The Rails to Love Romance Collection

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The Rails to Love Romance Collection Page 49

by Brandmeyer, Diana Lesire; Cabot, Amanda; Carter, Lisa


  Jeremy meticulously recorded the purchase of the three tickets from Sweetwater to Chicago in the daily ledger, noting the transfer in Omaha. He glanced at the older couple with the little girl—obviously a grandchild—sitting on the two flimsy chairs as they waited for the arrival of the eastbound train. The grandmother’s attempts to control the restless, fretful youngster were fruitless. No doubt it would be a long trip for the trio.

  To the right of the grandparents, Miss Denton polished the last of the front windows. From time to time she sent a smile to the tyke. Jeremy watched as she sorted through her pile of clean rags until she found one she liked. Then she sat on the floor and beckoned to the little girl.

  “Come and look what I can do.” She bent her head over the piece of cloth and carefully tore a wide strip off one end. The child stopped and fixed her mischievous eyes on Miss Denton’s activity.

  Miss Denton held up the pieces of cloth and scrunched the smaller one into a wad, tucking it into the center of the large square piece.

  Jeremy propped his elbow on the counter with his chin in his palm and watched, as fascinated as the child. The little girl took a few tentative steps toward the depot cleaning woman.

  “Whatcha doin’?”

  A tiny smile tipped the corners of Miss Denton’s lips. “I was a little lonely, so I thought I would make a new friend. Do you want to see?”

  The tyke’s gold curls tumbled as she nodded and stepped closer. Miss Denton pulled a few threads from the frayed edge of the cloth, which she used to tie around the wadded up ball in the middle. “What’s your name?”

  “M’inda.”

  Miss Denton looked over at the frazzled grandmother. The older woman managed a half smile. “Her name is Melinda.”

  With a barely perceptible nod, Miss Denton returned her attention to Melinda, who edged a bit closer.

  “What is it?”

  Miss Denton’s smile deepened. “You’ll see. Watch.” She smoothed out one edge of the material to the corner, twisted it and tied a knot, and then repeated the process on the opposite side. Melinda stood transfixed.

  Jeremy couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face. After a few tucks, tugs, and adjustments, Miss Denton held up her creation for the child’s assessment.

  “Doll!” The little girl clapped her hands to accompany the delight in her voice.

  The amazing young woman who he’d hired to scrub floors pointed to Jeremy. “Why don’t you go over and ask Mr. Reide if you can borrow his pencil.”

  Melinda observed Jeremy with shyness but made her way to the counter. “Pencil?”

  Jeremy withdrew the pencil from behind his ear and handed it over. Melinda reached out a hesitant hand and took the pencil, murmured something that sounded a little like thank you, and scampered back to Miss Denton.

  “Whatcha do wi’ the pencil?”

  Miss Denton patted the floor beside her. Melinda plopped down and leaned close while Miss Denton used the pencil to create two dots for eyes and curving smile on the face of the rag doll.

  Melinda looked up at Miss Denton and grinned. “C’n I hold her?”

  Miss Denton held the doll up to her ear, as if the doll whispered a secret. “She tells me she’s been hopin’ a little girl named Melinda would come along. She says she wants to stay with you, because she thinks you’re beautiful.”

  A knot formed in Jeremy’s throat. The young woman sitting before him on the floor was beautiful.

  Little Melinda’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. “She’s mine?”

  Miss Denton nodded. “She can be yours, on one condition. You must listen to your grandparents and obey them. Because you don’t want to teach your new doll bad habits.”

  The little imp glanced at her grandparents, and a slow smile stretched her lips. “C’n I name her Ruth? That was my mama’s name.”

  Jeremy could tell by Miss Denton’s reaction that she understood the ramifications of the child’s statement. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes for a moment, as if in empathy with the tiny soul beside her. “I think that’s the perfect name.” She laid the rag doll in the child’s hands like it was a priceless thing.

  Melinda stared at the doll for a moment and then scrambled to her feet. She threw her arms around the neck of the stranger in the train station who had become a friend for a lonely child. Then she dashed back to her grandparents to show them her new treasure.

