Cinnamon and Roses

by Heidi Betts

  With a muffled curse, he pushed back the rickety saloon chair, grabbed the half-empty bottle, and made a beeline for the Wilkes Hotel, trying not to let his eyes stray to the small house at the end of the street with yellow light shining through its gaily curtained windows. Rebecca would be inside, probably starting one of Megan's dresses. Caleb's pace quickened, and he took the hotel steps two at a time. He opened the door to Sabrina's room without knocking. A gust of thick, sickly-sweet perfume washed over him, nearly making his eyes water.

  The Wilkes Hotel was one of only two lodging houses Leavenworth could offer, and this corner room was the best they had, though small by city standards. It boasted two windows draped with thick white curtains, one overlooking the town's busy thoroughfare, the other facing the farther, more deserted end of town—where Rebecca lived. A dark, intricately designed dresser lined one wall, with a full-length cheval glass in the corner. Matching nightstands and oil lamps decorated each side of the large canopy bed at the opposite end of the room. The carpet was still deep cherry red but worn and slightly faded around the dresser and bed.

  Sabrina was beneath the canopy, reclining against a pile of fat, fluffy pillows. She let out a small cry of pleasure at Caleb's sudden appearance but seemed otherwise undisturbed, as if she was used to men barging into her room at all hours of the night. She wore a filmy pink nightdress covered by a nearly translucent robe of the same color. Neither left much to the imagination.

  Caleb wondered briefly if he or some other man had bought the garments, then decided it didn't really matter. He wanted one thing from Sabrina, and one thing only.

  Sabrina sat up, displaying a generous amount of cleavage and a pout she had perfected over the years. “You frightened me, darling. I haven't seen you in so long, I thought you had forgotten me."

  Caleb knew she was fishing for a compliment. Something like, “I could never forget you, Sabrina.” He said it without emotion, meaning it, but not the way she would think. Caleb suspected he wouldn't easily erase Sabrina from his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Her maple-syrup voice, her liberal use of cosmetics and colognes, and her overly bright yellow hair doubtless would stick in his memory for some time to come.

  "Where have you been, then?"

  "I've been busy,” Caleb answered.

  Sabrina continued speaking, and he nodded, pretending to listen to her list of complaints as he made his way to the window facing Rebecca's house. He pushed the white draperies out of the way and stared for a minute at the small, plain cabin, taking a long swallow of whiskey.

  Caleb knew nearly every inch of Rebecca's home. He knew the sewing mannequin stood before the fireplace, knew where she kept her fashion plates and sewing supplies, her china and cutlery. And he knew that if he went behind the pink and white rose-covered curtain at the back of the makeshift parlor, he would find Rebecca's bedroom. Caleb suddenly wanted to be in it, to know that room intimately as well.

  With that thought came images of Rebecca, the dress she had been wearing that afternoon, and how she would look out of it. Caleb turned his head toward Sabrina, cringing inwardly at the sight. Despite Sabrina's artificial beauty and practiced charms, Caleb wanted to make love to the small, mousy, passionate woman in the cabin below.

  The thought of staying with Sabrina became suddenly unbearable. He moved for the door. “I have to go."

  "Where?” Sabrina cried, coming to her knees on the bed.

  "I have some business to take care of. It can't wait."

  Her mouth turned down in a pout. “When are we going back to New York? You said it wouldn't be long, Caleb. I want to go home. I hate it here,” she whined. “It's hot and lonely, and nobody likes me. Maybe if I bought some new dresses..."

  Sabrina's voice hurt his head. He looked at her in stunned realization, as if seeing her for the first time.

  "Don't buy anything else on my credit, Sabrina."

  Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “But, Caleb—"

  He shook his head and let his eyes fall closed, trying to keep a headache from forming between his temples. “Use your monthly allowance for a train ticket back to New York. There should be plenty of money left.” Caleb ran a hand through his disheveled hair and turned toward the door.

  "Oh, no, Caleb. I don't mind staying a few more weeks. Really. I know you want to make sure your father is well before going back.” Her nervous voice belied the calm of her words.

