by Amanda Cabot
Forcing a smile onto his face, Barrett hitched the horse and opened Élan’s front door. “Can you close shop early?” he asked when Charlotte approached him, a genuine smile on her face. “I thought we might go to Rue de Rivoli for tea.”
Her smile faded faster than the snow had melted under the force of the Chinook. “What’s wrong?”
“That’s the first time anyone’s responded to an invitation to tea that way.” Barrett forced a light tone to his voice. “I thought you might enjoy it.”
She nodded slowly. “I would if I weren’t worried about you. Your expression tells me something’s very wrong.”
There was no reason to deny the truth. He’d only be postponing the inevitable. “You’d better sit down,” he cautioned. When she was seated and he’d taken the chair next to her, he blurted out, “I addressed the legislature this morning.”
Tipping her head to one side, as if she were trying to determine why that had caused him distress, Charlotte said, “I wish I’d known. I would have tried to be there. I never tire of hearing you speak about water rights.”
“I didn’t talk about water rights. I kept thinking about what you said, about being true to myself, and I knew that I had to address the issue of cattle grazing. You were right, though. No one supported me. Support?” Barrett let out a brittle laugh. “They told me I was a traitor to the cause and that any hopes I had of being the party’s candidate for senator were gone.”
“Oh, Barrett, I’m so sorry. But maybe it’s not as bad as you think. People do forget.”
He shook his head. “They won’t. My political aspirations are ended.” He swallowed deeply, not wanting to admit the rest but knowing that he had to. “I scuttled both my career and your dream of a school.”
For a second, her eyes registered confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I tried talking to a few of the men afterwards. You know what they did?”
Though he didn’t want to tell her all that had transpired, he knew she would hear some version of this morning’s events. It was best that she heard the story from him, undistorted by scandalmongers. “They laughed, Charlotte.” And that had hurt. Not himself. He could withstand ridicule. What had hurt was the casual disregard for Charlotte’s dream. “They said it was a frivolous idea and that anyone with a grain of common sense would realize that the territory has far more important problems.” The knives the party’s influential men had thrown at him had lodged deeper at the realization that they believed giving a child like David an education was a frivolous idea. “It isn’t frivolous,” Barrett said firmly, “but that’s what they thought.”
He extended his hand and covered hers, trying to give her some measure of comfort. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I thought I could help, but all I did was destroy your chances of getting support.”
As tears filled her eyes, she brushed them away, then straightened her shoulders.
“Don’t blame yourself, Barrett. I know you did everything you could, and that’s the best gift you could have given me. It’s not over, though. I won’t give up hope. There has to be a way to get the school established. I just have to look harder.”
His heart lighter than it had been all day, Barrett returned her smile.
He was angry. She could see it in his gait, the way he swung his arms, the rigid line of his neck. Perhaps she should ignore it. Mama claimed that the best thing a woman could do with an angry man was to ignore him until the mood had passed, but Miriam could not.
“Richard!” She reined in the horse and halted the carriage next to him. “Come for a ride with me.”
He shook his head. “I’m not fit company.”
“All the more reason why you need a ride. It will take your mind off whatever is bothering you.”
“Nothing can stop me from thinking about the idiocy,” Richard said as he climbed into the carriage.
For the first time in her memory, he looked haggard, and that worried Miriam. Normally Richard was even-tempered, able to slough off disappointment. Something was obviously different today. “What happened?” she asked. Though she had been on her way to Élan, she did not turn on Ferguson, sensing that whatever had bothered Richard would be more easily revealed if there were fewer people around.
Richard waited until they’d headed north on Eddy before he spoke. “It’s Barrett. He’s committed suicide.” When Miriam gasped, Richard laid his hand on her arm and gave it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. That was a poor choice of words. Barrett didn’t kill himself, but he did kill his best chance at being elected.”
Miriam slowed the horse so that she could focus her attention on Richard. “How did he do that?”
“He addressed the legislature.”
“About water rights.” Though she would not have admitted it to him, Miriam had found Barrett’s almost incessant discussion of water boring. Perhaps the lawmakers did too.
“No.” Richard’s lips curled in disgust. “He talked about limiting the stock growers, about putting quotas on how many cattle they could have.”
“What’s so wrong about that?”
“Besides the fact that no one wants to have government tell them how to run their business?” Richard’s voice dripped with scorn. “He made it sound as if anyone who disagreed was selfish, that they were putting their own interests over the well-being of the land. I can tell you, that didn’t go over well. I’ve never seen the legislators so angry. If they’d had tar and feathers, Barrett would be wearing a new coat.”
“How awful for Barrett! He must have been mortified.” Miriam knew he’d been anxious about his speech at the same time that he was eager to become better known. What she didn’t know was why he’d decided not to talk about water rights.
Richard tightened his grip on her arm. “I don’t care about Barrett. I care about the fact that in being so stupid, he jeopardized your future. Unless rivers start flowing upstream, your chances of being a senator’s wife are gone.”
“I don’t care about that.”
