by Lopp, Karen
The man chuckled and Kathleen raised a hand. “Please, hear me out.”
He crossed his arms and studied her. His small dark eyes glittered with kindness and speculation. “Very well, Miss Barnes. I am Henry Lavore, owner and master tailor of this shop. How can you help me?”
She pointed to the green dress in the window. “How long have you been trying to sell that particular dress?”
“Too long. Why?”
“How would you like it updated?”
Mr. Lavore frowned. “Just because you came from New York doesn’t mean my dress is out of style.”
“This dress was in production last year, but if you let me alter it,, you will set a new fashion.”
“I’ve been to New York, Miss Barnes, and I know what type of working conditions you must have endured. However, following a set pattern is far different from designing garments.”
“Yes it is, Mr. Lavore. Let me have the dress, some thread, and needle. I’ll alter it tonight and you can be the judge of my abilities. Will you at least give me this chance to show you I know my business? You have nothing to lose.”
He shot her a pointed once-over. “You have to admit your clothes have seen lots of wear.”
“As you pointed out, you are aware of the poor pay of seamstress’s in the workshops back East. Food was a higher priority.”
He rubbed his chin and studied the ceiling. Kathleen tried to not fidget. Finally he said, “Tell you what, come on home with me tonight. The wife will be glad to have some company for a change. I’d like to see what you can do. After all, it is my dress.”
She hesitated.
“Take it or leave it.”
Kathleen sucked in a steadying breath. This was a business deal. She would bring her rifle along. If Mr. Lavore harbored any amorous intentions, the weapon should cool his blood rather quickly.
“Give me your address, and I’ll be there.”
A few hours after sharing a pleasant meal with the Lavores, Kathleen held up the transformed dress for their inspection.
“How lovely, Miss Barnes,” Mrs. Lavore said.
Mr. Lavore took the dress, fingered the delicate stitching, and studied her handiwork. “You’re an artist, Miss Barnes.”
He nodded to his wife. “Well, Louisa, meet my new assistant. My shop will be the envy of the town.”
Exhilaration shot through Kathleen, tempered with a wariness born of deceit, lies, and betrayals. The last few weeks had reinforced the bitter reality that life wasn’t fair and no one could ever be fully trusted. But, for now, she had a means of support. Time would determine if Mr. Lavore was simply another Mr. Sharp.
“Thank you, Mr. Lavore.”
Kathleen returned to the hotel with lagging steps. Sure, she just proven her worth to Mr. Lavore, but the wretchedness in her heart increased a little more with each breath as she climbed the stairs.
A dark empty room waited. She hated hotels. And the one man that had always come to her rescue wouldn’t be nearby. A shiver raced down her spine. No. Mike never wanted to see her again. So why did her heart jump around like a rabbit anytime she thought of him? Because she was a fool.
She had to give Mike credit, though. He’d put on a perfect performance. Tender at just the right moment, a smile, a hug, a squeeze of the hand. No, Mr. Creswick couldn’t have put on a better performance. She hadn’t really ever attended the theater, but she had read all about it. Mike had missed his calling.
Kathleen wiped a tear from her eye and pushed the door to her room open. Darkness shrouded the chilly room. Leaving the door open, she hurried to the dresser and lit the lamp. A quick glance around assured her no one lurked in the dark corners. Silly of her, but she still had visions of that robber in her room and, she shuddered, the nighttime caller that had shot up her bed.
It was in these moments she missed Mike. And called herself an idiot. Her judgment of men lacked any sensibility. Yes, she had been just a child, a grieving child, when Judge Thomas had stolen her inheritance. And not much older when Mr. Sharp had stolen her patterns. But what was her excuse for trusting Mike? She was no child, and should have been a whole lot less gullible.
Door locked and a chair secured under the knob, she prepared for bed. Tomorrow she started a new job. Tonight she lay staring at the ceiling, wondering how Mike had tricked her so easily. With a jerk, she sat up. Or had he? Everything he’d ever done spoke of keeping her safe. Sending her away could have been his way of protecting her.
Kathleen punched the pillow. If that was his reason, why didn’t he just tell her his plan? Shoulders sagging, she rubbed her arms. Despair and loneliness was driving her to make excuses for Mike. To confront him would answer her questions, but she also might end up dead. Lot of good that would do her. Of course, she could send him a letter.
She flopped back onto the bed. Foolish thoughts of a foolish woman, that’s what this was. She rubbed her abdomen and prayed she wasn’t carrying Mike’s child.
Chapter 23
Kathleen handed Henry her notepad, after sketching five dresses for his approval. They were the dresses she had been working on just before she’d left New York. So far, she had spent her time making alterations for existing orders and proving to Henry that she knew the business. Four weeks, to be exact. Four weeks in which she vacillated over Mike and his actions. Four weeks of setting on the edge of her seat and jumping every time the door opened. Yet, every day that Mike didn’t show up, the tiny flame of hope diminished.
Nerves skittered up her spine as Henry studied her sketches. She may have lost in the game of love, but now she had a chance to let her skills shine. If Henry didn’t try to steal her designs.
