by Lynn Landes
Dalton laughs at the look on her face as she says, “No more, Mr. Astor, please. It really is overwhelming. I think I shall need to absorb it slowly.” He joins their laughter, and she hears him thinking that is precisely how he felt the first time he saw it.
“Well, get ready Mrs. Rivers. Your suite is on the top floor, and we will be taking our rising rooms to get to it.” He leads them inside the glassed-in elevator and closes the door behind them. Dalton puts his arm around Cassie and smiles down at her.
“How is it powered, Mr. Astor?” She wonders, awed by its smooth movement between floors. “It's so quiet.”
“It is fluid powered, through tubes below. We use steam-powered pumps beneath the hotel to drive ours,” he replies with pride.
“Technology is amazing!” Dalton responds with a smile.
Mr. Astor leads the way from the elevator down a long carpet lined hallway. The walls are wallpapered in a stunning burgundy Victorian print and lit by gas lanterns. He opens the door to their suite and steps back, allowing them to enter first.
The first thing Cassie notices are the large curtained windows and an enormous fireplace. A red velvet couch and matching chaise with a chandelier in the center of the room.
“You will find his and her rooms and baths on each end of the suite. A private dining room for your enjoyment and if you leave your dirty clothes in the baths, housekeeping will have them laundered for you.” They stand in stunned silence staring at each other, and Mr. Porter takes his leave saying, “Please enjoy your stay with us.”
The click as the door closes startles them, and they both start laughing and talking at the same time.
“Have you ever even dreamt anything this big?” she asks moving towards the fireplace. Dalton walks to the windows and stares into the street below.
“No, my family will think I am telling stories,” he responds.
His stance by the window reminds her of why she is here. “Dalton, I owe you some explanations, and if you are agreeable, I would like to get cleaned up and maybe we could talk about all of this over dinner.”
“Of course. Take your time.” He walks into the room Mr. Astor said was his and closes his door.
She watches him go and moves silently to her room. A large four-poster bed with a small fireplace already lit fills the room with a decadent warmth. Cassie finds her trunk and packages inside a closet and her two dresses already pressed and hung up. Looking at her surroundings, she resolves to visit the dress shop while she’s here and purchase some much needed personal items and clothes. She left in such a hurry that she only brought what she could carry.
Fingering her blue cotton tea dress, she sighs. Bath, then shop she thinks. Adjacent to her room is a marble-lined bathroom with a claw foot tub. After a few seconds of inspection, she pulls a chain above the tub and it begins filling with hot water. Letting the steam fill the room, she is not surprised to find lavender water and soap ready for her use.
She strips quickly and gets into the tub with a groan. Ducking under the water, she thinks about all that has transpired and washes her hair. Standing, she scrubs her body and tries not to think of Dalton and how easy it would be to fall for him.
“Cassie! You do not deserve someone so good!” What would he think if he knew she killed Eustace and his men? She will pay for her crimes, with eternal damnation. That is the price for murder, and she knew that going in. “It would be better for everyone if I disappear when this is all over,” she tells herself.
If only her heart would agree.
Chapter 8
Inside his own bath, Dalton finds a full shaving set and soap. His clothes have also been pressed and hung in his closet. He soaks in a huge soaking tub and can only shake his head in bewilderment.
Cassandra Brown? No that isn't her name he reminds himself. She is a mystery, and he intends to solve it. Where did she get the gold? She says it's from her family land and she had the deed to it, but he senses there is more to the story. Tonight, he will get some answers. Rising from the tub, he quickly scrubs and gets dressed. He has things to arrange, and Mr. Astor will be just the man to help him, he thinks with a smile.
When Cassie exits her bedroom, she feels, silence. He is gone. “He doesn't have to tell me where he's going. We are just play acting, after all.” Clad in her blue cotton dress and shoes, she decides to visit the dress shop and order the clothes she needs. “What to do with my cash?”
Time to see if the trunk was worth the price. She quickly slides the panels up revealing the hidden storage inside and tucks her envelopes inside after taking out the cash she will need for clothes. Then she returns it to her closet. “Perfect.”
