In the Shadow of the Mountains

by Rosanne Bittner

  “Sure, I’ll write you if you want. Just don’t write back, at least not directly to me. You can tell me all about the men you seduce there when you get back.”

  She watched the movement of his beautiful muscles as he reached for a shirt. “None of them will compare to you, Chad,” she told him.

  He grinned with great personal pleasure at the remark. “Why, thank you, little sister.” She scowled at the term he knew she hated, and he smiled. “I’ll see you tonight at your farewell dinner. Now hurry up and get dressed and get this bed in shape. We can’t always count on Irene not showing up. I’ve got to get back to the office before they begin wondering what’s taking me so long.” He buttoned and tucked in his shirt, then went to a mirror to adjust the small bow tie around the piccadilly collar of his shirt.

  Elly quickly hurried to the washroom to clean herself, careful not to leave behind any signs of her presence. The washrooms of both the Kirkland mansion and Irene’s home had gravity-forced running water that came from tanks on the upper floors, which were kept filled by the servants. Normally servants brought hot water to the washrooms every morning and every night, or on demand, as needed for washing and bathing. Today Elly had to make do with cold water, and she shivered as she washed. She threw the towels down the laundry chute so Irene would not find them.

  By the time she finished and came into the bedroom, still stark naked, Chad was fully dressed and ready to leave. “Remember what I said about the bed,” he told her.

  “I will.” Her eyes were suddenly moist. “Good-bye, Chad. Can’t I have one more hug?”

  He gave her his best smile and walked over to embrace her. “The time will go faster than you think,” he told her, “especially once you’re there and find out how much fun it is.” He pulled back, kissing her once more. “Don’t forget me.”

  “I could never forget you,” she answered, touching his handsome face. Chad made her feel pretty, wanted. She knew he didn’t really love her, but she owned him just the same. She didn’t worry about whether he would still want her when she got back, because he was afraid not to want her. She knew too much. She had Chad under her thumb, her mother and Irene totally fooled. The magnitude of her transgressions sometimes almost overwhelmed her, not with guilt but with great pleasure.

  Chad left, secretly relieved he would have a year, maybe two, without Elly around to pester him, although he would miss their romps in bed.

  The Rocky Mountain News could not find enough words to describe properly the importance of the meeting to be held between the Union Pacific officials and Denver’s powerful backers. The city’s very life depended upon the outcome of the meeting taking place at the Kirkland mansion this night.

  Irene sat at her dressing table helping Rose put a few finishing touches to her hair while Chad donned the jacket of his best suit. “Is this good enough to impress the men of the UP?” he asked, coming to stand in front of Irene.

  Rose looked up, and he winked at her. She reddened slightly, always somewhat stunned by Irene’s husband’s handsomeness, but also not trusting him. He had never made advances toward her, but she suspected it was only because she was so close to Irene. And if someone so rich and handsome, with a wife as utterly beautiful and sweet as Irene, would fool around with the servants, who else might he fool around with? She kept her suspicions to herself. It was not her business, she supposed, and Chad was always kind and gracious to her. Besides, she liked her job and did not intend to lose it.

  “You look wonderful, as always,” Irene told him.

  “I’ll go see to cleaning your shoes,” Rose told Irene, quickly leaving. She found it embarrassing to be in the bedroom when Irene and Chad were both there, and she had long ago vowed that if Chad Jacobs ever made advances toward her, she would turn him away. She loved and respected Irene too much to sleep with the poor woman’s wolf of a husband.

  “And you, as always, are beautiful,” Chad told Irene. He looked in her mirror to adjust his tie. Irene watched him, wishing she could trust him but knowing she couldn’t. He never offered explanations for the frequent nights he came home much too late, often smelling of cheap perfume; and Irene continued to wonder where she had gone wrong. She wanted so much to love him totally, to feel he loved her the same way, but there was a strange emptiness about Chad Jacobs. Physically he was as much man as any woman could want. But emotionally he seemed cold; unreachable. The closest he had come to showing any true feelings had been after Sand Creek. But once he got over that, he had returned to his usual carefree, devilish nature, always clamming up whenever she wanted to talk about anything serious, always avoiding her questions about his family.