He flipped through the pages. “I like these.” He made a few changes to one of the styles and handed the papers back. “What about that?”
Kathleen studied his alterations and smiled. They made a good team. “Perfect.”
“Good, I had a customer earlier who wants a wedding dress. I think this will suit her. She’s due back anytime now. I’d like you to see her and give me your opinion.”
“What color do you propose?”
“Sapphire silk.”
Kathleen glanced at the sketch. “No embellishments then.”
“Agreed.”
The bell over the door tinkled. “Aw, let’s see if that’s her.”
Kathleen followed Henry out of the office. He gushed over the young woman whose dress needed taken in and could use some more pens to hold up her hair. Kathleen shook her head. The man had a knack for flattery. The woman swiveled to face her.
“Miss Hawkins, this is the young lady who designed the pattern I have in mind.”
Kathleen’s breath decided to flee along with her ability to speak. She nodded and tried to smile.
Henry frowned. “She’s a little shy. Come, Miss Hawkins, let me show you the design.”
Kathleen pivoted and rushed out the back door. Her heart jumped around like a jackrabbit running from a coyote. She slapped trembling fingers over her mouth as nausea whirled in her stomach.
She had just designed a wedding dress for Mike’s new bride. He hadn’t wasted any time running back to her. She bounced her head against the door. They had probably planned the whole thing together. Sally’s father included. She stomped a foot. She had been such a blind fool. More so since she had been making up all sorts of reasons for Mike’s actions.
She ran a hand over her abdomen. Thank goodness she didn’t carry Mike’s child. A shiver crawled up her spine and curled around her neck. Mike. Why couldn’t she get the memory of his kiss out of her mind? He’d stolen everything from her. Threatened to kill her. She had to be stark-raving mad to still feel the tender caress of his lips across hers.
And now he was getting married to that hussy inside. That beautiful, rich, sensual hus
sy. Kathleen glanced at her small breasts and plain white blouse tucked into a drab brown skirt. At least her clothes fit properly, unlike Sally’s. “Damn you, Mike.”
The door opened and Henry stuck his head out. “Kathleen? You all right?”
“Just fine.” It would be a long time before she was really fine.
“You look a little pale. Are you ill?”
Yes. Sick at heart and feeling stupid. “No. I just needed some air.”
“Miss Hawkins loved the dress. I told her we could have it ready by tomorrow evening. That means long hours.”
“I don’t know if I can do it, Henry.”
“And I thought I had an assistant who wanted to expand the business. Make a name for ourselves.” A hint of disgust mingled with the anger in his voice.
Kathleen clenched her fists. “I’ll have it finished by morning.”
“I didn’t mean for you to do it all. I’ll stay and help.”
“I’d rather you not. Now if you’ll excuse me I need a good walk before I begin.” She stalked off down the back alley and swiped at tears. These last few days she had managed to shove thoughts of Mike to the back of her mind. Now, each blasted stitch would remind her of his betrayal. His casual use of her. His kiss.
Even if Mike offered to give her the ranch back, Kathleen wasn’t certain she’d take it. How could she possibly live near Mike and Sally? Watch them have children. Grow old together. All the things she’d briefly dreamed of with Mike.
Kathleen stopped her rapid pace, sighed, and hitched around. She had a career to think about now. If she really wanted this to work out with Henry, she had better do an excellent job on Sally’s dress. She squared her shoulders, dried her eyes, and returned to the shop.
Henry had already started cutting the material when she entered. “So, you decided to come back? Is there something I should know?”
“No. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Give me the scissors, and I’ll finish this. I promise the dress will be done by morning.”
“No need to stay up all night.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fast with a needle.”
Henry relinquished the scissors. “Have you met Miss Hawkins before?”
“I’ve never seen the woman.” Kathleen bent over the expensive material and went to work doing what she did best. Apparently the only thing she knew. She’d failed at keeping her inheritance. Twice. She’d let Mike dupe her. Now she had the dubious honor of being a scorned woman.
But she would not let Mike’s unscrupulous behavior ruin her second chance of following in her mother’s footsteps and succeeding in the world of fashion. Sally’s dress would be a masterpiece. And Mike, well, wherever he was didn’t matter. He had stolen too much from her already. This one last shred of a dream had to be enough. Had to work.
Somehow she managed to keep her fingers steady as she settled down to create the masterpiece that was to be Sally’s wedding dress. “Mr. Lavore, I have one favor to ask.”
Henry spun around and gave her a cautious glance. “What?”
“I would like to remain nameless in this venture.”
His eyes widened. “Just who are you hiding from and why?”
Sweat slicked her upper lip. “Someone from the town Miss Hawkins came from.”
“I thought you said you didn’t know her.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Go on.”
“That’s all you need to know.”
“Is the law after you?”
“No.” Kathleen sucked in a deep breath. “I promise I have done nothing illegal.”
Henry propped his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Then are you in some kind of danger?”
