Bride of the High Country
Page 31
Ceily glanced at her husband, then back at Tait, then down at the envelope. “This for us?”
“It is.”
Picking up the envelope as if it might come alive and bite her, she lifted the flap and peeked inside, then screamed so loud Tait thought his windows would crack.
“Oh, Lawd—Lawd—sweet Jesus!” Clutching the envelope of bank notes to her chest, she slumped in the chair and would have toppled to the floor if her husband hadn’t caught her.
* * *
Tait spent most of the night preparing for his departure early the next day. Mr. Brisbane would see that the furnishings and books went to local charities and churches, so all he had to pack were items of a personal nature, which Elder would send on to Heartbreak Creek. It amounted to only a single trunk. Not much to show for five years of his life.
By dawn, after an emotional parting from the Rices, he was steaming across the Hudson toward New Jersey, the crisp fall air cold against his face as he stood at the rail. Now that he was finally on his way, a sense of impatience gripped him and thoughts of Lucinda filled his mind.
Would she welcome him? Or would he have to woo her again? He smiled, strategies already forming in his mind. As long as he was with her, nothing else mattered.
Several days later, when he checked the Western Union office in St. Louis, he found a telegram from Mrs. Throckmorton awaiting him.
“Kerrigan gone. Quinn, Bradshaw, and I leave next week. Don’t tell Margaret. T.”
Eighteen
“There he is,” Lucinda whispered, nodding toward the tall man talking with Declan in the hallway outside the dining room. “I think it’s him. I wish Maddie was here to tell us for sure.”
She had sent for Edwina and Pru as soon as the stranger had disappeared into the washroom with his nasty dog. Now the three ladies were seated at Lucinda’s usual table in the dining room, which presented a fine view of the hallway and adjacent lobby.
“He’s too old,” Edwina decided.
Lucinda shook her head. “Don’t let the gray in his hair fool you. Up close, he looks about your husband’s age. And he has a very strong Scottish accent. I’m sure it’s her Angus, even though he introduced himself as Lord Ashby to me.” A false name if Lucinda ever heard one. And she should know.
As if he had read her mind, the man turned and looked directly at Lucinda.
She scowled back, trying to remember what color Maddie said her husband’s eyes were. This man’s were as green as Ireland—a lighter, mossier shade than her own.
Declan continued to speak over the huge rough-coated dog sprawled at their feet, his long legs spanning the hallway. The man’s gaze swept over Pru, paused on Edwina, then swung back to Declan.
He was almost as tall as Edwina’s husband, but leaner. His clothing was well made, his bearing stiffly erect. An ex-soldier. Lucinda was certain it was Angus Wallace.
“What exactly did he say?” Pru asked.
“That he had news of Maddie’s family, but he wouldn’t tell me what. I don’t trust him.”
“Why?” Pru asked, surprised. “What has he done?”
“He let his muddy dog into my lobby. And he was impertinent. Far too bossy for my liking. No wonder Maddie left him.”
“I think he’s handsome. With that gray hair and those dark brows, he’s quite striking. Not as striking as Declan, of course, but then who would be?”
Tait Rylander, for one. But Lucinda kept that information to herself.
“Thomas has a lovely smile,” Pru offered.
“Does he?” Edwina smirked at her half sister. “I wouldn’t know, since you’re the only one he ever smiles at.”
“That’s not true. He smiles at the children all the time.”
“Look,” Lucinda cut in. “He’s leaving. Wave Declan over so we can find out what they were talking about.”
Edwina put on a face. “Good luck getting information from that man. He’s only marginally more talkative than Thomas.”
“Thomas talks all the time.”
“Not to anyone but you, Pru.”
“Have a seat, sheriff,” Lucinda called as Declan strode up. She hoped the chair he reached for was one of the newly repaired. The man was as big as a house. “So what did he say?” she asked once he was safely settled.
“About what?”
“See?”
“Hush, Edwina, let the man talk.”
