Courting Misfortune

by Regina Jennings

  “We’re working to improve that, but I’m glad you noticed.” Kentworth shared a smile with the pastor before adding, “You know, it’s frustrating to be the one who sees what should be, young man. To see what no one else wants to see. But maybe that frustration is only telling you that you’re in place to do the most good.”

  “Amen,” said Reverend Dixon.

  Matthew looked from one to the other. How could it be that they had disagreed with him, but still seemed to be on his side? He rose, and because he was learning that in the city harsh words didn’t have to mean the beginning of a feud, he offered his hand to each man in turn before commenting to Mr. Kentworth, “If you’re looking for someone to design that learning center of yours, you could offer the job to your niece Miss York.”

  “Calista?” Mr. Kentworth drummed his large, bony fingers against the table with a laugh. “My daughter Olive has been working on the sketches, but I can’t imagine Calista having an interest. Beware, Mr. Cook. Whatever Calista is cooking up, someone is going to get fried.”

  Matthew’s forehead wrinkled. This man trusted Mr. Blount but warned him against his own niece. What was she up to?

  CHAPTER

  13

  “I’m going to have another guest in my room,” Calista said to the smooth-faced hotel clerk at the front desk. She motioned to Maisie, who was standing on the opposite side of the fish tank with her nose against the glass as a blue-and-yellow striped fish glided in front of her. Her eyes, already magnified and distorted, crossed as she followed its path. Calista coughed to clear her throat. “She’s my cousin.”

  The clerk nodded in sympathy. “No need to explain. I have cousins too. Would you like another key, Miss York?”

  “Another key would be helpful, thank you.”

  He went to a wall of dividers and fished a key out of the cubby that corresponded to her room. “Also, you had a telephone call while you were out. The caller said he would call again tomorrow morning. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Calista took the brass key with its satin tassel. “That’s all for now. Thank you.”

  Mr. Pinkerton was anxious for a report. What did she have to offer him? Only a list of the places Lila was not.

  Despite Calista’s best efforts, it was as if Lila had vanished without a trace. Again. She couldn’t fathom the distress the missing girl was in.

  Calista walked around the fish tank and handed Maisie her key. Thank goodness Granny hadn’t insisted on Calista telling Maisie about her job. Her head was already spinning with the prospect of getting to stay in town.

  “My own key?” Maisie whistled, drawing the attention of two well-heeled businessmen. “I don’t think Pa and Ma even have a lock on our door at the farm.”

  Calista took her arm. “Keep it with you at all times, and always lock the door behind you when you leave our room. This isn’t Granny’s ranch. They call it Wicked Joplin for a reason.”

  “Excuse me, miss.” The clerk had stepped out from behind the counter. “I forgot to ask your guest to sign the register.”

  “Let’s do it.” Maisie clapped her hands. “And when Evangelina doesn’t believe I stayed here, I can pull out this register and show her my signature. Take that, Evangelina!”

  Why Maisie thought Calista’s sister back in Kansas City would care about her name being in a hotel register was beyond Calista. Then again, the two of them did tend to get competitive with each other. Perhaps it would rankle Evangelina.

  “Try to stay in the lines,” she said as Maisie pushed back her sleeve and gripped the pen. Calista saw her own name at the top of the page with the date, but many people had come and gone since then. Everyone who had stayed in the hotel . . .

  Maisie bent to blow on the drying ink of her signature just as Calista began flipping the pages of the book. “Careful,” she said in her too-loud voice. “Don’t paper-cut my face.”

  “Sorry. I’m looking for something.”

  It had been nine months since Lila Seaton had gone missing. She had to stay somewhere, and while it was unlikely that she had the funds to stay at the Keystone, Calista would start here. You never knew when a familiar name would show up in an unexpected place. Or when names, read repeatedly, might become familiar and give you insights that you hadn’t known would be helpful. Already she’d heard spoken around town the name of one of the men in the record of fathers whose children had been left at the home. It was the man who drove the milk wagon, and she couldn’t guess if he knew he had a child there or not, but it was a piece of information that she valued. So even if she didn’t see Lila’s name, there might be another that filled in a gap.

