With You Always (Orphan Train Book #1)

by Jody Hedlund

  “Elise,” he began, his voice almost pleading.

  “You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said quietly.

  “I want to explain.”

  She finished with the coffee and then added a couple of dashes of a spice and a sprinkle of another before she closed the lid and pushed the pot over one of the burners. When she grabbed an empty bucket from under the washtub and started walking toward the back door, he lurched after her. His fingers closed around her arm, stopping her before she could exit. At his touch, she froze and stared down at the bucket.

  “I’m not engaged.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I wish it mattered.” The words came out before he could think about the implication. “The fact is,” he continued, “I don’t love Rosalind.” Not like I love you, he thought. But Elise was already shaking her head.

  “If you don’t love her, why were you planning to propose to her?”

  He fumbled to find the right answer, one that would make as much sense to him as to her. There was no reason to propose to Rosalind if he didn’t love her. The stipulation of his father’s challenge included love, not just marriage.

  “Remember when I told you my father is dying of pleurisy?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, lucky for me, he decided to establish a competition between Bradford and me to see which of us would gain leadership of the company after he dies.”

  “To see which of you is most worthy?”

  “Something like that.”

  “He wants you to get married before he dies?”

  “A marriage of love, not convenience.”

  “Oh.” The word echoed with disbelief.

  “Exactly.” He sighed. “But that’s only half of it. The other part is that both of us need to develop a town within six months.”

  “Six months?” Her voice was laced with sarcasm. “That’s way too long. I can’t believe he didn’t give you three months. Or maybe two.”

  Thornton laughed, but it was mirthless, mimicking the emptiness in his soul, the emptiness of a young man who’d only ever longed to please but had somehow never accomplished it.

  “So are you winning the competition?” Elise asked, as direct as always.

  Thornton dropped his hold of Elise’s arm and let his shoulders sag. “No. Probably not.”

  “Why not? You’ve worked hard. Every day Quincy seems to be growing.”

  He was silent for a moment, wondering how he could explain the diversions he’d had to his well-laid plans, the detours he’d taken, the many changes he’d made—mostly because of her encouragement to think about people as individuals with real lives, rather than mere numbers to add to his checklist of accomplishments.

  “Let’s just put it this way. I’ve diverted the funds I could be using for development of the town into pay raises, improved working conditions, and better food for the workers.”

  She studied his face as though reading all he’d left unsaid—that his humanitarian efforts had put him at a disadvantage to Bradford. Her expression softened, and her eyes filled with a tenderness he hadn’t seen there before, at least not directed at him. “Thornton Quincy, you’re a good man.”

  His chest expanded with warmth. “Then you don’t hate me for not telling you about Rosalind?”

  “Like I said, you don’t owe me any explanations.”

  “I’ve been in a relationship with her.” He needed to tell her the truth finally. “Which is why I wasn’t being fair to you or her during the train ride to Quincy. I was trying my best to make myself fall in love with her.”

  Her brow rose. “Sounds about as easy as making bread out of bricks.”

  “Even harder, especially when you get distracted by a talented cook who makes amazing coffee.”

  At his compliment, she reached for the door handle. “I need to get back to work. Apparently this talented cook has a reputation to uphold. We wouldn’t want to disappoint your brother, now, would we?”

  Her lashes dropped as she went to open the door, but he wedged his foot in the way. When she glanced back at him, her eyes were full of questions. His muscles tensed at the need to pull her into his arms. He wanted to tell her that the contest with his brother didn’t matter anymore, that maybe it never had. Yet he had a responsibility to see the competition through to completion. Even if he didn’t win, he had to finish it. At the very least he could prove to his father he wasn’t a quitter and maybe earn just a little of his respect.

  “Go on now,” Elise whispered.

  With a willpower he didn’t realize he had, he took a giant step backward. “I know you won’t be able to function in here without my help, so I’ll try to hurry.”

  She smiled. “I won’t know what to do as I wait for your return.”

  He couldn’t hold back his smile as he made his way through the kitchen and into the dining room. Bradford was already seated at a table in front of a window overlooking Main Street. He was examining the town and jotting down notes.

  Thornton pulled out a chair and sat down across from his brother. “Find anything of interest?”

  Bradford closed his notebook. “I see you have a schoolhouse almost done. Seems an odd choice for the first six months of building a town, considering there aren’t many children yet.”

  Usually the general stores, taverns, livery stables, feed stores, and granaries were the first things to fill up the commercial corridor. Of course, churches were integral to the community as well. But schools usually came later once the town’s security was established. If the town lasted—and there were no guarantees that it would—then other businesses like barbers, jewelers, bakers, undertakers, libraries, and more would develop later.

  “I promised the farmers who bought land around Quincy I would provide a school for them.”

  Bradford folded his hands over his notebook, his expression patronizing. “We make many promises to lure people to settle here, but that doesn’t mean we fulfill them all right away.”

  “I realize that. But this was important to them.”

  “Oh yes, I’ve heard rumors of your new methods.” Bradford’s lips curved into a cynical smile. “You’ve become a friend to the poor.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  Bradford leaned forward and said quietly, “Do you really think by becoming everyone’s best friend you’ll win this contest?”

