by Kit Morgan
But did Sam have the money? Should she even ask? He’d spent more on their journey home than she made in a month at the mill, and hoped he wasn’t being too extravagant. He’d bought her clothes, paid extra for a room with the bath, took her out to restaurants … that afternoon he’d even bought her a treat at a street stand – a bag of peanuts and popcorn mixed with molasses that the vendor called “cracker-jack.”
As they sat down and Sam perused the menu, tears stung the back of her eyes. She had indeed married a good man and would thank the Lord every day for him. He was thoughtful, considerate, kind and the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Each night when they went to bed, it was as if Heaven opened up and he took them on a journey to pleasures she had never imagined before. Where would he take them tonight?
She reached for her menu and froze. “Merciful heavens!”
Sam set his menu down. “Lottie, what is it?”
Lottie swallowed hard and pointed as discreetly as possible. “Over there, by the front desk … I thought I saw … no, it couldn’t be.”
Sam turned in his chair, his eyes darting every which way. “Couldn’t be whom?”
Lottie shook her head as waves of emotion hit: anger, frustration, fear. “Bob Brown.”
“Your old boss?” She nodded, her eyes fixed on the lobby beyond the dining room. Sam looked at her, the lobby and back again. “Which one is he?”
It was as if he’d shaken her awake. She looked again, her eyes straining. “The one with the long frock coat and dark, slicked back hair … oh no, where did he go?” Without thinking, she stood and began to make her way for the lobby.
“Wait,” Sam called after her. “What are you doing?” He followed, grabbed her by the arm and gently pulled her around to look at him. “You’re not going to confront him alone?”
She straightened as her heart thundered in her chest. What were the chances she’d see Mr. Brown here in Chicago of all places? “I can handle myself.”
“I’m sure you’re quite capable, but, as your husband I feel … oh good grief, forget the speeches. I’m going with you.”
“Really, Sam, there’s no need.” The last thing she wanted was for Sam to see her interrogate her old employer.
“Lottie,” he said, his voice laced with warning. “I don’t know what this man has done, all I know is that you get very upset whenever he’s mentioned. How much more so in his presence?”
Lottie tried to pull away, her eyes darting around as she searched for the elusive Mr. Brown. “There’s… something I have to ask him, something I have to know.”
“Well, that should be no problem if he’s staying here at the hotel. Why don’t we invite him to dinner?”
Lottie shuddered at the idea – accusing Bob Brown of setting his own mill afire over roast chicken and squash might not be the best idea. “I think I’d prefer to speak to him in private.”
“All the more reason for me to be there.”
“That won’t be necessary …”
“Lottie,” he said and guided her back to their table. “Sit down.”
Lottie glanced over her shoulder at the lobby several times before Sam got her to her chair. “I can’t see him anymore! He’s gone!”
“And good riddance too,” Sam said. He put his hands on her shoulders as he studied her. “What is the matter? If he’s staying the night, then he’s not going anywhere. You’ll have plenty of time to speak with him later. For all you know, he’ll walk in here at any moment for his dinner. Now can we please order?” He sat and picked up his menu.
Lottie fought the urge to throw her face into her hands. “So close,” she muttered. “So very, very close …”
Sam set his menu down again. “What is it you want with him, anyway?”
Lottie froze as their gazes locked. Did she dare say anything? If she did, at least he’d know why she got upset every time Bob Brown was mentioned.
“Tell me.”
Sam’s voice was so soft, so compassionate that Lottie could no longer hold back. She swallowed hard, glanced around quickly, then whispered, “I and a few others believe that Mr. Brown, our employer, burned down the mill.”
“What?!” Sam almost dropped his menu. He leaned toward her. “Are you accusing this Mr. Brown of arson?” he asked, his voice just as low.
“I’m accusing him of more than that.” She glanced around a second time as she leaned even closer. “We were all working in the mill at the time. I’m accusing him of attempted murder.”
“Attempted murder!” Sam quickly held the menu up as if to shield them from the rest of the room. “You … you can’t go around accusing people of that!”
“Somebody deliberately set that fire, Sam, and I’m sure it was Mr. Brown!”
“Brown? Fire…” he said as he set his menu down and turned in his chair toward the lobby.
Lottie could tell he was putting two and two together. “Don’t you see? I have to confront him, I have to know.”
Sam sighed heavily. “My dear, sweet wife … if I set fire to my own building, then one of my employees came up to me and accused me of it to my face …” He paused, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “… how do you think I would react?”
“I … I hadn’t gotten that far yet.”
“Well, do so now. You wanted to confront him alone, if you could. If the man did indeed set fire to his own building, what do you think he might do to you when you point the finger at him?”
Lottie sat in silence as the implications hit her. “Oh dear.”
“Quite.” Sam sat back in his chair and rubbed his face with hands, then looked at the ceiling as if appealing to the Almighty before looking her in the eye. “Under no circumstances should you speak to that man.”
“But Sam …”
“I said no.” His voice was soft but firm, the look he was giving her firmer.