  With her finger running down the column of dates, she scanned the names. All were strangers—travelers passing through that she would never meet—but the idea had merit. As soon as Maisie was settled, they’d visit every hotel in town, especially those whose names graced the children’s forms at the home.

  “C’mon.” Calista hurried across the lobby, rustling discarded newspapers on marble-topped tables as she passed.

  She’d nearly forgotten Maisie by the time they reached their rooms, but at the door, Maisie pushed her aside.

  “Let me use my key. I have to figure this out.” Maisie knelt at the door, held the key in front of her face, and closed one eye like she was sighting a rifle.

  “The keyhole isn’t moving. You don’t have to aim.”

  Maisie leaned forward with her whole body as she inserted the key. She wiggled it both ways before finding the right direction and hearing a click. She grinned at Calista as she stood, turned the knob, then flung open the door.

  “Would you look at that?” Her eyes flashed as she took in the room. Calista couldn’t help but share her joy. She’d taken the expensive hotel for granted, and that was a shame. She’d be a better person if she could appreciate the beauty of it—something she was learning from Matthew.

  Maisie walked inside as if in a daze, her head tilted up to the high ceilings and white molding. She rocked on her feet, testing the thickness of the carpet, then dropped to her knees to run her hand over it. “It’s thicker than the rag rugs that Ma and I make. Almost as cushy as a seat cushion.”

  “You’ve seen rugs like this.” Calista dropped Maisie’s bag on a blue-and-white fauteuil chair. “Please act like you’ve been to town before.”

  “I’ve seen them, but I was never at liberty to feel one . . . and it feels wonderful.”

  “Wait until you see your bed.”

  “My bed? Do I get my own?” Maisie sprang toward the door that divided the living area from the private rooms. “Do I get to pick which room I want? Or are we sharing? One person alone would get lost in this bed. Maybe we should share.”

  “You take the purple room,” Calista said. “My things are already in the wardrobe in the gold room. Now, I have some errands to run. . . .”

  But Maisie wasn’t finished. Like a moth, she fluttered to the open window. “Look at the view. I bet I can see home from up here.”

  If one was going to be delayed, looking out the window wasn’t a bad way to waste time. Calista joined her at the windowsill.

  “The people down there look little. And the streetcar! Watch it go. They don’t even know they’re being watched, do they? The tops of the buildings are dismal, though. Just tar paper and pipes, but the rest is wonderful.”

  “It’s my favorite place to sit,” Calista said. “I could just watch all day.”

  “I’m sure you could. It’s a wonderful view of God’s creation.”

  God’s creation? Here in the middle of town?

  She followed Maisie’s gaze to a crowded flower garden, where two men were repairing the fence. It took a moment before she recognized the thin man with wavy blond hair as Silas, but at the sight of Matthew, her face warmed. He’d stripped down to his undershirt and was hoisting a fence post on his shoulder. Even from the sixth floor, she could see that his arms stretched in all the right places as his muscles played. He lifted
the post and lowered it into a hole, then held it while Silas shoveled dirt in around it. Holding the post steady with one hand, he wiped his forehead while laughing at something Silas said.

  Calista didn’t realize that she’d leaned forward until her forehead thunked against the glass pane.

  “Just like I said, a wonderful view of God’s creation.” Maisie winked. “I bet you spend hours here every day.”

  Calista stepped back. “I’ve got some errands to run, but I’ll be back before dark. Make yourself at home—”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “I’d rather you not.”

  “Why else did Granny send me? It was to keep an eye on you. If I let you go without me, then I’ve let them all down.”

  Of all the investigating that Calista needed to do, looking through the guest books of hotels would be the least dangerous. If Maisie had to come with her, this evening’s tasks weren’t too scandalous. “Fine, but don’t pester me with questions. You might not understand what I’m doing or why I’m doing it, but I have my reasons.”

