“Excellent.” Mrs. Brody rose. “Well, the moon’s telling me good night. I guess I did whatever it called me out of bed to do.” She gave Trinity another smile, then disappeared inside.
Trinity’s mind was still whirling, but new thoughts had been added to the mix. Maybe she didn’t have to go to Colorado. Maybe she could stay right here, right where she was, at the Brody Hotel, and create her own future. With this idea bouncing around in her head, she suddenly felt sleepy, and she went to find her room as well.
***
Raymond was seated with a few of the other male guests in the corner of the dining room when Trinity came downstairs the next morning. He could sit anywhere he chose, of course, but she was still disappointed. She found a seat by the window and ordered eggs and ham, then added some bread to that, and some jam, and some milk. Gracious. Raymond had been right—she was unusually hungry, even a day after the fact.
A train pulled into the station a moment later, and she found herself sharing her table with four other women who were eager for a chance to stretch their legs and eat a warm meal. They were headed to Wichita to become mail-order brides, and they sounded both excited and apprehensive.
Trinity couldn’t help but compare her situation to theirs. None of them knew what lay ahead for them, but were trusting fate to guide them where they needed to be. Perhaps she needed to trust fate and believe that Thomas Wells would be a kind, thoughtful husband, and she would grow to love him.
At the same time, however, she wondered if fate had led her here to the Brody, giving her a way to escape a stifling life as the young wife of an elderly man.
She glanced up as Mrs. Jensen entered the dining room. She hadn’t seen the lady since they’d all arrived at the hotel, and she waved her over.
“Oh, Miss Scott, it’s good to see you.” Mrs. Jensen took the last empty seat at the table. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you did. My husband is resting comfortably, and he insisted that I come downstairs and have a proper meal at a proper table. Without you, I’m sure I’d be planning his funeral right now.”
“I really didn’t do much,” Trinity protested. “It was all Dr. Foster.”
“Is he still here?”
“Yes, he’s over in the corner.” She indicated with a nod of her head.
“I’m certainly going to have to thank him, too. Such courage! And so handsome!”
“Handsome?” One of the mail-order brides perked up at this. “Where?”
Trinity smiled. “Over there—the man with dark hair, sipping his coffee.”
The girl turned and looked, then giggled. “And he’s a doctor? If I’d known someone like him existed, maybe I wouldn’t have agreed to marry Mr. Denning.”
“I have to say, I understand exactly how you feel,” Mrs. Jensen replied. Her smile was bright, and she seemed full of good humor. “If I were thirty years younger and unattached, well, I’d certainly be interested. But no—I believe fate has already made that choice.” She reached out and patted Trinity’s hand where it lay on the table.
There was that word again—fate. “I don’t think so,” Trinity said, her cheeks burning. “Our paths only crossed accidentally, and I don’t see a future for us.”
“Accidents are just fate deciding to remain anonymous,” Mrs. Jensen said with a twinkle in her eye.
Their waitress stepped up to their table just then. “I’m sorry, Miss Scott, but Colonel Gordon sent a message asking if you and Dr. Foster can come down to the station as soon as possible.”
Mrs. Jensen was immediately intrigued. “What for? Did he say?”
“No, ma’am, he didn’t.”
Mrs. Jensen patted Trinity’s hand again. “I hope it’s good news. Will you let me know, my dear?”
“Absolutely.”
Trinity rose from her chair just as Raymond passed, and the two of them walked down the hallway toward the lobby together. “I just need to get my hat,” she said by way of greeting.
“I’ll wait for you.”
Trinity unlocked the door to her room, placed her hat on her head and gathered up her reticule, then went back downstairs. She’d delayed as long as she reasonably could, and now she had to face Raymond again. She very much disliked how awkward things had become between them. If only they could go back to the easy banter of the day before, when they were perfect strangers and knew nothing about each other.
“You look very well this morning, Miss Scott. Blue suits you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Foster. It’s always been one of my favorite colors.” So, they were back to formality, were they? Very well. At least she knew where she stood with him.
The station wasn’t far from the hotel, and in a matter of minutes, they were seated across the desk from Colonel Gordon. He studied them with shrewd eyes before speaking.
“I have some news you’ll find interesting,” he said at length. “My deputies apprehended three men riding north from the spot where you said they left the train. They gathered them up, brought them back here, and locked them away in my cell. I’d like you to take a look and see if you can identify them.”
“That’s excellent,” Raymond said, beginning to rise. “Where is the cell?”
“Now, just hold on there a minute,” the colonel said, and Raymond sat again. “What I need you to do is take a second to clear your minds. What I’ve found from time to time is that a witness can be so eager to see justice done that they’ll finger the wrong fellow just to wrap things up all neat and tidy.
“These men weren’t carrying any valuables on them, so we have no physical evidence, and we’ll be relying on your word. We’re going to take you in one at a time. You’ll be asked to look at the men and tell us whether they are or are not the men who robbed the train. Please don’t rush into anything—take your time and be sure. Then we’ll compare what you have to say and go from there.”