  Caleb tried to be as polite as his liquor-laden mind would permit. “I don't think I'll be returning to New York for quite a while, Sabrina. I can't leave while my father is still under the weather, and you are obviously unhappy here. I'm sorry, but I think we should go our separate ways.” His hand curled around the brass knob.

  "You can't do this!” Sabrina shrieked, jumping from the bed.

  Caleb turned back to her slowly, gritting his teeth against the pain her grating voice caused in his head. “You should have more than enough money to reach New York and live well until you secure a new ... livelihood, but if you need more for your travel expenses, let me know. I wouldn't dream of sending you back penniless."

  "No! I won't let you leave me like this, like some common whore."

  He gave her a wry grin and touched her cheek with a fingertip. “Common is not a word I would ever use to describe you, Sabrina."

  "Oh!” She lunged at him, screaming.

  Caleb caught her wrists with ease, holding them in one hand. “Let's not make more of this than there has to be, Sabrina. We both know ours was a temporary arrangement. I'm sorry, but it's over now.” Caleb let go of her. “Good-bye, Sabrina."

  He closed the door behind him, flinching at the sound of glass shattering against the other side of the thick wood. He made his way down the length of the hallway and stairs, hoping Sabrina's fit wouldn't awaken anyone.

  It was only when he stood in the livery stable, waiting for his mount to be saddled, that Caleb remembered he had left his whiskey in Sabrina's room. Just as well. He was drunk enough. The only sensible thing he had done all night was telling Sabrina to go back to New York.

  Caleb mounted his horse with some difficulty. As he rode out of the stable, his eyes flew to the dark cabin at the end of the street. His head began to throb anew, and he made himself think of anything other than Rebecca asleep in her bed. He reined the spirited gelding in the opposite direction and headed for home.

  A large wicker basket hanging on her arm, Rebecca took the long route to the Adams house, walking far behind the town's main buildings. It was easier than having to stop every few minutes to talk with another acquaintance.

  Rebecca had no desire to come face-to-face with the handsome but arrogant Caleb Adams again, either. But she did need to see his sweet young sister, Megan. So she decided to make her trip in the middle of the workday to ensure that Caleb would be in the Adams Express office with his father.

  The pieces for all three dresses were together, and Rebecca wanted Megan to try them on to see how they fit. It would be easier to get precise measurements and sew once than to estimate and end up sewing twice.

  For ten in the morning, it was quite warm as the sun's rays beat down on Rebecca, but the wide brim of her straw hat protected her face and kept the bright light out of her eyes. Several times on the three-mile walk, Rebecca stopped to pick wildflowers. Even though she knew they would most likely wilt and die by the time she made it to Megan's house and back, Rebecca couldn't resist grabbing handfuls of the colorful blossoms and holding them up to her nose. The sweet fragrances of four-o'clocks, bladder campions, thimbleweed, and buttercups aroused her senses, sending her mind into a whirl of idyllic summer images. She would get more on the way home to decorate her parlor with small bouquets.

  Rebecca loved summer above all other seasons. It was hot, certainly, sometimes to the point of being quite overbearing, but summer had a way of bringing out the best in people. The season was filled with sunny days, prospering fields and farms, brightly colored wildflowers, and cool, starry nig
hts.

  Almost before she knew it, Rebecca could see the two-story white house at the end of the long lane and the waist-high picket fence that surrounded the yard. She smiled and brushed a lock of loose hair out of her eyes, looking forward to spending more time with sweet, chatty Megan Adams.

  Rebecca set the basket on the ground for a moment while she worked to unlatch the gate. Then, holding the basket in one hand and the hem of her skirt in the other, she walked through and let the gate swing closed behind her, its lock catching by itself.

  She made her way up the sturdy porch steps, the urge to hum bubbling inside her for the first time in months. Smiling brightly, Rebecca lifted the brass knocker high on the door and rapped several times, expecting Megan to answer.

  Rebecca's smile immediately faded when Caleb Adams opened the door instead.

