Tracie Peterson - [Desert Roses 01]

by Shadows of the Canyon

  “Wonderful.” Alex’s tone of voice left little doubt as to how she felt.

  “If it helps at all, they’ve already given me a large sum to entice you. This is half your tip money for the month if you will continue to at least be their dinner server when you are on duty.”

  Alex looked at the money, then raised her gaze to Mrs. Godfrey. “There’s at least twenty dollars there.”

  “Twenty-five, to be exact.”

  Alex swallowed hard. Her tips from the Winthrop table would come to more than her monthly salary at this rate. The money could help her get her mother away from Arizona that much sooner.

  Alex sighed and nodded. “I’d better get to it, then.”

  She left Mrs. Godfrey and made her way to the kitchen. Why had the Winthrops asked for her? No doubt Joel Harper was behind all of this. Why did the world have to be filled with Joel Harpers and men like her father?

  The thought of her father left a sour taste in her mouth. For years she had fought a spiritual battle as to what she owed him. She was supposed to honor him—love him. But how? How could she respect and honor a man who did nothing but dishonor his family and reputation?

  Why couldn’t he just disappear and leave her and her mother alone? In fact, perhaps she’d take the train to Williams and visit her mother. Maybe Mrs. Godfrey could give her the next morning off and Alex could spend the night.

  Alex busied herself with her customers. She served wonderful Harvey creations, including salmon-and-celery salads and spiced herring with potato salad. Most of her fares were interested in the light lunches. The day was already warming up, making some of the customers uncomfortable, and Alex did her best to cool them down. She suggested melon platters and cold roast beef and cream cheese sandwiches. Iced tea was served in abundance, as was lemonade.

  By the time her father strolled into the dining room, comfortably settled between Valerie Winthrop and the senator, Alex had nearly forgotten the scandal of the editorial cartoon. Seeing him brought it all back in a flash, however. Alex thought she might escape unscathed, but her father motioned her to come to him and, rather than cause a scene, Alex did just that.

  “May I help you?” she asked in a formal tone. “This is my daughter, Alexandria,” her father announced. “Is she the one you were telling me about?”

  Joel joined them just then and grinned from ear to ear. His slicked-back black hair glistened under the casual lighting of the dining room. “That’s the one. Mr. Keegan, you certainly have a charming daughter.” He turned to Valerie and added, “And you thought I’d lowered my standards by falling for one of the help. Why, Miss Keegan is very nearly as well-off as you are, Val darling.”

  “Hardly that,” Valerie said, looking at Alex as if anticipating some kind of counter reply.

  “If that will be all,” Alex said, looking back to her tables, “I need to finish my work.”

  “Well, that’s not all,” her father replied. “Joel would like you to join us this evening for dinner. I’ll expect you promptly at six.”

  “I have plans and will not be in the area. You must pardon me now.” She turned to go, but her father took hold of her and twisted her arm ever so slightly. “Don’t disappoint the Winthrops, Alex. They’re important to my career,” he muttered for only her ears to hear.

  “Father, I cannot join you,” Alex replied. To the others she offered the hint of a smile and said, “I do apologize. I have a very busy schedule and my plans are already made.”

  “You aren’t still sore because of last night are you?” Joel questioned. “I left you a handsome tip to assure you of my sincerity.”

  Alex nodded. “Yes, I found your tip and was most assured of your intentions.” She met his gaze and nodded, knowing at a glance that he understood her meaning.

  “It takes more than cold cash to assure that girl of anything,” Rufus Keegan threw in. “She prides herself in her lofty expectations. Keeps a Bible by her bed and all such nonsense. She could make a convent look impure.”

  “Father!” Alex exclaimed. “I will speak to you later.”

  She turned to go and once again found her progress halted. This time Joel was the culprit. “I beg you, Miss Keegan. Please reconsider. I’d love to have you . . .” he paused for effect, “as a guest for dinner.”

  Alex wasn’t the least bit enticed. “Thank you, but no. Good day.”