  If only he would talk to her, she thought, truly talk to her, it might be easier. They had come to live a life of let’s pretend: pretending to be a happily married couple, pretending he did not see other women, pretending she worked at her stores and the shelter because she liked being busy, when she only kept herself busy to keep from thinking about how unhappy she was.

  She continued to struggle to be a good wife, searching for ways to get through to her husband, letting him make love to her because she feared he would stray even more if she didn’t, praying she would get pregnant, but still she had not conceived.

  Somehow she had to survive this marriage, wait things out. Why did Chad want other women? Why did he leave her so emotionally starved? She had never dreamed that two years into a marriage to the most desired man in Denver she could be this unhappy. They shared their bodies, but she had never been able to see into his soul.

  “I’m ready if you are,” he said, donning a top hat.

  Irene adjusted her own silk-and-straw bonnet, and Rose came back with her shoes, helping her get them on. “Is the buggy ready?” Irene asked.

  “Yes.” Chad was looking in her mirror again. She suddenly realized that Chad Jacobs was probably more in love with himself than anyone else. He turned his head different ways to see how he looked in the hat. “This is an important night, Irene. Your mother has worked hard pleading our case to the Union Pacific. We need that railroad.”

  “I know. It’s odd that Red McKinley holds such a high position with them now. I’m glad for him, though. I always liked Red.”

  “Hmmm.” He turned to look at her. “For some reason your mother didn’t—thought he was a bad influence on your father, I guess.” He did not tell her exactly how Bea had taken the mill from under Red and left him broke.

  “I know she didn’t like Father loaning Red that money, but Mother said it got paid back. I think that’s wonderful. I knew Father could count on Red.”

  “Well, don’t be so sure of that. The man works for the railroad now, and that kind of power and money can often make a man push friendship aside. I’m not sure what is going to happen tonight.” He looked her over, putting out his arm. “This could be a very interesting evening, Mrs. Jacobs.”

  She smiled at him, taking his arm, wondering how a man could be so tender and considerate sometimes, yet so difficult to love.

  Bea and Kirk welcomed the top echelon of Denver into their home, Irene and Chad standing beside them. After most of the invited guests had arrived, the railroad executives made their appearance—four men, arriving in a fancy, polished carriage. They came to the door of the Kirkland mansion, eyes unreadable, led by none other than Red McKinley, who smiled and nodded at the servant who took his silk top hat and gloves.

  With a sting of jealousy at the man’s apparent success with the railroad, Bea noticed Red wore a dark silk suit with velvet-trimmed lapels, the jacket short-waisted at the front but with knee-length tails at the back. A silk brocade vest could be seen beneath the open jacket front, a gold watch chain hanging from a pocket. A silk tie graced the piccadilly collar of his shirt. His hair was cut more neatly than Bea remembered, and he had shaved his red beard, leaving only a fine-looking mustache.

  Bea watched him with a smile on her face but bitter hatred in her heart as he and his associates approached the Kirklands. She knew i
nstantly by the look in his blue eyes that Kirk was right. Red McKinley had not forgotten his wounded pride, and Bea began to worry. Red approached Kirk first, taking his hand, both men almost glaring at each other. Kirk was sorry about what had happened, but he was not about to let Red ruin Denver or Irene and the Kirkland family over it. Bea could see they were gripping hands more tightly than necessary, longing for open warfare.

  “Welcome back, Red,” Kirk said stoically. “Congratulations on the fine position you’re found with the railroad. I’m sorry for any hard feelings you might have had when you left Denver, and I mean that.”

  “I’m sure you do, old friend. But some things run deeper than friendship, don’t they?” The man glanced at Bea, then back to Kirk. “The railroad is a great business, Kirk. It can make a poor man rich in no time at all. I trust you got your money.”

