Why Is My Smile Ugly
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
A few days after the incident with the horse, I was still feeling bad about it. After all, a horse is not an animal that can be easily forgiven for trampling someone like me to death and then trotting away as if nothing happened.
The fact that the horse had been owned by a friend of mine made matters worse. It didn’t help much that my mother was so furious about what the beast did to her. She would never speak a kind word to me again; she wouldn’t even look at me when we were in the house together.
I knew that this would affect our relationship forever. I tried to explain the whole thing to my father but he seemed more concerned about making sure he got his money’s worth from the horse than worrying about how I felt.
He had no idea how bad things could have turned out if I hadn’t run into the barn to get away from the beast or if I hadn’t managed to get up on its back before it ran off. As far as Dad was concerned, it wasn’t a horse anymore.
It was just one more of the many beasts that we raised for our business. So long as it gave us good work, he wanted nothing to do with it. And so he sold it for half price. This left me without a horse and without the funds to buy another.
I was forced to go to the bank and try to borrow some money for a new mount. But the banker refused to lend me any because I owed him too much already. I couldn’t believe it! How could anyone expect me to pay back the amount I borrowed? All of my savings went into starting our business. We were only a year old and we had already lost two horses.
As the days passed I grew less hopeful and more depressed over my situation. There was little else I could think about except how hard life had become for me. The thought of being able to start all over again in the big city with my own business was becoming very attractive.
But first I needed to find a way to get there. If I could get to Chicago I might be able to find a job there and make enough money to return home. In the meantime, I needed money for food and other expenses.
I decided to take a trip downriver and see if I could sell my skills as a photographer to some outfit in St. Louis. That meant going south through the Ozarks where I had never gone before. I knew it was dangerous territory but I also knew that most outlaws traveled north toward Missouri. And if they didn’t, I’d be safe traveling alone. At least I hoped so. I was determined not to let the events of the past few weeks ruin my plans for the future.
The day before I was to leave, Mother came down with pneumonia. She would need several days’ rest and wouldn’t be able to accompany me on this trip. I hated to disappoint her but I didn’t see how I could turn back.
I told her that I would come back in a week and bring her home with me. She cried and begged me not to leave her. I promised to be careful and not to be gone too long. Then I kissed my mother goodbye and headed out alone.
I rode slowly down the dusty road until I reached the river that marked the border between Arkansas and Missouri. A few miles south of the river, I found a boatman who would take me downstream.
It took three days to reach St. Louis and I spent the nights under a tree along the bank of the Mississippi. When I arrived, I immediately began looking for a job. I walked around town trying to catch sight of anyone in charge and offering my services.
But I was met with only disappointment. Most businesses were small and could only afford to hire a single person; most of those were men, and most of them looked away as if I weren’t even there.
The larger outfits, such as the Union Pacific Railroad, seemed to prefer hiring black people rather than white women. I was lucky that one of the smaller companies, a wagon maker, hired me on the spot. For a while, things looked up.
But within a few months, the company went broke and I was once again faced with having to earn my own way. I soon learned that a woman’s place was in the home, not in the workplace. No one cared that I was a trained photographer or that I knew how to handle a horse.
They only knew that I was a girl and that was all they needed to know. I couldn’t understand why I had to be treated differently just because I had a vagina. I was as smart as any man, if not smarter, and certainly just as strong-willed. But it didn’t matter. As long as my body worked, they wanted nothing more to do with me. So I became a housekeeper.
It was at least an honest living and I knew that I could do it well. I was hired by a wealthy family who owned several buildings in the heart of the city and lived in their large mansion on top of a hill overlooking the Missouri River.
This was a fine place to work and I could see the city lights glowing against the night sky from my bedroom window. But I still felt isolated and alone. I had been away from home for five years and now I was beginning to miss my parents.
I wished they were alive and I wondered what they were doing and where they were living. It hurt so much knowing that my mother was sick and that she was probably alone and lonely. I would give anything to be able to go back and help care for her. But I couldn’t—not yet.
“You’re going to be late!” Mrs. Mosely said when I finally got off the streetcar. “Come inside and have some coffee before you start your work.” She hurried me into the kitchen, where the smell of hot biscuits and sweet jam filled the air. Mrs. Mosely was an attractive middle-aged woman whose hair was gray, but who kept herself in good shape by riding a bicycle every afternoon.
She always wore dresses with colorful flowers and lace collars. She made me feel like part of her family and often invited me to join her for dinner or lunch. Sometimes we’d sit in the front yard and talk until darkness fell. We both enjoyed each other’s company.