  Jeremy ducked his head and rubbed his palm over his eyes while he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. Whether she knew it or not, Miss Denton had just demonstrated Christ’s command to comfort the brokenhearted.

  “Here’s your pencil.” A soft voice tugged his attention, and deep violet eyes greeted him when he looked up.

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “That was a very nice thing you did.”

  She shrugged. “That little girl reminded me of myself at that age. She just needed somethin’ to love.”

  Her words touched him deeply, and he wished he could wrap her in his protective embrace. Instead, he took his pencil and sent his focus to the child, now sitting on her grandmother’s lap, cuddling her doll.

  “Well, she looks happy now, thanks to you.”

  The whistle of the approaching train sounded in the distance, and the little family gathered their belongings. The grandmother nodded her thanks as they exited the depot, and Melinda turned. “G’bye, lady.”

  Miss Denton waved. “Good-bye, Melinda. Remember what I said.” She glanced at Jeremy. “Well, I’d best get back to work before I get fired.”

  Jeremy studied her retreating form. Not much chance of that happening, Miss Denton. With all the challenges of learning the ins and outs of managing a depot, the brightest part of his job was seeing Rosemary Denton every day.

  Rosemary smoothed her hands down the lavender calico dress Mrs. Collins had given her. When she’d tried to refuse the gift, the dear lady had clucked her tongue and declared she couldn’t fit into it anymore and Rosemary might as well put it to good use. A slightly faded green gingham dress also hung from a peg in her room along with one of Mrs. Collins’s old aprons.

  She’d risen early to help Mrs. Collins with the washing, assuring her new friend she’d retrieve the dry laundry off the clothesline when she came home at lunchtime.

  Home. The word gave her pause. Home was on the Double D Ranch in Wyoming. Her intention was to return there as soon as she could. But thinking of this place as a temporary home wasn’t in the least distasteful.

  Her first stop was the post office to mail the letter she’d written to her father. She’d struggled over the missive for hours, explaining how she felt and why she disagreed with him. But how would he react to the request she’d scribbled in at the end? She’d find out soon enough. At least he’d know where she was and that she had a safe place to stay. Reverend Collins added a note, assuring her father they’d take good care of his daughter.

  Since Arne had assured her the lines eastward were operating, she stopped at the telegraph office and sent a short wire to Philadelphia informing her aunt and uncle she’d not be arriving as scheduled and promised a letter to follow.

  The clean windows of the depot winked at her in the morning sun as she made her way down the boardwalk. A thread of pride twined through her. It had taken three full days, but the Sweetwater depot fairly sparkled.

  Mr. Reide greeted her when she stepped through the door. “Good morning. New dress?”

  Now why did it please her that he’d noticed? “Mrs. Collins made over a couple of her old dresses she can’t wear anymore.”

  “The color becomes you.” Mr. Reide’s appreciative expression made her face heat.

  She mumbled a thank-you and headed for the storage closet. Her broom offered no compliment, but the depot agent’s words sang in her ears.

  Rosemary set her mind on her duties, sweeping and mopping between passengers and freighters coming and going. During a lull, she paused at the counter. “Might I get into the office to cle
an?”

  “Sure.” He stepped aside to allow her access to the cubicle.

  She took stock of the wood shavings littering the corners, disorganized papers in haphazard stacks, and stains on the desk that defied description. First, she attacked the floor with her broom.

  Mr. Reide leaned against the doorframe. “So, you’re from Wyoming.”

  She nodded. “I grew up on a ranch not far from Laramie.” She angled the broom to capture every bit of debris.

  “Brothers and sisters?”

  “Three brothers. No sisters.” She maneuvered the dirt toward her dustpan.

  Mr. Reide scooted out of the broom’s path. “Why were you going east?”

  Rosemary straightened and raised her eyes to meet his. Should she tell him her father was sending her away because one of the ranch hands had flirted with her? “To visit relatives. Why?”

  Red stole into Mr. Reide’s face. “Sorry. That’s really none of my business. It’s just that you struck me as… not very anxious to get where you were going.”