  Chapter Four

  Rebecca took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, readying herself for any barbs Caleb Adams might toss her way this time. In place of his usual black suit and string tie, he wore faded dungaree trousers and a loose-fitting light-blue shirt, open at the neck. On his feet were not his usual half-gaiters but a pair of brown leather boots dusty enough to compete with those of any professional cowboy. His casual appearance warmed Rebecca's opinion of him slightly. Maybe he wasn't quite as stiff and haughty as she had assumed.

  Though he had been more cooperative in her shop the week before, Rebecca had no silly illusions about this man. Doubtless he had been on his best behavior only because his sister was in the room. Otherwise, he would have been just as arrogant and rude as usual.

  While Rebecca stood on the wide porch in a heavy green walking skirt and high-necked blouse, Caleb's mouth curved up at one side in a grin—that same irritating smile she always seemed to induce.

  "Well, Rebecca,” he drawled, resting his weight against the doorjamb rather than asking her in, “what can I do for you?” He leaned forward a bit, quizzically regarding the large front lawn and road beyond. “I don't see a buggy or horse,” he commented before she could answer his question. “What did you do, walk all the way from town?"

  "As a matter of fact, I did."

  Caleb's eyes widened in obvious surprise. “But that's more than three miles. When did you leave town, six this morning?"

  "Hardly, Mr. Adams. I enjoyed the walk. And it wouldn't have taken me quite so long if I hadn't stopped every few feet to pick these.” She held up her large bouquet of wildflowers.

  Caleb stepped back, pushing the door open as far as it would go. He bowed gallantly and ushered her in with the wave of an arm. “Please. Allow me to bid you enter before you—and your lovely flowers—wilt."

  Rebecca bit her tongue to stop a smile from spreading across her face. She reluctantly admitted that Caleb Adams could be charming when he wanted to be. Not that that made up for his egotistical attitude the rest of the time.

  "I came to see Megan. Is she here?"

  Caleb turned from shutting the door. His large hand closed over the handle of her basket, and she had to give over and allow him to take it from her. “Megan is in the kitchen with Nina. I'll let her know you're here."

  He took several steps into what looked to be the parlor, though it was much larger and more luxuriously decorated than her own. Caleb set the basket on the nearest wing chair and motioned for Rebecca to have a seat.

  Rebecca's skirts brushed against a knee-high table as she lowered herself gently onto the edge of the velvet-covered sofa, expecting to wait while Caleb went for Megan. She toyed with the flowers in her hand, trying to keep her attention averted from Caleb's overwhelming presence. Instead of leaving the room, however, he folded his tall frame into a chair opposite her and smiled. Rebecca felt a blush creeping up her neck and turned away from his intense gaze.

  "Megan!"

  Caleb's bellow made Rebecca jump. She looked up into eyes sparkling with humor.

  "Hey, Megan!” he yelled again, making the delicate crystal teardrops of the room's lamps vibrate. “You've got a visitor."

  "Well, you don't need to shout.” Megan bustled into the hall, drying her hands on a dishcloth. A flush tinted her porcelain skin, and the dark hair that had most likely been perfectly coifed earlier in the day hung in damp tendrils against her oval face. “Really, Caleb, a person would think you'd have better manners after being raised in the heart of genteel society."

  Rebecca grinned, thinking Megan looked and sounded more like an overtaxed wife than a sixteen-year-old girl. For being so young, Megan had a sophisticated beauty about her. Even her full, lacy gown, so out of place in a town like Leavenworth, seemed almost a second skin. Only the gaiety in her eyes gave away her youthfulness.

  "Oh, Rebecca,” Megan gasped, coming more fully into the room. “Forgive our shouting. We would never dare if Papa were here. He doesn't approve of such behavior.” She shook her head, the corners of her mouth turning up. “I didn't expect you to come all the way out here. I was going to ride into town with Papa and Caleb tomorrow and stop to see you."

  "I wanted to show you what I've done so far. I'd like you to try them on so I can finalize the measurements."

  "Oh.” Megan's naturally bright features seemed to dim.

  Rebecca could sense something amiss. “Did I come at a bad time?” She started to rise, reaching for her sewing basket. “I can return later if it would be more convenient."

