“Yet you still manage to be optimistic,” Jane marveled.
“I’ve seen hard times and this ain’t it,” Charlotte laughed. “I have plenty to eat, a stout roof over my head and a few friends.”
“I take it Suzanna isn’t one of them.”
“No, ma’am, I’m afraid she’s not, much as I wish it wasn’t so. I don’t hold with some of the things she does, like throwing herself at Mr. Sam that way. Now I fear she’s trapped the marshal, even though she doesn’t want him.” Taking a towel, Charlotte took the coffeepot off the heat to let the grounds settle.
“She could do a lot worse than Marshal Hadley,” Jane stated, getting out two cups.
“That’s a fact,” Charlotte agreed, “but she’s stalling. I worry she’s plotting something, something evil.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t really say. I know she wanted to marry Mr. Hugh something fierce and when that didn’t work out, she set her cap for Mr. Sam. It don’t seem likely she’ll settle for the marshal.”
“It doesn’t appear she has much choice in the matter. She was caught in a very compromising position. Those two are taken and none of the loggers have the kind of wealth and position she’s looking for.”
“That’s my point,” Charlotte said, pouring the coffee while Jane got some cream from the icebox. “There isn’t anyone else up to her standards, but if something were to happen to Amelia or Effie…”
Jane nearly dropped her cup.
“Charlotte, you’re not suggesting she’d hurt one of those girls?” she gasped out.
“I don’t like to think so, but I wouldn’t put anything past her. Some of the girls are missing things. Martha borrowed Molly’s hair combs and then they turned up missing. Clara’s brooch somehow got misplaced, and I truly believe she managed to outsmart the marshal and secure that proposal. Now she’s holding him off and giving us that hogwash about how much work his house needs before she can marry him. Mary and I went by his place the other day on our way into town and there’s nothing wrong with it a woman’s touch along with a little hard work wouldn’t set right.”
“Oh my dear, I had no idea. Why didn’t someone tell me these things?” Jane demanded quietly.
“There’s no proof of anything, just suspicions. We can hardly accuse Suzanna of taking what doesn’t belong to her,” Charlotte whispered back.
“No, you’re right, but what are we going to do about it?”
“I say we get her married as fast as we can. Once there’s a ring on her finger she’s no longer a threat, unless she plans on doing away with her new husband. I bet once she’s his bride he’ll teach her a few lessons about what’s acceptable and what’s not and pretty quickly too. No lawman wants a thief for a wife.””
“God, Charlotte, you’re giving me chills,” Jane hissed, pulling her robe closer.
“Sorry, maybe it’s just my overactive imagination,” Charlotte sighed. “Do you think so?”
“I don’t know, but I agree with you. We need to get her wed. It’s just too bad it has to be to a nice man like Marshal Hadley.”
Charlotte looked away. There was no sense in thinking about that dream or how safe and protected she felt upon awakening. She could still feel his heavy leg thrown over hers and his strong arms holding her close. In her dream, his warm breath fanned the tiny hairs at her brow, tickling her. Heavens, she had to stop that kind of thinking right now!
“You know, Jane, if the marshal would let us and we had the funds, it wouldn’t take long to whip that house into shape. I haven’t been inside, but maybe with some paint and material for curtains and such… I’m sure all the girls would help.”
“If we could get him to agree, we would need to get Suzanna out of the way,” Jane said thoughtfully. “I wonder if Amelia would have any ideas.”
“What will you tell her, about why we need to get rid of Suzanna for a while?”
“The truth,” Jane firmly replied. “I’ll tell her the absolute truth.”
* * *
Grace quietly opened the back door of Sam’s house and peeked in. Seeing no one about, she paused, hearing nothing. Jonah, right behind her carrying a basket of fresh muffins and fruit was stopped short when Grace froze and pulled her shawl closer, a hand covering her mouth.
