THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  The hotel he’d heard about, to which he was duly directed by two somewhat inebriated loafers and a bartender, turned out to be not a tenth as good as the one he’d left in New York, and Peregrin mourned his losses, especially when he learned that this one charged nearly as much as the Metropolitan had.

  “I say,” he sputtered to the desk clerk, who hadn’t a proper desk at all, but a wobbly table in the entry hall. “How can you charge so much for such a small, shabby room?”

  “Think of all the trouble we must take to bring in supplies, mister.” The clerk looked him testily in the eye. “Everything in this place was floated up the river. It takes a lot of muscle to freight in amenities.”

  “Hmpf.” Peregrin looked him up and down. “Well, I’d like a bath in my room, and when I’m done, I’ll have you send up my supper by room service; there’s a good chap.”

  The clerk stared at him for a moment. A smile spread slowly over his face.

  “Ain’tchu somethin’? We don’t do no room service, mister, and the closest place you can get a hot bath is down the street. The laundry on the corner will give you one if you treat ’em nice and show your silver.” He looked down at Peregrin’s baggage, which he’d dropped on the floor while signing the register. “Oh, and you’ll have to haul your own truck upstairs tonight. Jojo’s sick.”

  Peregrin shook his head and stooped to pick up his bags. There had to be a better hotel in this town. There just had to be. He couldn’t imagine Anne Stone staying in this monstrosity, but he was sure he’d heard she’d gone overland to Oregon, and chances were pretty good she had passed through this place.

  The room was tiny and none too clean. He put his bags next to the bed, freshened up, and went out again in search of supper. Apparently this hotel served only breakfast to its patrons. On the street, he met a pair of rudely dressed men. If the filthy state of their clothing was any indication, they came straight from a farm into town without cleaning up first.

  “Say, gents, is there a good place to put on the feed bag near here?” he asked, smiling brightly.

  They stared at him.

  “What did you say?” one asked.

  “Is there an eatery close by?”

  “Oh. Surely.” The rustic turned and pointed. “Up yonder to the corner and turn left. Casey’s.”

  “Thank you,” Peregrin said.

  The other man elbowed his companion. “Of course, if it’s drink you be wantin’…”

  “Oh? And where might a man find a glass or two and a card game?” Peregrin asked. He’d learned in New York that Americans played more poker than anything else, so he didn’t ask for a game of whist or faro.

  “You oughta come with us if you’ve a mind to sit in on a game,” the first man said.

  “Can I get something to eat there?” Peregrin asked, torn between his empty stomach’s needs and his love of gambling.

  “Sure—well, maybe. Or you can go eat at Casey’s and come on down to the Bear Paw afterwards.”

  It was a difficult decision, but Peregrin decided to get a meal under his belt first thing. He knew his head would stay clearer for the game if he put something solid down first. His two new friends told him how to get to the Bear Paw, slapped him on the back, and sent him on his way.

  Millie asked Mrs. Simmons, who held sway over the dining room, to hold a small table in reserve. She went back to her room and freshened up and then waited near the bottom of the stairs as Billy went up to help David.

  Getting him down the two flights of stairs took its toll, as Dr. Lee had predicted. David had apparently insisted on leaving his crutches behind. Millie frowned, but perhaps that was wise—they might be too cumbersome on the stairs. The satisfaction on David’s face when he reached the bottom testified that he felt it was worth the trouble.

  “Mr. Stone, you’re looking very chipper.” She stepped forward and took his arm. “Thank you so much, Billy.” David didn’t reach for a coin—he seemed preoccupied with maintaining his balance—so she took a half dime from her pocket and passed it to Billy.

  “Thanks, Miz Evans,” he said, pulling at his forelock.

  “Oh,” David said, blinking at her. “I should have—”

  “Forget it. Let’s get you to a chair. I asked Mrs. Simmons to let us have one of the smaller tables, over to the side, so we won’t be right in the middle of the traffic.”

  In the doorway, David paused, looking around a bit anxiously at the roomful of townspeople, farmers, and adventurers. “Is it always this busy?”

  “Supper is very popular here. You know Mrs. Simmons is an excellent cook—you’ve been eating her meals for some time now.”

  “Yes.” David walked slowly with her along one side of the crowded room to their table.

  If Mrs. Simmons weren’t such an accomplished cook, Millie reflected, she might have had a chance of getting a job in the kitchen here instead of doing laundry and cleaning. She would have much preferred cooking—but Mrs. Simmons also had a sharp tongue and was very jealous of her territory. Keeping out of the kitchen was no doubt less stressful than the job of cook’s helper, even if the work Millie did now was harder physically.

  Once they were seated, a homely girl whom she had learned was the Simmonses’ niece came to stand beside the table.

  “What can I get you folks?” she asked.

  David stared up into her abundantly freckled face for a moment, then looked across at Millie.

  “You like the fried chicken,” Millie said. “Today they also have corn chowder, beef stew, and pork cutlets.”

  “Ah.” David looked less lost. “I’ll try the chowder, and then I’ll have some chicken. What about you?”

  “I’ll have the beef stew, please, and biscuits.”