  She sighed and leaned on the broom handle. “I wasn’t. This interruption in my travel plans isn’t really an inconvenience. I’ve barely been here a week, but I like Sweetwater. I love Reverend and Mrs. Collins, and I’ve met some interestin’ people workin’ here.”

  Mr. Reide grinned. “Does that include me?” The redness in his face deepened. “I guess that was a bit forward.”

  Rosemary cocked her head. It especially included him, but propriety dictated she respond with discretion. “People comin’ and goin’. Makes me wonder where they’re headed and if they’re happy to go home.”

  There was that word again. How could a word that drew such deep longing a week ago stir up such confusion now?

  Chapter Five

  The tapping of a hammer pulled Jeremy’s attention from the ledger in which he was recording a stack of freight bills of lading. He laid aside his pencil and leaned around the corner of the office.

  Miss Denton knelt on the floor beside an overturned chair, her head bent in concentration. Her small tack hammer rat-a-tatted on the stretcher bracing the two back legs.

  He edged closer and peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  She glanced up. “I’m fixin’ these chairs so nobody gets hurt. Both of them are ready to fall apart.” She directed a dab of glue into the mortise slot and tapped in the tenon, finishing it off by driving a nail through the joint. “My father would have a conniption if he saw me usin’ a nail on a mortise and tenon, but since it already came apart once, the nail’ll make it more secure.”

  Jeremy pinched his chin. Neither his privileged background nor his Yale education ever afforded him the opportunity to become acquainted with tools or their use. Still, shouldn’t a gentleman take the hammer and perform the repair for her? He was half-afraid to offer for fear she’d take him up on it. “Need some help?”

  She arched her brows. “I know how to handle a hammer.”

  He didn’t know whether to be rebuffed or relieved. “I can see that. I just thought I ought to ask.”

  The corners of her lips twitched. “By the time I was ten years old, I could hammer barbed wire onto fence posts as well as my brothers.” She turned the chair right-side up. “Care to try it out?”

  Jeremy drew in a breath. If he refused, he’d offend her. If he sat on the chair and her repairs weren’t sound, he could end up on the floor looking foolish. He lifted his shoulders and held out his hand toward the chair. “Ladies first.”

  She folded her arms and huffed. “You don’t trust me.”

  He made a gallant bow. “Just being a gentleman.”

  A girlish giggle escaped her lips, and mischief twinkled in her eyes. “Well, it might be a good idea to let the glue dry first.”

  Jeremy threw his head back and laughed. “Miss Denton, remind me to never allow you to serve as a switchman.” He shook his head. “I’ll wager you can hold your own, whether on a cattle ranch with your brothers or back east fending off the dandies.”

  A rosy blush stole into her cheeks, causing her eyes to take on a deeper hue of violet. “You’d be right about that.”

  His heart stuttered. Unable to pull his gaze away from her, he allowed himself to be captured by her charm. He’d known many young women in his social circles, but he’d never met one quite like Rosemary Denton. He ran his hand through his hair. “Would you mind terribly—that is, would you find it offensive if I asked you to call me Jeremy?”

  Her smile deepened two beguiling indentations on either side of her lips, and she lowered her lashes. “I wouldn’t be offended at all, as long as you call me Rosemary.”

  Rosemary glanced up from the windowsill she was dusting to see Jeremy emerge from the telegraph office next door. Apprehension poked her. Her father had certainly received her letter by now.

  Pa would be annoyed that she’d been so careless as to miss her train. He might even believe she’d done it on purpose out of spite. But the stirring in her heart was about more than Wade’s flirtation or Pa’s insistence that she go east to become a lady. Over the past two weeks, her reluctance had taken on a different sentiment. She’d discovered she liked Sweetwater and working at the train depot. Despite having to sweep floors and clean windows to support herself, she found the job offered her something she’d never had before: independence. The feeling of accomplishment when she finished a day’s work bolstered her confidence.