“Oh my word,” Grace whispered in shock as her eyes took in the disarray. Tempest’s beautiful dress was tossed over a chair, one of Effie silk stockings was snagged on a drawer pull and the other was wadded up on the floor. A woman’s corset, obviously Effie’s, was on top of the icebox.
Moving farther into the room, Grace stooped and picked up what remained of Effie’s drawers, realized what the shredded garment was and dropped them with a horrified gasp. The table was covered with a thick brown substance she was afraid to identify, but the most confusing thing was the pink satin ribbons hanging from the four corners of the table. Taking one in her fingers she let it slide through them while looking at Jonah in confusion.
There was a slight smile on his face as his eyes surveyed the room and he seemed to be blushing as he set the basket down.
“What happened here?” she demanded in a whisper.
“How would I know?” he hissed.
“Well, you’re the detective,” she snapped back, her eyes flashing as she righted a chair that had apparently been tipped over in some sort of struggle. Taking off her shawl, she pushed up her sleeves and moved toward the sink.
“My guess would be that Sam and Effie had a very interesting wedding night,” he replied with a cough as he covered his mouth. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to clean this mess up,” she informed him crisply as she took hold of the pump handle.
“Oh no, you’re not,” he stated firmly, striding across the room and stopping her. “We were asked to deliver a basket and that’s what we’ve done. The rest of this is none of our business.”
“I’m not going to have one of my best friends wake up to this mess, no matter what happened,” she insisted, letting her hand sweep the room. Noticing one of Effie’s pretty rosette garters in the sink, she plucked it out and shook it at her husband.
“Gracie, this is Sam and Effie’s home now. What goes on inside these walls is no concern of ours,” Jonah sternly informed her. “Now come along.”
“What if she’s hurt?” Grace asked, her expressive eyes filled with worry.
“Do you hear any screaming or crying?” he replied, frustrated as he pulled her toward the door.
“No, but…”
“But nothing. They deserve their privacy.”
“But what if that substance on the table is dried blood or something? I know she tries his patience at times. Perhaps he’s killed her,” she cried softly, digging in her heels.
Rolling his eyes, Jonah stopped and bent over the table, sniffing.
“I believe that is chocolate icing,” he snapped, tugging her to the door.
“Icing, I wonder if they had some sort of food fight,” Grace murmured. “I’m ashamed to admit we participated in those a couple of times at school. I should clean it up,” she repeated.
“Grace, we are leaving this house now,” he ordered as he slipped as arm around her waist and propelled her forward. “We need to forget we ever saw these things.”
“All right, if you’re sure,” she said hesitantly.
“I am, let’s go and be quiet.”
Grace fretted, dreaming up all kinds of scenarios on the ride back to the Jordon’s and grilling her husband as to the likeliness of each one. Jonah just shook his head, refusing to be drawn out on what he thought happened in that kitchen. Finally, she quieted and he heaved a relieved sigh before she tugged on his sleeve.
“Jonah?”
He kept his eyes on the road.
“Jonah?” she said, tugging harder.
“What is it, Gracie?” he muttered.
“I left my shawl there,” she whispered.
“Will Effie recognize it?”
Grace lo
oked at him and he appeared to be grinding his teeth. This was never a good sign.
“She gave it to me,” she admitted nervously.
“Wonderful, now they will know we were there this morning and witnessed…”
“What did we witness?” Grace asked, tipping her head to one side and gazing at him in anticipation.
“I think you’d better ask Effie about that,” he finally advised.
“I will and don’t you think I won’t,” she said, huffily straightening her skirts.
Jonah stopped the wagon, turned to his flame haired wife and kissed her until she sagged in his arms. Picking up the reins, he clicked his tongue and they were off, Grace hanging onto the seat.
“Make sure you tell me what she says,” he said with a grin.
“I’ll do no such thing,” she sassed back. “I think you know exactly what went on in that kitchen and just choose not to tell me,” she continued, her nose in the air.
Jonah laughed and whipped up the horse.
