“Thank you.” She lifted her skirt perhaps an inch more than was absolutely necessary and made her way leisurely up the stairs, well aware of the four pair of eyes watching her. Either she looked so outrageous they couldn’t believe her, or she’d kept enough of her usual poise and comeliness to fool them all into thinking she was a lady. Time would tell.
A thought occurred to her, and she almost cast it aside, but its attractiveness made her pause with one foot on the next-to-top step. She would do it! But not until she’d had a chance to clean up.
A half hour later she again approached the front desk, this time without the audience of loiterers.
“Ah, Mrs. Evans.” The clerk’s eyes lit in appreciation. Apparently her ministrations to her hair and wardrobe were successful. “How may I help you?”
“My cousin mentioned that he hoped to meet a gentleman here. I thought perhaps you knew him—a Mr. Stone.”
“Mr. David Stone? The Britisher?”
Millie smiled. “He’s the one.”
“He often stays here. In fact, I shouldn’t be surprised if he came in today—or very soon. Would you like me to give him your name if I see him—or your cousin’s name?”
“Oh that won’t be necessary. I’ll let my cousin handle it when he arrives. Thank you very much.”
CHAPTER 10
Dan felt like an utter failure. He’d gotten Anne halfway to Scottsburg when the heavens let loose on them. They’d taken shelter in a thick stand of pines, but even so they’d been soaked to the skin within half an hour. The fierce wind tore at them and made his teeth chatter. Anne stood between the horses, leaning against Bailey’s side and shivering uncontrollably.
People in Champoeg said this rain would keep up all winter. No snow to speak of this side of the Cascades, but lots and lots of rain.
He leaned close to her and laid his hand on her arm. “Anne, I don’t think this is going to stop. I want to build a fire.”
“Can’t we just mount up and gallop for Scottsburg?”
“I’m afraid you’ll be sick if you don’t get warm soon.”
“Maybe there’s a house not far away, and they’d let us come in and get warm.”
“Now that sounds like a good idea. Let me help you into the saddle.”
Less than a mile farther down the road, they came upon a farmhouse with a snug barn and fields spreading behind it. With a prayer of thanks, Dan led the way up the lane, dismounted, and knocked on the door.
It was opened by a sturdy girl of about twelve who looked him over suspiciously then called over her shoulder, “Mama! It’s a half-drowned man, and there’s a lady with him.”
“What?” A thin woman of about forty hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron. She sized him up in a glance and looked out at Anne. “Oh sir, look at you! Bring your wife in. This isn’t weather to be out in.”
As Dan went back to get Anne, he heard the woman tell her daughter, “Go out and get Billy and Felix. Tell them to put these horses in the barn and brush them down well and feed them.”
The girl threw on a hood and shawl and scurried out the door and around the house.
Dan raised his arms to Anne, and for once she let the reins drop and fell into his embrace. Her lips were blue. “Let me carry you.”
“No, please.” A look of alarm crossed her face. She gained her footing and leaned on his arm. “Thank you, Daniel. I shall be fine.”
He hurried her inside, and the farm wife shut the door behind him.
“Is she ill?”
“Just chilled through, but I fear she’ll be ill because of it.”
“Bring her right in here. She can lie down on my bed.” The woman pushed aside a calico curtain in a doorway.
“Oh really,” Anne said, “I’ll be all right, now that we’re out of the wet and the wind.”
“Still, you’d like to change, wouldn’t you?” the woman asked.
“You’re right. That would be nice.”
The woman smiled and eyed her cautiously. “English, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Lena Moss.”
Anne held out her gloved hand. “Anne Stone. And this is my friend, Daniel Adams.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Moss looked from one to the other of them in confusion.
“We’re not married,” Dan said quickly. “I’m escorting Miss Stone to see her uncle in Scottsburg. This driving rain caught us.” Mrs. Moss’s expression went from scandalized to soft with compassion. “Well then, let’s see if we can make you comfortable. Do you have extra clothing along?”
