With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel

by Amanda Cabot

  “I came as soon as I heard the news,” Richard said as he carefully placed his hat on the stand. The forty-year-old merchant was noted for his conservative demeanor. Unlike Jason, he’d never toss his hat in a fit of anger. A couple inches shorter than Jason’s own six feet, Richard was thinner than average with medium brown hair and brown eyes. Jason had once heard someone say that Richard was so ordinary looking that it was easy to overlook him. That, Jason knew from firsthand experience, was a mistake, for the man had been blessed with a keen mind and almost unfailing business acumen. They’d first met when Richard sought legal advice, but they’d quickly become close friends. That was why Richard’s absence from the courtroom had been so unexpected.

  “I thought you were going to come for my closing remarks.”

  Richard nodded. “I had planned to, but Miriam wasn’t feeling well this morning.” In a move that had surprised Cheyenne society, Richard had married the former Miriam Taggert a few months ago. Though it was clear to Jason that Richard and Miriam were deeply in love, others claimed that Miriam had sold herself short, that she should have chosen a younger, more handsome man. That was nonsense, for Jason doubted anyone would care for her more than Richard.

  “Did Miriam consult Dr. Worland?” Richard’s wife hadn’t struck Jason as one of those women who were constantly complaining about their health, and so if she was ill, it was probably something serious.

  Richard shook his head. “It didn’t seem that serious. It must have been something she ate, because she recovered by noon, but by then it was too late to go to the courthouse.”

  “I’m glad she’s all right.” While Miriam was not the type of woman he planned to marry, Jason felt genuine affection for his friend’s wife.

  “You and me both, but Miriam’s not the reason I’m here.”

  Jason nodded as he gestured toward the door to his office. There was no reason to remain standing in the long hallway that divided his office. The right side held a good-sized waiting room in the front with a slightly smaller library behind it. The left side of the building contained only one room: the office itself. Though narrower than the other chambers, Jason liked the long rectangular space.

  “So you heard the news,” he said as he closed the door behind him. He wouldn’t bother asking who had told Richard. It didn’t matter. “I assume you heard how Bennett fooled me.”

  Settling into one of the two client chairs, Richard raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I believe happened.” He emphasized the pronoun. “Not everyone agrees. Some think you knew he was guilty but took the case to make a name for yourself.”

  Jason clenched his fists, releasing them slowly. He should have expected that reaction. After all, not everyone in Cheyenne knew him personally. Those who did not had no way of knowing that he would never have accepted Adam Bennett as a client had he thought the man had murdered his wife.

  “You know better than that.” Too agitated to sit, Jason began to pace the room. “It’s true that Bennett deserved a defense. Everyone does. But if he’d told me the truth, I wouldn’t have defended him. I’d have advised him to plead guilty and accept his punishment.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Richard raised an eyebrow. “Do you think he would have agreed, knowing that he’d be facing a noose?”

  Jason shook his head and continued his pacing. “You’re probably right. A man who’d kill his wife—especially the way he did—and then lie about it wouldn’t be willing to pay the price.” When he reached the far wall, Jason turned and faced Richard. “You know what bothers me even more than the fact that he lied?” It was a rhetorical question, and so Jason did not wait for a response. “Adam Bennett showed no remorse. To the contrary, he seemed proud of the fact that he’d killed Helen. If that isn’t evil, I don’t know what is.”

  The lines that formed between Richard’s eyes told Jason he agreed. “That didn’t sit well with a lot of folks. They don’t think a murderer deserves to live.”

  “And they blame me.”

  Never one to mince words, Richard nodded. “Some do. You might want to avoid public gatherings for the next couple days. Let the hotheads cool down a bit.”

  “If I want to get beat up, I can always go next door.” The instant the words were out of his mouth, Jason regretted them. He didn’t want to think about Dr. Harding, and he most definitely did not want to talk about her.

  “You’ve met the doctor?”

  His lips tightening at the memory of their meeting, Jason said, “It was one of the less pleasant events of the day, and considering what happened with Adam Bennett, that’s saying a great deal.”

