Grace

by Peggy McKenzie

  Hope spoke up. “How are we gonna get from Kansas City, Missouri, to this Creede, Colorado? We don’t have money for a ticket. Besides, if we all skip outta town together, won’t that raise suspicions? You know, with the dead man rolled up in our rug and all.”

  “First, I’m gonna make a visit to my friend down at the newspaper office and get him to find me one of them letters from Creede requesting a wife. Then, I’m gonna pay for one of you to travel with my cousin to her new home right there in that town. It ain’t gonna be easy but it’s the only chance we got to get you all outta here.”

  Charity stepped forward. “Why we gotta leave at all, Rosie? Ain’t nobody gonna know who shot that old piece of filth. Why can’t we just stay here and act like everything’s fine as frog’s hair?”

  “Because it ain’t for certain there won’t be an investigation when that body is found. If the sheriff comes nosing around, it could get risky if someone gives off nervous vibrations.” Rosie threw a quick look in Faith’s direction.

  All the girls nodded in agreement. Faith would never be able to keep up the pretense and Grace knew Charity would never be able to keep her mouth shut. They were sunk for sure if people started asking questions. They had to act quickly.

  “You mean one of us is going to this faraway place…and marry a stranger?” Faith’s trembling voice whispered the question.

  “Who’s gonna be the one to go?” Hope asked.

  “I guess it has to be me since I’m the one that killed that man.” Faith dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.

  Grace looked at Faith and she swore the poor girl was going to faint dead away. “Sweetheart, you can’t be the one for the same reason you were attacked. We love you and we see your kindness. But you know as well as the rest of us what people see when they look at you.”

  Tears slipped down Faith’s cheek. “I know. All they see is a savage Indian.”

  Charity stepped up and roughly hugged Faith. Grace and Hope exchanged surprised looks. Their outspoken sister was not one for showing emotion. Always claimed it made her look weak.

  Rosie looked at each of the girls one-by-one and then back to Grace. “It’s gonna be up to you girls to figure out which one. It’ll take someone strong and smart and self-sacrificing. Someone who can hold their tongue.” Rosie looked pointedly at Charity and then came back to rest on Grace. “I think we all know which one it should be, but I’ll let you girls decide amongst yourselves. You’ve got until Sunday to make yer decision.”

  2

  Creede, Colorado

  John Malone read the letter again, trying to make sense of it all.

  Dear Mr. Malone,

  I am most honored to accept your proposal of marriage. We can marry immediately upon my arrival in Creede, Colorado. Thank you for your kind offer and, I assure you, I will work very hard and I will not give you cause to regret your offer."

  With warmest regards,

  Grace Sinclair

  John shook his head to clear the confusion from his mind. This was not of his doing. Someone was playing a terrible trick on him. Was this woman in on the joke or was she an innocent victim in this heartless hoax?

  He had no desire to ever wed again. He did his best not to allow his ghosts from the past into the present, but the unbidden thoughts of Lizzie begging him not to go and leave her alone never failed to stab him in the gut. The piercing pain left him unable to breathe. He wadded up the letter and threw it on the ground, stomping it with his boot. He swore he would never be responsible for another human being again. Not as long as he lived.

  Reluctantly, he picked up the crumpled letter and smoothed it out, needing to read it again. His large, callused hands turned the letter over and over as if the answer to this mystery would magically appear. He would swear it was a mistake of delivery but the envelope, though tattered and torn, was plainly addressed to him. The return address was from Kansas City. Missouri.

  Strong fingers raked through shaggy hair long overdue for a barber’s shears. He scratched at his overlong beard. This letter was certainly perplexing. He didn’t know anyone in Kansas City. Hell, he didn’t know anyone much past the San Luis Valley. He had lived around this area most of his life. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t make sense of what the hell this letter meant.

  John stood and slapped his dusty hat against his dirty work trousers. He would get to the bottom of this as soon as this woman, what was her name? He looked at the letter again. Grace Sinclair. The minute this Grace woman stepped off the Denver & Rio Grande train, he would be there to set her straight. He was not now, nor was he ever, getting married again.