  She checked the mail daily to see if she’d received a reply to her letter. Maybe Pa would wait until the telegraph lines were working again, or he might even jump on the next train and come for her himself. Every time an eastbound train pulled into the station, she held her breath, expecting to see her father or one of her brothers disembark. A knot tightened in her stomach. She only hoped Pa would take her entreaty to heart and see that she was no longer a little girl but a resourceful and industrious grown woman, capable of making her own choices. It took more than tea parties and fancy dresses to make a lady. She hoped he would look past her imprudent mistake and think her resourceful and levelheaded in the face of her dilemma.

  She moved to run her dustcloth over the chairs. Every time she imagined Pa’s insistence on her going to Philadelphia, she gritted her teeth. If he refused her request and still made her go, she just wouldn’t stay, that’s all. He couldn’t force her to stay.

  Jeremy entered the depot. “Arne says word is the lines should be up later today. He suggested you check with him in the morning.”

  Rosemary pushed out a sigh. “Thanks. I will.”

  Jeremy straddled one of the newly repaired—and now sturdy—chairs. “You don’t sound terribly enthusiastic.”

  Unsure if sharing her tangled feelings with Jeremy was a good idea, she shrugged. Pastor Collins’s Sunday sermon lingered in her mind, and she’d started a half-dozen times to tell Mrs. Collins what weighed on her heart but doubted the woman would approve of her intention to defy her father. In all likelihood, Jeremy would agree with the pastor’s wife.

  He ran his fingers over the worn edge of the chair back. “I remember you said you were going to visit relatives. Where do they live?”

  “In a village just outside of Philadelphia called Ardmore.”

  “Ardmore.” Jeremy blinked, and his eyebrows arched before dipping into a frown. “It’s on the main line. I know the area.”

  Rosemary focused her attention on polishing the brass hardware at the entrance. A sliver of panic needled her. What if Jeremy knew her aunt and uncle? Should she tell him she’d never been east of Cheyenne until two and a half weeks ago? “I’ve never been there. My cousins wrote about the parties and balls they attend. Suppose I’ll be joinin’ them.”

  “No doubt.” Jeremy rose from the chair. “Well, I should get back to those shipping invoices. Otto is due back today, and I want to make sure everything is caught up.”

  Otto? She frowned. Who was Otto?

  “Oh, I remember. You said Otto is the regular depot agent.” Her sto
mach tightened. Did this mean Otto was the boss? What if he didn’t think the depot needed a cleaning woman and fired her?

  “Does Otto know you hired me?”

  A smile eased the furrow in Jeremy’s brow. “No, but I’ll introduce you when he gets here. Don’t worry.”

  Don’t worry? He’d read her mind.

  Jeremy settled in behind the tidy desk and opened the ledger. Each entry reflected the care he’d taken to record every transaction with accuracy. But Rosemary’s words echoed in his mind and distracted him from the columns of figures.

  She had family living in Ardmore—one of the rural areas where Philadelphia’s wealthiest families built summer houses to escape the heat of the low-lying parts of center city. His own parents had spent a couple of summers there when he was in college.

  He propped his elbows on the desk and held his head in his hands. What had he done? A young woman from the upper crust of society, probably on her way east to become a debutante, and he offered her a job mopping floors and washing windows. She hadn’t given the impression she was insulted, but perhaps she was just being kind. Or she may have realized she had no choice. She was, after all, in a rather desperate situation, having been stranded without any money and no way to reach her father. He could only imagine what went through her mind.

  It seemed odd, though, that she wasn’t more anxious to be on her way. If she had wealthy relatives waiting for her arrival, she could have wired them of her predicament and asked them to send her funds for a new ticket, even if she couldn’t reach her father in Wyoming. Yes, she could handle a hammer and perhaps even string barbed wire fencing. But why in heaven’s name was she here cleaning the depot and living in a modest little cottage when she could be living in a mansion in Ardmore being waited on and pampered? No doubt about it, Rosemary Denton was a mystery.

  He recorded the last invoice and filed it. Otto wouldn’t recognize the place when he returned. The office was spotless and the desk clear of all clutter, every piece of paper filed properly and the ledgers all up to date. He checked the clock. Westbound wasn’t due for another hour.

 

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