  "Nonsense.” Megan's body fairly bounced with the word. “We weren't planning anything that can't wait, were we, Caleb?"

  "Of course not,” Caleb said impartially, rising and starting out of the room. “Let me know when you're done, Meg. I'll be out at the paddock."

  As the front door thudded shut after Caleb's exit, a young girl came to the doorway to the parlor. “Are we finished, Miss Adams?"

  Megan smiled and took the girl's arm, bringing her into the room. “Rebecca, this is Nina. She's such a wonderful help, especially in the kitchen, since I can hardly boil water. Nina, this is Rebecca, the seamstress from town."

  With the introductions out of the way, Megan sent Nina back to the kitchen, asking that she add an extra serving of everything to the basket they had packed.

  "We really don't have to do your dresses now, Megan,” Rebecca said. “I'd much rather you went on with whatever you were doing. I should have sent a note home with your father to find out when would be a good time for me to stop by. I apologize."

  "Oh, posh,” Megan said, fluttering a hand in the air, effectively dismissing the subject.

  "If you're sure,” Rebecca offered one last time. She looked around for someplace to set her bouquet. Her hands were sweaty and turning green from holding the stems for so long.

  "Where did you get those?” Megan asked, taking them from Rebecca to study the blossoms.

  "I picked them on the way. I just couldn't resist."

  "They're lovely. But if we don't get them into water soon, they'll surely die. I'll be right back.” Megan followed the path Nina had taken to the kitchen, returning several moments later with the wildflowers in a beautiful etched vase.

  "Now, where should we start?” Megan asked, setting the arrangement on the low table in front of the settee and plopping herself down in the nearest chair.

  "I'd like you to try on the dresses before I finish them to see how well they fit. It's easier and faster to make alterations before they're sewn."

  Rebecca stood to pull the three carefully folded day dresses out of her basket and laid them over the back of the sofa. “Do you want to go up to your room to put these on?” she asked, thinking Megan would not want to undress in the parlor in the middle of the day.

  "No. I'll just shut this door and pull the drapes, and no one ever need know.” Megan slid the large partition into place and went around to each of the three windows to draw the thick maroon curtains closed.

  While Megan did that, Rebecca reached into her basket and retrieved her spectacles, unfolding them and putting them on.

  Megan came back and crinkled
her nose at Rebecca. “If you can't see, why don't you wear those all the time?"

  Rebecca pushed the eyeglasses farther up the bridge of her nose and turned Megan to face the other way. “I can see most of the time. It's only when I'm sewing that I have to wear them."

  "Well, that's good because you're much prettier without them,” Megan said with conviction.

  Rebecca's hands paused for a moment in brushing Megan's loose hair out of the way. Megan was the first person Rebecca could ever remember complimenting her, and she was positive no one had ever told her she was pretty. Rebecca had always thought herself quite plain, with an average-looking face and dull brown hair. She swallowed, forcing her mind to concentrate on what she was doing to stop the sharp prickling behind her eyes.

  As Rebecca started slipping the tiny pearl buttons at the back of Megan's fancy pink gown out of their holes, Megan began to giggle. “What's so funny?” she asked, finding the laughter contagious.

  Megan covered her mouth with a hand, waiting to catch her breath. “I was thinking about how indecent I'm being, stripping down to my underclothes in the parlor at high noon. Lord, my mother would faint dead away if she knew."

  "Then we won't tell her,” Rebecca vowed, chuckling along with Megan as she helped remove layer upon layer of heavy, bulky material. “How can you stand to wear all this?"

  "I can't,” Megan said, screwing up her face to show her distaste. “Why do you think I'm so eager for you to get these dresses finished?"

  "I will never understand why women torture themselves with silly contraptions like the corset, only to add twenty pounds by stepping into these gowns. But I probably shouldn't complain, since I make my living by sewing the abominable things."

  "That's one way to look at it,” Megan said. She struggled into the first dress, trying to keep from being pricked with the few pins still stuck at the seams.

  "I think women ought to be allowed to wear pants. And big cotton shirts like men do,” Rebecca continued.