  He looked at his pocket watch. Finished with his usual chores of stacking hay and chopping firewood, there wasn't enough time to start the repairs on the corral fence. He had plenty of time to get cleaned up and get to town before the three o'clock train arrived. He wanted to get to the bottom of this puzzlement. Anxious to get this matter settled, he made his decision.

  John stood and made his way up the steep stairs and inside the beautiful spacious cabin he had built for his wife. But she was gone now. The painful memories squeezed his heart in a vicious grip.

  Maybe he should sell this place he built for Lizzie. Leave this part of the country. Start fresh somewhere that wasn’t haunted by his dead wife. And baby boy. He shook off the suffocating grip of regret and headed for the indoor privacy room. He had built that for Lizzie too. The agony of losing his family was never far from his thoughts.

  Stripping off his dirty work clothes, he filled the tub with water. He didn’t take the time to heat it. He needed to get out of this ghost-ridden house and head to town.

  He lay back in the tepid war, closed his eyes and let his thoughts go anywhere they wanted. As long as they stayed away from Lizzie and the boy.

  Maybe he needed a break from his freight-hauling business. A trip somewhere different. Someplace he and Lizzie had never been. And there it was again. Lizzie’s memory stabbing deep into his aching chest. He would never forgive himself for leaving her alone, ignoring her pleas for him to stay.

  John grabbed the bar of soap and cleaned the sweat and grime from his skin with vicious strokes. Satisfied he was clean, he pulled the rope and released buckets of water from the cistern out back through the pipe in the wall. Lizzie had been so happy when she saw the bathtub and shower for the first time. Damn it. Would her memories ever leave him in peace?

  Stepping out of the tub, he didn’t bother to dry. His strides mirrored his anger as he entered the bedroom he had once shared with Lizzie. Yanking clean clothes from the bureau, he dressed. Snapping his suspenders in place, he jammed his hat on his head and headed through the spacious rooms and out the front door. His mind was made up. There was no way in hell he was going to share his life, his home, his love with anyone besides his beloved Lizzie. No. Way. In. Hell.

  He just needed to figure out how to explain to this woman who had traveled all this way that he didn’t write the letter. Then he was gonna find out who pulled this dirty trick on him and beat the livin’ daylights out of them.

  He busied himself with harnessing his six prized bay to his freight wagon and turned them toward town.

  The ride into town never failed to take his breath away. He loved these beautiful mountains. The river. And the smells. God he loved the smell of pines after a morning rain. He thought he could sell the cabin, but could he live anywhere else? He wasn’t convinced just yet no matter how much he wanted to escape.

  He did his best to keep busy hauling freight for the mines and the railroads night and day. But when he finally did lay his head on his pillow at night, ghosts from the past haunted his dreams and he woke tired each morning. And angry. Tired of missing his family and wanting them back with every ounce of his soul. Angry because he had no one to blame but himself for their absence.

  He snapped the reins on his team of six perfectly matched bay draft horses. It would have been easier and quicker to ride his saddle horse to town, but he wanted to
make the trip as productive as possible. The railroad was looking for teamsters to haul equipment and supplies for their expansion past Creede and over the mountain. He wanted to be that man. And he needed supplies for home. His garden was done for the summer so he needed to stock up on dried beans, hard tack, flour, sugar. Hell, he needed just about everything. He hadn’t been much on cooking just for one. Guess he could work on that this winter. Maybe bake that chocolate cake like Lizzie used to. Damn.

  Four hours later, he reined in his team of bays in front of the livery. He flipped the boy a coin and told him he’d be back in a few hours. John walked the short distance to the Holy Moses Saloon. He intended to grab a bite of lunch and a beer but the second those swinging doors snapped closed behind him, his plans were hijacked by his best friend, Billy Buchanan, sitting at the bar celebrating the birth of his youngest sister’s baby. It didn’t take John long to realize he was in big trouble.