  Richard was silent for a moment, his expression pensive as he stared at Jason. “I’m surprised. I’ve never met her myself, but Miriam says the doctor is charming.”

  “She wasn’t charming to me.” As memories of her sharp retorts whirled through his brain, Jason glared at Richard. “Some friend you are. You knew the doctor was a woman, but you didn’t tell me.”

  “Didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind.” Richard’s feigned innocence irritated Jason almost as much as the way Dr. Harding had pronounced the word “counselor” when she’d addressed him.

  “A likely story.”

  A shrug was Richard’s response. He crossed his ankles, appearing to relax. “I’m going to make up for my previous lapse,” he said, his voice as smooth as Dr. Harding’s skin had looked. “Miriam and I are planning a party to welcome the new doctor to Cheyenne, and—”

  Jason wouldn’t let him finish the sentence. “Why on earth are you doing that?” He was annoyed as much by the fact that his thoughts continued to stray to his acerbic neighbor as by Richard and Miriam’s plans.

  “It’s simple. She’s Charlotte Landry’s sister.”

  “Barrett’s wife?” Everyone in Cheyenne knew of Barrett Landry, the cattle baron whose name had been mentioned more than once as a senatorial candidate. Jason had even heard speculation that he was planning to marry Miriam Taggert at one point. That must have been idle gossip, for Richard had married Miriam and not too long afterward, Barrett had announced his engagement to a woman named Charlotte. “Barrett’s wife is the doctor’s sister?”

  “One and the same. Before she married Barrett, most of Cheyenne’s women knew her as Madame Charlotte. Her last name was Harding, though she didn’t use it very often.”

  That explained why Jason had made no connection between Barrett’s bride and E. M. Harding, MD.

  “According to Miriam, Charlotte used to design gowns that outshone ones from Paris,” Richard continued. “That’s how they met. Miriam was one of Madame Charlotte’s best customers. Then they became friends. A bit like you and me.”

  The story was only mildly interesting, and Jason saw no reason why Richard was recounting it. “All right. I see that there’s a tenuous connection between your wife and the new doctor. I still don’t understand the necessity for a party.”

  Richard chuckled. “You obviously don’t know how women’s minds work. Miriam would do anything for a friend, and so she promised Charlotte that she’d watch over her sister until Charlotte and Barrett return from the East.”

  “From what I’ve seen, Dr. Harding doesn’t need anyone watching over her. That tongue of hers could cause lacerations even Doc Worland couldn’t heal.”

  The way Richard pursed his lips told Jason he was trying to control his mirth. It wasn’t amusing. Nothing about Dr. Harding was funny. “I see that Elizabeth made an impression on you,” Richard said, his voice just short of a chortle.

  “She did, and that impression made me regret having her as a neighbor.”

  Richard uncrossed his ankles, then crossed them again, as if he were planning to remain in the chair. While Jason wouldn’t evict him—the man was, after all, a close friend—he wished that he would leave. This conversation had gone on far too long, venturing onto subjects that were best left untouched.

  “Perhaps your encounter today was an inoculation,” Richard suggested. “If so, no
w you’re immune.”

  One thing was certain: it had been as painful as an injection. “That’s an intriguing theory, but I have no intention of testing it. With a bit of luck, I won’t have to see her again.” It was a long shot, especially given the proximity of their offices, but a man could dream.

  “I hate to dash your hopes,” Richard said, his voice betraying no remorse, “but that won’t be the case. Miriam and I expect you to attend our party.”

  “I’d rather be tarred and feathered.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Richard gave Jason a skeptical look. “I never realized you were prone to such exaggeration.”

  “I was not exaggerating. A man doesn’t volunteer for pain, and having to be polite to Dr. Harding would be painful. Why would I do that? Life hands us enough trouble on its own.”

  If Richard heard him, he gave no sign. “Miriam and I are looking forward to having you as our guest.”

  “I’m afraid I have another commitment that evening.”

  “You don’t even know when it is.”