Lucinda waved the sisters to silence. “Who is he, why is he here, and what does he want with Maddie?”
“Didn’t ask his name. Said he had news of her family. And I don’t know what he wants with her. Any coffee left?”
“Like talking to a rock,” Edwina muttered.
Lucinda motioned to Miriam to bring another cup. “What kind of news?”
“Didn’t say.”
“He must have said something. You were talking to him for a good five minutes.”
Declan scratched his bristled chin. “We talked about his dog some. An Irish wolfhound. Impressive animal.”
Almost choking on frustration, Lucinda refrained from banging her forehead on the table. “How can you bear it?” she asked Edwina.
“He has other compensating qualities.” Edwina grinned at her husband.
He grinned back. When he did that, he was almost as handsome as Tait, Lucinda thought, then turned back to her questions. “What did you tell him? And don’t deny you said anything, Declan Brodie. I saw your lips move.”
“I asked if his dog was dangerous and told him I didn’t want him to upset you ladies and that Maddie was headed up to the Alamosa River. Thanks, Miriam,” he said as the waitress set a steaming cup before him.
Lucinda was aghast. “You told him where she was?”
“Don’t worry.” The sheriff gave that lopsided smile that made Edwina sigh. “He doesn’t hurt women. Said so, himself.”
“Good heavens.”
“Is he going after her?” Pru asked.
“Didn’t say.”
Lucinda swiveled toward him, fists planted on her hips. “If he does anything to Maddie—harms a single hair on her head, Declan—I swear I’ll—”
“Are you threatening my husband?”
Pru rolled her eyes. “Oh, dear.”
“That’s sweet, Ed. But I can handle her, I think.”
Dear Mrs. Throckmorton,
Why is everybody trying to ruin my happy little town? First Tait wires that he is on his way to Heartbreak Creek and orders me not to go to Denver! (Does he truly think I will alter all my plans on his account when he wasn’t even invited to come here in the first place? Honestly.)
Then I find out someone else is buying up right-of-ways in the canyon, which will ruin my plans. And now some rude, arrogant man with a huge dog, who thinks he’s a lord or some such (the man, not the dog) is chasing after Maddie—and our sheriff actually told him where she was! Men can be so obtuse. Except for the late judge, of course.
Luckily I have time to straighten all this out before we leave for Denver. Worst case, I might have to go into partnership with whoever is buying the right-of-ways, which I would rather not do. It is most upsetting.
Well, enough of my complaints. How are things with you? Is the new housekeeper working out? I have great respect for Mrs. Bradshaw and am delighted she has found a more agreeable situation with you.
A guest left an old newspaper behind, and I read where Doyle has apparently absconded to Ireland after several business ventures failed. Good riddance, I say. It is quite a relief to know I no longer need worry about that man and his Pinkertons.
Well, I must run. I have much to do before we leave, and with all this fretting I find I’m not sleeping as well as I’d like.
I hope all is well with you,
Your devoted Margaret
>
* * *
Maddie returned late one afternoon almost a week after Lord High Pockets left for Alamosa to find her . . . and she didn’t return alone. Lucinda met her at the back door into the hotel and barely mastered her dismay when she saw that same Scottish person and his oversized dog standing behind Maddie.
“I have the most dreadful news, Luce,” Maddie cried, stepping over the threshold. “Mr. Satterwhite died. His heart, I think. It was so unexpected.”
“I don’t see how.” Lucinda glared at the dog and his owner as they crowded into the narrow space. “The man must have been at least a hundred.”
“Seventy-three. He was only seventy-three, and quite vigorous for his age.” Maddie set down her little lap dog, which immediately charged toward the lobby and the two women coming through the front doors. “What are Pru and Edwina doing here?”
“I sent for them when I saw your wagon go by.” Lucinda closed the back door. “I thought we could dine together and hear all about your trip. And poor Mr. Satterwhite, of course.”