  3

  Grace stepped off the train and onto the depot's wooden decking. The trip west had been exciting since she had never been outside the city limits of Kansas City. At least, not that she knew of. Agnes Hanover, Rosie’s cousin, acting as Grace’s chaperone, had been very pleasant company. She filled the long hours across the endless miles with amusing stories about her husband, Hiram, the attorney with a keen eye for spotting tomfoolery. Apparently, being the wife of an experienced attorney in an up-and-coming city like Creede made for a very lucrative and interesting lifestyle.

  According to Mrs. Hanover, her husband had come to the newly minted mining town last spring to procure a home and establish his practice. She was only now following her husband because of the many details in selling their home and furnishings in Philadelphia.

  Grace looked around the platform. Activity made the train station a beehive of movement. Mothers were scurrying to control their children, and people rushed to welcome travelers arriving on the train. She liked the feel of this town. Maybe she could make this work. All she had to do was play the part of a demure, virginal city girl wanting to be the perfect wife. Okay, the virginal part came easy, but demure. That was something she would have to work on.

  Mrs. Hanover stepped onto the platform behind her and popped open her parasol.

  "Where is your husband-to-be, Miss Sinclair? I don't believe any of these men have the appearance of an eager bridegroom."

  Grace’s shaky fingers dug into her satchel and retrieved the letter she carried. She hoped he hadn't already discovered her ruse. Impossible. It would take several weeks for someone to carry the truth this far west and longer for the law to connect her with the dead man in the alley. At least she hoped that would be the case. Relax, Grace. She took a deep breath to expel some of her nervous energy and re-read the letter.

  "The letter at the newspaper said I should ask the sheriff to send word to him once I arrived in town.”

  Mrs. Hanover looked at the watch pinned to her shoulder.

  "It's five minutes after three. Hiram will be here soon. Come home with us and my husband can send word to the sheriff to contact your bridegroom. There he is now.”

  Agnes waved to a man riding in the back of an expensive-looking carriage pulled by two beautiful palomino horses. The gentleman waved back, grinning from ear to ear, obviously glad to see his wife.

  The carriage pulled close to the platform next to the stairs. The well-dressed man of ample girth disembarked from the carriage. The driver jumped down and held the horses while Agnes’s husband climbed the steps toward them.

  “Hiram, darling. It’s so good to see you.”

  “Aggie, sweetheart. It feels like it’s been years since I left Philadelphia. How was your trip?”

  “I know. It feels like forever for me too. The trip was uneventful and long. I stopped in Kansas City to visit my cousin, Rosie. You remember her, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. Is she still running that— “Grace noted the quick glance in her direction, “place?”

  “Yes, she is still a very successful businesswoman.”

  Changing the subject, Mrs. Hanover pointed to Grace. “Hiram, dear, this is a lovely young woman who has traveled to Creede in answer to one of your prospective groom’s advertisement for a bride. Grace Sinclair, my husband, Hiram Hanover.”

  Hiram tipped his hat to Grace and bowed. “So nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Sinclair. Will you be meeting your groom here at the station?”

  Mrs. Hanover answered for her. “No, her letter says she’s to notify the sheriff of her arrival. He will know where to find her husband-to-be.”

  Ten minutes later, Grace found herself bundled into the supple leather seat of the Hanovers’ carriage, covered with a soft fur rug. Before today, she only imagined what this would feel like.

  Mr. Hanover leaned into the carriage and gave his wife a kiss on her cheek.

  “I’ll arrange for the delivery of your trunks, my dear and then I’ll be along. You take our guest, Miss Sinclair, is it?”

  Grade nodded.

  “Well, then, Aggie dear, get Miss Sinclair settled while I notify the sheriff of her arrival.” Nodding to them both, he spoke to Grace. “Your groom should be along as soon as he receives the news.”

  Mr. Hanover bowed with a flourish to them and nodded for the driver to proceed.

