He had gotten suspicious when they invited her and Alan home for Christmas the year before, only to receive a curt note from Alan sending their regrets.
William shook his head. He knew his daughter, knew she would have jumped at the chance to come home for Christmas. He had gotten truly worried six months ago when he wrote to tell her that her grandmother was ill and had gotten no reply at all. Something was wrong. Even if Alan had poisoned her mind against her parents, Kaylynn would have come home to see her grandmother, or at least written to express her concern. Kaylynn and Grandmother Dearmond had always been close.
Rising, he began to pace the floor, the sound of his footsteps seeming unusually loud in the room. It was Sunday, and the building was empty. He had come to the office to catch up on some work, but it had been a waste of time.
Going to the window, he stared out at the street. He had never trusted Alan Summers, never liked the man. Without telling Elizabeth, he had hired a detective to go to San Francisco and check on Kaylynn’s welfare. The man had been gone four months. On returning, the detective had reported that, in all that time, he had seen no sign of Kaylynn. He had gone to the house himself on one occasion, passing himself off as a census taker. A maid had answered the door and ushered him inside, where he had spoken to a woman, but it had not been Kaylynn. He had sent others to the house on various errands. None of them had ever seen Kaylynn.
He glanced at the photograph on his desk. It was a picture of Kaylynn, taken on her wedding day. His little girl. She looked like a fairy-tale princess in a froth of white satin and lace.
He smiled, remembering how she had loved to play dress-up and make-believe. Once, the house had echoed with the sound of her happy laughter. She had liked to pretend she was a doctor, to lay her dolls in a row on the bed and pretend they were sick, or hurt. He recalled the baby bird she had found, the long hours she had spent caring for it, how surprised he had been that it hadn’t died. She had cried the day it had flown away. His heart ached when he remembered how she had followed him around the house. She had loved to wear his slippers, to play with his pipes, to sit on his lap while he read to her.
Where was she now?
Chapter Thirty
By the time the stage arrived in Cedar Junction, Kaylynn was heartily sick of the constant jarring and bouncing, the curses of the stagecoach driver, the hurried meals, which always included beans, the impossibility of getting a good night’s sleep aboard a moving stagecoach, the grit that seeped inside her shoes and her clothes. The coach grew more crowded. At one time, there were nine people crammed inside, including three young children who wiggled and whined the whole time.
At one stop, while waiting for fresh horses, Kaylynn read a brief account of riding on a stagecoach that had been written by Mark Twain, which described a stagecoach as “a cradle on wheels”. He went on to say, “We rode atop of the flying coach, dangled our legs over the side and leveled an outlook over the world-wide carpet about us for things new and strange to gaze at. It thrills me to think of the life and the wild sense of freedom of those fine overland mornings.”
But Kaylynn found the ride neither thrilling nor exciting. Fifteen inches of seat, with a fat man on one side, and a lady with a colicky baby across the aisle was not her idea of a fun trip.
She stood on the stage station platform while Jesse retrieved their luggage, such as it was, and his horse.
As always, their first stop was a livery barn. From there, they went to the railway depot, where he purchased two tickets at a cost of three hundred and fifty dollars and secured a place for the roan in the stock car.
“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to just buy another horse?” Kaylynn asked as they left the livery and began walking down the street.
“Maybe,” Jesse said, settling his saddlebags over his shoulder, “but I spent a lot of time training that mare. We’ve ridden a lot of miles together.”
“Oh. How long will it take to reach New York?”
“Three days. They gave me two berths, an upper and a lower. You can have your pick.”
“Either one is fine.”
“So, what do you want first?” Jesse asked. “A hot bath, or a decent meal?”
“A bath,” she said without hesitation.
“A bath it is,” Jesse said, and taking her by the arm, he led her across the street to the hotel.