  “And you can’t tell me those reasons?”

  “No, I can’t. Granny approves. That’s all you need to know.”

  “She approves to such an extent that she sent me to watch over you. That doesn’t sound like the highest form of approval.”

  “But it’s enough.”

  The girls put away Maisie’s bag, availed themselves of the water closet—which Maisie couldn’t help but exclaim over—and then headed back out to the street. Before she’d begun this mission, Calista had spent time with maps of Joplin and had familiarized herself with the general grid. Now she applied that knowledge to the streets that had become familiar to her to make her plan. It was unlikely that Lila, no matter what her reasons for coming, would have stayed at an expensive hotel. Calista would have better luck with the smaller inns mentioned on the forms at the Children’s Home.

  When they reached the ground floor, she started toward the front doors, but Maisie grabbed her arm.

  “I haven’t seen the other side of the lobby. Let’s go out those doors.”

  Calista rolled her eyes. They hadn’t made it out of the building, and already Maisie was getting her off track. “What could possibly be so exciting about those doors?”

  Maisie jutted her jaw forward. “What’s it hurt if we go out those doors? It’ll just take a moment to walk around to the front.”

  Calista was used to being spoiled, not to spoiling, but Maisie had already developed a pout. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Instead of being deposited on the well-traveled Fourth Street, they were dumped into an alley. Turning the corner, they intercepted two workmen. Only they weren’t workmen. They were Matthew and Silas.

  Calista’s steps stuttered as Matthew looked up from where he was digging another posthole. If she’d thought that getting caught in his undershirt and covered in dirt would embarrass him, she was wrong. He seemed to expand, daring to take up more room than before as he stretched into their path and blocked her way. If her feet were still working, she would have walked away offended.

  “Calista, what are you doing in the alley?” He lifted the shovel and dug its blade into the ground to punctuate his question.

  The noise demanded that she look down, and then, despite her best efforts, her eyes took their time getting back to his face.

  She forced a painful swallow. “I only came this way because Maisie said to.”

  “While you’re here, you might as well take a look around.”

  “She’s looked plenty,” Maisie said. “Her room looks right down on top of here. It’s her favorite view.” In case they didn’t understand, she pointed helpfully up to Calista’s window.

  Now Matthew looked a smidgen perturbed. “Is that so? And what is it that she enjoys watching?”

  “Silas, is that you?” Calista interrupted. “How rude of us. You haven’t been introduced to my cousin. This is Maisie Kentworth. She’s come to stay with me while I’m in town.”

  “Miss Kentworth.” Silas stuck his shovel beneath his arm and wiped his hand on his pant leg before offering it to Maisie. “It’s my pleasure. Is this your first time in Joplin? It must be, because I’d remember you if I’d seen you before.”

  Maisie fluttered at his clumsy attempt at flirtation, but when Matthew stepped closer, Calista had her own problems to worry about.

  “Is Maisie here by invitation, or because your venerable grandmother insisted?”

  He smelled of clean soil and sweat—a scent that reminded her of the ranch and made her yearn for bare feet in the creek. The thought of playing in the creek with Matthew made her pause before she could answer.

  “Granny insisted. She didn’t think it wise for me to stay here alone.”

  “Your granny and I are of the same mind. But why didn’t you stay at her ranch instead? If I had an errant loved one, I’d insist on keeping them at the hearth.”

  Calista couldn’t ignore how he’d put himself in the shoes of a much-loved family member. Some warmth, some sweet emotion wanted to reach her heart, but intellectually she knew that having another guardian would do nothing but slow her progress.

  “I am not your responsibility.” She kept her smile, despite the growl in her voice.

  “You’re my something,” he said.

  Her throat caught as he captured her gaze. She couldn’t look away. She’d seen his fierceness directed at others, but this was different. It wasn’t anger, it was resolve. He was making a resolution, and it was about her. She’d known from the beginning that he cared for her, but this was more than what a Christian felt for their fellow man. He was making a claim on her personally, and to her surprise, Calista welcomed it.