Raymond nodded. “Fair enough. We wouldn’t want to accuse the wrong men.”
The colonel came to his feet. “Follow me, Dr. Foster.”
They left the room, and Trinity was left alone to compose herself. She had no doubt that she’d be able to identify the men who had robbed the train—their faces were burned into her memory.
When the colonel came back, Raymond wasn’t with him. “He’s signing his statement up front. Please, step this way.”
Trinity followed the colonel down a narrow hall until she stood in front of a cell. Three men sat inside, heads down, their elbows resting on their knees.
“One more time,” the colonel said. “On your feet.”
They stood slowly, and Trinity knew it immediately—these were the men. She knew it from the way they held their shoulders even though they hadn’t made eye contact yet. It was tempting to give her positive identification now and be done with it, but the colonel had asked her to take her time and be thorough, and so she would.
“Lift your chins, please,” she said.
Not one of them moved.
“You heard her. Do it!” the colonel barked.
Three heads raised slowly.
Trinity looked at each of them. First Joe, then Hank, and then Bob. She moved along the bars until she stood directly in front of Bob. “Well, what do we have here?” she said.
He said nothing, but sneered.
She held his gaze for another long moment, her eyes steady. She wanted this moment, this memory of being in control, of knowing she held his fate the way he’d once held hers. “Colonel Gordon,” she said at long last, “these are your culprits. I know it without any doubt. And this one is the man who threatened me personally and shot Mr. Jensen.”
As she spoke, a wave of relief washed over her. It felt good to stand up for herself.
She turned to walk away, but then paused. “Oh, and one of these men has an injured leg. I hope it’s Bob.”
***
Raymond was waiting for her just inside the front door of the station when she was finished signing her statement. “I’m certainly glad that’s ov
er,” he said as they walked down the steps.
“So am I. I can’t wait to get back to the hotel and tell Mrs. Jensen the men have been caught.”
“You don’t want to go for a stroll first? I noticed the boarding house serves cakes and tea—I thought we might stop in.”
She paused and looked up at him. “Mr. Foster, I don’t understand you. Not in the slightest. One moment, we’re calling each other by our Christian names, and the next, you’re snubbing me at breakfast, calling me Miss Scott, and then you want to buy me cake. Cake, Mr. Foster! Of all the things!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize cake was . . . offensive.”
“Well, it’s not, under ordinary circumstances. But these aren’t ordinary circumstances, are they?” She began to walk again, and he had to take three steps to catch up with her.
“Miss Scott . . . Trinity. Please. Will you let me explain?”
“I really must tell Mrs. Jensen. Excuse me, if you’d be so kind.”
She walked all the faster back to the hotel. He must have lagged behind to give her some space, as he didn’t try to stop her again. She asked at the desk where she might find Mrs. Jensen, then climbed the stairs and rapped on the door.
“Oh, thank goodness,” the woman said after Trinity reported on her errand.
“Colonel Gordon said that with our testimonies and identification, he has all the information he needs to prosecute. He wishes he had the money and goods from the robbery as material evidence, but he believes his men will find it. They’re scouring the ground between the robbery site and where the men were arrested. The money might have been buried or hidden somewhere, and they’ll do what they can.”
“Bless you, my dear,” Mrs. Jensen said. “When Doyle wakes up, he’ll be so glad to hear it.”
“Did he get some breakfast?” Trinity asked.
“He did. He ate half a bowl of oatmeal with a little jam stirred in. He’s doing so well.”
“I’m very glad to hear it.”
Trinity smiled as she walked down the hall, swinging her hat by its ribbons. Even though she was irritated with Raymond, she couldn’t help but rejoice at her victory. She had looked the monster in the face and helped bring him to justice.
Chapter Six
Raymond didn’t come to the dining room at all for lunch. Trinity sat down with another table of ladies—none of them mail-order brides this time—and listened to them chat about children and grandchildren and quilting. She was able to contribute a little to the conversation when it turned to needlework, but fell silent again as they discussed baking custards.
Her attention kept drifting toward the waitresses who bustled in and out of the room. They never seemed to stop moving. They memorized the orders rather than writing them down, and she hadn’t seen anyone complain about getting the wrong food. Could she do that? Could she keep everything straight and know which customer wanted which item?
When her waitress came back to bring her a slice of pie, Trinity touched her sleeve. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I just wondered . . . are you happy here?”
The girl smiled brightly. “This is the best job I’ve ever had, and believe me, I’ve had plenty. The work is hard, but with so many of us, it goes quickly. Are you thinking of working here?”
“I don’t really know. I guess I’m thinking about it.”
Her smile became even wider. “Oh, you should. It’s more like a big family here than anything, and Mr. Brody takes care of all of us.” She nodded across the room at a tall blond man Trinity had noticed before. “See how he’s visiting with the guests as they come in? He cares about everyone, and he protects us girls like we’re his daughters or little sisters. You should definitely come work here.”
“I’ll keep thinking about it. Thank you.”