  “Put Mrs. Evans’s meal on my bill, won’t you?” David said cordially.

  “No, don’t do that.” Millie frowned at him and leaned across the table. “Mr. Simmons allows me my meals as part of my wages.”

  “I see.” David raised his eyebrows and smiled at the waitress. “Cancel that last request.”

  “Yes sir. Would you like coffee?”

  “Gallons of it.”

  When the girl had gone to give their order, Millie smiled at him. “Does it feel good to be out in company again?”

  “Very good. In fact, I feel so well that I think I’ll be able to fend for myself soon.”

  She nodded and spread the calico napkin in her lap. “Now that you’re getting about more, perhaps we could ask Mr. Simmons if he can give you a room on the first floor—or at least the second.”

  “That would make things easier,” David said, “though I do hate the bother of moving.”

  She smiled at that but said nothing. David resisted any sort of change in his routine when it was first proposed. She’d found it surprising in such an energetic man, but she’d decided it was his way of trying to retain some control in his helpless condition.

  “Dr. Lee says I’m not quite ready to resume my journey,” David continued, “but I see no reason for you to remain here.”

  “I…beg your pardon.” She hadn’t supposed he wished her gone just yet, though Dr. Lee had said David mentioned the possibility. She looked across the table into his blue eyes. “I’m not displeased to stay a bit longer.”

  “Surely you’d rather get on to Philadelphia and get settled. I know you’ve been anxious to get to your friends and find a permanent situation.”

  His smile made her heart flutter. How could he be so charming while pushing her away?

  Her cheeks grew warm, and she looked down at the tablecloth. “Do you wish me to leave?”

  “I wish you to be happy and secure, Millie. You’ve been very kind and generous with your time and attention, but I can manage now, if you want to go.”

  The freckled girl, Sarah, came with her tray and put a plate of biscuits on the table between them. Carefully, she eased a bowl of stew off and set it before Millie, then presented David with his corn chowder.

  “Butte
r, jam, and salt is yonder,” she said, nodding toward a sideboard where the guests were expected to help themselves. “Anything else?”

  “Just the coffee,” David said with a smile. Indeed, he seemed to have regained his pleasant demeanor and left the crotchety complaining up in the third-story room.

  “Oops. I’ll bring it straightaway.” The girl whirled about, her skirts billowing.

  Millie couldn’t help smiling. This was like Scottsburg, in some ways, though she no longer tried to beguile him into buying her meals. But she’d enjoyed his company immensely then—as she did now, when he wasn’t talking of getting rid of her.

  “Now, Millie—”

  She stifled her laugh with her napkin. He’d sworn not to call her that anymore unless she used his first name.

  He eyed her suspiciously. “What?”

  She shook her head and waved one hand. If she told him what amused her, he’d make sure he stuck to his hasty proclamation, and she didn’t want him to go back to formalities with her. But if she called him “David,” would he think she was trying to coax him into friendship as she had once before? She didn’t want to summon back his distrust.

  He frowned but went on, “I was only going to say that you should go on as soon as you can. It’s August already, and you’ll want to get to Phila—”

  “Would you please stop talking about that?” she asked, more sharply than was necessary. She lowered her gaze. So much for convincing him she was no longer a woman of the rough frontier.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  David was staring at her. She could feel it. After several seconds, she looked up at him.

  “You aren’t eating.”

  “I’m wondering if I’ve made you cross,” he said.

  “No, I—” She sighed. “Mr. Stone, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay.”

  “Stay? In Independence? Do you mean…you want to settle here, instead of going on to Philadelphia? I realize you’ve made some friends here. The Hardens—”

  Millie shook her head vigorously. “That’s not what I mean. I’d like to stay with you until you’re certain that you’re well. If you don’t mind, that is. Mr. Stone, I have no desire to surfeit you with my company. If you truly wish for me to leave…”

  Now he was smiling, almost gleefully. Millie’s cheeks flushed. Was she making a complete fool of herself?

  “As a friend,” she said hastily. “I feel a certain responsibility to you now, since you were so kind to me, and I wish to stay as long as I can be of help to you.”

  David said nothing for a long moment. Finally he nodded. “All right. I don’t mind, but there are two things we must address.”

  What on earth? She shot him a keen gaze, but his eyes still held a hint of amusement, and she looked down at her plate. She really was hungry, and the beef stew smelled delicious. She reached for her spoon.

  “What two things?”

  “First of all, Mrs. Evans—”

  She winced involuntarily.

  David, on the other hand, grinned. “I knew it. You hate for me to call you that.”

  She shrugged and said carelessly, “It’s my name.”

  “Yes, but I’d rather call you Millie.”

  She said nothing, knowing what was coming next.

  “Or Charlotte, or whatever you desire,” David said softly, almost caressingly.

  Her cheeks now felt as if they were on fire. “Please. You know that ‘Charlotte’ was a ruse. In short, I lied to you back then. I don’t lie anymore. My real name is Mildred.”

  “A lovely name. May I use it instead of Millie?”

  She nearly strangled to get out, “As you wish.”

  “Ah. Thank you. And I also wish you would call me David.”

  “For old times’ sake?” she asked cynically.