But most of the time, I would go up to the third floor and clean the bedrooms and baths before returning to the kitchen for supper. On this particular morning, I was finishing up washing the china cabinet when I heard Mrs. Mosely call out to me.
“Come down here, girl! Your father is waiting for you.”
My heart jumped in my throat and my hands suddenly grew cold. What did he want? Was something wrong? Did I have another reason to stay home after all? I raced down the stairs as quickly as I could and stood in the foyer staring at her.
She gave me a quick hug, then opened the door of her office. Her husband was sitting behind his desk, reading a newspaper. He glanced up briefly as I entered. But neither of us spoke. After a few minutes, my father rose to greet me.
His face was serious and he offered me a smile but didn’t say anything. When we embraced, I felt tears welling in my eyes. My father had changed over the past year and no longer smiled as freely as he used to. I was sure that his illness wasn’t helping matters either. In fact, he looked thinner than ever.
“How are you, son?” he asked quietly. Then he turned to Mrs. Mosely. “I’m sorry, but we need to go now.” He nodded toward the hallway. “The car is ready downstairs.”
After we left, I was silent on the drive back to the mansion. I sat next to my father, staring blankly out the window at the passing scenery. It was only then that I noticed how quiet the city streets were.
All the street lamps had gone dark and everything looked deserted, except for one or two cars traveling along the roadways. Most of the shops were closed too. It was only early afternoon yet the city seemed dead. The weather had turned cool and damp, and I shivered as I thought about how much worse things might get as fall approached and winter set in.
We drove past the riverfront area where the warehouses were located. The wharves, warehouses, and factories were shut down. No one was working on the docks and none of the boats were moored.
Some of the men stood around talking, but most of them were drinking in bars, laughing loudly, and telling lies. It was as if nothing bad would ever happen again; as if there was no need for anyone to work anymore. They could just drink themselves into oblivion and leave the rest of us to fend for ourselves.
But I was not going to let myself be defeated. I knew that I would eventually find a way to make a life for myself and my family. I had come too far and sacrificed too much all ready to give up now. If I didn’t succeed now, it would be because I failed in the end.
I was determined to do whatever was necessary to keep my promise to my mother and to protect my younger brother. I wouldn’t allow any more harm to come to him or to my family. It was hard being away from home, but I would be all right. And soon I hoped to go back and take care of my mother.
***
A week later, Mr. Mosely called me to his office to discuss our next step in hiring someone to watch over Miss Lillian. “Our first attempt has failed,” he said. “It was obvious that she found a way to avoid being seen by the new maid. That’s why we need someone who can blend in with the staff.”
“What kind of person do you have in mind?” I asked. I had a feeling that he hadn’t told me everything when I came to see him the night before last.
He shook his head. “That’s still up to you.”
“Me? Why not hire one of the women from church? Or someone else?”
“Because they’re good friends of hers. And we don’t want her suspecting that we’ve hired a stranger to spy on her.”
“I’ll think of someone,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. This was a delicate matter. One mistake could ruin everything.
“If you think of anyone, send him or her over here.”
“Who is she exactly?” I asked. “Why is she so important?”
“You will learn all about her soon enough,” he said cryptically. “For now, I hope you understand what this means to your family.”
“Of course I do,” I replied, wishing he would tell me more. “Just don’t forget that I’m counting on you.”
“I won’t.” He reached out for my hand. “And I’m glad you’re part of our family now.”
“I am too,” I answered, meaning every word.
Mr. Mosely returned my handshake, then released my hand. “Now go home and prepare yourself for tonight.”
My stomach churned as I walked through the house, dreading another dinner alone. But then I remembered that this time would be different, that I would be meeting someone special. My heart fluttered and I felt excited as if something wonderful waited just ahead.
When I arrived at the dining room, I found Mrs. Mosely setting the table. She glanced up at me. “Everything all right?” she asked, noticing how distracted I looked. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, ma’am,” I replied quickly. “I’m fine.”
She smiled warmly. “Then you must be very happy. You look like a man with good news.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I am.”
As we ate, I kept glancing at Mrs. Mosely, wondering if it was too late to change my mind. But then I thought about what my mother would say and decided not to disappoint her by backing out now. There would be plenty of other dinners alone. Tonight I would meet someone. Someone who would help me keep my promise to my mother.