Now to find the shop. This hotel is massive, she'll be lost if she doesn't find help. As soon as she opens her door, she notices a young serving girl.
“Excuse me please, could you direct me to the dress shop?” she asks.
“Yes, miss. Follow me.” She replies in a French accent and leads the way to the rising room and smiles shyly at Cassie. “It's on the second floor. You are in luck, Mr. Emile Pingat is here from Paris, France!”
Cassie opens her mind and sees the girl in a sexual tryst with a tall skinny man with dark hair and mustache. She immediately slams the barrier down. Some matters are better left unseen.
“What is your name?” She inquires as they wait for the elevator to come back.
“Aimee Lancour, Miss.”
“Well, Aimee, should I know who this Emile Pingat is?” Cassie responds following the young lady into the lift.
“He is simply the finest couturier in all of Europe. I could only hope to someday be as good and talented as he,” she gushes.
“You hope to be a dress designer?” Cassie asks with a new interest. People are always surprising her because they are never what they seem.
Aimee nods excitedly. “Mr. Pingat says if I continue my studies, I will be a famous designer someday.” They enter the shop, and Cassie watches as Mr. Pingat and another young woman leap apart. The girl blushes and pushes past Cassie as she adjusts her clothing. Aimee sighs.
Mr. Pingat looks more angry than embarrassed as he looks over Aimee as if she were invisible. He then looks Cassie up and down with a sneer of distaste upon his thin face.
“What is it?” he snarls.
“Pardon me, sir. I was looking for the famous Emile Pingat that Miss Lancour has bragged about. I'm in desperate need of a full Trousseau for my travels. I had to leave home under duress, and my bags were left behind.” Cassandra glances around as though looking for someone else.
“If he isn't available, I'm sure I can arrange for someone else to design my ball gown for The Palace Ball tomorrow night.” Cassie turns as though leaving and snaps, “Come, Aimee, Mr. Wells will not be happy if I'm not in attendance tomorrow evening.”
Aimee's face has lost all color, and she looks from Emile to Cassie in shock. Emile is quick to recover, and he leaps into action at the mention of Mr. Wells name.
“ACH! You have found Emile! You must let me dress you, Miss?” he asks with a lecherous smile. Cassie is careful to block his innuendo.
“Mrs. Rivers. I am on my honeymoon as Mr. Wells guest. My husband and I will be attending the ball at his request, and as I have stated, I am… lacking. Aimee insisted that you were the finest couturier in all of Europe, so here I am.” He looks to Aimee with a small smile and snaps something in French.
“Then Aimee will help me. Get my tape and let us take some measurements.” Aimee smiles at Cassandra, and she hears the whispered thank you in her mind. “Emile will not let you leave his shop in that frock. Today I will create a new you!” he says eyeing her up and down.
Cassandra smiles, “Perfect! Let’s get started,” she replies. Two hours later, Cassandra leaves dressed in a purple silk tea dress, customized to fit her voluptuous figure. Her small waist and lush breasts are simply covered in a one of a kind embroidered dress. Emile and Aimee rave, and at Aimee’s insistence she allows the girl to dress her h
air as well.
Two morning dresses, three silk tea dresses, a wrap, three dinner dresses, two travel dresses are on order plus all the undergarments and shoes to match. “I have an odd request Mr. Pingat. I need pockets sewn into my corset for my valuables. I will be traveling a great distance, and I want to keep them close. Can you do it?”
“Of course, but you will need this in more than one item. It would be best to break it up between items, not keep everything together, in one place, No?”.
“Precisely. I will defer to your judgment on that. One more thing.” Turning, she picks up the bolt of material she had wrapped in brown paper and walks to a table.
“Mr. Pingat, I bought a special material I would like to show you, for my ball gown.” Cassie unrolls the blue silk she purchased at Mr. Chou’s store and Emile gasps and starts speaking in rapid French.
Aimee laughs at the expression on Cassie's face. “That is his specialty. He is always inspired by the many cultures of the world.” Once more he snaps something at Aimee, and she turns to Cassie.