  Her fists were balled by the time she got to the kitchen. To her surprise she found Luke waiting for her there. He smiled and twirled his hat in his hand. “I have the afternoon and evening off. Thought you might like to take a ride or something.”

  “I’d like to throw my father across the room,” she said angrily. Pacing back and forth in front of him, Alex couldn’t seem to calm her angry spirit. Oh, Lord, she prayed, why do I have to let him take this kind of control over my heart and soul?

  “Alex?” Luke questioned, stepping forward. “Are you all right?”

  She sighed. “No. I’m angry and on the verge of doing something stupid.”

  “Should I have the chef hide the tomatoes?”

  She smiled and felt the tension ease a bit. “No, but I’m not entirely certain the coconut cream pie is safe. I just may throw it.”

  “Don’t do that—it’s my favorite,” Luke said, reaching out to take hold of her. “Look, forget about the problem and just come with me when your shift is done.”

  Alex nodded. “I suppose I could get away for a little while. I was thinking of visiting my mother in Williams. I’m worried that she’s seen the morning paper.”

  Luke frowned. “Yeah, I heard about it.”

  “Well, I saw it firsthand,” Alex said, trying her best to control her anger. “It just isn’t fair.” She stepped aside to allow the pastry chef to pass. His tray held several pies and Alex looked up to meet Luke’s bemused grin. “I’ll leave them alone . . . this time.”

  An hour later, Alex had changed into a riding skirt and allowed Luke to help her atop a lovely bay mare. She enjoyed riding and hadn’t had a chance to do so in some time. She knew she might well be sore in the morning, but for now she wanted nothing more than to be free of El Tovar and her father.

  “Is your father still in the dining room?” Luke asked.

  “Yes, and he’s responding rather excitedly to Mr. Winthrop’s politics and Miss Winthrop’s flirtations. It’s shocking how openly they talk about inappropriate topics. I know it’s part of this rather wild age, but honestly, Luke, what about modesty?”

  “I’m really sorry, Alex.”

  Alex nodded. “I know you are. You’ve been very kind to me—to my mother. She thinks highly of you. She wrote me a note some weeks ago and mentioned you.”

  Luke eyed her curiously. “What did she say?” He climbed into the saddle and waited for her to respond.

  Alex felt her cheeks grow hot and looked away rather quickly. She could hardly explain that her mother had thought he’d make a good husband and that Alex should marry and leave the area as her sister had done. Better that her daughters be able to rid themselves of their father’s shame than to have the entire family continue to suffer. But Alex didn’t see it that way. Luke was a nice man, but he wasn’t for her.

  “She just indicated that she thought well of you.”

  “So are you still planning to go see her?”

  “No. Mrs. Godfrey can’t spare me in the morning. She’s not yet received any replacement staff to help out, and apparently the Winthrops are holding some kind of brunch. I’ll be working all day, so I need to stay here tonight.”

  “Good. We won’t have to hurry our ride in order for you to catch the train.”

  Alex nodded. “I suppose that is good.”

  They rode side by side, past gamble oak and pine. An ambitious gopher snake startled the horses as it left its cooler place in the shade of a rock and skirted out across the trail after a pocket mouse. The tiny mammal sensed danger, however, and disappeared into the sage.

  Alex tried to calm her skittish mare,
but it took Luke’s strong hold to finally control the horse.

  “Whoa, there. Easy, girl,” he said in his soothing way.

  Alex thought how very gentle, yet strong this man was. He could display such a wondrous prowess for things of nature and yet remain concerned and compassionate when it came to her feelings.

  “What are you planning to do . . . I mean, will you work here for the rest of your life?” she asked without thinking.

  Luke looked up, as if startled by her question. She thought he almost looked embarrassed. “I’ve been saving some money. Guess I’m thinking it might be nice to buy a ranch somewhere.”