“Not as long as I stay here.” She resumed cutting the material. At least she hoped she’d be safe here. But what reason did Mike have to come after her now? He was getting married to Sally and he owned her land. As long as she kept her nose out of his business he would have no reason to bother her. Shoulders slumped and throat tight, Kathleen doggedly worked on the cursed dress.
Wisps of clouds scuttled across the sky when Mike disembarked in New York. It had been a full month since he had stood off to the side as they lowered Hawkins into his grave. He had shaken his head at the slavish dependence Sally heaped onto Jimmy. She didn’t seem like the same person. And he had really been surprised that she didn’t jilt Jimmy and run straight back East.
Sally wanted opulence, excitement, entertainment. Or she had. The death of her father had changed Sally. The wedding was six weeks away and still she showed no signs of bolting. She had even crawled to him and begged for forgiveness. Mike snorted. Sally begging? Didn’t fit the girl he knew.
He frowned at the clock. The train was late and he had a wife to fetch. He’d done everything he could think of to flush out any lurking enemies. He rode in the open, stayed late at the saloon, even pretended to be drunk a few times. Not a single time had anyone tried to assault, rob, or kill him.
The dust had settled. He no longer feared interference from Sally. Hawkins was six feet under and Hank and Juan hadn’t ceased nagging him to go make amends with Kathleen. Not that he didn’t want to. He just wanted her safe first.
He patted the papers stuffed in his pocket. This was his ace. The documented proof that he hadn’t lied when he had offered her land, cattle, and homes. Everything was in her name. And the line to sign the names of any appointed beneficiaries remained blank. Kathleen could fill it in with whomever she wished.
Mike took out the telegram from the Pinkerton agency and reread it. They had given Mike directions to the last known address of Kathleen. And had also offered to let Mike read the report compiled on Kathleen. Mike wasn’t interested in the report. He wanted Kathleen.
Soon, real soon, he’d see her again. He’d fall to his knees and kiss her feet if that’s what it took to get her to come home. A whistle interrupted his musings. Finally.
Two hours later, Mike scowled at the rickety stairway leading up to a dilapidated set of apartments. This was the fourth set of buildings with the same damn description. Couldn’t the agency have been more specific in their directions? The entire neighborhood looked exactly alike.
And the people? They either dodged around him like he had the plague or tried to steal from him. Damn city folks. He crinkled his nose at the filth all around him. How did people stand this? Give him a cold, hard, or even wet bed out in the open anytime.
The sun dipped low and shadows lengthened over the buildings, hiding some of the decay. The penetrating stench was overbearing as he stepped carefully and questioned the safety of the wooden staircase he climbed with hesitation. He sincerely hoped he had the wrong address.
Mike’s gut wrenched at the thought of Kathleen living in this dilapidated building. At the top of the stairs, he pushed open a door leading into a long, unlit hallway. Light tried to find a way around the single dirt-smeared window. Doors with painted numbers lined the narrow passage and a few vagabonds sprawled along the wall.
Stepping around them, Mike squinted at the faded numbers on the doors. At the door marked Number Nine, he stopped and drew in a deep breath. Was Kathleen behind this door, or would his search continue? Blowing out the breath, he rapped on the door.
A short, plump girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen flung the door wide and stared up at him.
“Evening, Ma’am. I was hoping you could help me out. I’m looking for Kathleen Barnes and was told she lived here.”
The girl waved a hand in the air. “She used to, but that was months ago.” She started to close the door.
“Wait, please.” He put a hand on the door. “Do you know how I can find her?”
The girl shrugged. “She got some inheritance out West and was out of here before you could blink an eye. Not that I blame her. I would have done
the same thing. Nobody wants to stay in this horrible neighborhood. But I surely do miss her, and so does the boss. She was one of his best workers. The best if you ask me.”
She sucked in a breath and continued before he could get a word in. “Said she’d send for me if there were any jobs to be had out there. I ain’t heard from her, so I guess there weren’t any.”
Mike gaped at the girl. He had never heard anyone talk so fast before. She’d finished before his mind caught up to what she’d said. Kathleen had never come back? Had something happened to her? Hell, he should have escorted her home. Not assumed she wouldn’t be bothered.
“Say, mister, you’re white as a sheet. You ill?”
He gripped the doorframe for support.
“Can I get you a glass of water?”
He glanced down at the girl standing in front of him. “Did you know Kathleen long?”
“I guess about a little over a year, why?”
“And this is where she lived?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ever mention relatives?”
“Not that I recall. You might ask some of the other girls. They’ve known her longer.”
Mike scanned the room and blinked. Three girls of various ages stared back at him. Four people shared this tiny space? He snatched his hat off. “May I come in?”
The short girl in front of him planted her hands on her ample hips. “Got a name?”
“Mike Baca.”
“How do you know Kathleen?”
How in the hell did he answer that question? He needed information, not a door slammed in his face. “She’s my new neighbor.”
“Then why are you looking for her here?”
“There were a few wolves that needed chasing off before she could be safe. I assumed she’d come back here to wait.”
The little imp doubled over with laughter. Mike shot a pleading glance at the other girls. A mousy brunette waved him in. “You’ll have to forgive Suzie. She idolized Kathleen.”