It was a far sight more luxurious than the hotel in Twin Bluffs. Thick Oriental carpets covered the highly polished hardwood floors. Heavy maroon-colored draperies hung at the windows. Several high-backed sofas covered in rich damask provided places for guests to sit and read the newspaper or visit with other guests. An ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling.
A clerk dressed in a dark-brown tweed suit and mustard-colored cravat greeted them from behind a shiny mahogany desk.
“May I help you, sir?” His voice was carefully polite as he tried not to stare at the scar on Jesse’s face.
“I’d like two rooms, adjoining.”
“Yes, sir.” The clerk placed a thick leather book on the desk and flipped it open. “If you’ll just sign here.”
Taking the pen the man offered, Jesse signed their names.
“The lady would like a bath.”
“Of course.” The clerk smiled at Kaylynn. “The bathing room is at the end of the corridor on the second floor. Here is the key.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll have the tub filled right away. You’ll find clean towels on the shelf.”
Kaylynn nodded.
Turning, the clerk plucked two keys from the board behind him. “Rooms 107 and 109, adjoining. I trust you will find them satisfactory.”
Jesse nodded, acutely aware of the clerk’s curious gaze.
“How long will you be staying with us?”
“Just overnight.”
“Very good, sir.”
Taking Kaylynn’s carpetbag, Jesse walked briskly toward the long, curved stairway.
“Jesse, wait!”
He paused at the foot of the stairs, giving her time to catch up with him. He was used to people staring, used to seeing the questions in their eyes, questions they didn’t have the nerve to ask. He didn’t know why the clerk’s curious glances bothered him so much now, but they did.
Kaylynn laid her hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?”
Jesse shook his head and started up the stairs, and she trailed behind him, one hand sliding up the polished banister.
“Jesse?”
“Forget it.” He reached the landing and glanced up and down, then turned to the left and walked down the hallway.
Room 107 was located halfway down the corridor on the left side. Jesse opened the door, then handed Kaylynn her satchel.
“Leave the water in the tub.”
“I’m sure they’ll refill the tub for you.”
Jesse shrugged. “No need. Just rap on my door when you’re done.”
“All right.” She studied his face a moment, then went into her room and closed the door, wondering what was wrong.
Taking the blue muslin dress from her bag, she went down the hallway to the bathing room. Inside, she found a stool, a large enameled tub filled with steamy water, several fluffy white towels and a bar of lavender-scented soap.
She sat down on the stool and removed her hat, boots, garters and stockings. Rising, she removed her traveling suit and undergarments and laid them over the stool.
She put one foot in the tub, sighed with pleasure as she stepped in and sank down, letting the deliciously hot water close over her. Was there anything that felt as wonderful? she mused, and then smiled. Yes, she thought. Jesse’s arms around her, the gentle touch of his hand in her hair, the heat of his kisses, his breath fanning her cheek, his weight pressing her down as he whispered that he adored her…
A warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water suffused her. Jesse… He was the most wonderful man she had ever known. She thought of him constantly, dreamed of him, yearned to touch h
im, to be in his arms, to hear his voice. She loved the sound of his voice, his laugh. She shook her head. Admit it, she thought. You love him. You love everything about him.
She would have lingered in the tub until the water cooled but, wanting the water to still be hot for Jesse, she washed quickly and stepped from the tub.
She towel-dried her hair, then dressed in the blue muslin. Gathering up her traveling suit, she left the room and went down the hall to knock on Jesse’s door.
He seemed surprised to see her. “Finished so soon?” he asked.
She shrugged. “The water’s still hot, if you hurry.”
“Thanks.”
“Jesse, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you so distant? Have I done something wrong?”
“No, Kaylynn. You haven’t done anything. Let me get washed up, and then we’ll go get something to eat.”
“All right.”
He came for her a short time later and they went down to the hotel dining room to eat. The dining room was as plush as the rest of the hotel. Starched linen cloths covered the tables. The chairs were covered in forest-green velvet. Valanced curtains hung at the windows. There were fresh flowers on each table, crystal and silver and china instead of the speckled blue enamel and tin she’d become accustomed to on the trail.
