“I hope so.”
The waitress poured them more coffee, and Nell stirred cream into hers, watching the white swirl through the dark liquid, turning it into a velvety light brown.
“But your friend doesn’t?”
“My friend?”
“Betty.”
“Oh, she likes you fine.”
“I don’t think so. She doesn’t trust me, does she?”
Had Betty been that obvious? Nell answered, “She doesn’t trust men, and I don’t blame her.”
“Why? Did something happen to her?”
“Oh, not what you think, not like that man in the café,” she answered quickly. “Betty was married, and her husband was a terrible man. He beat her. Their daughter died, and he took off with their son. She hasn’t seen either one of them since then.” Nell blurted it all out without thinking.
“I guess I wouldn’t like men much if that had happened to me. Buck, was that her husband’s name?”
“His last name. She’s Betty Buck.” Nell wondered if she had said too much. Betty’s story wasn’t hers to tell. She looked out the window at an iron fence. Rain had accumulated on it, and the drops made long trails as they slid down the iron spikes. “I think the rain is letting up. I suppose we should go.”
James glanced at the window but didn’t make a move to get up. “What was her son’s name?”
“I don’t know. She told me, but I can’t remember.” Nell thought a minute. “It might be Tom. Betty said she thought her husband took him back east. Why do you ask?” The trolley rumbled along the tracks in the distance, and Nell stood. “If we hurry we can catch the car.”
“There’ll be another,” James said. He pushed the plate of doughnuts aside. He’d eaten only half of his, and Nell hadn’t eaten hers at all. “I suppose that son would be, what, twenty-five or thirty by now?”
Nell shrugged. “Betty told me, but I don’t remember. Why?”
“Oh, the name Tom Buck is familiar, that’s all.” He stood. “Maybe it’s familiar because of Buck & Betty’s. Well, let’s see if we can spot another trolley.” He set down enough money for the coffee and doughnuts and left a dime tip under his saucer. He didn’t tip all waitresses a silver dollar, Nell observed.
They walked across the street, avoiding puddles of water that had collected in the dirt. Nell was glad that she had put on boots instead of the kid slippers she had intended to wear. They had missed the streetcar and had to wait for another. A delivery wagon went by, splashing water, which soaked the bottom of Nell’s skirt. Rainwater dripped off trees onto their clothes, and Nell thought her hat must be ruined. She took it off and looked at the egret feather, which was spoiled. She pulled it out of the hatband and dropped it onto the ground. “Wet feathers look better on birds,” she said, which made James laugh.
The wind came up, and Nell shivered a little. James took off his jacket and put it around her; then he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her to him. “You need to warm up,” he said, rubbing her shoulder. Nell wasn’t that cold, but she liked the feel of his arm holding her tight, protecting her. In a few minutes, they heard the clang of another trolley in the distance, and the screech of metal wheel on rail, and looked up to see the car coming toward them. James paid the fare, and they sat down on one of the rattan seats. The trolley was fragrant with dampness and cigarette smoke.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” James asked. When Nell shook her head, he took out a tin case of cigarettes, selected one, and lighted it. “I suppose I should offer you a cigarette, but I really don’t approve of women smoking, especially in public.”
Nell nodded as if she agreed. She’d tried smoking at the Rockin’ A, had rolled her own like the cowboys did, but she didn’t like the taste of tobacco and had given it up. Still, she didn’t care for the idea of James telling her what to do. Were all men like that? The air in the car was stuffy, and Nell tried to open the window next to her, but it was stuck. James stood and forced it open. Then he tossed out the remainder of his cigarette and apologized, saying he’d been rude to light it.
As they got closer to town, more and more people climbed into the streetcar, perhaps to get out of the rain, which had started up again. James stood up and gave his seat to a woman, and when the car got very crowded, Nell offered her seat to an old man with a cane.
“You didn’t have to do that,” James said.
“I can stand better than he can.”
James put his hand on her arm and leaned forward and whispered, “You’re very thoughtful, Nell. That’s one of the things I love about you.”
Nell felt a thrill go through her at the word “love.” Of course, that could have been just a manner of speaking, but she hoped James meant it.
Did she love him, actually love him? Nell pondered that as she held on to the back of a seat, wedged against it by the crush of people around her. Did she love him as she had Buddy? For a moment she pictured Buddy, but then his face faded and disappeared. She didn’t love Buddy anymore, Nell thought, at least not as much. She would never forget him, never stop wondering what could have been between then, but she had met James.
She smiled up at James, and he reached for her free hand and held it against his lips, kissing it in front of all those people.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
One afternoon not long after that, James came into Buck & Betty’s and whispered, “Will you meet me for tea at the Windsor Hotel at four? I need to talk to you about something. It could be awfully important.” He glanced around as if afraid Betty would hear, and Nell frowned. What in the world was so mysterious? She couldn’t imagine what he had to tell her, what was so important that he had to whisper. And why the Windsor Hotel? Then she smiled to herself. Perhaps he had chosen the fine old hotel as the place where he would declare his intentions. Nell thought about that for a moment before she decided no, it was too early for that.