It seemed as if Richard did not hear her, for he continued. “I would not have done that to the woman I love. I love you too deeply to do anything that would hurt you.”
Miriam stared at Richard, wondering if she’d heard correctly. It sounded as if he’d said he loved her, but never—not even in her most far-fetched fantasies—had she imagined a declaration of love like this. As the blood drained from his face, then rushed back, turning his cheeks cherry red, Miriam knew she was not mistaken.
“Do you love me, Richard?”
He clenched his jaw, and for a moment Miriam feared he would deny it. “Yes, but . . .”
She loved him. There was no denying it. She loved everything about him, from the bump on his nose that kept his face from being perfectly handsome to the way his fingers wrapped around David’s ball, almost caressing the smooth wood before he rolled it across the floor. She loved his honesty, his sense of humor, his integrity. She loved the way his eyes sparkled when he was happy and how he tried to mask his disappointment. She loved his kindness and his generosity. The simple fact was, Charlotte loved Barrett. She would never so much as hint that she cared so deeply for him, but she could not help wishing for one day—one perfect day—of loving and being loved by him.
Charlotte let out a sigh. There was no point in wishing for the impossible. Look what those foolish thoughts had wrought. She’d sewn a crooked seam. With another deep sigh, she began to pick out the stitches. Next time she’d be more careful.
She had the seam half undone when the doorbell tinkled. Rising to greet her customer, Charlotte heard the distinctive sound of Miriam’s laughter.
“Oh, Charlotte!” Miriam flung her arms out and twirled in a circle. “I’m the happiest woman alive. He told me he loves me.”
“What were you thinking?” Warren demanded the instant the study door closed behind him.
Barrett sighed. It had been a week since the debacle at the state legislature. Although the rumor mill had be
en kinder than he’d had any reason to hope, he knew that Warren would not be pleased. He’d expected a reaction almost immediately and suspected the only reason he’d been spared for so long was that his friend had been out of town on some mysterious business.
“You told me to be more visible, to let people know my views,” Barrett said as he poured Warren a cup of coffee. “That’s what I did.”
“Regulating your peers?” Warren’s voice was harsh with sarcasm. “I thought we agreed that water policy would be the problem you’d tackle.”
“This was more urgent.”
“What it was was foolish. And why on earth did you have to compound your foolishness by talking about a school for the blind? Why would you care about that?” Warren stretched his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “There are schools in other places. The parents can send them there.”
Barrett tried not to wince at the memory that he’d once advocated exactly that. But that was before he understood the price both Charlotte and David would have paid.
“What if the parents don’t want to send their children away?”
Warren shrugged. “That’s their problem, not yours.”
And that was where he was wrong. “It is my problem. Charlotte’s son is blind.”
His eyes narrowing, Warren stared at Barrett for a long moment before he spoke. “You’re considering marrying her, aren’t you?”
“What if I were?” Barrett wouldn’t answer directly, not when Warren was in this mood.
“Then I’d say you were as blind as her boy. The voters want to see a perfect family, not one with a damaged child.”
When Barrett started to protest the term, Warren held up a hand, silencing him. “I don’t care how pretty she is; don’t throw away your chance at power for a pretty face.”
Charlotte was more than a pretty face. She was a warm, caring woman, a woman of deep loyalty and unshakable integrity. The fact that she was also beautiful was only a small part of her appeal. But Barrett would not tell Warren that, for he doubted the older man would understand. When he’d first entertained the thought of running for office, it had been for selfish reasons. Though he had not admitted it to either Warren or Richard, Barrett had been more concerned about impressing his brothers than serving the citizens of Wyoming. That had changed. As the months had passed, he’d realized how wrong he’d been, and it was all because of Charlotte.
“It isn’t power I want,” he said firmly. “It’s to be in a position where I can make a difference.” That was the challenge Charlotte had given him, and now more than ever before, Barrett was determined to answer that challenge.
Warren snorted. “You’re only fooling yourself if you believe that. Every man wants power.”
“Then why don’t you run for office?” Though it was a question Barrett had asked himself a dozen times, this was the first time he’d voiced it.
“I would if I were twenty years younger.”
17
She refused—she absolutely refused—to dwell on the fact that Barrett had finally declared his love to Miriam and that their engagement would likely be announced any day now. When memories of Miriam’s radiant smile resurfaced, Charlotte forced herself to smile and then to remind herself that she had more important things to worry about, starting with the school.
Though Barrett had done his best, it appeared that the decision makers of Wyoming Territory did not share Charlotte’s belief that a school for the blind and deaf was essential. She couldn’t let them stop her. There had to be something she could do to help David and Nancy. In the meantime, she would do what she could for the unfortunate women who took their meals at Mrs. Kendall’s boardinghouse.
Charlotte shivered as she hurried toward 15th Street. January was supposed to be the coldest month, but this year February seemed to be trying for that dubious honor. With the mercury dipping below zero and a stiff wind turning snowflakes into icy pellets, it was not a night for a stroll. Perhaps she should have waited another day, but when she’d finished the brown calico dress, she had been filled with a sense of urgency, and so she’d donned her heaviest coat, thankful that the veil she always wore to Mrs. Kendall’s provided at least a measure of protection for her face.