  “I’m not becoming everyone’s best—”

  “Or do you think giving pay raises will gain you better workers?”

  “Maybe not, but maybe it’s the right thing to do anyway.”

  Bradford shook his head. “You’ll end up attracting hordes of lazy, impoverished people who will expect a handout but won’t want to work hard in return.”

  That was what Thornton had believed at one time too, that the poor were mostly lazy and incompetent and unwilling to work diligently for their keep. But after laboring alongside them for weeks, he’d learned quite the opposite. Most of them were incredibly hard workers who were seeking to make better lives for themselves, yet they’d been trapped with little hope of improving their situations. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to turn around their lives completely, but he could do his part in helping them revolve one degree, couldn’t he?

  “Whatever the end result,” Thornton said, “I’ve done what I thought I needed to.”

  “I suppose you also thought you could conjure up feelings for a poor, pretty kitchen wench and think that would be acceptable in the competition.”

  Anger pushed Thornton from his chair, and it toppled behind him with a crash. He towered over Bradford, his hands fisted, his body taut with the need to pummel his brother. “I told you to talk about Elise respectfully.”

  Bradford chuckled. “Whoa, boy.”

  Thornton inwardly counted to five. Bradford was goading him. He should have recognized the tactic, one Bradford used many times in their childhood to push Thornton to do things his way. Before he could compose a calm response, Bradford held up
his hands as if in surrender.

  “I apologize for my behavior. It was never my intent to cause a rift between you and your kitchen girl—I mean, you and Elise. As it turns out, it’s probably a good thing. You can thank me later for saving you from a big mistake.”

  Elise? A big mistake? He didn’t see her that way at all. She was one of the best things that had ever happened to him. But he wasn’t surprised at Bradford’s scorn. That was how his father would likely react to Elise too. “As it turns out,” Thornton said dryly, “Elise is forgiving and didn’t let the news of Rosalind come between us.”

  Bradford slid to the edge of his chair, his eyes widening with disbelief and something else—was it frustration? From what Hewitt had reported lately, Wellington had surged ahead of Quincy in almost every area of development, from the number of buildings to population, to revenue and more. Surely Bradford had nothing to worry about. So why was he in Quincy and taking notes?

  “What are you really doing here, Bradford?” Thornton crossed his arms. “We’ve left each other alone all fall. Now we have one month to go. Why not stay out of each other’s way until the end?”

  Elise came out of the kitchen at that moment with two cups of coffee and started toward them.

  “Like I said, I wanted to try your restaurant.” Bradford’s answer was smooth. Too smooth.

  Bradford might be able to cover his emotions, but Thornton knew his twin well enough to realize Bradford was up to something. He prayed it had nothing to do with Elise, but a gut feeling told him it did.

  “Leave her alone,” Thornton said in a low voice as Elise wound around tables and chairs toward them. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

  Thornton wasn’t a vindictive person, but protectiveness surged through his blood, turning it hot and making him capable of doing anything to take care of Elise.

  Bradford was watching him as though gauging his reaction. Something flickered there but was gone before Thornton could understand what it was exactly. It left Thornton uneasy, and more determined than ever to make sure Elise was safe.

  Chapter 19

  Elise wobbled on the ice and threw out her arms to balance herself against the slippery magnetism that seemed determined to drag her down. Her shoes had no tread or traction, which made the trek down Main Street more difficult. To make matters worse, she’d left her coat behind in the dormer room at the hotel.

  She’d been too frantic to get help and had forgotten how the biting November wind caused the temperature to drop, turning puddles into tiny skating ponds. Her linen shirt and skirt were threadbare and provided little protection, no more than the shift she wore underneath.

  Her mind screamed at her to move faster and flashed with the image of Fanny curled up into a ball on her bed, rocking back and forth without saying a word. The sight had frightened Elise when she went back to the hotel to change her skirt after spilling syrup on it.

  Instead of finding an empty room, Fanny was there, her bodice ripped, blood streaking her skirt, and bruises around her neck—bruises in the shape of fingers. Elise tried to get Fanny to talk, to tell her what had happened. Had her boss beat her up again? Had she been attacked by someone on the way to work earlier in the morning?

  But Fanny hadn’t answered any of her questions. She hadn’t spoken a word except to whisper that she wanted to die.

  Elise panicked and ran to fetch the one person who might be able to assist. Thornton. Although he hadn’t worked in the dining room since his brother’s visit last week, he’d been in his office at the depot most of the time, poring over charts, figures, and diagrams with Mr. Hewitt. She hadn’t talked with him often or for very long, but she still cherished the rare moments when he’d come to the kitchen for an extra cup of coffee or to ask her about her day.

  She tried not to think about Rosalind. Still, Elise had replayed in her mind dozens of times the conversation with Thornton. He’d claimed he didn’t love Rosalind. He certainly didn’t seem to be pining after her. Even so, the fact that he had ties to a woman back east, while not surprising, was still unsettling. Yet it shouldn’t have been, as she didn’t have any claim on Thornton and had never pretended there could be anything between them.