As soon as Betty closed the café, Nell hurried to her rooming house. The Windsor was near the café, but she didn’t care to wear her uniform, especially not if this was to be a special occasion. She wanted to change into something presentable, something that would please James. Although the Windsor Hotel, once Denver’s finest hostelry, had seen better days, it still was a decent address. Gold and silver kings who were down on their luck lived there, and drummers often preferred its rooms to the better hotels because it was cheaper and close to Union Station. Many of them ate at Buck & Betty’s. Nell had passed the hotel many times, but she had gone inside only once—out of curiosity. She wanted to see the rotunda and the infamous devil’s-head staircase, which cast such a sinister shadow on the wall that some guests refused to use those steps. She had been overwhelmed by the hotel’s old elegance, but the Windsor’s time had passed, and the hotel was worn.
As she dressed, she wondered if the Windsor was a place for trysts, and she was not so quick to dismiss the idea that James might try to entice her to his room. If he did, how would she respond? She could hardly pretend—to herself, at least—that she was above such a thing. Should she tell him about her past? Not just yet. If things went further—if James declared his intentions—she would have to tell him. Besides, James was too much of a gentleman to try to seduce her.
She glanced at herself in the mirror. She had put on a white linen suit that she had made, with Mrs. Bonner’s help, and embroidered with white flowers. The skirt came above her ankles, and the jacket was long and fitted. With white gloves and the black straw hat—now decorated with artificial flowers instead of a feather—she thought she looked as chic as any guest at the Windsor. Or the Brown Palace, for that matter.
“I hope you are going someplace fine,” Mrs. Bonner said when she caught Nell coming down the stairs.
Nell started to say she was having tea with a gentleman, but she remembered that Mrs. Bonner and Betty were good friends, and James had been secretive about their meeting. She didn’t want Betty to know. “Oh, I’m just going out,” Nell said, wishing she had been quick enough to invent some
story that would satisfy the old woman.
“Betty tells me you have a young man.”
“He’s not my ‘young man.’ He’s just a fellow who comes into the café sometimes. He took me to Elitch Gardens once.”
“Well, bring him ’round. I’d like to meet him.”
And I would like you not to meet him, Nell thought. She didn’t want Betty and Mrs. Bonner gossiping about James. Betty with her dislike of men was bad enough. No wonder James didn’t want Betty to know he had invited Nell for tea at the Windsor.
Nell could have walked to the hotel, but she didn’t want to be late. Nor did she care to soil her white shoes by walking through the dirt and horse droppings on the streets. She took a trolley instead, standing up so that she didn’t wrinkle her linen outfit.
James was waiting in the lobby for her. He had changed clothes, too, and was dressed in a soft gray summer suit. Gray made him look distinguished. He was studying a pocket watch that was attached to a chain across his vest, although Nell was not late. In fact, the lobby clock showed she was a few minutes early. James did not comment on her outfit but said only that he was glad she had come. Nell started for the dining room, but James took her arm. “We’re not going in there.”
Nell wondered then if James stayed at the Windsor, not the Brown Palace, when he was in Denver. He’d never said. She glanced at the massive walnut staircase, wondering again how she would respond if he asked her to go upstairs with him. She would say no, she decided, although she would be tempted. She loved the thrill of James’s touch, and she longed for him to hold her. Still, she would be firm, although not indignant. She had no reason to be self-righteous.
James did not start upstairs, however. Instead, he took Nell’s arm and led her to the bar. “I thought you might like a glass of sherry instead of tea. I hope I don’t offend you. You do take stimulants on occasion, don’t you?”
“No, you don’t offend me,” Nell replied and almost laughed. She had worried for nothing. James had been anxious only because he’d thought she might take offense at being invited into a barroom instead of a dining room. He did not know she had had more than one shot of whiskey in her life, and frankly, she liked it. They really knew so little about each other.
Nell allowed James to lead her into the room, which was decorated with old-fashioned elegance. It was heavy and dark, and electric lights illuminated the silver dollars that studded the bar, remnants of the days when Colorado had been famous for its silver mines. Nell glanced around and saw that most of the customers were men, a few of them elegantly dressed with diamond stickpins and gold-headed canes. The other women in the room looked respectable, too. This was certainly not a place where prostitutes hung out. Nell was aware of hookers. They came into the café sometimes, and Betty treated them like any other customers. “They have to eat,” she’d explained to Nell. “Poor things. Maybe if I hadn’t known how to cook and run a café, I’d have been one of them.”