“He must know where you bought this?” Cassie responds by telling them of the stunning selection Mr. Chou carries.
Emile begins to sketch out a ball gown on a piece of paper, unlike anything Cassie has ever imagined. A gorgeous black lace embroidered gown with beading and trim over the oriental pattern. A matching cape soon follows, and he waves Cassie away. “We go.”
“Okay, I will bring your dress tomorrow, Mrs. Rivers,” Aimee promises and hurries to follow Mr. Pingat.
“Aimee will you help me dress tomorrow. I will pay you for your time,” she adds quickly.
“Of course, Mrs. Rivers. It would be my pleasure.” They agree on a time, and Cassie hugs her before leaving.
Cassie laughs, and when she steps outside the shop, she sees Dalton exiting the barber. His long blond hair is swept back from his now clean-shaven face. He is dressed in a black suit that is perfectly cut to fit his large frame. He looks her up and down, and a slow smile blooms.
“Just in time. You take a man's breath away, Cassie,” he says, reaching a handout.
Her reaction is instant, she puts her hand in his and smiles back. Her body reacts to his before her mind can stop her. “Thank you, Mr. Rivers. I wondered where you had gone.”
“You aren’t the only one with secrets. Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me?” he asks.
“I would be delighted.” They laugh and enter to elevator heading back to their room.
Alone in the elevator, Dalton looks at her and smiles, “Cassandra, tonight will you trust in me and just believe? Believe that for just this moment, all your troubles are gone?” He asks softly cupping her face in his hand.
“I thought you wanted answers, Dalton?” she asks with a serious look.
“Tomorrow comes soon enough, Cassie. Will you be with me tonight? Without reservations, worry or doubt? Trust that just for tonight we belong to each other?”
What damage can come from believing she asks herself, her hand touches his and answers lovingly, “I will.”
He leans down and claims the kiss, he has been dreaming about. Her mouth is hot and his lips, demanding, and Cassie finds she doesn't want to fight her need for him. His hands move to her hips, pulling her closer and she kisses him back meeting his tongue the moment he invades her mouth. She savors the taste of him, sweet and rough, and he pours through her soul washing away the aching loneliness. For this moment she is his, and they belong to the intensity raging between them.
Dalton is the first to realize the elevator has stopped. He tears his mouth from hers wishing they were alone, but excited for the evening ahead. Passion heats his gaze, and he growls at her, “Damn, you taste like heaven, Cassie.”
“You shouldn’t kiss me like that, Dalton. I don’t know what game ...” He backs her into the corner, ignoring those waiting outside the elevator.
“No games, Cassandra. I don’t like games. I want you, but I will behave for the rest of the night. I promise. Forgive me.” He turns away not waiting for an answer and exits the elevator.
Cassie follows unable to speak. The intensity of her feelings for him is that of a woman, not the young girl she was with her husband, Jim. Dalton reaches out and takes her hand, tugging her along down the hallway past their room.
“Dalton, our room is that way. Where are we going?” He doesn’t answer. He keeps walking to the end of the hall where the porter, Mr. Astor waits.
Mr. Astor waits, holding a single white rose. He smiles at Cassie and offers her the flower, then holds the door open. Dalton steps through and Cassie follows nervously. She decides not to read the porter. Life loses some of its magic if you know everything that is coming.
Dalton leads the way up a candlelit stairway, lined with porters each holding a single rose. By the time she reaches the rooftop deck, she is holding fifteen white roses and struggling to hold back tears.
The view from the deck is stunning. San Francisco is lit with a gentle radiance. Overhead the stars sparkle and glisten dancing in the atmosphere above. An outdoor fireplace glows, crackling and popping providing the warmth they need. Cassie turns in awe and sees a table set for two. A waiter stands awaiting their orders.
“Dalton, this is too much!” I don’t deserve this kind of treatment, her soul screams. Tears spill and he walks forward, cupping her face. He wipes her tears and whispers,
“Remember your promise, Cassie. For tonight, no worries, thoughts, or fears. Just us.”
