Fern decided she would have to visit the school. It wouldn't do to have things in a muddle when Rose arrived.
"Go on back to your bank and forget about the twins."
"That's exactly what I intend to do."
And he would, Fern told herself as Jeff left. He didn't seem to care about anything except making money.
* * * * *
"That's the best workout you've ever had," Jeff's trainer said as he massaged Jeff's sore muscles. "You had me worried there for a while. That stump can't take but so much strain."
"I've got the same muscles in both shoulders," Jeff said. "I mean to see my left side is just as strong as my right."
"It is. There can't be a man in Denver with a better developed torso than you. You going to see Louise tonight?"
"Of course. It's Tuesday. Why do you ask?"
"You worked yourself pretty hard today. Maybe you ought to take it easy."
"You think I'm too weak to work out and visit a woman all in the same evening?" Jeff demanded.
"Of course not, but you wear her down too much when you're like this. Maybe you ought to take it easy this time."
Jeff sat up and grabbed a towel. "Mind your own business. Just be sure to tell Louise to expect me in the same mood as always."
"Trying to prove you're a bloody bull," his trainer muttered under his breath after Jeff had left. "You'd think being strong enough for two men would be enough for him. But no, he's got to exhaust that poor woman or he thinks he's not much of a man. What the hell is he trying to prove?"
* * * * *
"You have no progress at all to report, Mr. McKee?"
Violet faced her lawyer across a desk piled high with neatly stacked papers. He was a tall, spare, attractive man, probably in his forties. His hair was greying around the edges, but it was full and bushy. His office was large, well-appointed, his staff courteous and efficient. Violet didn't know how her uncle could have afforded such a successful lawyer.
It had been very fortunate for her that he had. Mr. McKee was also a member of the board of The Wolfe School. It had been his recommendation that had gotten her a job.
"I'm afraid not, Miss Goodwin. The Leadville courts are full of disputed claims and counter claims. It could be years before we're able to achieve any concrete results."
"But I don't have years, nor enough money to pay you if I did."
"It's not necessary to pay me any more just yet." He smiled at her in a way that made her heart beat a little faster. "You can wait until I have something definite to report."
Violet tried not to let her desperation show, but she needed her inheritance. She wanted to go back to Massachusetts. Now.
Her father's brother had left Massachusetts to avoid the war, wandered over the West from one mining town to another. Occasionally he sent news of a small strike. Most often he told of empty holes and picked-over claims.
A short time after her father's death, he wrote he had struck it rich and invited her to come live with him. Having no other family, Violet had sold everything she had and left Massachusetts. It was a terrible shock to reach Denver and be told by Harvey McKee her uncle had been killed in a mining accident. It was even more of a shock to be told his claim was disputed, considered worthless.
Mr. McKee was certain the courts would recognize her ownership, but he had warned her not to expect quick results. To support herself while she waited, she had taken a job as housemother to the boarders at the Wolfe School for Girls.
She didn't realize until later Harvey McKee had become fond of her.
"There must be something you can do to hurry things along," Violet said. "Maybe if you went to Leadville--"
"There's no point in my leaving this office, Miss Goodwin. I have colleagues in Leadville. I can do as much here as they can there. Maybe even more."
"But you're not doing anything."
"Not achieving anything. Well, maybe a little. I have succeeded in getting your case on the docket."
"How long before it can be heard?"
"Maybe within a year."
Violet wanted to scream. Somebody had stolen her claim, and it would take the court a year to get around to even looking at her complaint. Her uncle said they were taking the silver out of the earth as fast as possible. There might not be any left in a year.
"It's not an unreasonable delay," Harvey McKee assured her. "Many cases take much longer."
"I don't have longer."
"You have your position at the Wolfe School. You live and take your meals there."
"I know, but--"
"Besides, it's possible your situation may change."
"How do you mean?"
"You might decide to marry. You're a very attractive woman, always beautifully dressed."
Today Violet wore a dress of rich emerald green.
"There must be many men who would be proud to have you for their wife."
"I don't expect to marry," Violet stated. She was shocked when thoughts of Jeff Randolph sprang into her mind. "I mean to return to Massachusetts as soon as I get my money. I have something I very much want to do."
"I had hoped you might allow me to advise you on investments."
"There's hardly any point if I'm as poor as a New England Quaker," Violet said. She stood. "I'd best be going."
"I had hoped you would dine with me. It would give me time to explain what I plan to do."
Violet liked Harvey McKee and found his company enjoyable. After being locked up all week with little girls who never thought of anyone but themselves, it felt wonderful to have someone try to please her.
"Thank you, but I'll need to be back early. One of the girls is showing signs of coming down sick."
"I'm sure she'll recover soon."
Violet imagined she would, a lot faster than she would recover from learning it could be years before she got any money. Maybe not even then. That upset her in more than one way. She didn't want to make any decisions about her future with the fear of poverty, or perpetual enslavement at the Wolfe School, staring her in the face.