  “No. Not at all. I should like to mark this as the beginning of a new phase in our acquaintance.”

  “What is the second matter?” she asked uneasily, not willing to commit to anything yet, even something so small as how to address him.

  “The second matter—”

  “Here you are, Mr. Stone.”

  Sarah arrived with the coffeepot so precipitously that she bumped into the table, and Millie feared she would slop hot coffee all over David. She opened her mouth to issue a sharp rebuke but clamped it shut. The new Mildred would hold her peace and let the gentleman deal with it.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” A few drops of coffee had sloshed on the table.

  “Think nothing of it,” David said. He set his cup closer to Sarah so that she could fill it more easily.

  “Is there anything else I can bring you?”

  “No, thank you.”

  When she was gone again, David inhaled deeply and looked over at Millie.

  “Now, where were we?”

  “Your dinner is getting cold.” Millie took a bite of her stew.

  “So it is. But I’d like to put this traveling matter to rest.”

  “Oh? Then perhaps we shouldn’t discuss it any further.”

  David frowned and shook his head. “No, I want to settle it. I still need help, Mildred. I admit that. If you leave, I’ll probably have to hire someone for the next couple of weeks. If you truly wish to stay, I’d be happy to have you continue as my—shall we say, my aide?”

  Millie took a sip of water but had trouble swallowing around the lump in her throat. She blotted her lips and finally met his gaze.

  “Yes, David. I accept.”

  He smiled. “Good.” Then he frowned. He looked as though he would speak again, but instead he began to eat his chowder.

  CHAPTER 25

  You win again, Cy,” crowed the fellow called Jim. He grinned around at the others, showing his brownish teeth. “We’uns are goin’ to lose our shirts if this keeps up.”

  Peregrin lifted his glass and took a swig of his beer. Most of the players at the table were locals, but a couple were men just passing through town. Cy, Jim, and the shaggy man known as Beater, which Peregrin optimistically assumed was his surname—though it seemed many a man jettisoned his real name when he crossed the Mississippi—gathered at the Bear Paw nearly every night to play poker. They must win a good portion of the time, or they wouldn’t be able to sustain the regular game.

  They probably viewed Peregrin as one of the well-feathered strangers, ready to be plucked. Well, he’d have to teach them a thing or two. They had no idea what sort of card player they were up against.

  Last night, they’d jollied him along and played the game almost carelessly. Peregrin had listened to their stories of the frontier and stood them all a couple of drinks. But tonight they were joined by two strangers, and the three locals seemed more serious, more intent, and more ruthless. Peregrin had come out three dollars to the good last night, and they’d parted with a general feeling of camaraderie. But tonight—tonight he got the feeling the boys were out for blood.

  Beater proved it when he raised the ante by a hundred dollars, not the customary dollar or two. Surprised the man could lay claim to that much, Peregrin eyed his hand dubiously. Did he want to lose that much, along with the easterner whom Beater seemed eager to trounce? His beer hadn’t yet clouded his judgment too much. He didn’t stand a chance of winning this round.

  He looked over at Cy. Peregrin had learned last night that the scruffy farmer had sixty acres outside of town. Cy and his two buddies had seemed to like the Englishman, and they’d treated him like a long-lost chum. Did they still feel that way? Or had he been bumped into the same class with the other newcomers tonight?

  Cy winked at him. Peregrin felt suddenly wiser—and smarter than the travelers who’d dared to take on these fellows.

  “I’m out.” Peregrin folded his cards. Let Beater take this one. He’d jump back in on the next hand.

  Cy nodded. “How about you fetch us another drink, Perry?”

  “Glad to.” Peregrin rose and walked to the bar just a little less steadily than usual.

  Merrileig
h would be proud of him for keeping his head.

  “Listen to this,” David said eagerly. He stood leaning on his crutches while Millie adjusted his clothing, and in his hand was a letter from his niece.

  “Hold still, please. I’m trying to fasten these hooks.” Millie tried not to let the impatience she felt show in her attitude. She’d spent three hours yesterday shopping for the right trousers and a piece of material that would match—or near enough that no one would notice. It had taken her half of today to alter the pants to her satisfaction.

  “Are you sure this will look all right in church?” David asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Millie had slit the inside seam on the left pant leg and inserted a gusset of the extra black cloth. Then she’d sewn a row of tiny hooks and eyes beneath the flap of material. If her painstaking work didn’t pay off, she would be sorely disappointed.

  “Well, you must hear Anne’s news. I’m delighted that she and Daniel have added a little Adams to the family.”

  “What?” Millie blinked up at him. “I had no idea.”

  “No, well…Anyway, they have.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Of course he, being a gentleman, would never have mentioned that Anne was in a delicate condition. Still, it felt odd, having been so close to David these past four months and not having known anything about it.

  “They’ve named him Richard, after Anne’s father.”

  “Oh, how nice.” Millie could barely see the dark little hooks against the black fabric, but at last she managed to fasten the last one. “There!” She sat back on her heels. “I think no one will have an inkling that you’re wearing a cast.”

  “Won’t my left…limb…look fatter than my right?”

  “Well of course, but who will notice? If you wear your nice frock coat, and with the crutches—”