Courting Misfortune

by Regina Jennings

  “No!” Willow put a hand to her chest as her mouth dropped open.

  Graham unbuttoned his suit coat as he took a seat. “You warned me about your family, dear, but I never thought they could be that dangerous. Yet, isn’t there a remedy? Can’t you return him?”

  “As I said, it’s a long story,” said Calista. “What I’m hoping is that I might find someone interested in helping me with him. My situation is hardly conducive to parenting.”

  All eyes turned to Olive, the designated martyr of the group.

  “I wouldn’t want him to be in the same room with Mother,” Olive said, “but with Willow here for a few days, I’m free. . . .”

  Calista shook her head. “No, you have company. Enjoy your time with your sister. If I’d known she was in town—”

  “But maybe for a few hours a day,” Willow said. “I’d already determined to tend to Mother. There’s no reason for Olive to sit here and watch.”

  Because there was nothing else Olive would rather do with her free time than babysit? But the prospect seemed to agree with her.

  “A change of scenery would be delightful, even if it is your hotel room,” Olive said. “I could work on my sketches while watching him.”

  “Show Calista the blueprints you’re working on,” Graham said. “Mr. Kentworth is proposing a community center for the workers at the Fox-Berry Mine, and Olive here has turned out to be quite the architect.”

  Olive ducked her head. “It’s nothing. Just something I’ve picked up along the way.”

  “I’m not surprised one bit,” Calista said. “You’re the most clever of us all. I’d love to see them.”

  But Olive drew the book against her chest. “They aren’t quite right yet. Mr. Blount wants some changes, and it’s not ready. If I get it corrected tonight, maybe I can show you then. As long as Willow doesn’t mind me leaving her.”

  Willow patted her on the arm. “You’ve done more than your share, little sister. Let me and Graham step in for once.”

  Calista felt like a log had just rolled off her chest. “Thank you, Olive. You’re my hero. I’ll get you a key to my room and some money, if you’d like to step out with him during the day. Oh, and if Maisie comes back to the room for anything, you give her a piece of your mind for putting us in this situation.”

  “Let me talk to Ma, then I’ll get ready.” Olive stood and made her exit.

  Graham perched on the edge of his seat, barely able to wait until Olive left the room before speaking. “What’s going on, Calista?” His eyes twinkled with anticipation. “Is there danger here in town?”

  “In Joplin?” Willow snorted as she stood and gathered the cups and saucers. “Every Saturday night there’s danger.”

  “It’s a missing person.” Calista set Howie on the floor. “The girl is in danger, but we don’t know from whom.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Graham asked.

  “Graham, really?” Willow came back from the kitchen. “Last time you nearly got run over by a train. Wasn’t that enough?”

  Of course he would ask. When Calista was assigned to the railroad case in Emporia, Kansas, Graham had also gone undercover to investigate. The railroad magnate’s son pretending to be a busboy—he hadn’t earned any praise for how he washed dishes, but at least one waitress found him charming.

  “I only involved you last time because you worked for the company that hired me,” Calista said.

  “Owned the company,” he amended.

  “Along with the rest of your family,” Willow said.

  “Blood ties that come with privileges.” He winked at his wife.

  “Since you have no ties to this case, let’s just pretend I’m pumping you for information and you have no idea what’s occurring,” Calista said.

  “Have it your way. What’s the question?”

  “Is there any way to check your passenger lists for names without drawing any attention?”

  “Easiest thing in the world. Who are you looking for?”

  “Primarily, Lila Seaton. Other people of interest are Gerald Mason or Della Rush.”

  Graham reached inside an inner pocket of his suit coat and produced a short pencil and envelope. Folding the envelope over, he wrote on the back. “I’ll send a message up the rail to headquarters in Kansas City. That way we keep these names off the wire. If they traveled coach, we probably won’t know unless they reserved tickets in their names before their journey. There’s a chance.”

  “We’re assuming she boarded a train in Chicago, but we don’t know with whom.”

