Courting Misfortune

by Regina Jennings

  “Back so soon, Miss York?” His eyes asked questions he’d been warned never to voice to customers.

  Her tight-lipped smile was the only answer she gave. Matthew felt a growl wanting to let loose from his chest. What could she say? This isn’t my baby. I won him in a contest that I never entered. He wanted to grab all those self-satisfied benefactors by the neckcloths and show them the trouble they’d brought about with this ridiculous idea. He’d been the only one to see the danger in this stunt, but he and Calista were still caught by the consequences.

  They’d reached her room, but they hadn’t reached the end to this madness.

  Calista rushed inside and pulled off her white-ruffled suit coat. Dropping it on a table, she pulled the pearl-tipped hatpin out of her hair and tossed her hat on the sofa. She tilted her head back to release the tension in her neck, but finding that it was useless, she turned her frustration on Matthew as she still gripped the hatpin.

  “I went along with your plan. Now, how do we get out of this?”

  Matthew frowned at the pin in his face. He bent and put Howie on the ground before addressing her. “I’m thinking about it.”

  The baby immediately flipped on its stomach. Grabbing a handful of the tassels that lined the edge of the rug, he stretched them to his mouth.

  “Surely you have someone back home who has room for the kid,” Calista said. “Your mother? A married sister?”

  “Nobody comes to mind. People in my neck of the woods already have enough kids underfoot. They aren’t looking for another mouth to feed.”

  “Neither was I.”

  “This is exactly why the raffle was a bad idea.”

  “Now you’re giving me an I-told-you-so? It was your idea for me to accept him!” Calista reached for her hat. “I’m taking him back. That’s all there is to it. I have a job to do—”

  “Ah, yes. And what would that job be?”

  Blast that cocky tilt of his head. He had her over a barrel, and he knew it.

  He took a seat on her blue-and-white sofa like he had no plans to leave. “You never told me which of my guesses was right.”

  “Your guesses . . .” She was buying time, and he seemed to know it.

  “Either you are a compulsive liar, insane, doing something illegal, or you are involved in some kind of investigation. Is it one of those, or is there another possibility that I missed?”

  From the frying pan to the fire. With a tug to adjust her fitted skirt, Calista dropped to the floor with her back to Matthew and dangled a bracelet in front of Howie. “If you are right, what possible good can come of you knowing?”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw his foot slide forward until it was next to her. “It would do a great deal of good. It would help me decide once and for all whether you are someone I can trust.”

  “I trust you.”

  “But not enough to handle the truth?”

  Howie crawled into her lap. He really was a beautiful child, even if he was gumming the thick beads of her bracelet. He lurched, throwing his weight into her and causing her to bump against Matthew’s leg. Remembering his Scripture on seductive women, she started to straighten, but Matthew caught her shoulder and drew her against him. With a strong hand, he kneaded the base of her neck.

  “I’m demanding. I have high expectations for myself and for others.” His low, country voice was as soothing as his touch. “In most cases, I’d bide my time, wait and see what you were all about. Time would show whether you were playing me false or if you were answering to a higher purpose. But I don’t have time. I need to know now.”

  Her eyes were closed as she surrendered to his treatment. “Why now?”

  “Because I’m falling in love with you.”

  He’d stopped massaging her neck, but his hand remained on her shoulder. Every movement, every sound in the room had amplified—from her coursing heartbeat pounding in her ears, to the slurping baby.

  Matthew loved her. It was simple, pure, and what she’d wanted from first knowing him. But could she accept his love?

  Calista laid her head on his knee. Sensing the change in the room, Howie quieted as Matthew stroked her hair. Having the baby to hold was the only thing keeping her from crawling into Matthew’s lap. Drat the kid.

  Her emotions warred with her ambition. Telling him the truth was taking another step away from her instructions, another infraction that could cost her this job. Or maybe Mr. Pinkerton would understand that she’d already been discovered, and it was better to bring Matthew in as an ally instead of keeping him at arm’s length.