Trinity ate her pie slowly, weighing her options. If she stayed here, her father would never speak to her again. On the other hand, did she want to maintain a relationship with him? He’d all but sold her to Thomas Wells. Maybe she didn’t want him in her life as much as she thought she did.
She rose from the table, thanked her waitress, and climbed the stairs to her room. She needed some solitude, a chance to think about her options and decide what she most wanted. She was almost entirely convinced that she’d stay here at the Brody, but she didn’t want to commit until she’d looked it over from every angle. A father wasn’t something you could just throw away when he became inconvenient, even if it did seem that was what he’d done to her.
***
Another sleepless night, and Trinity was up at the crack of dawn. This couldn’t keep up forever, could it? She had to sleep sometime, but her mind simply wouldn’t let her until it had unraveled all its snarls. Now she had made her choice, and her soul was at peace. The repercussions were sure to be unpleasant, but she knew she could handle them.
The hotel thoughtfully provided paper and ink, and as the morning sunlight worked its way across her room and fell on the desk, she sat down and began to write.
Dear Father,
I have not yet arrived in Colorado. In fact, I was rather detained when a trio of train robbers boarded in Kansas City, injuring one passenger and threatening many others. I had the opportunity to help identify the culprits, who are now being held in Topeka.
This incident, while frightening, provided me with the opportunity to think about my life and what I want to make of it. I have come to an important conclusion, which is that I am worth more than whatever loan Mr. Wells may have given you. I am not a piece of property to be held as collateral while you sort out your business dealings. I am a human being, with thoughts and ideas and purpose.
To this end, I am not continuing on to meet Mr. Wells. I will be sending him a letter in a moment, explaining the circumstances and giving him my regards, but that will be the end of my contact with him. Should you desire to reach me, you may send a letter in care of the post office in Topeka, Kansas.
Best wishes,
Trinity
She had feared not being able to find the words, but once she began, they had flowed from her with a sense that she was doing the right thing. Now to write the other letter she dreaded.
Mr. Wells,
Thank you for the honor of your proposal. I assure you that I’m very grateful for your attention, as well as for the help you have rendered my father. However, I regret to say that I will not be coming out to Colorado to marry you. I have come to the understanding that no human being deserves to be used as a pawn in a business arrangement. Perhaps that was not your intention. Perhaps your offer of marriage was not meant to be connected with the loan, but whatever your reasoning, the result is the same, and I find that I’m not able to fulfill my father’s part of the bargain. I apologize for whatever inconvenience this may have caused you, and I wish you the best in future.
Trinity Scott
She folded up both letters and addressed them, then headed downstairs to the lobby. Mr. Brody was there, looking over a ledger at the counter, and she approached him. “Good morning, sir. Is the post office nearby?”
“Good morning, Miss Scott. It’s fairly close, but it won’t open for another hour.”
“Oh. It is rather early yet, isn’t it?”
He chuckled. “I walk down there nearly every morning, and today happens to be one of those days. If you like, you may entrust me with your letters.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” She handed him her mail, along with a few coins for postage, then turned to go. She almost said something about coming to work for him, but decided she’d talk that over with Mrs. Brody later, as it was Mrs. Brody who had made the offer.
Once back in her room, the weight of those burdens lifted from her shoulders, she lay back down on her bed, finally able to go to sleep.
***
A gentle tapping sounded on Trinity’s door, calling to her from someplace that seemed far away. Then it became more urgent, and s
he sat up. When she opened the door, she found Raymond on the other side.
“Yes? Is something the matter?”
“I was beginning to worry about you. It’s nearly three in the afternoon, and I haven’t seen you downstairs all day.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep last night, and I’m making up for it now.”
“I see.” He shifted to his other foot. “I would let you go back to it, but I’m afraid I must speak with you. Will you meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes?”
“I . . . I suppose I could.” Would she even be fully awake in fifteen minutes? That seemed doubtful.
“Thank you.”
She closed the door as he moved down the hall. Her bed looked so warm and comfortable, and it was all she could do not to fall right back into it. But Raymond’s voice had sounded strained, as though he felt urgent about something, and her curiosity won out again. She washed up and shook out her dress, which looked all the worse for having been slept in since she dressed at dawn, then went downstairs to find him pacing in the lobby.
“Now I must ask if you’re all right. You seem agitated.”
“Not so much agitated as apprehensive. Please, come with me.”
Even more curious now because of his strange answer, she followed him outside, where a horse and buggy stood waiting.
“The hotel lent me this,” he said by way of explanation as he helped her up into the seat. “I’m told the river’s not too far from here and would make a very nice drive.”
That was unexpected. Trinity settled back in the seat and paid attention to their surroundings as they drove. She was going to live here now, be a member of the Topeka community, and she might as well start memorizing where to find things. She saw a white church steeple not far from the hotel and thought she might like to attend church the following Sunday.
For someone who said he wanted to talk, Raymond was certainly quiet as they drove. Once they reached the river, he looped the reins over a tree branch and then helped her down, and they walked along the bank for a moment.
A Broken Wing (Kansas Crossroads) Page 6