Much to her surprise, the image of Jeff Randolph flashed into her mind again. Honesty forced her to admit he was more attractive than Harvey. Also, Harvey was sometimes too restrained and polite. After years of having to depend on, and take care of, weak males, she wanted someone who could take care of her, a bear of a man who was willing to stand up and fight.
But not one so full of growls and bared fangs as Jeff.
Jeff made his way toward the dormitory, his temper badly frayed. He didn't want to be here, but Fern was still not well. Today was the day Miss Goodwin had stated he was to return. He had heard nothing from her during the intervening two weeks, so he assumed the girls had managed to behave. He didn't know why she couldn't have sent him a note. He had had to cancel another meeting.
Fern still wasn't well enough to leave the house and Madison hadn't returned from Leadville. Jeff pulled his coat closer about him. He'd be glad when the trees grew tall enough to serve as a windbreak. The gusts off the plains could practically lift a man off his feet.
He wasn't looking forward to meeting with this woman again. She was bossy, a Yankee, and she dressed much too boldly. Most upsetting of all, he'd found himself thinking of her this week. At first he had done little more than catalogue her shortcomings. When he found her image breaking in on his thoughts, he became uneasy.
Not that he was worried he was overly attracted to her. He just hated knowing he found any Yankee woman appealing. It hadn't happened before. He couldn't imagine why it should be happening now.
If those wretched twins could just have behaved themselves; if Fern hadn't been sick; if Madison hadn't been in Leadville; if Rose had sent them to St. Louis instead of Denver.
It was no good torturing himself with if's. It was foolish to think Yankee women couldn't be beautiful. And as much as it galled him to admit it, it was just as foolish to think he wouldn't be attracted to one sooner or later. He was a man, after all, with the Randolph a
ppreciation for women. It was nothing more than a momentary aberration. He would never see her again after today. He would forget her existence in less than a month.
Reaching the dormitory, Jeff knocked on the door. No one answered. He knocked again with the same result. He thought of asking at the main building but changed his mind. Miss Goodwin had told him to be back in two weeks.
Well, it was exactly two weeks, to the minute. He knocked a third time. Still, no one came. Angered, he opened the door and went in.
The parlor looked just as he remembered it except a fine layer of dust covered everything. The maid had been neglecting her duties. Apparently Miss Goodwin was unable to keep her staff up to their work. Clearly she was unsuited for her job. He knocked on the door Miss Goodwin had used to enter the parlor when he had been there before. The door remained closed.
The building might as well be empty for all the attention they were paying him. But he knew it wasn't. He'd seen one of the girls at an upper window.
He knocked harder and was pleased a moment later to hear a door open and footsteps scurrying along the hall. Beth opened the door just enough to see who was knocking.
"You're not supposed to be here," she exclaimed. "Go away."
"I've come to see Miss Goodwin," Jeff informed her, unable to understand her behavior. "I have an appointment."
"She won't see you."
Hot rage surged through Jeff. "Do you mean to say that after letting me come all this way, she won't see me?"
"She's busy."
"Busy be damned," Jeff said, pushing against the door. Beth didn't have a tenth of his strength, and he pushed past her easily. "I mean to see her, now. Where the hell is she hiding?"
"She's not hiding," Beth protested when Jeff opened the nearest door. "And you can't go opening every door in the building."
"The hell I can't. If she couldn't see me, she should have sent a message."
"I'm sure she meant too. She probably just forgot."
"Responsible women don't forget," Jeff said, opening and closing another door. "She demanded I be here exactly on time. I am. I expect to be seen."
"Don't go in there!" Beth shrieked when Jeff reached the third door.
With a satisfied smile on his face, Jeff jerked the door open. "I've found you, Miss Goodwin," he called. "Now you'll have to come out and talk to me."
He pulled up short. Miss Goodwin, wearing a stunning dress of orange satin, blocked his path.
"I'm afraid you'll have to come in," she said. "We're under quarantine."
Chapter Three
Mr. Randolph's expression was one of such shock, horror, and disbelief, Violet's good humor was restored. She almost felt sorry for him. Then he opened his mouth.
"You're crazy if you think I'm going to stay locked up with a gaggle of giggling girls for I don't know how long."
"Five days," Violet informed him.
"That's nearly a week! I could be ruined by then."
There he went again, acting like he owned a bank. Well, she wasn't going to argue with him. She didn't really care what kind of fantasies he indulged in.
"You should have thought of that before you came bursting in here."
"There's no sign on the door."
"We didn't put one up because a thing like this is liable to panic the community. After all, Scarlet Fever isn't terribly serious."
"Why didn't you send me a message?"
"Why should I?"
"Because you ordered me to be here on this day at this time."
"I didn't do any such thing. I'd never-- Oh, my God! I completely forgot!"
"Well it doesn't matter, I'm not staying here."
"You might carry the infection into the community."
"Don't be ridiculous. I never get sick."
"Maybe not, but you'll have to stay anyway. Oh dear, what on earth am I going to do with you? This building wasn't designed to have a man in residence."
He turned to go. She grabbed him by the sleeve. "You can't leave."
He removed her hand from his coat. "Watch me."
"It's illegal to break a quarantine."