  Yes, they’d had a brief lapse in judgment in the pantry and had crossed a boundary. Yes, she could admit they shared an attraction. And yes, she’d enjoyed every second of being in his arms and had relived the moment too many times to count. But that didn’t mean anything, just as his kiss hadn’t meant anything at the Chicago depot.

  Her cheeks stung from the cold as she hurried along.

  “Elise?”

  At Thornton’s call, coming from the direction of the depot, she almost slipped and fell.

  “What are you doing outside without a coat?” He hustled toward her, letting the depot door bang shut behind him. He shrugged out of his navy coat, which he wore over a matching vest. After the weeks of wearing casual attire while he’d done manual labor, she could admit he made a dashing figure in his fancier garments.

  He draped his coat about her shoulders and pulled the lapels together, surrounding her with his spicy scent. He frowned. “Your teeth are chattering. We need to get you inside right away.” He began to guide her toward the depot, but she pulled back.

  “No.” Her breath came out raspy from the tightness of her lungs. “It’s Fanny. She’s been hurt—attacked by someone. I’m afraid she might attempt to take her own life.”

  From the blankness of his expression, Elise knew he had no idea who Fanny was. Nevertheless, he nodded, his expression turning grave.

  “She needs help.” Her voice echoed the urgency that had been building inside her. “Can you help me save her?”

  Thankfully, he didn’t ask any questions, reminding her of the day of the riots in New York City when he’d escorted poor Isaiah inside the mission. Thornton had acted first and asked questions letter. She appreciated that about him.

  With the support of Thornton’s steadying arm, the walk back to the hotel took little time. Once inside, Elise raced up the stairs leading the way to the third story. When they ducked through the low doorway, Thornton stopped short as he took in the cramped quarters.

  “Is this where you live?”

  “No. It’s home to a group of trolls.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s where we live.”

  The lines creasing his forehead deepened as his eyes touched on each cot, including the one Fanny occupied. “There are five of you living in this tiny space?”

  “Six.” Elise wound through the maze of clothes, bags, and other personal items that covered nearly every inch of floor space. She nodded to her bedding in the narrow spot where she slept. “Apparently, Hewitt only made arrangements for the original five employees, so I sleep on the floor.”

  Thornton muttered something under his breath.

  Elise made her way to Fanny and knelt next to the cot. Thankfully, in the short time Elise had been gone, Fanny hadn’t attempted to take her life. She gently touched the young woman’s back and took it as a good sign when she didn’t flinch as she had the other times. “It’s me, Elise,” she said softly. “I’m back and I’m going to help you.”

  Fanny didn’t respond except to duck her head deeper into her arms.

  Elise grabbed a blanket from the floor and wrapped it around Fanny. “Listen to me, Fanny. I want to move you someplace safe and warm.” But where? Perhaps another hotel room, if one was available.

  She looked at Thornton, hoping he’d have an idea. He was stooped under the low ceiling, his face still lined with disbelief. Perhaps now after seeing their cramped living space, he’d understand why the charges for their boarding were too high. But now wasn’t the time to get into an argument about it. Fanny was their priority.

  “She’d benefit from a bed,” Elise said. “Somewhere private.”

  “She can have my room at the depot,” he offered. “I’ll move out and find somewhere else to live.”

  “Really?”

&
nbsp; “I won’t hear of anything else. Why don’t you move in with her to watch over her? It’s a double bed, big enough for two. ”

  Elise could only stare at him, at the sincerity in his expression and the turmoil in his eyes. Her throat tightened with a sweet ache. He was truly a good man. No, he wasn’t perfect; he still had much to learn about the plight of people like her. But at least he was willing to learn. Even more, he was willing to make changes.

  He’d done everything he could to help her glean more information about Marianne and the situation back home—sending letters and telegrams, having his New York agent do some investigating, even offering to make contact with Marianne on his next visit back east. Although she worried about her sisters every day, she knew Thornton was on her side. He was generous and kindhearted in helping her, and his willingness to care for Fanny proved it even more.

  Fanny didn’t protest when Thornton lifted her into his arms. Elise tucked the blanket around the battered woman. Together they made their way to the depot, to Thornton’s room across the hall from the Grays.

  The bedroom was spacious, as big as the one she shared with the women at the hotel. The place exuded style and wealth. A broad chest of drawers flanked by a gilded mirror stood against one wall. The double bed was graced with an elegant nightstand containing a globe lantern. Two wing chairs were positioned on either side of a corner stove with old-looking books stacked in piles around them. A lovely thick rug covered most of the floor.

  Thornton deposited Fanny gently onto the bed, quickly gathered his belongings except his books, and then exited the room with word that he’d fetch warm water. Elise wasn’t exactly sure where to begin helping Fanny, so she was relieved when Mrs. Gray arrived and took over.

  “I’ll clean her up,” Mrs. Gray said after she’d examined Fanny. “This isn’t something for a young innocent like you to witness.”

  Elise reluctantly relinquished Fanny’s care to Mrs. Gray and returned to the dining room. When Mrs. Gray descended later, her face was ashen and her lips set grimly.

  “How is she?” Elise asked quietly as Mrs. Gray limped into the kitchen and crossed to the stove.