by Jan Drexler
Jude had assumed he was the sole owner of the Northern after Clarence’s passing...apparently he’d been wrong. But how could he be sure? “Do you have proof? Did Clarence have a will I’m not aware of?”
“I have a letter.”
“A letter? That’s all you have to prove you’re his heir?”
“What else do I need?”
“A legal document, at the very least. A birth certificate, a will—something substantial.”
She anchored her gloved hands on the counter, her voice level, her jaw firm. “My father abandoned us four years ago. The only thing I have from him is a letter.”
How could Clarence have abandoned his own children? “Where is the letter?”
She opened the reticule dangling from her wrist and pulled out an envelope as the other lady approached.
The second woman stood behind her sister and surveyed the room with disdain wrinkling her brow. It was hard to imagine these beautiful women were Clarence’s daughters. They looked nothing like him. The man had been unkempt and disheveled, to say the least. Why had he never mentioned a family?
The first lady handed the letter over to Jude. It was addressed to Elizabeth and Grace.
“I’m Elizabeth,” she said. “This is Grace.” She indicated the other woman. “And the child is our youngest sister, Rose.”
Jude lifted his eyes from the letter and looked at each of the women, his gaze stopping on the sleeping child.
He looked back at the letter and, sure enough, it was Clarence’s handwriting. He’d know it anywhere. And the letter seemed legitimate, written the day before Clarence had died. He apologized for leaving them four years ago upon the death of his wife and asked for their forgiveness. He’d planned to invite them to Little Falls once he had enough money to send for them, but he’d used it all to buy the hotel. As a way of recompense, he offered the hotel to his daughters.
Pain began to pulse in the back of Jude’s eyes as he lowered the letter. This couldn’t be happening. He had gone into the hotel business for one reason only: to rescue defenseless women from prostitution. The profits from the hotel allowed him to help them escape and then give them a job while his cook, Martha, taught them domestic skills. Over the past two years, they had rescued ten women, including his current maid, Violet. The other nine had either married or found jobs far from where they had been enslaved to their former profession.
Jude was driven to redeem the sins of his past, but no matter how many women he rescued, he could never bring back to life the one woman he wanted to save, but couldn’t.
His mother.
What would the Bell sisters think when they met Violet or found out what he did with the proceeds from the hotel? Clarence hadn’t liked it, but he’d allowed Jude to continue if it didn’t interfere with the business. There was no way the prim and proper Miss Bell would approve—and, as 50 percent owner, she would have a say...if she found out.
Jude handed the letter back to Elizabeth, resolve strengthening his voice. “I plan to speak to my attorney in the morning.”
She put it back in the envelope. “What’s there to discuss? We own half of this hotel.”
Jude cringed. It couldn’t be true. What did they know of running a business? “I don’t believe this letter will hold up in court. It’s not a legal document—just a piece of paper written when your father wasn’t in his right mind.”
“His right mind?” Elizabeth spoke the words in a sort of hushed anger. She looked over her shoulder at her sisters and then around at the room of men watching them. She lowered her voice. “Mr. Allen, I do not believe we are in a frame of mind to argue this further tonight. I propose we both visit the attorney tomorrow and sort this out.”
“Fine.”
She stared at him.
He stared back.
The little girl roused in Grace’s arms and lifted her head to look around the room. She, unlike her sisters, had golden-blond hair and deep-brown eyes—the same color as Clarence’s. They blinked with sleep and came to rest on Jude. She studied his face and didn’t look away, even when she reached for Elizabeth.
Elizabeth took the child and then addressed Jude. “We are all tired. Will you please show us to our father’s room?”
Martha appeared from down the hall where she spent most of her time in the kitchen. She wiped her knotted hands on her apron, her concerned gaze hopping from one Bell sister to the other and finally landing on Jude. Her droopy bun hung loose at the back of her head and wisps of graying hair poked out around her face. She was one of the hardest workers Jude had ever met, which was one of the many reasons he trusted her explicitly. She watched all of them closely, but didn’t take a step forward to interfere.
“Your father’s rooms are occupied,” Jude said.
“Then we’d like whatever you have available. My sisters are tired.”
How could he refuse Clarence’s daughters a place to stay, especially the child? But where would he put them?
“Jude.” Martha finally approached, a frown of disapproval on her face. She had become his surrogate mother over the years and he felt her chastisement now. “Are these Clarence’s daughters?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “They’re tired and grieving and should have their papa’s rooms. You can sleep on one of the sofas in the parlor.”
Elizabeth looked at once relieved and irritated. She addressed Jude. “You’re the one occupying my father’s rooms?”
Jude had given the master’s suite to Clarence when they had purchased the establishment, but he’d moved in after Clarence passed. “I will give them to you and your sisters for now, but as soon as we clear up this mess, I’ll see you on the next stage out of town.”
“Hush, now,” Martha said in her no-nonsense way. “All that can be worked out later. I’ll show them to their rooms.” Martha turned to the Bell sisters. “Don’t mind Jude. He’s just surprised, is all. I’m Martha Dupree. I’m the cook around here, but I’m more like the mama hen.” She chuckled at her own joke as she pulled the women close around her. “I’ll show you to your rooms and Andrew can bring up your things.” She glanced at Andrew, the stagecoach driver.
He dipped the brim of his hat and headed out the door.
Martha ushered the ladies up the stairs, clucking all the way about how tired they looked and how hungry they must be.
At least two dozen men stood around the lobby, watching their ascent with keen interest, no doubt wondering who the pretty strangers were and when they’d get a chance to meet. The town was young, only a few years old, and like many frontier settlements the single-male population far outnumbered the eligible females. It was probably a good thing they were going up to his room. With a ball going on, they’d soon be bombarded with attention and they didn’t look energetic enough to deal with that sort of problem.
A thought struck Jude and he scrambled to get out from behind the counter. He raced up the stairs and ran down the hall, but he was too late. Martha had already showed them into his room.
He had to get his journal before they noticed it lying open on the secretary. It was full of details about his mission work, his contacts throughout the territory and notes about several women who were in need of help.
If they saw what he did, he was sure they would not think very highly of him or the women he rescued. Most proper young women didn’t.
He and Martha worked hard to keep their mission work a secret from the citizens of Little Falls. It would be much harder to keep it hidden from two women and a child living under his roof.
Copyright © 2017 by Gabrielle Meyer
ISBN-13: 9781488017780
An Amish Courtship
Copyright © 2017 by Jan Drexler
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