“You would be right.” Sarah took a seat, seeing for the first time that she had brown flecks on her hands from the beans. Stephen hadn’t seemed to notice, so she supposed it didn’t matter. “I thought I was going there to sit with my dying aunt. I can’t tell you how glad I am to be wrong about that, but as for the rest of it . . . If I could go through that entire trip and pick and choose what to keep and what to discard, there would be a whole lot that I’d toss in the rubbish heap.”
“And that young man would not be one of them?”
“No, he was one of the good parts.” She smiled, remembering his kisses. “All right, he was the very best part. But James and Charlie and Karl weren’t far behind.”
Mr. Brody raised an eyebrow. “More men?”
“My little cousins.” She stood up and glanced at the clock on the mantel. “I’d best be getting back to work. We ran out of apple pie.”
Mr. Brody stood up too. “It’s good to have you back, Sarah. And I must say, I wish you every happiness, but I’m not eager to lose you.”
“I . . . I’m not eager to be lost.”
As Sarah walked back to the kitchen, she realized how very true that was. Stephen was wonderful. His kisses were amazing, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. But the Brody was her home, and she never wanted to leave. Not that Stephen had asked her to—gracious, she was trying to predict the future after a ten-minute conversation—but if he did, she had no idea how she would tell him no.
***
Stephen couldn’t help the grin on his face as he settled into his seat on the train. It had been worth the long ride to Topeka when he saw Sarah’s reaction. And then, to kiss her . . . His grin grew wider. He’d imagined what it would be like to hold her. For at least fifty miles of the journey there, he’d thought about touching her hair, kissing her lips. Nothing he’d imagined had come close to reality. She was amazing—simply amazing.
The moment the train pulled into the Denver station, he hopped down and headed for his office. He had no idea where Gilbert would be, but he hoped it would be just a matter of minutes to find him. He scribbled off two copies of a note and sent one messenger to the house and one to Gilbert’s office, reasoning that one or the other would be successful. Within minutes, his brother was walking up to his desk, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Gilbert, I got your message just as I was leaving town on a quick trip. I’m sorry that I couldn’t come find you right away. What’s going on? What did you discover?”
Gilbert sat down, leaned back, and crossed his feet on top of Stephen’s desk. “A quick trip? That’s your idea of a quick trip? Anything over ten hours does not qualify as quick.”
“It felt quick, and I did come right back.”
Gilbert shrugged. “I don’t think I even want to know. The important part, the thing you need to know, is that I have it. The evidence against Father. But we need to discuss it—what are you planning to do? This will devastate Mother.”
Stephen knew it, but he couldn’t think of a way around it. Their father’s actions were immoral, illegal, and intolerable. Of course their mother would be devastated—it was the natural consequence of horrible decisions. However, that wouldn’t be on Stephen—that would be on his father, and he couldn’t afford to waste time feeling guilty for doing the right thing.
“He must be reported. Surely you can see that.”
“Yes, yes, I know. But are you going to make a big scene of it?”
Stephen had to consider that for a moment. He’d been so focused on obtaining the evidence that he’d never made a plan for what to do with it once he had it. “What if . . .”
“Yes?”
“What if we sent it to the company’s board of directors anonymously? Then they would have the information, and we’d avoid the scandal of Father being turned in by his own sons.”
Gilbert nodded. “I think you’re right. It will be difficult no matter what, but that should help.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out two sheets of paper. “I must confess, I’m rather glad that my name won’t be dragged into it. I’m rather proud of my reputation, you know.”
“I did figure that out at some point along the way.” Stephen looked over the two sheets of paper he’d just been given. One was the packing slip for a shipment, and the other seemed identical except for the lines having to do with the money that had exchanged hands. The second had clearly been copied and changed to show twenty-five dollars’ difference. He gave a low whistle. “How did you get this?”
“Father was in the process of making the new sheet when he got called away from his desk. He was only gone for a moment, but I took both those pages and left the office for the day. Well, and the day after that. I’ve been waiting for you to get back before I see him again. Anyway, there were people in and out of the office all day—I’m hoping he thinks it was one of them.”
Stephen reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper to write a note of his own.
Dear sirs,
For some time, I have suspected Mr. George Howard of embezzling money from the Denver Pacific Railroad. The other day, I happened upon the opportunity to provide proof. Enclosed please find two shipping statements, one authentic and one a copy, which should substantiate my suspicions.
Good day,
A Concerned Citizen
He read his note over twice, a bit displeased by how melodramatic it sounded, but then decided that it would do. He folded it up, along with the papers Gilbert had brought, and made a neat bundle. Then he sent for a messenger.
When the boy arrived, Stephen gave him a shiny coin and said, “I need you to take this to Mr. Hammersmith of the board of directors for the railroad. You’ve been there before, haven’t you? You know where to go?”
The boy nodded vigorously, and Stephen gave him the coin and the packet. As soon as he and Gilbert were alone again, Stephen sank back into his chair, feeling at once as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and like it had resettled on his stomach. He knew he was doing the right thing, but why did the right thing sometimes feel so very wrong?