“How can I say no to you?” She wonders.
He plucks a champagne glass from a tray and offers her one. “A toast to new beginning’s and dreams coming true.”
Chapter 9
Aiden Daniels slams his empty shot glass down on the dusty bar and flips a silver coin down. He pushes through the swinging doors and heads for his horse, just as a stranger rides into town. The man slows his horse and looks around before heading to the sheriff’s office.
Strangers are always trouble as far as Aiden is concerned. His brown eyes glare daggers into the back of the two men when they exit the office. Sheriff George Bower saddles his horse, and the stranger joins him riding out of town.
Aiden walks into the sheriff's office looking for answers. Willow Bower greets Aiden with a hesitant smile. “What can I help you with, Mr. Daniels?” she asks. Everyone in town fears the Daniel's family. They hold power and no one can stand up to them.
“The stranger, who is he? What did he want?” he demands glaring at the older woman.
“He's a surveyor from San Francisco, and he was looking for the Wolfe Ranch. How's your daddy doing?” she asks, trying to change the subject.
“What’s a surveyor from the city doing here, Willow? Lord the whole town knows you are a busy body,” he says, ignoring her question. “Answer me!” he says, slamming his fist on the desk.
Rage flushes her cheeks, and she jumps to her feet. “That's a terrible thing to say to me! Your Mama would…”
The slap sends her flying back into the wall. She holds her hand up to her face and weeps against the floor. “Answer the question woman!”
“Cassandra Wolfe sold the deed of Wolfe Ranch to the bank in San Francisco! They are surveying the land to see what it's worth,” she sobs out from the floor.
Fury pulses through his body. “She's alive?” He flashes to the image of his father burnt and screaming in pain in the rubble of her house. The screams seemed never-ending as the doctors tended to his burns. He will never regain the use of one eye, and he is burnt beyond recognition. The powerful man he always admired is gone. Now he's a pathetic excuse of a man. “She's been in San Francisco, and now she plans on selling out on us! Over my dead body!” He slams his way from the office and jumps on his horse to tell his father.
He rides the two blocks to his family home and stomps inside. Outside the bedroom, Aiden hears the labored breathing that is a telltale sign of the pain his father is in. The murky sent of iodine and sweat beats at him, and he has to wor
k not to show his disgust when he enters. The Doctor is removing the old dressings from the blistered, fragile skin.
“Are you ready, Eustace? I will work fast.”
Morphine was administered to help diminish the pain, but the moment air strikes the nerves agony explodes. Eustace moans and bites his lip to stop his scream. Over one eye, he wears an eye patch, and his left arm is in a sling, fractured. The right leg was not so lucky, it was broken and punctured by the floor caving in, and his calve was pierced by debris. The wooden structure flashed, and the floor caved in, igniting the wood below. Five men were killed in the collapse of the Wolfe home. Eustace survived only because Aiden pulled him to safety. He was working the mine, alone, stealing what gold he could.
Looking at his father, he wonders, not for the first time, if he should've let him die. This looks more like death than life. His burnt wrinkled head has splotches of hair left. The skin beneath the gauze is blistered and colored bronze by the iodine-soaked gauze.
“The worst part is almost over,” the doctor assures him. He proceeds to pressure wrap the burns. “This is cutting edge treatment for burns, it helps to smooth the rippled skin beneath and will soften the pain. The dressing needs to be changed daily, but you are healing well, Mr. Daniels.”
Eustace moans and swears, squeezing his eyes shut against the torment. The doctor checks his eye and finds the swelling is going down, but he still has not regained any of his sight. “Your vision may return, but the milky white color isn’t good. Flash burns are hard to determine. We will just have to wait and see.” He turns to Aiden, “Watch closely for signs of fever, but I think we are past that now. It’s been over a week, it would have presented by now. Morphine for the pain as needed. I will see you tomorrow.”
Aiden watches with no sympathy as his father struggles to sit up. When Eustace reaches for his whiskey with his one good arm, he knocks it over, spilling it.