  “Always thorough in your work.” He beamed his approval. “But I can’t for the life of me figure out how you managed to get left with the care of this baby. I’ve seen you get out of some sticky situations. Why couldn’t you get out of this one?”

  Aware that everyone was looking at him, Howie lifted his head and grinned. He was a good-natured child, but finding himself in unfamiliar surroundings with no familiar faces had been hard on him. After a restless night, unenthusiastic eating, and a fussy morning, he was starting to feel like himself again. And maybe Calista was learning what women found so appealing about the little strangers.

  “When they announced my name, I couldn’t believe it. I hadn’t bought a ticket. I was on my way to the table to protest when someone stopped me. There were concerns that this baby raffle was immoral and not in the best interest of the child. Seeing that I’d won, we decided that rather than put him back at the whim of random selection, we should wait a bit and see if a more suitable home could be found for him.”

  “We?” Willow sat with perfect grace, a vision of loveliness in the most stylish gown Calista had ever seen her wear. “Is there a gentleman involved in this decision?”

  All Calista could do was glare.

  “She doesn’t deny it.” Graham took his wife’s hand. “And from the trouble she’s having choosing her words, I’d say it’s a significant gentleman.”

  Willow rocked on the thin cushion. “Goodness, but this is fun. No wonder they tormented me so much when I brought you to Granny’s for the first time.”

  “Has he been to Granny’s yet?” Graham asked Calista. “I don’t know what our travel schedule looks like, but I could make arrangements for us to be there.”

  “I have a job to do with no room for entanglements,” Calista said. “Don’t tease me. Just thinking about it makes me cross.”

  “Thinking about what?” Olive said as she reentered the room with both arms behind her as she untied her apron.

  “Calista’s fellow,” Graham said.

  “Why is her fellow making her cross?”

  “I’m not the only one,” Calista feinted. “Maisie is seeing a man named Silas. If there’s anyone who needs harassing, it’s them.”

  “Nice try, cousin,” Willow said. “Don’t think that we’re distracted so easily.”

  “But we shouldn’t waste more of her time.” Olive bent and picked up Howie. “She’s been trying to find work as a nurse for a few weeks now. She needs our help.”

  “A nurse?” Willow and Graham exchanged significant glances before Willow continued. “Yes, Calista. Good luck getting hired on as a nurse. All that experience with your sick friend will stand you in good stead.”

  As they very well knew, there had never been a sick friend.

  The hardest part of her job—remembering who knew what story—was only getting harder.

  CHAPTER

  19

  Saturday night and all it implied. Excitement rose as the sun set on the flat roofs of Joplin’s whiskey dens, gaming halls, and bordellos. The miners tossed their shovels down for the last time that week. With tired hands, they scrubbed the mud and dust from their faces and necks. If they owned more than one shirt, the cleanest one was donned, and then they headed to town.

  Also headed to town were the landowners, the prospectors, the mine owners, and the smelters. The money would start at the top of the chain, work its way through all the middlemen, and
then touch the fingers of the miners, before it reached the velvet-lined cash register drawer behind every saloon bar. And if the poor man didn’t have a terrible thirst, some of the coin might actually make it home to his wife and children.

  And somewhere in all that hubbub was a young lady named Lila who probably didn’t favor Saturday nights any more than Calista did.

  Calista stood at the window in her room and watched Matthew in his garden below. He’d already carried the two garden chairs inside his apartment in preparation for his Saturday night gathering. Maisie was getting ready in her room, and after a robust protest, she’d agreed to take Howie with her. Because Howie couldn’t go where Calista was going tonight.

  She paused to kiss the sleeping babe on her bed as she went to her wardrobe and selected her outfit.

  No fine clothes. Looking pretty would help, but she couldn’t look upper-class, not without attracting attention she didn’t need. In a stroke of luck, Graham had found that Della Rush had claimed two second-class tickets from Chicago the week Lila had gone missing. Whether she played a hand in Lila’s disappearance or was a victim as well, Calista didn’t know, but she hadn’t been able to find any trace of Lila or Della since their one-night stay at the hotel.