  He wasn’t at arm’s length. He was much closer than that.

  “You were right. I work for the Pinkerton Agency,” she said, “and it’s against the rules to tell you anything. I only said it because you figured it out on your own. But you can’t get involved. You haven’t been trained.”

  Operatives had to improvise on the field. Telling Matthew something he’d already figured out for himself didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean she was choosing him over her calling. It didn’t mean she was professing any affection that she’d have to later deny.

  “I have an honest-to-goodness Pinkerton Agent here?” His hand was warm on her shoulder.

  Calista would be lying if she didn’t admit that she liked the awe the title inspired. “I’ve just started and am still on probation. That’s why you can’t say anything. My job is precarious.”

  “They sent a beginner on a dangerous case like this?”

  “It’s not dangerous. Not really. The only danger is that a friend would get caught up in it.”

  “I don’t believe you. I’ve seen you at work. I’ve seen you in the liquor shops. Don’t forget, I’ve saved your hide on occasion. You are in danger.”

  She sat up and twisted around to look up at him. “Do you know Lila Seaton? Gerald Mason or Della Rush?”

  “No. I’m as new to town as you are.”

  “Have you seen this girl?” She stretched to reach her handbag and handed him the picture.

  “I don’t have a good memory for faces, but she doesn’t look familiar.”

  “Then you can’t help me. Besides, you have your own work. It’d be a waste of your time to follow me around.”

  “A pity.”

  “But a reality. The best thing for you to do is to put away your concerns. Don’t fret over my daily activities. Pretend I’m spending my time shopping and socializing, and then in the evening, we can have time to ourselves.”

  “You’re forgetting someone.”

  Calista played with wisps of Howie’s hair. “You have a goal, a future you’re working toward, but I do too. It’s important, and that’s why I can’t keep him. You have to watch him.”

  “I’m at the mine tomorrow. I can’t take him there.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t plan this just to keep me from doing my job, did you?”

  “I didn’t buy the ticket, did I?”

  “My stinkin’ cousins. I should have Maisie watch him during the day. That would serve her right.”

  “Do you trust Maisie with a baby?”

  “Good point. Then who?” she asked.

  “I’ll find someone. I’ll ask around for names of those who entered the contest. Give me a week. I promise, if you can provide for him until then, I’ll fix this for you. Trust me, Calista. There’s more to this than we know. Just think how many tickets were sold, and your name was only on one. God is doing something here. Just be patient.”

  God was doing something. He’d brought her to a man she could spend the rest of her life with, had she had a different life. Was God testing her resolve? But now that Matthew knew about her job, would he still want to share her company?

  Doubtful, because already Calista was thinking of how she could use a baby to enhance her disguises and find Lila Seaton. Matthew would never approve.

  CHAPTER

  17

  Her time was limited. When the newspaper published the picture of her and Howie, Calis
ta would lose her chance to pose as an unwed mother. Everyone in town would recognize her as the winner of the raffle. But she had today, and all it would take was one productive conversation to lead her to Lila Seaton.

  Today was the first time she’d put on a disguise in Joplin. Yes, she’d dressed in varying degrees of respectability, but she had never tried to hide her features. Today was a different story. After leaving the Keystone lobby, she borrowed the washroom at the library to turn her skirt inside out to the rough, stained fabric she’d kept hidden until now. She rubbed vermilion powder into her hairline to redden it, then set a battered cap atop to hide her untouched dark locks.

  Disguising Howie was simple. He dirtied his clothes automatically, so staining them wasn’t necessary. Hiding his shoes and socks in her bag, she brushed some charcoal powder on his bare feet and legs. Howie wiggled his toes and laughed at the feel of the brush on his soles. Of course, he looked too well fed and happy to be starving, but he would have to do. She didn’t have time to find a more miserable child.