“Yes,” Anne said. “In my valise.”
“I’ll have the boys bring it in.”
A few moments later, young Felix brought Anne’s bag in, and Mrs. Moss led her into the next room. Dan took off his coat and hat, hung them near the door, and moved toward the stove. It warmed the kitchen end of the long room, ticking merrily away, and a coffeepot and a kettle of water on its surface sent off steam.
“Help yourself.”
He turned to find Mrs. Moss behind him, bearing an armload of Anne’s wet clothing.
“Cups are in the cupboard yonder.” She nodded toward a large cupboard topped with rows of shelves.
Dan took down a china mug and poured himself coffee. Mrs. Moss brought a wooden rack from a corner and set about spreading Anne’s skirt, petticoat, bodice, and stockings to dry.
“My husband went to Scottsburg this morning,” she said. “He’ll be back directly, unless he’s decided to wait out the rain.”
“It’s a raw day.” Dan could well imagine the farmer taking refuge in a haberdashery or a café.
The three youngsters tumbled in at the back door and bantered as they took off their wraps.
“Here, you!” Mrs. Moss shook a finger at them. “Stop that rowdiness, or you’ll not have any cookies.”
“Cookies?”
“Yes, Becky May Moss, but not for girls who charge in here behaving like hoydens.”
Becky hung her shawl on a hook and faced her mother demurely. “Yes, ma’am. Shall I get a plate and offer them to our guests?”
“Now, that’s better,” Mrs. Moss said. She adjusted the position of the drying rack on the other side of the stove and walked toward the cupboard. “Give Mr. Adams some, by all means, and I expect Miss Stone would appreciate a few as well, once she’s got her dry clothes on.” She threw Dan a glance over her shoulder. “And you, Mr. Adams. When she comes out, please feel free to use our room. Your things are dripping wet, too, I’ve no doubt.”
“I cannot thank you enough,” Dan said. His wool trousers were beginning to steam and feel a bit too warm against his skin, so he moved his chair a little farther from the stove.
“I do hope the lady won’t be ill,” Mrs. Moss said. “She’s just a bit of a thing, isn’t she? Pretty.”
“I brought the rest of the baggage up, Mama,” Felix said. “It’s in the woodshed.”
“Well, bring it in here. Mr. Adams can’t use it out there, now, can he?”
Felix opened the back door and lugged in Dan’s valise and saddlebags. Billy shut the door behind him, giving Felix a playful tap as he passed with his hands full. Felix growled at him.
“That’s enough,” their mother said. “Put those things down and get your snack. And behave like civilized young gentlemen. Becky, you’ll be setting the table for supper when you’re done.”
“Yes’m. Are they staying?” Becky cast an uncertain glance at Dan from the corner of her eye.
“Oh, we couldn’t impose,” Dan said quickly.
“Dear me, of course you could.” Mrs. Moss brought a cast-iron frying pan to the stove. “The lady can’t go on in this weather. You’ll stay with us tonight.” She eyed Dan archly, as though daring him to contradict her. “You, sir, will have to sleep upstairs with the boys. It’s all right, though. They’ve got the chimney through their room, and you’ll be warm. Miss Stone can take Becky’s room.”
Anne wouldn’t like it one bit—being delay
ed another night from finding her uncle. “But we can’t—”
“Don’t fret, young man. ‘Twon’t be the first time Becky’s stayed in with us.”
The curtain in the bedroom doorway pushed to one side and Anne appeared in an attractive but serviceable gray dress with black braid. She’d combed her hair and pulled it neatly up into at twisted bun.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Moss. I feel 100 percent better.”
“You’re most welcome, my dear. I was just discussing our arrangements for tonight with Mr. Adams.”
Anne looked at him with arched eyebrows.
Dan stood and grabbed his valise. “Mrs. Moss can tell you. I’ll step into the other room and get out of these damp things.”
“Sit right down, dearie, and have a cup of tea with sugar. Since you’re English, I’ll warrant you like it with milk in it.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“And we’ve oatmeal cookies and…”
Dan pushed the curtain back and made good his escape.