  “True, but I’m certain I have a previous engagement, whenever it is.”

  “Coward!” Richard’s smile took the sting from his epithet.

  “That’s not the worst thing I’ve been called, especially today.” When he’d left the courthouse, Jason had heard men declaring that he was as guilty as his client. “Murderer,” they’d hissed as he walked by.

  Richard nodded, almost as if he’d read Jason’s thoughts. “That’s the reason you need to come. It’s next Friday at seven. By then the uproar over Bennett’s trial will have died down. It will be time for you to get back into the public eye.” He rose and walked to the hallway for his hat. “Maple Terrace is too small for what Miriam has in mind, so her parents have agreed that we can use their home. Between Miriam and her mother, it seems as if half of Cheyenne has been invited.” Richard settled the hat on his head. “Many of the guests could be potential clients. You need to be there.”

  “All right.” Jason knew his acceptance sounded grudging, and it was. “Just keep me away from your guest of honor.”

  Laughter was Richard’s only response.

  “I can’t believe it, Gwen.” Elizabeth unpinned her hat and placed it on the bureau in the room that had once been her sister’s. The apartment over Charlotte’s former dress shop was modestly sized, but it boasted two bedrooms as well as a central space that served as kitchen, dining room, and parlor. Gwen and her daughter shared the bedroom overlooking Ferguson Street, while Elizabeth’s room offered a view of the small backyard, a view that was blessedly free of Mr. Arrogant Nordling. For the first time, she admitted that Charlotte might have been right when she claimed it was better not to live over her office. At least here there were no reminders of her unpleasant neighbor.

  “The man was insufferably rude,” Elizabeth continued. “As bad as the men in my classes.” Though her hands were still shaking with anger, she forced herself to take care as she removed her gloves. They had been a Christmas gift from Charlotte, and Elizabeth didn’t want to damage them. “I could almost understand my classmates,” she admitted. “They were angry that I’d taken a place that could have gone to one of their friends. But there was no reason for Mr. Nordling to behave the way he did.” She’d obviously been mistaken in believing that what she had seen in his eyes was pain. The man was simply ornery, obstinate, and unable to admit that women were capable of far more than his narrow-minded prejudice allowed.

  When Elizabeth finished recounting the litany of Jason Nordling’s rudeness, Gwen’s lips tightened, giving Elizabeth the impression that she was trying to bite back her words. Finally, she said, “At least he showed you his true colors at the beginning. Not all men do.”

  The words echoed through Elizabeth’s brain like a clanging bell. Once again she’d spoken without considering the consequences. She should have remembered the story Charlotte had told of how Gwen had believed she’d found true love, only to discover that the man she thought loved her and Rose hid a dark side.

  Knowing that Gwen preferred no mention of her past, Elizabeth fixed an ironic smile on her face and attempted to lighten the discussion. “How sad that that’s the only good thing we can say about Mr. Nordling.” As she’d hoped, Gwen smiled. The moment had passed.

  When they returned to the kitchen for Gwen to put the final touches on dinner, the heavyset woman’s face lit with another smile. No one would call Gwen beautiful, but when she smiled, her light blue eyes sparkled and her cheeks grew rosy, giving her face much-needed color. For a moment, she looked almost pretty, despite her ordinary features and the extra pounds that even Charlotte’s expert tailoring could not completely hide.

  “I have good news,” Gwen said, holding out a creamy envelope. “Miriam and Richard are planning a party in your honor next week.” Her smile turned into a grin as she lifted the lid from a pot and tasted the simmering stew. “I already opened my invitation. That’s how I know.”

  There hadn’t been many parties in Elizabeth’s life. Her father had put them and dancing in the same category, calling them frivolous wastes of time. As a result, neither Elizabeth nor her older sisters had learned to dance until after Papa’s death. Both Charlotte and Abigail’s letters had mentioned attending several parties, but Elizabeth had been too busy studying to think about social gatherings. The truth was, she was more comfortable dealing with sick and injured people than with men and women whose conversation revolved around more mundane subjects. Look at how poorly her time with Jason Nordling had turned out.