  Tucking her tools into a moth-eaten bag, Calista kept her head down as she dodged her way out of the library, praying that no one who saw her go in would see the difference when she came out. Keeping her shoulders hunched around the child, she hurried toward the first set of hotels she wanted to target. Since it was Friday morning, there wouldn’t be many girls out, but their customers wouldn’t be interfering either. Talking to the girls unobserved was her best chance.

  She slowed as she walked past the Grosman’s Inn. This was her second visit, and she’d yet to see anyone who looked like they were in the trade, but it was where Lila’s signature was, so she had to start here.

  Howie kicked his feet excitedly as a horse huffed from where it was tied at the post.

  “You see the pony?” Calista cooed, then wondered what had come over her. Howie was a nuisance, not a pet. But then he gurgled a chuckle, and Calista’s day felt brighter because of his smile.

  Calista edged her way around the front of the hotel to the side alley, where two girls were huddled over a lit match. The tallest one looked her way before getting back to lighting her cigarillo. The shorter one smiled through smeared makeup, then hurriedly took her turn with the match. They looked friendly enough.

  Calista stepped unsteadily forward, not finding it hard to adopt a vulnerable attitude. “Do you have one to spare?” she asked, knowing that if her family caught her in that alley, it wouldn’t matter if she was smoking. She’d still be hung out to dry.

  Calista saw the hesitation in their eyes. She dropped her bag and hoisted Howie higher on her hip. “It’s okay. I need a place to stay more than I need a smoke.”

  As expected, the girls couldn’t keep their eyes off Howie. The shorter one offered him a grimy finger, which he grasped with delight. “How old?” she asked.

  Calista had forgotten to make note of that. “Ten months . . .” she ventured. “I came looking for his no-account father, but he’s hit the trail. I don’t know how I’m going to feed the baby now.”

  The shorter girl looked her up and down. “A filthy gin-drinker, I’d wager. Told you he’d take care of everything, didn’t he?” She spat before popping the cigarillo into her mouth and grumbling around it. “Ain’t that the way of it?”

  Very likely it was the truth of Howie’s story. Calista held his head to her shoulder with a sudden affection she hadn’t expected. “I have a friend,” she said. “If I could find her, she said she might could get me some work. Would you happen to know her? Her name is Lila.”

  Unless they were very skilled at deception, they were telling the truth when they shook their heads.

  The taller girl exhaled a thin plume of smoke. “Never heard of a Lila. Sometimes the girls change their names, though.”

  The short girl nodded. “But ask around if you need work. You’d have to find somewhere for the baby to stay, but there’s work to be found. No gal as pretty as you is going to starve in this town.”

  Calista noted their lanky frames and the unhealthy pallor of their skin. They were so much more valuable than their next meal, but they didn’t know that. If only she had work she could offer them that didn’t destroy their hearts. But she couldn’t do that. She was on a mission, and it didn’t involve saving every lost girl—just Jinxy’s daughter.

  “Thanks,” Calista said. “I’ll keep looking.”

  She picked up her bag, but she couldn’t walk away. It was breaking the rules, both the agency’s and her own, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “If you’re ever hungry on a Saturday night, I know where there’s a free meal,” she said. “Go around behind Trochet’s Flowers by the greenhouse. It’s a safe place for girls like us. You’ll be well fed.”

  Now that she thought about it, she should contribute some money to Matthew’s funds, in case the girls came. They’d want more than the dreadful pickle sandwiches.

  But they shook their heads. “Not on Saturday night.” The tall girl kept her eyes on the ground. “That’s when we get the best pay.”

  It had been worth the effort. With a sad smile, Calista nodded her understanding and wondered how Howie felt twenty pounds heavier as she walked away.

  Matthew walked in the shadow of the chat piles and past the miner’s camp he’d begun to think of as a second home. It was Friday, and he’d come to work carrying foodstuffs to distribute on his way back to town. By now, many of the miners would be running low on supplies. The sack of bread and beans he lugged over his shoulder would help them make it through the end of the week. Then tomorrow was payday, and maybe with some skill and self-control, they’d be able to stretch out their funds for longer than seven days.