  Alex had never considered that Luke might actually have plans to leave. The thought distressed her, and yet hadn’t she made her own plans for just such an escape? “I really love it here,” Alex murmured, enjoying the quiet pleasure of their ride. “I’ll hate to leave because of the beauty, but I’ll happily go if it means never having to see my father again.”

  “Don’t hate him, Alex. He’s wrong, no doubt about it, but don’t hate him. That will just eat away at your spirit. Remember what you used to tell me when you first started talking to me about God?”

  Alex smiled. She remembered the angry cowboy from four years earlier. Luke Toland seemed mad at the world, but especially at God. “I told you what my mother always told me. ‘Whoever angers you, owns you.’ ”

  “That’s right. You don’t want your father to own you, now, do you?” He smiled and the warmth of it spread throughout Alex in an unexpected way.

  “No, I don’t want anything from that man.”

  “Just be a good daughter and honor him as best you can,” Luke suggested.

  Alex felt bile rise in her throat. “I’ve tried to be obedient to him, but . . . well . . . there just came a time when I could no longer follow his instructions.” She remembered the times her father would come to the Harvey House in Williams. He’d come with a friend or two, and they often expressed an interest in Alex. Her father seemed unconcerned about their lewd comments, sometimes even encouraged them.

  Luke halted his horse and took hold of the mare’s reins to stop Alex as well. “I don’t know what he did or didn’t do, but he doesn’t have the power to do anything to you anymore. You’re independent and free of his control. You gave up a lot—the comforts of home, money, your mother’s company. He doesn’t have to keep hurting you.”

  Alex met Luke’s gaze. His eyes were a rich, deep hazel color that seemed to glitter green and gold when the sunlight touched them at just the right angle. “So long as he hurts my mother, he’s hurting me. It doesn’t matter that he speaks lewdly or suggestively when I’m in the company of his friends. It doesn’t even matter that he thinks so little of me that he encourages his friends’ actions toward me. It only matters that she goes on suffering and there’s nothing I can do to make it any better. I wish he . . . were dead.” Tears trickled down her cheek.

  Luke drew a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Alex. “Don’t let him own you like that, Alex. You’ll never know a moment’s peace if you do.”

  “I’m trying to pray through it,” she admitted, wiping her face. She folded the cloth back into a neat little square and handed it back to Luke. Smiling, she apologized. “Forgive me. I seem to be so teary these days. I’ll do my best not to do this again.”

  “Alex, we’re friends, remember? If you can’t cry on my shoulder, whose shoulder can you cry on?”

  Alex felt a trembling course through her. She wanted to reach out and touch Luke’s face—just to thank him, just to let him know how much he meant to her. Suddenly she felt very awkward. Her feelings were getting the best of her and, rather than let the conversation continue in this intimate vein, she straightened and took up her reins. She nudged the horse forward and didn’t even bother to look back at Luke when she called over her shoulder, “I didn’t know coconut cream pie was your favorite.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Joel Harper knew the game of politics as well as he knew the exclusive brothels of Charleston. At age thirty-six, he easily recognized Rufus Keegan’s interest as being one of a man obsessed. The man wanted power and glory. It was all right with him if Keegan wanted to tag along on the coattails of Winthrop’s victory, but it wasn’t all right if Keegan thought he was going to replace Joel as Winthrop’s right-hand man. He was a man to be watched, Joel reasoned. Keegan could either be a dangerous adversary or a powerful ally. The question was, which would he be?

  “The current administration has made a mess of things to say the least,” Keegan stated in a critical manner. “Just look at the problems the attorney general has made over the German alien properties. Then there’s that whole question of what’s happening with the federal oil reserves.”

  “Yes, we’re watching that one closely. It appears, if my spies are correct,” Winston Winthrop offered, “Secretary of the Interior, Albert Fall, is headed for just that. A fall. The man has so many underhanded dealings, he doesn’t know which is which. The conservationists hate him, which is precisely why Joel thought it would do the Democratic Party well to play that ticket to the hilt. We’ll show the conservationists that we care about the federal land—that we’re just as appalled as they are at what’s been happening in Wyoming and California. We’ll promote the national parks, supporting the idea of preserving the land for posterity.”