  “The extra wasn’t necessary. If I had been here—”

  “If you had been here, I might never have landed my position with the railroad.” He glanced at Bea again. “So, I suppose I should thank your wife for that,” he said dryly. He quickly turned and began introducing his cohorts, deliberately leaving Bea out of the introductions, passing her by then and going directly to Irene, leaving Bea to introduce herself awkwardly.

  Bea raged inside at the affront. The man was trying to show he was more important than she was! She watched in near terror as he talked to Irene and Chad, but she saw only genuine friendliness in his eyes as he held Irene’s hand. Irene congratulated him on his new position with the railroad, telling him how sorry she was that the flood over two years ago had ruined him. Red knew that she meant it, was sure she didn’t know the truth about how her mother had all but kicked him out of Denver. He squeezed her hand. No, he wouldn’t destroy this innocent, beautiful woman. But he would do some damage to Denver, and to Bea Kirkland’s pride before this night was over.

  He glanced at Bea, watching her practically grovel at the feet of his associates, and knew she was sure the reason for the meeting was to discuss bringing the railroad through Denver. He smiled and turned back to Irene. “I kind of fell into the job because of my scouting skills,” he told her. “I helped map out the best route, then was chosen to manage some of the land deals,” he explained. “I’ll say one thing about the railroad business, Irene—it’s one of great opportunity, where a nobody can be a somebody in no time at all if he plays his cards right. It’s a very lucrative business too—big money, almost as big as gold.”

  “I’m sure it must be, considering the importance to the whole country a transcontinental railroad will have,” Irene answered. “And building a railroad must take considerable investment—bonds, land purchases, government loans, private investments…”

  His eyebrows arched. “You’ve become quite the businesswoman since last I knew you.”

  She smiled, and he saw the genuine sweetness still in her eyes. “I’m a Kirkland, Red. We end up knowing the ins and outs of business whether we like it or not.”

  He leaned closer and winked, while Bea glanced at them again, hating the man for having power over her simply because he knew the Kirkland secret. “And I’ll bet you don’t like it,” he told Irene. “I’ll bet sometimes you’d rather leave it all and go to the mountains, just like your father.”

  The memory of their trip together always brought a soft glow to Irene’s heart. Would she ever get to go back? “Yes,” she answered. “You know me too well, Red.”

  A sadness seemed to come into his eyes then. “Oh, yes, child.” He glanced at Bea to make sure she was listening. “I know you better than you think,” he finished. He turned to Chad and spoke a few words. Servants brought out drinks and appetizers while a small orchestra played soft music. There was a lot of talk about the coming railroad, but none of the UP officials were giving any indication it would not come through Denver.

  A nervous Bea stayed unusually close to her husband, hating him for creating all this tension, but aware that Red’s fondness for Kirk and Irene was the only chance Denver had of not being all but destroyed financially. Red’s pompous attitude grated on her nerves, and she was beside herself with jealousy and anger at his new importance. She never dreamed he would ever amount to anything once he left Denver, and now here he was, in a position to make or break the Queen City!

  The railroad officials were served the finest wines and an elegant dinner of lobster, steaks, or prime rib at the huge dining table. “The beef is from our own ranch in southern Colorado,” Bea informed them. “We have several thousand acres now, and are raising English Herefords—the best beef you’ll ever eat. When the railroad comes to Denver, the cattle market will triple.”

  The railroad men said nothing. Everyone expressed pleasure at the grand meal, which included a variety of potatoes and vegetables, fruits and salads, followed by chocolate pie and ice cream, the newest craze in desserts. Once the meal was finished, Red, who sat at one end of the table with Kirk at the other, cleared his throat and rose, quieting everyone at the table. Denver’s founders watched the man with great anticipation, full of pride and enthusiasm at what the railroad would do for Denver.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it is with mixed feelings that we come here to meet with you,” Red announced. Immediately Bea’s heart began to sink as Red’s eyes moved to meet hers. “You have been very gracious to us, and the whole country recognizes Denver’s contribution to progress in what men like myself and David Kirkland remember as wild, untamed country. Twenty years ago we never would have dreamed the West could grow so quickly, or that a group of tent dwellers could, in seven or eight years’ time, turn a little settlement along a creek into a major city, one with few rivals.”