  Gerald Mason was a different story. He was a frequent visitor to Joplin. A second visit to the hotel to look at the register had revealed that he stayed there regularly. He was from St. Louis and hadn’t come in on the same train Lila and Della had, but there were women’s names next to his on the registry every time. Was he meeting them there, then taking them elsewhere? Was he a middleman? Or perhaps he didn’t play any part at all. All Calista knew was that the man driving the gin wagon had said she’d be most likely to find him at Black Jack’s on a Saturday night if he was in town. So that was where she’d be.

  A crash in the powder room, an exclamation from Maisie, and then the door opened. Maisie’s braid was only half finished, and she held Calista’s silver-plated hand mirror flat like she was trying to balance an egg on it.

  “Shush!” Calista warned with a look at Howie. “Don’t wake him.”

  “I dropped the mirror.” Maisie wrinkled her nose as she passed over the shattered mirror. “Guess that’s seven years bad luck for you. Sorry.”

  “For me? I didn’t break it.” Calista carried it to the waste bin and shook out the sharp pieces of glass. She hated that she would miss Matthew’s Saturday night gathering, but she’d hate it even more if he learned where she was. “What are you going to tell Matthew again?”

  “I’m to tell him that you would’ve been there if you could, but you’d had a busy day.”

  “That’s right.” She didn’t want to outright lie to him, but if he thought she was staying in her room, that’d be best. “And under no circumstances will you bring him back here.”

  Maisie rolled her eyes. “You’d think I was thick as a block from the way you have to keep explaining things to me.” Her dress sleeves strained across her shoulders as she pinned up her hair. “I’m here to help you, remember.”

  And she was helping. Once Maisie settled down a bit, she was a good hand.

  “Be sure and feed Howie before you go,” Calista said. “Matthew might not have anything he can eat.” She spritzed an extra spray of perfume and, with a last pat on Howie’s rump, walked out the door.

  Surely with Matthew’s friends, Dan and Loretta, Silas, and even Irvin, Howie would be looked after. Since the side exit to the hotel went right past Matthew’s garden, she waited in the lobby for a crush of people leaving. Before they even reached the sidewalk, the ladies of the party were exclaiming about the riffraff on the streets. They must have been new to town. Calista ducked her head, matching their steps as if she were included in their group, until she’d passed the flower shop and was safely out of sight.

  Black Jack’s was a small brick building smashed between the cobbler’s shop and a hardware store. Boots, shovels, and gin—everything the miners needed, right in a row. The typical Saturday gaiety seemed missing in this part of town. No lively piano music or shouts of laughter—just a grim determination to make one’s money stretch until they could reach oblivion.

  Black Jack’s was painted on the windows in thick block letters that nearly obscured the view of anything going on inside. Calista’s skin tingled. She was on her own. No one here to save her. She had to think ahead, but all she wanted to think about was Matthew back in his apartment and how she wished she could be with him instead.

  “Lila,” she muttered to herself. “It’s about Lila.”

  After the girl was found, then perhaps Calista would have the luxury of a few days with Matthew—at least until Mr. Pinkerton sent her on her next assignment.

  A woman approached in flimsy slippers and an expensive gown. At least, it had once been an expensive gown, but it had been altered to accentuate her wares in a way no respectable dressmaker would allow. A quick look at her face told Calista it wasn’t Lila, but it very well could be someone Gerald Mason was responsible for. She walked past Calista and went wearily into the saloon. Everything in Calista wanted to stop her, to intervene with plans for a different life, but to do so would expose her role. She had to pretend that she approved of whatever was happening inside.

  She unbuttoned two buttons of her blouse and tucked it more tightly into her waistband. Her dress wasn’t flashy enough to catch any eyes, but she couldn’t look respectable, or her errand would be pointless.

  She’d barely darkened the door when she was grabbed around the waist and spun into a corner. Calista hooked her leg behind the knee of her assaulter and shoved him for all she was worth. Losing his balance, he flailed his arms as he went down like a redwood, sending chairs scraping across the floor and into tables.