Chapter Twenty
Denver, Colorado
1875
When Stephen first sent the note to the board of directors, he had no idea how long it would take for them to act. He wondered if the messenger would decide to throw out the packet and go spend his coin on candy at the general store instead of running his errand. He wondered if he would be believed. Every possible scenario played out in his mind, making it impossible to sleep that night. Especially in his lumpy boardinghouse bed.
He arrived the office the next morning to find Gilbert already there, looking like he’d had very little sleep as well.
“Father was questioned about an hour ago,” Gilbert said without any other sort of greeting. “The sheriff came, and when they were finished, Father was arrested. We officially have an accused criminal for a father, Stephen. How does that make us feel?”
“Tired. So very tired.” Stephen pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “But they’ll get to the bottom of it. I’m sure they will.”
“And Mother would like you to come home. She says she needs both her boys right now.”
Stephen didn’t even have to think about that. He might not like everything his mother did, but he could never turn his back on her when she need him most. “Of course I will. I’ll move back tonight.”
“Good. I’ll let her know.” Gilbert moved to leave, but then he paused. “I didn’t want you to be right, but I’m glad you saw what was happening. He’s our father, but he can’t get away with breaking the law. It’s . . . it’s just not right.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to look into it,” Stephen replied. He and Gilbert didn’t often agree. In fact, most of the time, they were at direct odds with each other. He didn’t know why Gilbert decided to listen to him this time, but he was so glad he did.
Gilbert nodded once and then left.
**
*
When Stephen arrived at the house that night, he found his mother in her room, sobbing into her pillow as though her heart was breaking.
“He confessed,” she said before Stephen had a chance to say hello. “I thought it was all a big misunderstanding and he’d be able to clear his name, but he confessed. He’s been stealing from the company for years—here and there and everywhere, and it adds up to thousands of dollars. All the gifts he’s given me—purchased with other people’s money. Thank goodness I brought my own inheritance into this marriage or we could be without a place to live.”
Stephen sat on the edge of the bed and patted his mother’s hand. He hated seeing her like this, and he hated even more that he was the one who had brought it about. But it was only a matter of time before it was discovered anyway, and that person might not have been so discreet. This was what he told himself to keep the guilt at bay.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said, drying her eyes and looking at him. “I don’t know what I would do without my boys.”
Stephen offered her a smile, wondering just how he would manage to keep his promise to Sarah while also being there for his mother. There was simply no way to be in two places at once.
***
It had been a week since Stephen’s surprise visit to the Brody, and in that week, fantastic things had happened. Aunt Clasby was feeling remarkably better, and Sarah sent a telegram to Felicity with the good news. No point in making her cousin wait for a letter when there was something so nice to be shared. Aunt Clasby was able to go up and down the stairs without assistance, her headaches were gone, and Dr. Wayment said that she’d regain her strength soon enough. There was so much to be grateful for.
Additionally, Mr. Brody had been asking around, and he learned that a small cottage three streets over was for sale. Aunt Clasby had quite a lot in savings from the sale of her own home, and she’d be able to buy this new cottage and live quite well on the difference.
It was nearly Christmas, and the hotel had been decorated top to bottom with red ribbon and pine boughs. Nancy Ann had proven herself very handy with things like that, and she’d made everything look so festive. Sarah was experimenting with new holiday recipes, and everyone was excited about the town party that would be held on Christmas Eve.
The only thing that couldn’t possibly be going any better? The one fly in the ointment? Stephen hadn’t returned to the Brody. Sarah had no idea how long it would take him to wrap up his business in Denver. Perhaps he had to stay and testify against his father—oh, that would be horrible. She hoped not—having to do something like that would tear the poor man apart. What could it be, then? Maybe Gilbert had lied and didn’t really have a way to help. Maybe the whole thing had been a selfish trick. And maybe she needed to stop letting her imagination run free. He would come when he was able, and that’s all there was to it.
But when days passed and still there was no word, she began to wonder if he’d changed his mind. Gilbert found it hard to commit to just one woman—maybe Stephen was more like his brother than she’d realized. No, she couldn’t think that way. Something was holding him up. But what? And why hadn’t he even written?
“A Christmas Eve party is just what you need,” Aunt Clasby said, looking her over with approval. “I do like this new dress. Go and dance and have a wonderful time. Forget all about him for a few hours.”
“I’m trying to decide if I should forget about him entirely,” Sarah replied. “We aren’t engaged—we aren’t even committed. We kissed once—well, we kissed twice, actually—but he left with only the promise of coming back, nothing more. Our feelings were so new and so surprising, maybe he decided we were too hasty. Any number of things might have happened.”
“Life’s like that. Things happen. Otherwise, it would be so boring.” Aunt Clasby reached to the small table next to her bed and grabbed a pair of scissors, which she used to snip a loose thread from Sarah’s dress. “I don’t know much about Mr. Howard, but I do think he’s a decent boy, and if he doesn’t come soon, he’ll at least write to you so you’ll have closure.”