“C’mon in, honey.” As she had expected, even though it wasn’t quite five o’clock, Mrs. Kendall was bustling around the kitchen. “I got some coffee ready, and if you can wait a few minutes, there’ll be cinnamon buns fresh outta the oven.”
Though the aroma was enticing, Charlotte shook her head. “I can’t stay that long.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Kendall pulled out a chair and glared at it, as if willing Charlotte to remove her coat and sit there. “You need to warm up. I cain’t have you turnin’ into an icicle.”
Flexing her fingers, Charlotte realized that the tips were tingling from the cold. It would be foolish to return home until they’d warmed a bit. She unbuttoned her coat and hung it on the hook near the door, smiling when Mrs. Kendall grabbed the coat and draped it over the chair nearest the stove so that it would warm more quickly.
“You need some coffee too,” she announced. “I reckon you could drink it without takin’ off your veil if you was careful.”
Charlotte heard the slightly miffed tone in the older woman’s voice and realized that she had insulted her by not revealing her identity. Though initially she had been worried about her customers, that concern had paled when Charlotte had learned that the baron was a frequent patron of Sylvia’s. She could not take the risk of lifting her veil, for the baron must never discover that she and David lived in Cheyenne. “Thank you,” Charlotte said. “Your coffee smells delicious. But first I want to show you what I brought. There are two more dresses,” she explained as she opened the package she’d wrapped in an old sheet. “The brown is my favorite.”
Mrs. Kendall fingered the calico. “It’s perfect. They’re both perfect.” She poured coffee into a tin mug and pushed it across the table toward Charlotte. “I wish you could see the difference havin’ proper clothes makes. The gals don’t just look different, they act different too. More modest-like.” She sipped her coffee. “Now, drink yours.”
Charlotte complied, though it was difficult to maneuver the cup to her mouth without removing her veil. At last, frustrated by the layers of tulle, she raised it enough to clear her mouth, holding it back with her left hand while she lifted the cup with her right.
“I heerd from Sally and Laura,” Mrs. Kendall continued. “They’re the two of Sylvia’s gals what went to Laramie last month. Sally done got herself a job as a washerwoman, and Laura’s working as a cook. It wouldn’t a’ happened without your dresses.”
It was a nice thought, but Charlotte couldn’t accept the credit for the young women’s transformation. “It takes more than a new dress to change a person’s life. You have to want to change.”
“Mebbe so, but decent clothing helps.” Mrs. Kendall rose, opening the oven door and withdrawing a pan of fragrant rolls. “I shore wish I could sew like you.”
“It’s not difficult,” Charlotte said when she’d tasted the delicious pastry. “Anyone can learn if they have the right teacher.”
The right teacher. Charlotte started to laugh when she heard her own words. That could be the answer.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, really. I’ve been trying to solve a problem, and I realized that the answer’s been here all along. Thank you, Mrs. Kendall. You unlocked the door.”
Though the other woman looked dubious, Charlotte was not, and her words echoed through her mind as she walked home. If the legislators wouldn’t approve a school, someone else had to do something. Who better than Charlotte? It was true that she had been frustrated by the book Barrett had given her. Although it was a beginning, it wasn’t enough. She now knew that what she needed was the right teacher. It wasn’t as if Charlotte was inexperienced. She had taught children long enough to know that she would be able to teach blind children, if she had the right school
ing. What she needed was to be trained by someone who had actually taught blind children.
Charlotte grimaced as she crossed 16th Street and the wind buffeted her. It wouldn’t be easy. She knew that. She would have to find someone who had been trained at the Perkins School. Barrett’s book had been written by a woman who had studied there, and she had indicated that it was one of the finest schools devoted to the education of blind children. That was what Charlotte wanted and what David and Nancy deserved: the best.
Perhaps someone who had trained there could spend a few months in Cheyenne with Charlotte. If not, she would go to Watertown, Massachusetts, and study at the school. It would be expensive, for she would have to close the store while she and David traveled east. With no money coming in and substantial expenses, her savings would be depleted in a few months. Unless . . . Charlotte smiled as she thought of Mrs. Cox. The woman had said she would do anything to give Nancy the life she deserved, and she had made it clear that she was far from destitute. She would probably help defray the costs while Charlotte studied, since the training would benefit Nancy.
Her heart suddenly lighter, Charlotte climbed the steps to her apartment. There were many things to consider, but she believed she was headed in the right direction, and that felt good. Very good.
Miriam glanced around the room. If anyone had forgotten that they were celebrating Valentine’s Day, one look at the parlor and the dining room would have reminded them. Her friend Betty’s mother had outdone herself tonight, decorating the entire first floor of their home in shades of red and pink in honor of the occasion. Swags of red crepe were draped on the curving staircase, while a pink tablecloth and red linen napkins transformed the dining room into a Valentine. Even the candles in the parlor chandelier had been replaced with pink ones.