  “Are you certain this will matter enough to remove Harding from office? After all, he may not have any knowledge of what Fall’s been up to,” Keegan replied. “It will be most important to relate the two men together.”

  “More importantly,” Joel interjected, “we relate Winthrop to Woodrow Wilson. They were old friends and saw eye to eye on most everything. We’ll focus the attention of the country on the fact that Harding rejected Wilson’s League of Nations, ensuring its failure. We’ll remind them that Harding did this, not to mention other things . . . things that will not bode well in the south, where we have strong support.”

  Keegan eyed Joel intently. The idea of scandal seemed to ignite the man’s excitement. “Things such as?”

  Joel wasn’t about to give away all of his strategies and secrets, so he drew on one of the plans that was well-known from the previous election. No doubt it would feed the older man just enough to whet his appetite. “Southern gentlemen do not take kindly to the idea of Negroes filling positions of importance—such as the presidency.”

  “I seem to recall that controversy,” Keegan said, stroking his chin. “Someone issued statements that suggested the president was part Negro. But then there was some sort of proof offered to nix that idea, wasn’t there? Wasn’t the attorney general a part of that problem as well?”

  Joel nodded. “Harry Daughtery was then Mr. Harding’s campaign manager. He issued public statements declaring there was no truth to the rumor of Harding’s questionable lineage.”

  “But you have proof to suggest otherwise?” Keegan questioned.

  Joel smiled. “What need do we have of proof? If the issue is brought up at the appropriate moment, with the most damaging slant, it matters very little if we have to recant our words after the election. People will remember the problem from 1920. If given in the right manner, it will eat at them, wear away their trust in the administration. This, added to other issues of trust, will soon destroy their faith in Harding.”

  “Gentlemen, politics is a dirty little game,” Winthrop drawled in a slow, southern manner. “I do despise the use of such tactics, but sometimes these things are necessary. After all, the end results are all that matter.”

  “Agreed,” Keegan said, nodding enthusiastically.

  Joel thought the man rather ridiculous and dull. He was no different than any of the other men of means who sought to better themselves by aligning their name to that of a powerful senator or governor. But Joel couldn’t fault him too much. Joel himself had come into the game by the same means. His own father had long ago disowned him for his gambling and questionable behavior. When trouble
came knocking, Joel had a penchant for not only opening the door, but for making it his bedfellow as well.

  “You would dance with the devil himself,” his father had declared on the night he’d sent Joel from the family home.

  “Only if he let me lead,” Joel had called back, acting for all the world as if this dismissal from his family meant nothing at all. However, it had meant more than he’d ever allowed his father to know. More than he ever would let anyone know.

  Leaving his childhood home in 1913, Joel had quickly learned the meaning of friendship, both assumed and real. He settled himself near Washington, D.C., and made fast friends with the politicians of the area. He cut back on his gambling, or rather, he became more selective with the places he frequented. Early on, Joel realized he needed money to maintain his pretense of a wealthy Virginia son. The scheme had paid off, and Winston Winthrop found him to be a kindred spirit. Hiring the intelligent, quick-learning Joel at the age of twenty-seven, Winthrop had made no secret of the fact that he considered Joel as a potential husband for his daughter, Valerie.

  Joel saw this as the ultimate revenge against his father. The Winthrops were worth millions in old money, while the Harpers were new industrial money and didn’t come anywhere near the same income association. Joel’s father would never let the truth of their parting be known, so for all the rest of the world, it seemed Joel was simply an independent, headstrong young man, out to further the good of the family name. And that was just as Joel wanted it.

  When the time was right, when everything was in its place and Joel was the one holding all the cards, he’d make his voice known. He let the world know exactly what had happened. Joel fully intended to return to his father one day, wealthy and powerful. And then he would crush the man, just as he’d crushed Joel on that night so long ago.