Chapter Five
Suzanna turned this way and that standing in front of the mirror and frowned. Lordy, she’d given better dresses to the rag man. The blue garment was faded and patched in several places. Not to mention it was so far beneath the current style it wasn’t funny.
No, these clothes of hers would not do, not if she wanted to catch a rich husband. It hadn’t mattered so much before Amelia returned to the house. The other girls were in much the same boat except for Martha, of course, who could make a stylish dress out of a flour sack if she had too, she thought with a grimace. She herself was only talented with a needle when it came to embroidery or needle point. Now she could see how pointless those skills were and she blamed her mama for making her waste so much time on pursuits that would neither feed nor clothe her.
She should have been learning useful skills like the northern girls who attended school. Mathematics and literature would have been much more useful than learning how to saucily snap her fan open and bat her eyes. Genteel manners and social graces were fine and would serve her well once she found her place in the world, but they were not much use in her current situation. Cole wouldn’t know if she poured tea properly or not and she was sure he could and would consume a plate of petit fours by the handful.
It enraged her every time she saw the lovely clothes Amelia and her friends wore. Suzanna considered herself prettier than the lot of them put together. What made them so special? She asked herself for the thousandth time. An education in a fancy eastern school, she thought, derisively. And Amelia was the worst of them all. Always so sweet and kind, it was sickening. Sneering, she caught sight of her expression and realizing how ugly it was, quickly smiled falsely. Well, Amelia could afford to be nice. If Suzanna were married to a wealthy, handsome young husband, she could be sweet and kind too. At least that Effie said what she really thought, and didn’t care who heard her.
Sam Jordon was a stern, no nonsense man. She recalled him threatening to switch them all the day he came with his mama and the “brides” were fighting. Hopefully, Effie had a perfectly miserable wedding night.
“I have to have a new dress, I simply have to,” she said out loud, sinking onto a window seat and looking out. The only decent things she owned were a few ball gowns, and they wouldn’t do at all, not if she was going to Portland, and she was definitely going to Portland!
Mr. Ferguson seemed interested last night and she used every trick she’d been taught at her mother’s knee to entice him. She’d simpered and fawned over him until she almost made herself nauseous, but it seemed to work. When she laid her hand on his forearm, he’d gently patted it. When she’d swayed on her feet, fanning herself and complaining of the heat, he’d slipped an arm about her waist and escorted her outside for a breath of air. He found her southern drawl charming, so he said, and she blushed prettily and thanked him, dropping into a graceful curtsey.
Mr. Ferguson had money, and lots of it according to what she’d managed to discover. While his logging operation was not as vast as the Jordon’s, it was prosperous and growing rapidly. Portland was an up and coming city, vying with Seattle for commerce. There were worse places to be. If she were clever enough to capture Mr. Ferguson’s heart as well as his interest, anything would be attainable.
Suzanna felt an unfamiliar pang of regret for Marshal Hadley, but it was short-lived. What was she to do? She’d been discovered in a very compromising situation and for all intents and purposes, she owed Jonathan Reynolds, the rough and crude logger who’d paid her fare west, close to three hundred dollars reparation for refusing to marry him. When Cole agreed to pay him off and marry her to boot, what could she say but yes, even though she had no intention of marrying so far beneath her.
Cole Hadley seemed a nice enough man. Maybe at some point they could have even become friends. The only reason she’d removed her corset and eaten like a field hand the night he dragged her away from Molly’s wedding was that she didn’t care a wit what he thought of her. Falling asleep under the stars had been a huge mistake. Waking up to a shotgun poking Cole in the belly was equally shocking. By accepting his hasty proposal she’d defused the situation and everyone went away happy, at least everyone but she and Cole.
There was no possible way he could be in love with her. No, Cole was trying to do the honorable thing and protect her reputation. Suzanna wasn’t sure she had one anyway after the way she’d thrown herself at Sam and been rejected. That was a bitter pill to swallow, especially in front of the northern bitch, Effie. Forgetting the humiliation would take a long time, if ever.