“I should like that.” Calling to her friends, Maddie went to greet them, leaving Lucinda standing in the hall with the frowning Scotsman.
“Of course, you’re welcome too, Mr. . . . Ashby, was it?”
“Lord Ashby.”
That cool smile changed his austere face for the better, Lucinda noted. And those green eyes were definitely his finest feature, although he wasn’t nearly as handsome as Tait. But then, who could be?
“Perhaps another time,” he said, rolling the rs in his thick brogue.
“I’ve asked Sheriff Brodie and Thomas Redstone to join us,” she added so he wouldn’t think her forward. “So you needn’t fear being overrun by ladies.”
“As fearful—and intriguing—as such a fate might be, I must decline.” Shifting the heavy saddlebags slung over his shoulder, he glanced at the closed door into the washroom. “However, if I might trouble you for a bottle of your finest and use of your washroom . . .” He let the sentence hang on a hopeful note.
Her gaze flicked over his rumpled, mud-spattered clothing. “Of course. You’ll find hot water on the stove and drying cloths in the cabinet. Please don’t use them on your dog. If you need your clothing laundered, put them in the burlap bag on the hook behind the door and Billy will take it down to the Chinese laundry later. I’ll send Yancey with the bottle.” She started away, then turned back. “Will you be needing a room, as well?”
“Best check with my—with Madeline.”
Clearly an evasive answer. But before Lucinda could question him further, he reached past her to open the washroom door. “Come, Tricks.”
Dinner was a somber affair, partly out of deference to Mr. Satterwhite’s passing but also because everyone was waiting for Maddie to explain who the Scotsman was and what his news was concerning her family. Edwina, ever impatient, finally broached the subject. “So? Who is he?”
For a moment Lucinda thought Maddie might try to dodge the question. Then she sighed and said, “He’s my husband.”
“I knew it!” Lucinda threw her napkin onto the table. “That wretch lied to me! He said his name was Ashby. Lord Ashby.”
“It is.”
“But . . . I thought Angus Wallace was your husband.”
“He is. But he recently came into the title of Viscount Ashby.”
“Oh, my goodness gracious.” Pru’s smile lit up her strikingly beautiful face. “I suppose that makes you a viscountess, does it not?”
“A viscountess?” Edwina clapped her hands and laughed. “Well, if that isn’t the most exciting thing. Our Maddie a real English Lady. Should we curtsy, do you think?”
Lucinda masked her growing unease behind a teasing smile. “Are we now to call you Lady Ashby?” She didn’t want Maddie to go. But with a grand estate and title awaiting her in Scotland, how could she stay?
Declan studied Maddie over his coffee cup. “Why is he here?”
“He wants to take me back to Scotland.”
Lucinda felt as if her stomach had dropped to the floor. Voices rose in protest, drawing glances from the other diners. But Declan continued in his calm, reasonable way. “Do you want to go back?”
Maddie gave a helpless shrug. “It’s complicated.”
“But I don’t want you to leave,” Edwina protested.
“She will not go.” Pushing his empty plate aside, Thomas Redstone folded his forearms on the table.
Usually when he was in town and acting as Declan’s temporary deputy, he dressed in his “whitewashed” attire—meaning trousers rather than leggings, a collarless work shirt and blue army jacket in place of breechcloth and war shirt, and instead of a topknot with an eagle feather, his long black hair and narrow temple braids pulled back and tied with a strip of leather. But Edwina had mentioned earlier that Thomas had just returned from another of his mysterious forays into the mountains and had not taken time to stop by his room in the Brodies’ carriage house to change out of his Indian garb. He looked quite fearsome, Lucinda thought. Perhaps fearsome enough to run off a Scotsman.
Studying Maddie through eyes as black as chips of basalt, Thomas said in his flat, solemn voice, “Unless it is what Madeline Wallace wants, he will not take her away. I will not allow it.”