When we finished eating, I went into the parlor while Mrs. Mosely cleared the dishes. Then I took a seat and waited. The ticking clock on the mantelpiece sounded louder than usual; it seemed to get faster and faster, almost to the point where it would stop altogether.
I wondered what would happen when the hands stopped turning and whether they would be frozen in mid-position or simply continue to turn back until they finally reversed their direction.
Finally, I heard footsteps coming down the hall. I turned, expecting to see Mr. Mosely, and was surprised to see a young man walk past me. He wore a gray suit and black hat, a dark brown necktie, and a white shirt—a handsome fellow. His light hair matched mine. As he passed by me, I caught the scent of his aftershave and felt a sudden jolt of recognition.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, suddenly realizing that this was the same young man who had watched me earlier that day. “I don’t know your name.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, looking back at me. “I’ve been told that I look familiar.”
The two of us stood there for a moment, neither one moving until he finally spoke again. “Do you live around here?” he asked.
“I used to,” I replied, thinking of my mother. “But now I’m staying at my sister’s house.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were related.” He paused. “Are you married?”
“Not yet,” I answered. “It’s hard to find a husband when you’re a traveling lady.”
“I guess so,” he responded.
I stared at him as he walked away. I wanted to ask him where he lived, but then I realized that he might already know the answer. After all, he was probably following me everywhere I went. It wouldn’t be wise to ask any more questions. Instead, I followed him through the dining room and kitchen, keeping my distance.
He turned left into the hallway, and I continued straight ahead, passing a bedroom door. As I passed, I noticed a single bed inside the room. It made me wonder if he slept in there or if he brought his own bed along wherever he went.
I entered the next room and saw him standing near the fireplace. “I’ll wait for you outside,” I said softly, wanting to avoid any awkward moments.
The two of us left the house and walked together toward town, which lay only a block away from the Moselys’ mansion. In the daylight, the town seemed much bigger than I imagined. I could hardly believe that such a place existed in the middle of nowhere.
We crossed Market Street and walked to Main Street. We passed several brick buildings and came to a three-story building that had a sign hanging above the entrance: The Derry Hotel.
“That’s where we’ll meet,” the young man said, pointing at the hotel. “You can’t miss it.”
I nodded as I stepped inside. A bell tinkled loudly overhead. A large brass key hung from its cord and was attached to an ornate silver hook. The lobby smelled like old wood and leather, and as I gazed around, I noticed that it was filled with antique furniture and books.
A short man in a gray suit greeted us and escorted us to our table. The restaurant was dimly lit and quiet except for the sound of a piano playing soft music in the corner. “This way please,” the waiter said, taking my hand and leading me through the dining room. “Mr. Mosely will be with you shortly.”
As we reached our table, I looked up at the ceiling and gasped. Above me was an elaborate chandelier that resembled something out of the Middle Ages. Its glass balls were filled with colored lights, and the chain-link framework was covered with intricate designs and symbols.
It was beautiful, and I couldn’t help myself but stare at it for several seconds before turning back to the man who sat across from me.
“Mr. Mosely will be happy to see you,” the young man replied.
“Thank you,” I said.
After the waiter left, I studied the young man seated opposite me. His light brown hair had streaks of blond in it, making it look like mine, and his eyes were hazel-colored. He had a slender build and wore a neatly pressed gray suit; even his collar had a small diamond pin attached to it. The only difference between him and me was that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
I tried not to stare at him, but it was impossible not to notice how handsome he was. He was tall, well over six feet, and appeared to be in his early twenties. The two of us had never met, but I recognized him instantly—the young man who had been watching me at the library.
I felt uncomfortable sitting there with him, wondering if he was working for Mr. Mosely’s law firm, but I had no choice. He had to introduce himself eventually.
He smiled as the waiter returned to take our order. I ordered a plate of fried chicken and watermelon for dinner while he chose a steak, potatoes, and salad. “My name is Sam,” he said once we’d placed our orders. “Samuel Mosely.”
“Nice to meet you,” I replied.
“What did you think of the city?” he asked.
“It was quite interesting,” I said truthfully. “I didn’t expect to find a place like this here. I’m surprised they have a school in such a remote location.”
“The people are mostly farmers and ranchers, so it’s hard for them to travel to the nearest towns,” he explained. “They do most of their shopping locally.”
I glanced at him. “But why a school here? Why would anyone want to live in these mountains?”
“There aren’t many schools in this area,” he said. “And the children need somewhere to go after school. So it’s easier for everyone just to stay.”