  “I didn’t come to Cheyenne to spend my time at parties,” she told Gwen. “I ought to be treating patients.” To Elizabeth’s chagrin, her voice sounded as firm as Papa’s had when he’d announced that his daughters should concentrate on more serious things than which ribbons matched their gowns. Though she’d loved her father, there had been times when she had wished he’d been a bit more flexible. Now it seemed she was becoming just as rigid. She couldn’t let that happen, for if she did, she might lose patients the way Papa had lost congregations.

  Gwen reached for a loaf of bread. “Miriam agrees with you. That’s why she’s having the party at her parents’ house and why she invited all her friends and her parents’ associates. She wants them to meet you so that when they do need a doctor, they’ll think of you.”

  Elizabeth turned as the sound of laughter reached her ears. Though Rose had been playing quietly in the parlor, something had caught her fancy, with the result that a giggle had turned into a full-fledged laugh. Like her mother, Rose had a sunny disposition. So did Miriam Eberhardt. Though she’d only met her twice, Elizabeth understood why she’d become one of Charlotte’s closest friends. Now that friendship was being extended to Elizabeth.

  “I hadn’t considered that.” Elizabeth smiled as she added, “I suppose it’s like the ads I placed in Miriam’s father’s paper—advertising. Charlotte told me that Miriam was responsible for most of her clientele, that once she bought a few dresses from her, her friends wanted similar gowns.” Miriam had even defied her mother’s edict to buy only Parisian fashions, insisting that Charlotte’s were more beautiful.

  Gwen looked up from the bread she was slicing. “The Taggerts are influential, and Miriam wields her own power, especially with the younger women. The party will be good for you.”

  “So long as I don’t have to speak to Jason Nordling.”

  A knock on the door interrupted whatever Gwen might have said. To Elizabeth’s surprise, Gwen’s cheeks flushed as she called out, “Come in, Harrison. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  The man who lived next door entered the small apartment, hanging his hat on the rack with the familiarity of someone who’d done it dozens of times before. He had. When Charlotte and Barrett had decided to go East for the summer and perhaps longer, Barrett’s brother had volunteered to come to Cheyenne to oversee the expansion of Barrett’s new dry goods store, and Gwen—generous Gwen—had insisted on providing meals for Harrison. Now that Elizabet
h was here to serve as a chaperone, she had invited him to eat with her and Rose and Elizabeth. It was, she said, the least she could do, since Barrett was letting her live here rent-free.

  “How was your first day of practice?” Harrison asked as he moved further into the apartment, settling into one of the chairs that flanked the dining table. Though he addressed the question to Elizabeth, she noticed that his eyes returned to Gwen, and he appeared to be studying her, as if memorizing each feature, while Gwen seemed to be looking in every direction other than Harrison’s. How odd. Though it was true that Harrison was not a man who would warrant a second glance from a woman who cared only about physical beauty, Elizabeth did not believe Gwen judged people based on superficial appearances. Harrison’s dark brown hair and blue eyes could have been striking, but they were overshadowed by the solemn expression that seemed habitual. Though she did not know the reason, other than the times when his eyes were fixed on Gwen, Harrison Landry did not appear to be a happy man.

  Elizabeth was not a happy woman, at least not today. “My first day was a great success,” she said, not bothering to mask her sarcasm, “unless I wanted patients. I had not a single one.”

  His eyes still on Gwen, Harrison shrugged. “You need to be patient.”

  “That’s what Gwen said. The problem is, I’m not a patient person. Today seemed endless. I never had a minute to spare when I was in school, so it felt strange to have so much empty time.” Once Jason Nordling appeared, boredom hadn’t seemed so bad.

  Gwen turned from the stove to grin at Harrison. “I told Elizabeth to enjoy being idle. Before she knows it, she’ll be so busy that she’ll wish for a free moment. I predict that by the time autumn returns, I’ll rarely see her because she’ll have so many patients.”