"I don't care." He started toward the door Beth had closed behind him.
"If you leave, I'll have you arrested."
He turned and gaped at her. "You'll do what?"
"I'll have you arrested. No one is allowed to break a quarantine. If you go out that door, they'll have to quarantine everybody you meet, your family, business partners, the clerks and tellers at the bank, the arresting policemen. I imagine you'd be the most unpopular man in Denver by nightfall."
He looked from her to a tongue-tied Beth, back to her again. He obviously couldn't believe what had happened to him. He probably expected her to tell him it was a joke. He should have left when no one answered the door. Nevertheless, she had insisted someone return to the school. She should have remembered to tell him not to come.
It was her fault.
What was she going to do with him? He didn't look like a man who could entertain himself, especially under the circumstances.
"I'm afraid you'll have to stay on the third floor. There are no bedrooms down here, and the girls occupy all the rooms upstairs."
"That's impossible," Mr. Randolph said.
"Why?"
"The place is full of girls."
Violet had to smile despite the circumstances. "That's not unusual in a girls' school."
"I probably know their fathers. And mothers. I wouldn't be able to look them in the face after this."
Good lord, she hadn't thought about that. Some of the parents would create a fuss if they knew. Even if his bank did try to hide him in the attic, quite a few people probably knew him, at least socially. She'd let Miss Settle know immediately, but she'd have to keep his presence a secret until it was over.
"We won't advertize your presence," Violet assured him.
He wasn't listening. He was staring into space. He looked furious. She dreaded what he would decide to do. Quite abruptly, his brow cleared, and he said, "Show me my room."
She was immediately worried. Polite and gentlemanly acceptance of what couldn't be changed was the last thing she expected from him.
"My bedroom is on the third floor as well," she announced.
He stopped in his tracks. "That's completely unacceptable."
"It would be if I were alone, but Beth sleeps up there as well. She will preserve my reputation."
"I was thinking of mine."
She looked at him with wry amusement. "When did a man ever wish to preserve his reputation, except to prove it's as bad as can be?"
"I have a position to uphold," Jeff told her quite seriously. "It doesn't include squirreling myself away in the attic of a girls' dormitory. And there's no point trying to keep this secret. It will be found out. Might as well make sure everyone knows. Then there'll be nothing to explain later."
Violet wasn't sure Miss Settle would agree, but she had to respect Mr. Randolph's decision. He wasn't the most pleasant person in the world, but he didn't hesitate to face up to a difficult situation.
Or was it merely obstinacy. She couldn't tell.
As they climbed the stairs, Violet was surprised to find herself very much aware of his physical presence. She supposed it was his size. Her Father and brother had both been of medium size. Mr. Randolph was a least half a foot taller, much bigger. He'd have made Jonas look like a child.
She tried not to think of her brother as he was after he came home. But she could remember little else. She had been nine when he left.
She was winded when she reached the top floor. Mr. Randolph didn't draw a deep breath.
"I'm afraid the rooms aren't very well appointed," she said.
"This room doesn't look bad. It'll take it," Mr. Randolph said pointing to the first room on the right.
"That's my room," Violet informed him. "Beth sleeps directly across the hall. You can have any of the others."
Mr. Randolph stuck his head in each room. "They're full o
f trunks and old furniture," he said.
She looked into the room on her side of the hall. "There aren't many trunks here. It won't take you but a few minutes to drag them across the hall."
"Don't you have someone to do that for you?"
"Not while we're in quarantine. Our food is delivered to the door. Other than that, we're on our own."
Mr. Randolph proceeded to let her know, in colorful and concise terms, what he thought of the situation. So much for polite and gentlemanly acceptance. She wasn't too familiar with the workings of a bank, but she was certain Mr. Randolph hadn't acquired his vocabulary in one. Nor his manners.
Using a maneuver she imagined he must have practiced a long time to make it seem so easy, he shrugged out of his coat. He handed it to her. She took it, her gaze glued to his body. Huge shoulders heavy with muscle tapered down to a trim waist. His heavily starched shirt did little to hide the muscles that rippled across his chest.
Without a word, he strode into the room. A moment later a large trunk sailed through the door, across the hall, and through the opposite doorway without stopping. A second and third followed almost immediately. For a man with only one arm, he was amazingly strong.
"Wait a minute," she called out. "You can't jumble those trunks together like that."
"You straighten them out."
"Not while you're flinging them about like an angry gorilla."
He stuck his head through the doorway. "A what?"
"A gorilla. A large animal of great strength and uncertain temper."
He didn't seem the least upset by her description. He crossed the hall to survey the jumble of trunks.
"They ought to be stacked," she said
"I can't lift them by myself." He waved the stump at her. He was using it as a weapon to make her feel guilty, to get what he wanted.
And it was working.
"I can help." Violet didn't tell him she'd never been required to lift anything much heavier than a newborn baby. She didn't know how she would handle anything as large as a trunk.
Not very well it turned out.
"You're weak as a cat," he said. "Maybe you'd better get that other girl up here."
"The other girl is busy. I'll manage."
Violet Page 3