I nodded as I took a sip of water. I didn’t know what to say about the school, so I decided to keep the conversation going by asking more questions. “How long has your family lived in the Moselys’ mansion?”
“Since last summer,” he said. “We moved into the house when my father accepted the position as the new sheriff.”
“So you’re close to both Mr. Mosely and his son,” I said.
“Yes.”
I paused and then asked, “Do you work with your father?”
“Not exactly. We’re partners, but we don’t share the same office.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “We’ve worked together on cases for several years now.”
I leaned forward and whispered, “Why haven’t I heard of you or your father before?”
His eyes widened slightly and he glanced down at his hands as he picked up a napkin and began to fold it. “You wouldn’t,” he said, returning the folded cloth to his lap.
I stared at the napkin, trying to imagine him doing any sort of work, which made me chuckle lightly. He hadn’t answered my question yet.
“No one knows much about us,” he finally admitted. “My father and I don’t advertise our profession. Most people assume we’re private investigators because there aren’t many other options around here.”
“So you’re a detective?” I asked.
“That’s right,” he said. “I investigate everything from infidelity to murder.”
“Murder?” I repeated, and I wondered how many women had been killed by a husband or lover in this small town.
“My specialty is catching criminals,” he said. “I enjoy helping the police catch killers and bringing them to justice.”
“Are you good at it?” I asked.
He nodded. “We’ve caught some tough guys.”
“What about Mr. Mosely’s daughter?” I asked. “Did you ever find her killer?”
“No, but we found out she was murdered,” he said. “Her body was found in the river near a rock bridge.”
“Was that where she disappeared?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
I sat back in my chair, thinking about the girl and all of the men who might have killed her.
“Do you think anyone could be involved in another crime here?” I asked.
“I don’t believe so,” he said. “This is a peaceful community.”
“Then why are you interested in me?” I asked.
“I’m not,” he replied. “I’m simply curious about your story.”
“My story?”
“Mr. Mosely told me about a woman who disappeared from his home,” he said. “Now he’s looking for a woman to help him find her.”
“So why are you asking me about my story?” I demanded. “Don’t you think I already know enough about it?”
“I can’t answer that,” he said as he looked away. “But I am curious.”
I studied him as he ate his food. His dark eyes were serious, and it seemed odd to see the expression on his face. He was different than other men I’d known; he wasn’t handsome and he wasn’t arrogant. But something about him drew me in, and I couldn’t stop watching his every move.
“I think you’re very observant,” I said, unable to hide my curiosity anymore. “I’m sure Mr. Mosely appreciates you.”
“Thank you,” he said, glancing at me. “Mr. Mosely hired me because I’m good at what I do.”
“And he trusts you to get the job done?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“Does Mr. Mosely believe there will be another murder?” I asked.
“It’s possible,” he said, “but we’ll never know unless we look into it.”
“If you’re going to investigate, why did you tell me about the girl?” I asked. “Aren’t you afraid that someone might come after me?”
“I can protect myself,” he said, “and I don’t want to put you in danger.”
“There’s nothing to fear from me,” I said. “I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself. In fact, you could learn a few things from me.”
His eyes narrowed, and he set down his fork and knife. “Let’s talk about something else then,” he said, pushing his plate away. “I’ve eaten too much.”
“You’re full of surprises,” I said softly.
The corner of his mouth curled upward. “Most people would call me strange.”
“How long have you been in Montana?” I asked.
“Two years,” he replied. “My father and I moved here from New York City.”
“New York? Why?”
“My father wanted to start a business, and he thought Montana would be a great place to do it,” he explained. “He owns the largest hardware store in town.”
“Your father sounds like an interesting man,” I said.
He nodded, picking up his glass and taking a sip of water. “He’s smart, and he’s very protective of us.”
“Of course,” I added. “Any parent would be.”
“My mother left when I was young,” he said quietly. “She didn’t seem to care about us.”
“Why do you think that is?” I asked. “Maybe she cared about her family more.”
“My father was a policeman,” he said, staring off toward the wall of windows. “He used to say that mothers usually abandoned their children because they knew it would hurt him.”
“Is that true?” I asked. “Did you know your mother?”
“Yes, she was a nurse at a hospital,” he said. “But I never met her.”
“Were you adopted?” I asked.
“That’s right,” he replied. “My father raised us alone.”
“Where were you born?” I asked. “Was your father also a cop?”
He shook his head, his eyes focused somewhere far away. “No, my parents weren’t cops,” he said. “They were married but never had any children.”,
The End