She ordered fried chicken. Jesse ordered a steak, rare.
She asked for a glass of milk. He asked for coffee, black.
“Oh, look,” she said, “there’s John Porter.”
Jesse grunted softly as he saw the man take a seat at a nearby table. Porter nodded at him, and smiled at Kaylynn.
“Maybe we should ask him to join us,” Kaylynn suggested, “so he won’t have to eat alone.”
Jesse shook his head. There was something about Porter that bothered him, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. Still, his instincts had never proven wrong, and there was something about the man that didn’t ring true.
After dinner, they took a stroll through the town, then returned to the hotel.
At her door, Jesse drew her into his arms and kissed her. “Sweet dreams, darlin’.”
She smiled up at him. “All of you.”
“Goodnight, Kay.”
“Night, Jesse.”
He was about to kiss her again when he heard footsteps. Turning, he saw John Porter walking toward them.
“Evening,” Porter said. He stopped at the door across from Kaylynn’s and pulled a key from his pocket. “See you two in the morning,” he said, and unlocking the door, he went inside and shut the door behind him.
Jesse swore under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” Kaylynn asked.
“I don’t know.” Jesse shook his head. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed her again. “Lock your door.”
There were only two hotels in town. It could just be coincidence that Porter was staying in this hotel, that he had the room directly across from Kay’s. But Jesse had never believed in coincidences.
* * * * *
They boarded the train after an early breakfast. Kaylynn felt a sense of excitement as she took her seat and looked out the window. For the first time, she really believed she was going to make it home again. It had been over six years since she had last seen her parents. She wondered if they had changed much, if the house was the same, if Mrs. Moseley was still there.
She had written home every month, but letters from her parents had been rare. She had consoled herself as best she could, telling herself that her father was busy with his job at the bank and his nights at his club, that her mother was involved in seeing to the affairs of the house and hosting parties and her charity work at the orphanage.
A cry of “All aboard!”, a grinding of gears and wheels, and the train began to move.
“Here we go,” Jesse said.
She grinned. He didn’t sound very excited, but she was. Home. She was going home.
She turned away from the window at the sound of a familiar voice, smiled as John Porter sat down in the seat across from them.
He returned her smile. “We seem destined to travel together,” he remarked.
“Yes, indeed,” Kaylynn replied.
“At least we have a nice day for it.”
Kaylynn nodded. “Is this your first trip to New York?”
“Yes, it is. I’m looking forward to it. I believe you said you were visiting your parents.”
“That’s right. I haven’t seen them for several years.”
“Will you be staying long?”
“As long as they’ll let me.”
“I see.” Porter looked at Jesse. “I’ll wager this is your first visit to New York, too.”
Jesse nodded, every instinct he possessed warning him that Porter was not what he appeared.
Porter turned his attention back to Kaylynn. “Perhaps I could persuade you to show me the town.”
Jesse slid his arm around Kaylynn’s shoulders. “I’m afraid the lady will be too busy,” he said.
Porter held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t mean any offense. I just thought the three of us might spend a little time sightseeing.”
Kaylynn looked at Jesse, puzzled by his rude behavior. He met her gaze with an imperceptible shake of his head.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Porter, but I’m afraid Jesse is right. I won’t have much free time. You understand.”
“Of course, of course. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go have a cigar.” Rising, he tipped his hat at Kaylynn, then made his way down the aisle toward the smoking car.
Kaylynn looked at Jesse. “What was that all about?”
Jesse looked back to make sure Porter was out of earshot.
“There’s something about Porter that doesn’t sit right,” he remarked, turning back to Kaylynn.
“What do you mean? He seems all right to me. He’s certainly friendly enough.”
“Yeah, a little too friendly, if you ask me.”
“Are you always so suspicious of people?”
“Not always.”
Kaylynn grinned at him. “Just most of the time?”