  Calista covered her mouth and widened her eyes. “Oh my, I’m so sorry.” She stepped closer to a man playing billiards, hoping he had enough money wagered on his game that he wouldn’t pursue her as well. “Is that your friend? I hope he isn’t hurt. He must’ve tripped.”

  With his emerald satin vest and rolled-up shirt sleeves, the billiards player might be her best bet for decent treatment in this place. He took a pull from his thick cigar before answering. “He tends to trip when a pretty lady comes around, but he’s not my friend.” He took aim and sent the cue ball spinning.

  Calista knew positioning her body the right way would send a message so that actual words weren’t necessary, so she angled toward the billiards player long enough for the waist-grabber to scowl her direction, then move on to another victim. As his opponent took aim, the billiards player removed his cigar, gave her a frank appraisal, then introduced himself.

  “I’m Teddy. And who are you?”

  Well, he half introduced himself. This was one of those times when Calista wished her mother hadn’t given her such a unique name. Between being too formal and taking the chance that he’d heard of her before, she chose the formal. It was too late to start using a pseudonym. “I’m Miss York, and I think I might be lost.”

  “Where are you supposed to be?”

  She waited as he took his turn at the table before answering. “I’m supposed to meet a gentleman named Gerald Mason. Do you know him?”

  He rested the end of his pool stick on the floor and regarded her more thoughtfully. “I haven’t seen him today.”

  “But you know him?” Her nostrils burned as she inhaled cigar smoke.

  “Gerald Mason from St. Louis? Yeah, I know him. He’s a salesman for a brewery there. He won’t be here tonight, but he’s in town.”

  Calista let her shoulders slump to hide her excitement. This was new information when she’d thought she’d hit a dead-end. She pouted and twisted her toe. “Do you know where he is?”

  Teddy took his turn. “Get yourself a drink, and I’ll take you as soon as I finish this game.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it! I do.” She went to the bar with confidence, having established a protector in the saloon. She ordered herself a seltzer water, b
ut before it arrived, she spotted a friend. “Irvin? I’m surprised to see you.”

  The glee faded from his face. “What are you doing here?”

  A question she couldn’t answer. In fact, she probably shouldn’t have let him see her at all. “Why aren’t you at Matthew’s tonight?”

  “I’m going. I just stopped in here for . . .” The bartender pushed a shot glass toward him at the same time he delivered her seltzer water. Irvin’s eyes were glued to his glass. His whole head turned toward her before his eyes could be pried away from the liquid in the cup. “Nothing. I’m going to Matthew’s.” He stood, dug a coin out of his pocket, and dropped it on the bar. “There. Are you pleased with yourself?”

  “I didn’t mean to make you angry,” she said as he passed, but she couldn’t help feeling a tiny iota of triumph. Matthew wouldn’t be happy to know she was out on Saturday night, but at least it had done some good for someone.

  The seltzer tickled her nose but gave her somewhere to focus her attention as she waited for Teddy to finish his game. And when he did, he made it clear that he wasn’t waiting on her.

  “There’s another game starting,” he said. “If you aren’t ready . . .”

  “Let’s go.” She swept her handbag off the bar and weaved her way through the morose patrons to the door.

  Back in the stream of people outside, Calista could breathe again. There might be another uncomfortable venue ahead, but for now, walking in a crowd of witnesses was safe, even if that crowd was as rowdy as Bourbon Street on Fat Tuesday.

  Teddy kept his pace, making it difficult for her to keep up, especially with men stopping in her path to leer. Amazing what a difference two buttons could make.

  “How do you know Gerald?” Teddy walked with his hands in his pockets. Matthew would’ve taken her arm and cleared a path for her.

  “I don’t, really. My father told me to meet him when I got to town.” They’d turned on Seventh Street, where the prosperous restaurants were full of people divvying up funds. On this street were families waiting for the husband to get his wages so they could do their shopping.