She’d never seen such a look before and she wasn’t about to test it. “Very well, I won’t.”
“The only speaking you should have been doing is to the authorities. Why didn’t you and the others tell the local police?”
Lottie sighed. “If a woman goes to the police, by herself, they dismiss it as just ‘female hysteria’.” She looked down and added, “besides, we have no proof.”
“Which does make the ‘female hysteria’ theory rather convincing, doesn’t it?” Sam threw his hands in the air. “And you wanted to confront him. Alone. Brilliant.”
Lottie wanted to hit something. Sam was right, of course. But it didn’t shake her instinct that Mr. Brown had done exactly what she said. But there was no arguing with her husband about it, not now. “I said I would speak no more of it.” She spied a waitress and raised a hand, not caring that she’d cut off the conversation.
She had a feeling Sam wouldn’t give up, though. Any more than she would.
Twelve
Sam’s mind roiled. Had he married a lunatic?
Lottie’s eyes kept darting between him and the lobby, and he could tell she was determined to confront this Mr. Brown regardless. But he would have none of that.
A waitress came to take their order and without waiting for his wife to so much as open her mouth he said, “We’ll both have the roast chicken.”
“Anything to drink?” the woman asked as Lottie glared at him.
He didn’t care at the moment. “Iced tea, if you please.”
“I’ll be right back with those,” the waitress said as she took their menus and hurried off, probably sensing the tension.
As soon as she was gone, Sam leaned toward his wife. There was something he had to know. “I have one word for you, Lottie.”
She straightened in her chair. “And that is?”
He looked her in the eyes. “Dover.”
She flinched.
“Aha.”
She grabbed her napkin off the table and put it in her lap. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean. You wanted to get married in Dover. The pre
acher that married us mentioned there was a fire the night before and that the family’s name was Brown.”
She paled.
This was worse than he thought. “Why did you become a mail-order bride?”
“You know why. Because it was the only action I could take, not to mention the others, after that snake in the grass did what he did. We had no choice! It’s a miracle none of us were killed!”
“But you haven’t a lick of proof, is that right?”
“Sam, he was in the mill not moments before it happened. Don’t you think if he cared anything about his mill or its employees that he’d have stayed to help put the fire out? Or at least … help get us out? But no, he disappeared. And you could see the smoke for miles – he couldn’t have gotten far in just a few minutes. Someone would have pointed it out to him. Everyone in the area knows who he is. But he never even came to check.”
Sam sat back in his chair. She had a point. “How much time passed between when he left and the fire broke out?”
“Like I told you, not more than a few minutes. Five, maybe.”
“That’s time enough for him to get some distance if he left at a good gallop …”
“I don’t know if he was on horseback.”
“… less distance if he was driving a wagon or buggy,” he mused. Bugger if she didn’t have something there – circumstantial, but something nonetheless. What man wouldn’t turn around the minute he noticed his business was on fire? As she mentioned, someone would have seen the smoke and headed over to help. “How many roads lead to the mill?”
“Only one from the main road,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “There’s a feed store not far up it and the men who work there are always outside at that time of day.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because …” She suddenly blushed. “… because they wait for us to walk by and make crude remarks.”
“I see.” He wrinkled his nose. “Did they see the smoke?”
“Of course – they were the first ones to come help put it out. For a moment I thought they might have started it just to be mean or to scare us. Coming to help would only cover their tracks.”
Sam blew out a long breath. “I could speak to a policeman or a sheriff.”
“What good would that do when Bob Brown is here and the fire was in Massachusetts?”
He thought a moment. Lottie had made several good points, yet one simple fact remained. “You have no proof, no solid evidence. Even if we were still in Lawrence, a sheriff isn’t going to arrest a man without it. He might question him, but nothing more.”
Lottie closed her eyes in resignation and swallowed. When she opened them, her disappointment was palpable.
“I’m sorry, but those are the facts.” He studied the dining room, now full of people, his eyes coming to rest on the lobby. Had she even seen this Mr. Brown? But the look on her face told him she had. “I’ll make some inquiries, though.”
She blinked at him a few times. “What?”
“I … know someone who can check into this for us. But if I do, promise me you’ll leave it be.”
She stared at him a moment, her jaw tight. “I … I promise I’ll try.”
He sensed that was the most she could do. “All right. But I also want you to promise me that you’ll not try to confront this man while we’re here.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. One would think he’d just asked her to drink poison. “Yes,” she finally said.
Sam reached across the table and held out his hand. She took it. “You’re my wife, and it’s my job to see to your welfare. I’m just trying to protect you. If this man is truly guilty of what you describe, he may not stop at attempted murder.”
She nodded, but kept silent. He could tell it was killing her to submit to his better judgment. But if she didn’t, she might put herself in harm’s way.
The waitress brought their meals and they ate in relative silence. Sam kept an eye on his wife and noticed her eyes flick to the lobby now and again. After dinner he’d take her to their room, then find Ferris and have him make a few inquiries, maybe even keep an eye on this Brown fellow. He just hoped Ferris was nearby. There were several restaurants in the area, and Sam knew Ferris would be inclined to dine in the better ones …
“I need to see if there’s a telegraph office nearby,” he told her when they returned to their room.