  He sipped his wine, the room nearly dead silent. Bea studied Red, while Kirk glanced at the other railroad men, noticing they all wore the same smug look.

  “But, alas,” Red continued, “Denver does have its rivals. Other cities have also made their mark in the West.” He paused. “We are here, as you know, to let you know our decision regarding the best route for the Union Pacific.” His eyes moved to Kirk. “My old friend David Kirkland, an experienced mountain man, knows there is only one reasonably easy way over the Rockies. What would you say that route is, Kirk?”

  Kirk glared at him, reddening slightly. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  Red smiled. “All right. The only reasonable route over the Rockies is the South Pass, near Fort Bridger in Wyoming.” Bea remembered the place well, remembered again that whole, horrible first trip west. “Then on through the Nevada desert,” Red continued. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, the UP has to be practical. A transcontinental railroad is no small undertaking, and the cost will be phenomenal. So, we have to cut costs wherever possible, which means taking the most direct route possible. Using the South Pass as our point through the mountains leaves us no choice—and I tell you this with extreme regret—but to stay to the north and take the railroad through Cheyenne.”

  “This is an outrage,” one man spoke up. “It’s a deliberate insult to Denver!”

  “We’ll die without the railroad,” another put in. “Businesses will pull out on us!”

  “What about Colorado’s cattle industry?” said another. “Who made this decision?”

  Red looked at Bea, half smiling, watching her face redden with her own unexpressed rage. He enjoyed the fact that there was absolutely nothing she could say. She couldn’t very well rise up and accuse him of making this a personal vendetta. After all, to do so would mean she would have to admit how she had treated him. Everyone would know what a crook she was. And if she insulted him too badly in public, she had to worry whether he would tell the world that Kirk’s own son was the hated Cheyenne warrior responsible for some of the worst of the raids.

  “A lot of thought was given to this decision,” Red said. “The final decision was Doctor Durant’s, and he sent us to express our regrets.”

  “My God, we’re finished,” one man mumbled. “I’ve got to get home and start making plans right
now to pull out. It’s Cheyenne that will grow now, not Denver.”

  “Don’t be so hasty,” Kirk spoke up. He rose, glaring at Red. “We’ll find a way around this, McKinley. The people of Denver have survived a lot of things. They’ll survive this.”

  “Kirk, without the railroad—”

  “I said we’d find a way around this,” Kirk interrupted the man who had spoken. “Right now I’m calling a meeting, so I guess our guests will have to leave. We have business to tend to. There will be no dancing and refreshments in the ballroom.” He met Red’s eyes. “When you wound Denver, you wound me,” he told Red. “I take it personally. You deliberately let us wine and dine you, let us make fools of ourselves. This friendship is over, Red. Get out of my house!”

  Bea was surprised, but pleased, at Kirk’s treatment of his old friend and the way he had suddenly taken charge.

  “Father, I’m sure he tried—”

  “Don’t say it, Irene,” Kirk told his daughter. “Let the snake slither out the way he came.”

  Both men’s eyes held a challenge, but Red’s expression was victorious. “Well, gentlemen,” he said to his colleagues, “we are apparently being asked to leave.” He looked around the table. “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. But then you’re all businessmen”—he moved his eyes to Bea—“and women,” he added. “You understand practical economics. It’s called cutting costs in order to reap the most profit.” He nodded to Bea, then glanced at Irene, sobering. “I’m very sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. He turned and asked for his hat, and the other railroad men followed suit.

  “What was that all about,” Chad asked Irene, “looking at you and saying he’s sorry?”

  “I have no idea,” Irene answered.

  Bea, totally shaken, blinked back tears as she looked at Kirk. “What are we going to do?” she said brokenly. “This could turn Denver into a ghost town.”