'em..."