“Oh? What for?”
“I need to send word to the ranch and inform them of our arrival so someone can meet us at the station to drive us home.”
She nodded, her eyes fixed on a vase of flowers perched on the fireplace mantle. Her mind was elsewhere – and he knew exactly where, and on whom, it was set.
“Stay here,” he instructed. “I know you’re tired. I shan’t be long.”
Lottie turned to him and nodded again.
“Promise me you’ll not leave the hotel,” he said, his voice determined.
She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then nodded once more.
“Lottie, it’s for the best,” he said, taking her in his arms. “Leave it be for now.”
She leaned into him. “There are so many of us, Sam. What if … what if things don’t turn out as well for the others? What if some of the girls wind up with cruel husbands? What if I’m never able to see my sister again?”
Sam gently pulled them apart to look at her. “Nonsense. You’ll see your sister again – I’ll make sure of it. As to the others, I cannot say. You’ll have to leave it in the good Lord’s hands. Didn’t you say that most of your roommates had heard from their grooms before we left? Isn’t that comfort enough? At least you know they’re going to be married soon.”
“That’s just it – I don’t know. There are no guarantees when a woman becomes a mail-order bride, but with so many of us suddenly unemployed, there weren’t enough jobs to be had.” She looked away, her eyes downcast. “I … I just worry, that’s all. I want to make sure everyone is okay.”
“An admirable quality, dear wife.” He leaned down and brought his face to hers. “I’m glad you have it.” He kissed her, slowly, gently and with as much self-control as he could muster. He really did need to send a telegram to let his family know of their progress toward Clear Creek. If he didn’t send it today – fairly likely, considering the time – he’d need to do it tomorrow at one of the stops. But most of all, he needed to find Ferris.
He broke the kiss and Lottie melted against him with a sigh. “There now, why don’t you get ready for bed?”
“All right. You’ll hurry back?” she asked as she gazed up at him.
He smiled, pleased with the passion in her eyes. “As fast as I can.” He kissed her one last time, then let her go. The sooner he could put her mind at ease over this Bob Brown business, the sooner he could have her back, all of her. If her mind was on Bob Brown and not him, it was only a matter of time before the rest of her followed.
He turned at the door, gave her a curt nod and left. He wasn’t about to let this Bob Brown drive a wedge between him and his new wife. The sooner this mystery was solved the better … if he could solve it at all.
* * *
Lottie paced. She wrung her hands only to ball them into fists at her sides. She even tried whistling to get her mind off Bob Brown being in the hotel. But nothing worked. The drive to find him and ferret out the truth was overwhelming. It was one thing to let the matter go when she was halfway across the country and the guilty party was still back east. But to discover he was under the same roof … that was another matter entirely.
She turned to the door, half-expecting Sam to come through it. How long had he been gone, three minutes? Five? She had to do something! And had very little time to do it. But she’d promised Sam to drop the matter and stay put …
Lottie stopped pacing. Wait a minute … what did Sam say? “Promise me you won’t leave the hotel …” Yes, he did say that, didn’t he? She spun to the door. Of course she wouldn’t leave the hotel. That didn’t
mean she couldn’t go down to the lobby and ask the hotel clerk if they had a certain guest …
Without thinking further, she was out the door. Sam had the key, so she’d have to leave it unlocked. But she’d only be gone a few minutes at most, just enough to ask a few questions.
She hurried down the stairs to the lobby and went straight to the front desk. Quite a few people were still milling about, and she wondered if a late train had come in. She glanced at a clock on a wall – seven-thirty. It was still fairly early, so it was possible. She maneuvered through the crowd and tried to get the attention of one of the men behind the counter. “Excuse me?”
One of them glanced her way and nodded. “A moment, miss.”
She returned the nod. They were busy, and she heard one clerk tell a man there were no more rooms. “There are several other establishments down the street,” another called to the disgruntled crowd. A few grumbled in protest, picked up their bags or satchels and headed for the lobby doors.
Bob Brown among them!
She gasped when she saw him and, before she knew it, followed him out the door. He held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth, and she wondered if he was trying to keep her from seeing who he was. If that was the case, had he spied her when he came down the stairs? Did he recognize her? But how could he? She was one of many faces in his textile mill. Still …
He rounded a corner and she picked up her pace. Her heart thundered in her chest, not because she was following him, but because she was disobeying her husband. Lottie, what are you going to tell Sam? Her conscience nagged. You promised!
But that wasn’t enough to stop her. Bob Brown was a good fifteen yards ahead. If she didn’t get moving she might lose him in the crowds. She had to know! She had to do something! Even if it was to simply see where Mr. Brown was going –
“Lottie!”
She jumped. Oh no! Spinning around, she found Sam not six feet away staring at her, jaw set, eyes narrowed. He looked hopping mad – and who could blame him?