  He also wanted to check with some of the miners’ wives about looking after Howie. Mrs. Campbell was his first thought. She’d been dragging lately, and Matthew thought the upkeep of a child might brighten her day. Who knew? Women seemed to set store by such things.

  As much as he’d like for Calista to stay safely in her hotel, he recognized the zeal in her eyes. It was the same fervor he felt about his vocation. He couldn’t oppose her. He might not approve of every decision she made in pursuing her case, but he understood her motives.

  All he could think about was seeing her again. He’d told her how he felt—or how he could feel, if she gave him a chance—and she hadn’t turned from him. In fact, the pull between them had grown even stronger.

  The first friendly stake Matthew reached after work was Silas’s. He called his friend’s name, but the shack only echoed back his empty call. Matthew looked around, but Silas wasn’t at his lease. It didn’t look like he’d been there all day, in fact. When a miner took a claim, he couldn’t predict how it would produce. Silas had been one of the lucky ones. Knowing him, he’d probably already made enough money for the week and had quit, never considering that he could put some by for a rainy day. Yep, that sounded like Silas.

  Continuing on, Matthew headed toward Dan and Loretta’s claim. He looked in vain for their tent, then saw them kneeling on the ground, wrapping the canvas around their belongings.

  “What’s this?” Matthew asked. “You’uns pulling up stakes?”

  “We are.” Dan kept his eyes down as he pulled the rope tight around the bundle. “Our lease is up, and we’re going to move farther afield. Try our luck at another spot. This one has given us nothing but sorrow.”

  Loretta turned her tear-splotched face away from Matthew. He had comforting words ready, but from the looks of it, she’d rather do her mourning alone. Matthew picked up a spade and pickax and put them in the Campbell’s pull cart. He didn’t know what to say, but his hands could help with the heavy work. Loretta wandered away, straightening some smaller housewares while he helped Dan lift the tent and poles into the cart.

  “I guess they had that raffle yesterday,” Dan said. He was bent beneath the side of the cart, tying his ore bucket onto the side.

  “Yes, they did. It was surprising—”

  “Then the babe won�
��t be going back to the Children’s Home?” Dan grunted as he pulled one rope tight, then bent for another bucket.

  “Um, no. It doesn’t look like it.” Matthew’s eyes flickered over to Loretta. She wasn’t even pretending to work but stood staring at the gray piles of chat dotting the horizon. He wouldn’t ask her to look after the child. Not now. Remembering his errand, he reached for his bag. “I happen to have some vittles along. If you would help me lighten my load—I don’t want to carry them all back to town.”

  Dan wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Mighty kind of you. And when we get back on our feet, we won’t forget what you’ve done for us.”

  “I want to see where your new claim is. I might as well help move this stuff over.” Instead of waiting for permission, Matthew lifted the handles of the cart and waited for Dan to point the way.

  “I’m optimistic that this next claim will earn out,” Dan said. “Gotta keep up my spirits for Loretta. She’s made of stern stuff, but we’ve had a rough go of it. Many hungry days and miserable nights we’ve suffered already.”

  “By God’s grace, those are behind you.”

  “Pray so. We don’t need much. We’re simple folks, but we can’t put rocks in our bellies. We gotta have food.”

  It was exactly what Mr. Blount had said at the Children’s Home. Matthew looked again at Dan and tried to picture him cleaned up, fleshed out, and wearing a tailored suit. It seemed impossible that Mr. Blount had been in the same situation less than ten years ago. Now he owned a mine, employed dozens, and lacked for nothing. The speediness with which his life had changed must have made Mr. Blount’s head spin. No wonder he didn’t have all the niceties down. No wonder he tended toward coarseness and vulgarity. He was still learning his way.

  Much like Matthew was still learning his.

  “Don’t forget, tomorrow night after the settlement, you and Loretta come on over, and we’ll break bread.”