David let Captain pick his way down to Scottsburg as fast as the poor horse wanted to go. He was not only laden down with David’s weight and that of his mining gear, but everything was dripping wet. On a sunny day, David would have stopped to see Whitey Pogue, a crusty old miner with a claim lower down on the same creek as his own, but in this foul weather, he decided not to make the detour.
An hour before sunset, he arrived at the stable of the Miner’s Hotel, the best hostelry in town. David unloaded his horse and rubbed him down while Captain dove into a ration of crimped oats. He’d much rather see to it himself than wait for one of the hotel employees to care for the horse. They might not give Captain the attention he deserved for his faithful service.
At last, weary to the bone, David trudged across the muddy barnyard and around to the front door of the hotel.
“Ah, Mr. Stone,” the clerk called out. “I thought you might come in today.”
“Yes, it’s miserable up there in the hills.” David couldn’t help but notice the attractive woman with auburn hair who glanced up from her reading when he entered. She sat in a niche to one side of the room, on an upholstered settee where patrons sometimes met for conversation.
He took his key from the desk clerk. “Thank you, Ed.”
“I’ll get your satchel out of the storeroom and bring it right up. Will you be wanting a hot bath before dinner?”
David laughed, looking down at the mud-smeared clothing that clung to him. “It would be criminal not to, I fear. Bring on the hot water.”
“And does your horse need care?”
“I put him up myself, thank you.” David turned toward the stairs and was surprised that the woman he’d noted earlier had approached and stood near the newel post, watching him.
“Mr. Stone?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Mr. David Stone?”
“That’s right.”
She wasn’t the prettiest woman he’d ever met, but she had an interesting face, and her hair shimmered in the lantern light, with red highlights in the brunette. Her dress was made of commonplace calico, covered by a silky shawl—an import if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“Oh no, sir, but I heard the clerk speak your name. I’m visiting from Eugene City, and an acquaintance there mentioned you to me. She said you were over this way and it was possible I might meet you. I hope you don’t think me too bold to approach you.”
David chuckled. “Not if you don’t think me too loathsome to approach in my present state.”
She looked slowly from his face, which sported several days’ growth of whiskers, down to his open coat and vest, his mud-spattered trousers, and his high leather boots.
“Oh no. Loathsome is not at all the word I would choose, sir.”
To David’s consternation, he felt the heat in his face. “Well, ma’am, you have the advantage of me. You know my name, but I haven’t heard yours.”
“Forgive me. I’m Charlotte Evans.”
She held out a dainty, gloved hand, and he took it. The woman had a certain appeal—a forthright charm that many of the frontier women lacked. David studied her face for a moment. She’d used cosmetics, but with a light touch. Probably she was near thirty, but she had the assets to keep a man in doubt. And she seemed intelligent, something he liked in a woman but rarely had the opportunity to enjoy these days.
“Are you engaged for dinner?” he asked. “Perhaps we could discuss our mutual acquaintances in Eugene.”
“Actually, I thought I was, but I’m not. My cousin was to meet me here today, but I’ve been informed he’s delayed.”
“Well then, Miss Evans, it would give me pleasure if you would dine with me. The hotel lays a creditable table.”
“I should love to.” She lowered her lashes and said softly, “Though it’s Mrs. Evans. My late husband—” She broke off with a slight cough.
“I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
“Don’t distress yourself over it,” she murmured. “James passed on five years ago, and I’ve begun a new phase of my life. In fact, that is why I’m here in Scottsburg. But perhaps that is better left to tell later. I’m sure you’re anxious to get to your room.”
“I’ll be eager to hear about it. Shall we say in one hour?”
She bowed her head in assent.
David smiled as he hurried up the stairs. He hadn’t expected a charming dinner companion tonight.
Millie spent the hour preparing for her dinner with Mr. Stone. Part one of her plan had worked to perfection. If only she had time to carry out the rest. She dressed her hair carefully, letting her curls tumble down from the bunch at the back of her head. She refreshed her powder and lip rouge with an expertise gained from years of experience.