  But could she? With a quick prayer for discernment, Calista said, “We mustn’t take more of your time. Maisie and I were taking a stroll.”

  Maisie seemed to have hit it off with Silas. He whispered in her ear, and she shrieked, then slugged him in the arm. In typical Maisie fashion, she hit him harder than he expected, but he rubbed it off with a grin.

  “Why don’t the fellas come with us?” Maisie looked from Silas to Calista, then back again. “We could wait for them to get their clothes on, couldn’t we?”

  Oh no. This wasn’t good. “Time is of the essence.” Calista took a step backward toward the alley. “And we mustn’t interrupt their work. We’ll do better on our own.”

  Matthew reached for the shirt hanging over the fence. “It’ll just take me a moment to wash up. What do you say, Silas? Feel like an evening stroll?”

  Silas locked gazes with Maisie. Maisie didn’t know what to do, so she slugged him on the arm again.

  “I’ve been hankering for a break.” Silas winked, and Maisie crammed her hands deep into her pockets.

  “Then it’s decided. You might as well come in the garden and wait here instead of this alley. I’ll only be a second.”

  The girls followed them through the gate and down a path of pavers between the exuberant flower beds. Calista paused beneath a rose-covered arch, drawing in the fragrances she couldn’t appreciate from her perch in the hotel. When she’d come to visit his cabin before, she hadn’t stopped to see the garden between it and the greenhouse. She turned to face the wall of foliage and trailed her fingers over the braided vines.

  “They might need help at the Children’s Home on Saturday.” Matthew stepped beneath the arch with her. Even though she’d dallied, Matthew hadn’t left her, and she wasn’t surprised. “You think you can go?”

  He was giving her another chance? This grace he preached wasn’t all fake, was it?

  “I do.” She spun around to face him, only then realizing how close they were. She looked down at her hands. “Where did Maisie and Silas go?”

  “Follow me.” Holding out his hand, Matthew directed her through the garden. What was the cause of this sudden change of heart? Where she’d thought he would be more distant than ever, he seemed to be in heedless pursuit.

  Calist
a joined Maisie outside the door of Matthew’s apartment while the men tidied up. Using her charms to soften up a mark was a skill she should practice, but to her knowledge, no one had warned her about it being used against her. The fleeting thought crossed her mind that Matthew could be an adversary. She hadn’t considered the possibility that he could be a villain, trying to draw her off track.

  The thought was ridiculous, but if someone were trying to influence her, Matthew would be a dangerous weapon. Already he was changing her plans for the evening. Calista rubbed her forehead. Mr. Pinkerton was calling in the morning, and she needed some progress to report. There was no way around it. She would have to come up with an excuse for looking at all the hotel registries right under Matthew’s nose.

  “What do you know about Silas, and why haven’t you mentioned him?” Maisie picked at her stubby fingernails, trying to look nonchalant, but Calista wasn’t fooled.

  “He’s a miner. Seems like a decent guy. He does Bible study.”

  “Then Pa would approve.”

  “Your pa would require more than cracking open a Bible before he approved. Not to mention that Finn and Amos will have opinions.”

  “Finn isn’t home, and what’s Amos have to say about it?” Maisie caught a rough fingernail between her teeth, tore it off, then spit it in the flower bed. “And I ain’t planning to marry him. Just thinking he’ll make sure company while I’m watchdogging you.”

  Sure company? Silas seemed more than agreeable for that. Too agreeable, actually. It could be that her family had miscalculated. Sending Maisie to watch Calista was one thing, but who was going to watch Maisie?

  CHAPTER

  14

  Matthew had come to Joplin with the intention of interrupting the cycle that caught the miners—from the promise of easy riches, to poverty, to pain, to numbing the pain by utilizing the ever-present alcohol. Matthew wished they could think past the next day, the next drink, the next meal. On some things, he had definite ideas of his purpose and what would constitute success—like his new coworkers who had come to his Wednesday night study. On other quandaries, like Calista, he was searching in the dark.