  Grace sat in silence on the way to the Hanovers’ new home. Why hadn’t the man met her at the station? What if something had happened to Mr. Malone? Should she seek another groom immediately if he didn’t show up? Would she have trouble finding another groom on this short of notice? Not according to Rosie. When she returned from the newspaper with letter in hand, she said there were hundreds to choose from. She chose one written by a man with a kind heart. When Grace questioned her how she knew he was kind-hearted, she replied, “Because the letter is filled with pleases and thank-yous. If the man’s momma taught him that much, she surely taught him the proper way to treat a lady.”

  Grace wasn’t certain she agreed with Rosie’s assessment of the man’s character but she had to trust that Rosie knew what she was doing by setting her on this journey. Besides, she couldn’t go back. The girls were depending on her to help start a new life. She wouldn’t let them down.

  Her money was limited. Hope and Charity had pitched in what they could. Faith tried to give her every cent she had but Grace told her to hang on to it because they would need it when they all got to Creede. Grace could tell Faith did her best to act like she believed Grace’s promise, but Grace knew Faith didn’t have much—well, faith in white people’s promises. That was one of the reasons Reverend Baker gave her the name. He said she needed to have faith that things would work out. All she had to do was believe.

  Grace wanted more than anything to keep that promise and she would do everything she could to make it happen. If her perspective groom didn’t work out and she couldn’t find a suitable replacement, she would beg Mr. Hanover for a job. Or she could always go back to dealing cards. She’d rather not resort to that. She was fairly certain polite society, even in an old dusty mining town, would not think kindly of a woman card dealer. No, she and her sisters had bet everything on her new husband-to-be. She had to trust this would all work out.

  She did her best to keep her fears in check, but her facade was slipping and she was near tears by the time they arrived at Mrs. Hanover's new home.

  "Well, my Hiram certainly has good taste, does he not, Miss Sinclair?" The woman beamed.

  Grace nodded. The house was beautiful. What she would give to live in a place such as this.

  She followed Mrs. Hanover up the stairs leading to a large covered porch. The door was opened by a middle-aged woman. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Hanover. It is so nice to meet you. My name is Sarah and I'm your housekeeper. Please. Let me take your things. Is there anything I can get for you?"

  "Thank you, Sarah. I’ve heard good things about you from Hiram. Tea, if you please, Sarah. And bread pudding, if you have any. Grace?"

  Grace wasn’t certain her nervous stomach c
ould handle anything. "Thank you, I'll just have tea."

  “Wonderful. I want to see the rest of the house. Please make yourself comfortable. I will be back shortly.”

  Grace sat on the sofa in the parlor facing the window. She watched the activity on the street outside and tried her best not to worry. So caught up in her musings, she did not hear Mr. Hanover enter the room until his nearby voice caused her to jump.

  "My dear Miss Sinclair. There's no need to be distraught. I had the opportunity to stop by my office on the way to notify the sheriff of your arrival. I inquired of my legal assistant, Liam, who was responsible for the investigations on prospective grooms. It seems this Mr. John Malone you are to marry is from an upstanding and well-respected family in these parts. He owns his own freight-hauling business so it appears he is more than able to care for a wife. It is only a matter of determining the whereabouts of the lad. I have notified the sheriff of your arrival and he is out looking for him now. I can assure you by the end of day, you will be a married woman."

  He patted her shoulder in the manner of a father offering comfort. Grace tried to relax but now that the moment of her matrimony to a total stranger was near, she felt ill.

  Mrs. Hanover swept into the room and hugged her husband warmly. Grace stood to allow the couple to sit together on the settee. She moved toward the window, glancing through the lace curtains. She paid little attention to what the Hanovers were talking about. Instead, she continued staring out the window, doing her very best not to worry. What if her groom-to-be didn't show up? She needed to think of an alternative plan to get the girls out here just in case...

  It was at that moment a bearded, shaggy-haired man accompanied by a man with a star on his chest turned and walked up the Hanovers' walkway. What the hell?

  Grace thought she might faint at any moment even though she wasn't normally the fainting kind. The sound of boots on the wooden porch couldn't muffle the pounding of her heart beating wildly in her chest. A sense of dread covered her like a funeral shroud.