Last, she wriggled into the gown she had obtained from the obliging Miss Stone. On her arrival at the hotel, she’d asked for two things—a hot bath and a flatiron to press her clothing with. She’d let go of a precious nickel to have the hired boy black her shoes. She’d have liked to have a prettier pair, but the hem of Miss Stone’s gown was long enough to hide all but the gleaming tips of the only pair she had along on this journey.
She eyed herself in the mirror over her dresser, turning this way and that. She could think of no way to improve her appearance. She only hoped Stone’s niece and Adams didn’t show up at this hotel. They might—it seemed to be the nicest one in town, and the prices reflected that, as did David Stone’s choice to stay here. The only thing she could imagine that would be worse than meeting Anne Stone in the dining room was to have Sam come bumbling in and claim her. Her masquerade with David would be over in a trice. She was glad her brother hadn’t shown up yet—though she was a little concerned about him. Sam never learned how to take care of himself, and she despaired of ever teaching him.
Perhaps he was doing his job after all. So far as she knew, Adams and Miss Stone hadn’t ridden into town yet.
The other vital ingredient for this evening was a plausible story. She went over the tale she’d concocted in her mind. David Stone must believe every word she said, and he must sympathize with her. She mustn’t make her plight sound too pathetic, or he wouldn’t want to get involved. No, she must present herself as a strong, charming woman in difficult circumstances. One who didn’t need rescuing but was not above accepting the hand of friendship. One who valued a smart, competent, independent man. That shouldn’t be too difficult to put across to Stone.
The fact that James Evans had left her a widow, though inconvenient at the time, was now an asset. She’d just have to be careful not to divulge too much about James, how he made his living, or the manner in which he had died.
She gave her hair a final pat and picked up the silky shawl. She’d never owned one so nice, and her gown was beyond anything she’d ever seen, let alone imagined. It was just the tiniest bit tight, but not so bad it made her look bulgy, and she didn’t suppose the gentlemen who saw her in it would mind. The shawl woul
d help hide her flaws, too. She didn’t own a nice purse, so she tucked the pouch with its remaining coins into the pocket beneath her skirt. Gloves, courtesy of Miss Stone, and a fan she’d acquired without benefit of a receipt from a shop in Eugene completed her ensemble. She glided down the stairs well pleased with herself.
As she’d planned, David Stone was already in the lobby, waiting for her. He paced across to the front window and looked out at the rain-drenched street, his hands shoved into his pockets. She’d picked a handsome one. Tall, with only a hint of silver in his light hair. He’d reached maturity, but he was still in mighty fine shape. She appraised him as she would a horse and knew she’d pick this one out of a herd. The fact that he had means was crucial. His fine looks were a bonus.
He turned and started back toward her, letting his gaze swing over the lobby and up the stairs. With satisfaction, she noted the exact moment he saw her. His eyes lit, and his smile made her shiver with anticipation. She’d succeeded in part two of her plan.
She continued down, and he met her at the bottom of the steps.
“Mrs. Evans, you look lovely.”
“Why, thank you.”
He nodded in appreciation. “I haven’t seen a woman so well-turned-out since I left St. Louis—or possibly even New York. I must say, it’s refreshing.”
“You flatter me, sir.”
“Not without cause. Shall we?” He crooked his arm and offered it to her.
Millie slipped her hand inside his elbow. “Delighted, Mr. Stone. This is such a treat.”
“Oh, you’ve sampled the hotel’s cuisine?”
“No, I meant finding a dinner companion who can carry an intelligent conversation. You’ve no idea what a dearth of good company I’ve undergone since I left San Francisco a month ago.”
“Oh? You came up from San Francisco? I’ve been thinking of traveling down there. You must tell me about it.”
“Mr. Adams!”
“Yes, Felix?” Dan was still shaving when the boy burst into the loft room he’d shared with Felix and Billy the night before.
THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy Page 44