Jesse shrugged. “I guess it comes with the territory.”
“What do you mean?”
“You hunt outlaws long enough, you begin to think all men are cut from the same shoddy cloth.”
“Maybe it’s time to quit.”
He looked at her for stretched seconds, and then he nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
“Oh, Jesse!” Unmindful of the fact that they weren’t alone, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
She might have kissed him forever if the little boy sitting behind them hadn’t said, in a very loud voice, “Mama, look! Those people are kissing!”
Embarrassed, Kaylynn scooted away from Jesse. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I…I…”
“Don’t be sorry on my account,” Jesse replied, squeezing her hand. “You can kiss me anywhere, anytime.”
Face flushed, Kaylynn turned and stared out the soot-smudged window. The tall prairie grasses seemed to cover the earth like a winter blanket. The land was mostly flat and barren now. She saw a lone Indian riding in the distance. As she watched, he spurred his pony into a gallop, disappearing from sight as he descended a low hill. She wondered if there was a hunting party close by, if he was a “wolf” sent out to keep the herd moving in the right direction. Mo’e’ha had told her they called the scouts wolves because the Cheyenne had noticed the way the wolves hunted and adopted their tactics. A lone wolf had no chance of bringing down a healthy adult buffalo, so they would circle the herd and pick off the weaker animals.
She closed her eyes, thinking of the months she had spent with the Cheyenne. Never again would she live such a simple life. New York City was like a different world. Could she really go back and take up where she had left off?
Her bittersweet memories of the past were interrupted by the shrill scream of the train’
s whistle, and she was suddenly aware of voices rising all around her.
She looked at Jesse. He had stood up, and now he was at her shoulder, staring out the window.
“What’s happening?” she asked. She looked out the window again, but all she saw was a cloud of dust off in the distance.
“Buffalo!” he exclaimed.
“Buffalo?” Kaylynn wiped off the inside of the window, then leaned forward for a better look. The churning dust cloud now looked as though it was peppered with hundreds of black dots. She jumped as the whistle blew again, and then again.
“They’re heading for the tracks,” Kaylynn said. She looked up at Jesse. She had seen a buffalo stampede, seen the damage they could do.
Jesse swore a short, pithy oath. Shrugging off his long black duster, he grabbed his rifle from the overhead compartment.
“Where are you going?” Kaylynn asked.
“I’m gonna try to turn the herd.” He had to shout to be heard over the incessant shriek of the whistle.
Kaylynn glanced out the window again. Unless the buffalo turned aside, the herd was on a collision course with the train. She had a quick mental image of the engine slamming into the herd, of the train derailing, killing passengers and buffalo alike.
There was a low hum of conversation as the other passengers became aware of what was going on. The little boy in front of her began to cry.
Jesse sprinted down the aisle and opened the door, only to come face-to-face with John Porter.
Porter glanced at the rifle in Jesse’s hand. “What’s going on?”
“Get out of my way,” Jesse said, pushing past the man. “I don’t have time to explain.”
Exiting the car, Jesse stepped onto the narrow platform that formed the walkway into the next passenger car. The wind whipped his hair into his face as he climbed the ladder onto the top of the car. Steadying himself on the roof, he surveyed the situation.
It was a big herd, though not as big as the ones he had seen in his youth. In recent years, buffalo hunters had taken their toll on the herds, killing them by the thousands for the hides and the tongues, leaving thousands of pounds of fresh meat to rot on the prairie. Once, when he’d been young and foolish, he had crept into the middle of a herd and sat motionless while they moved around him, so close he could feel their breath on his face. So close he had felt the hair along his nape prickle at the thought of being trampled beneath the large bulls. Another time he had stood on a rock and watched them pass by, close enough that he could have reached out and touched them. Once, he had come face-to-face with a large old bull. He had stood motionless for what seemed like hours while the buffalo decided what to make of him. Finally, the animal had turned and walked away.
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