“I hope so.” Sarah turned and looked at herself in her aunt’s mirror. She would do for tonight. “I wish you were coming too.”
“I’d like to go, but I don’t want to rush things. Dr. Wayment says I should move around more, but rest every chance I get. I have a good book, and Giselle brought me up some of that delicious spice cake you made. I’m set for the night.”
“All right. But you’ll be missed.” Sarah kissed her aunt on the cheek and then left, the other girls from the hotel on either side of her as they walked the short distance to the party. She was surrounded by friends, and yet felt as alone as if she were out there in the dark all by herself.
The party was being held on the main floor of a new store that was being built but hadn’t been furnished yet. The owner had offered its use for the festivities, and it was the perfect place—the wooden floor was just right for dancing, refreshment tables were set up along the edges, and everyone looked like they were having a good time. Sarah was asked to dance almost as soon as she got there, and she was caught up in a whirlwind of skirts and stomping feet and fast-as-lightning fiddling.
Nearly as soon as that dance ended, she was asked for another. On and on it went until she’d danced six times in a row with six different partners, and she was exhausted. She took a cup of punch over to a quiet corner and sat down to watch. She’d always been more comfortable watching than participating, and while it had been fun to dance, she was more than content to sit the next one out. Or the next two or three or four.
“Here you are. I thought I’d have to scour this whole town for you before I was through.”
She stood up and turned around so fast, she spilled some punch on her dress. But she barely noticed that as she looked into Stephen’s eyes.
“You’re here,” she said for lack of anything more original.
“I am. Would you like to dance?”
“No, actually. I’ve just danced all I care to for the rest of my life.”
“Then would you like to take a walk?”
She considered it. “It looks cold out there.”
He sighed, exasperated. “Then what would you like to do?”
“I would like to talk. I’d like to know where you’ve been, and what I’m supposed to do with you now.”
He grinned. “That’s why I wanted to go for a walk. It’s a lot easier to talk when you’re not competing with fiddle music.”
“But it’s cold outside.”
“Fine. Come with me.”
He took her hand and led her along the edge of the room until they reached a little coat closet of sorts. “I saw this when I came in. We’re surrounded by coats—what could be warmer?—and we’re alone. We both get our wish. Now, may I please explain?”
“All right. You may.” She was allowing it, but she was still a little upset with him. He could have written, couldn’t he? She didn’t think he’d been in a coma or had fallen victim to an illness that would have rendered him incapable of holding a pen.
“As it turns out, Gilbert had just the piece of evidence we needed, and when the sheriff pressed my father for more answers, he confessed. He’s now in jail awaiting his trial.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Or actually, congratulations.” She paused. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”
“That’s all right—it’s not a very simple situation. And to complicate matters further, my mother took ill, and I moved back into the family house.”
Sarah nodded. She couldn’t imagine that he would have left her alone during that time. Well, Gilbert would have been there, but more and more often as of late, she’d become convinced of his general uselessness.
“That’s why I didn’t come back sooner—there was so much going on. But now I’m here, and you’re beautiful, and I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”
“How is your mother now?” Sarah asked.
“She’s
slowly coming to terms with everything, and she’s feeling some better. She and my grandmother have spent quite a lot of time reminiscing about Father back when he was younger, before he started all this nonsense, and that seems to comfort them. Gilbert has stepped up a bit and is seeing to their needs as well.”
“That’s good.” Sarah glanced around, feeling a little awkward. She’d never had a conversation in a coat closet before.
“It is good, but I can think of something better.” Stephen took her hand. His was still cold from being outside. “You remember how it’s such a long train ride from Denver to here?”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“Well, it hasn’t gotten any shorter, and I spent that time thinking. I’ve come to a very important conclusion. Would you like me to share it with you?”
“Yes, please. I’m sure I’d find it quite enlightening.”
He reached out and traced the line of her jaw. “I’ve decided that there’s nothing I want more in all the world than to marry you.”
She blinked. “You want to marry me?”
“Yes. Now, isn’t that a nice thing to decide?”
She took a step back, her mind reeling. Of course she’d thought about it—she’d thought about it dozens of times over the last several days. But she hadn’t imagined that it would happen so soon after he came back. She thought there would be time to get to know each other better first.
“You seem upset.”
“I’m not upset,” she replied. “I’m just surprised. Don’t you think this is moving a bit fast?”
“I don’t, actually. Would you like to know why?”
“Of course.” Why didn’t he just tell her? It was exasperating, the way he liked to drag things out sometimes.
“I’ve actually been falling in love with you for a year and a half. Remember the picnic we took up into the mountains? You were with Gilbert, and I brought along Kirsten West? She turned out to be quite uninteresting and didn’t care for me much, either, so you and I ended up talking to each other while she watched the birds and Gilbert took a nap. That was the first time I ever noticed how incredibly smart and funny you are.”
The Bitter and the Sweet (Kansas Crossroads Book 9) Page 12