Maddie regarded the Cheyenne with alarm. No one was quite sure when he was joking, and when he was not. “It’s all right. He is my husband, after all.”
“Then you must do as he says. Always. It is your duty.”
Pru shot him a look.
“Ho.” Thomas gave that startling smile that curled women’s toes. “Have I ruffled my little brown dove’s feathers?” Which earned him another look.
A strange man, Thomas Redstone. One quarter white, three quarters Cheyenne, he straddled two cultures but seemed to belong to neither. He had gained the respect of his people by suffering the ordeal of the Cheyenne sun dance ceremony, then had gone on to earn a place with the Dog Soldiers because of his courage as a warrior. But through adversity and tragedy, he had forged a stronger bond with Declan, and when the tribes had been driven from the territory, Thomas had stayed behind. Now he watched over his new tribe in Heartbreak Creek.
He was a welcome addition to Lucinda’s growing little family, and if he wanted to chase off the Scotsman, she wasn’t about to try to stop him.
“Ash would never force me to go back,” Maddie defended. “But it’s either go to Scotland or petition for a divorce. And because Ash is now a peer, a divorce would require an act of Parliament, which could take years.”
“Then why doesn’t he stay here?” Edwina asked.
“He can’t. As next in line, he has duties to the earldom and the lands that go with it.” She gave a sad smile. “And Ash has ever been a creature bound by duty.”
“Well, I don’t give a fig,” Edwina announced. “He treated you shabbily by not writing or coming to see you, and for that, he doesn’t deserve another chance.”
“He had reason.”
“Such as?” Lucinda challenged.
Maddie shrugged. “He was injured, for one thing. And still suffers because of it. He’s not a bad man, Luce. I wouldn’t want any of you to think that.”
After the way he had behaved toward his wife, how could they not? But Lucinda kept that thought to herself.
The gathering broke up soon after. Before dispersing, Edwina invited everyone to Sunday dinner at the Brodie house the next day, and suggested they hold a short memorial for Mr. Satterwhite after services. “I thought we would eat at two. And be sure to bring along Lord Ashby or Angus Wallace or whatever he’s called,” she told Maddie. “I have some questions for the fellow.”
“Oh, dear,” Prudence murmured.
“Now, Ed,” Declan seconded as he helped his pregnant wife from her chair. “Don’t you start anything.”
“I can hear you,” Maddie chided. “I’m standing right here. And my heart isn’t that broken.” As the other four filed out, she turned to Lucinda. “She’s gotten so big. Will she be up to the trip to Denver, do you think?”
“Edwina will do what Edwina will do.” Lucinda motioned for Miriam to clear the table. “I doubt I’ll be able to attend dinner tomorrow. And don’t give me that look, Maddie. It’s not because I think your husband is a cad for treating you the way he did—injured or not. But I have to ready my presentation for Denver. Now that the Denver Pacific has completed the main line from Cheyenne, they might be seeking a southern route across the Rockies, rather than relying solely on the Transcontinental. This will be my best chance to convince them to come through our little canyon.”
“Ash intends to accompany us to Denver,” Maddie said as they walked toward the lobby. “He thinks I need protection.”
“Perhaps he’s right.” She paused by the front desk. “I’m assuming you and your husband will want the big suite. That way you would have your own bedroom, in case you don’t . . . well . . .”
“The big suite will be fine,” Maddie said, avoiding Lucinda’s gaze.
After finding the key, she told Yancey to move Maddie’s things to the big suite, then turned her attention back to the upcoming convention. “Hopefully with Grant in office there will be no more vetoes. But if this attempt to gain statehood fails, there could be violence. We might need every protector we can get.”
“I hope not.” Retrieving her coat and little dog from the room behind the front desk, Maddie said her good nights and went down the hall to the back door.
Lucinda felt that stab of dread as she watched her go. She resolved to try to be nicer to Maddie’s Scottish lord. Maybe if she made him feel welcome, he might not be in such a hurry to drag her friend away.