When Marshal Hadley threatened to switch her, it was just too much. Suzanna had never been struck, not in her entire life and she wasn’t about to put up with it now. Surely there had to be a man of wealth, power and privilege somewhere in this God forsaken territory who would treat her with the respect and deference she deserved? Suzanna was going to find him.
To do that she needed at least one new dress and it was too bad Cole had been called away. Something about clearing the name of a man wrongly accused. Why did he have to go off to be a do-gooder now when she needed him the most, she thought peevishly. He’d promised to give her some money to spruce up the house, as if that shack could get by with a few gee-gaws. Still, if he’d given it to her, she could have bought some yard goods and asked Martha to make her a dress.
Martha liked her, but then again Martha liked everyone. She always gave them the benefit of the doubt, foolish woman. It had been enough to keep Suzanna from stealing from her to add to her cache. Molly’s sapphire combs, Clara’s cameo brooch, and a string of pearls would fetch a pretty penny. Unfortunately, she had no one to take them to town and sell them. With her pretty face she would be remembered and recognized quickly, but maybe she could do it in Portland.
Yes, she had to get to Portland one way or the other.
Amelia rested back against a mountain of pillows as Hugh placed the tray across her lap.
“I don’t know why I couldn’t go down to breakfast with the others,” she complained. “They’ll think I’m unsociable.”
“Because I said so,” Hugh replied, “and I don’t particularly care what they think. Yesterday was a long and trying day and you’re going to rest if I have to sit on you.”
“That wouldn’t be good for the baby, and besides you have to go to work sometime,” she grinned. “Sam is on his honeymoon.”
“Sam is only a few miles away.”
“Yes, but I have a feeling he’s quite busy. I remember we were,” she said sadly with a pout.
“And we will be again,” Hugh assured her as he pulled up a chair, sat beside her and stroked her dark hair. “Grace and Effie have run you ragged this past week with last minute wedding preparations and you’re going to take it easy for a few days.”
“Oh, pooh,” she replied, pouring her tea. “I feel fine.”
“I’m happy to hear it. Now let’s talk about the girls.”
“I think Jane is right,” Amelia sighed,
taking a small bite of her toast. “I’d be surprised if any of them are over sixteen, and they’ve had a dreadful life if everything they say is true. Effie’s parents are leaving to return home at the end of the week. I’m sure they would agree to chaperone them back east and see them safely settled at Miss Pettigrew’s, but it won’t be cheap.”
“Nothing ever is,” Hugh sighed. “That advertisement cost me a passel of money in the long run. In fact, I’d better get to work,” he continued, looking at his pocket watch.
“But look what you got in return,” Amelia teased, slowly untying the ribbons of her blue ruffled bed jacket and exposing the creamy tops of her breasts barely confined by her nightgown.
“Behave yourself,” he scolded.
“Hugh, why don’t you come back to bed for a little while,” she cooed, leaning farther forward and increasing her cleavage.
“Amelia, you are a very bad girl,” he informed her, rising and staring down at her with a stern expression.
“Not yet I’m not, but I could be,” she teased, trailing her fingers over her nipple until it poked out stiffly.
“Hell,” Hugh growled, taking the tray from the bed and setting it on the floor before tearing off his shirt. “I’m not going to forget this, you little monster.”
“I should hope not,” she said with a giggle. Falling back against the pillows, she smiled, her arms crossed over her head as she watched him undress. What a magnificent man she married.
He was late for work and made even later when Suzanna came around the side of the house and asked if he would mind dropping her off at his mother’s. Apparently there was something of the utmost importance Suzanna wanted to discuss with her.
Hugh couldn’t imagine what that could be, but being a gentleman, he could hardly refuse her. After helping her into the carriage, he set off at a good clip.
“I hope your mother will be able to assist me,” Suzanna sighed mournfully.
“What is it, Miss Jefferies? Perhaps I can help.”
Suzanna Page 4