At Nell’s look of surprise, Betty had said, “What choice do most of them have? Hooking is better than doing laundry or cleaning rooms or working in a factory, which are about the only things a woman alone can do, unless she’s got some learning. The reformers want to rescue them and send them to farms, but most of those girls come off farms and will never go back. They think being a fallen woman, as they’re called, is a better life, although most of them don’t make it for more than five or six years.” She added, “Some of them have kids. Imagine how hard it would be if you had a little one and no father.”
Nell could imagine, and after that, she had been especially nice to the women. Besides, they tipped better than most of the male customers.
James indicated a table near the bar and pulled out a chair for Nell. “Sweet sherry or dry?” he asked, and Nell told him dry. In fact, the only time she had had sherry was at the Mackintosh home, and she wasn’t sure what it was. But she thought dry sounded better than sweet. James ordered a whiskey for himself. Nell hoped she looked as if she belonged in a barroom with a man who appeared so distinguished. James seemed at home there, and she basked in the idea that people might think them a couple—even a married couple.
When their drinks arrived, James downed his shot, then smiled at Nell as if seeing her for the first time. “You look awfully nice,” he said. “I should have brought you flowers to wear.”
“They would wilt in the heat,” Nell said. The weather was hot, and the room was close, and Nell herself felt warm. The sherry was heavy and sticky, but she didn’t mind. She felt elegant sitting where Colorado’s gold and silver kings had once bought and sold mines. She loved being there with James among the faded opulence.
“I like this place. It’s solid and fine. Did you see the marble floor in the lobby? And the woodwork? It must have taken an entire forest of black walnut trees to build this place. There’s a ballroom upstairs.” James leaned forward. “The state legislature used to meet across the street, and I’ve been told there’s a tunnel from that building to this so that the legislators could come to the bar here without being seen from the street.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in history,” Nell said. “Is that why you wanted to meet me here?”
James shook his head. He took out his cigarette case and removed a cigarette, and impulsively, Nell asked if she could have one.
“You smoke?” James asked, frowning a little.
“If I can sit in a hotel barroom drinking liquor, a cigarette won’t harm my reputation,” she said. She felt a little like the old Nell then, more sure of herself and not caring if she shocked anyone. She threw her head back in what she hoped was a sign of confidence.
Nell glanced around the room and noticed another woman smoking a cigarette. She turned and saw James looking at her. “I guess times are changing,” he said and offered her the case. He lighted her cigarette and then his own. “I suppose you’ll tell me next you can roll your own.” He laughed at the idea.
“I can. You forget, I used to live on a ranch.”
“You are full of surprises.”
Nell nodded, thinking she had other surprises he didn’t know about, some more shocking. “I’m so glad you invited me to come here. It’s a wonderful adventure.”
“It’s more than that.” James inhaled, then turned away to blow smoke out of his mouth. “I stay here sometimes. I prefer the Brown Palace, but this place is convenient, and my customers like to come here for a drink. I’ve gotten to know the bartender.”
The cigarette was harsh, and Nell placed it in an ashtray. She turned to study the young man behind the bar. He was of average height with sandy hair and a mustache, nice-looking but ordinary. She would not have noticed him on the street. “He seems pleasant enough.”
“Look at him again.”
Nell stared. “What am I looking for?”
“Does he appear familiar?” James asked.
Nell narrowed her eyes. Was he someone she had met in New Mexico? A cowboy perhaps, a man who knew about Buddy, someone who was aware they had been caught in a blizzard and spent the night in a cabin together? Well, so what? He wouldn’t know for sure what had happened in that cabin. Not even Lucy knew. There was nothing wrong with James finding out she’d once been engaged. And then she thought the man might be from Kansas, a boy who lived near her grandparents’ farm. Perhaps he knew about her there. Then she remembered the man who had attacked her in the café, and she shivered. She’d recognize his face. She’d never forget it. She looked at the bartender again, but he wasn’t the one. In fact, he wasn’t the least bit familiar. She was certain she’d never seen him before. “Should he?”
“I don’t know.”
Nell was confused. Surely he had not brought her there to meet a bartender. James sat forward in his chair and stared at her. Then she followed his gaze as he turned again to the bartender. “Have I met him?” Nell asked.
“No, of course not. I just thought he might look familiar.” James picked up his glass, but it was empty. “His name is Tom Buc
k.”
“Tom Buck? You mean…?” Nell turned to stare at the man again, harder this time. She tried to see Betty in his features. “Is he … Oh, James, is he Betty’s son? Have you found him?” She grasped James’s hand. “That would be such an exciting thing. How good of you.”
James shrugged. “I don’t know, Nell. Maybe. How would Betty feel if we introduced her to her son? That is, if he is her son.”
“She’d be thrilled.” Then Nell stopped and thought. “I suppose she would be, but I don’t really know. She’d be shocked, of course. She thinks he went east with his father. She hasn’t seen him since he was a little boy and doesn’t know what happened to him. In fact, she hasn’t heard a word about him since his father took him away. That was years ago.” Nell sat back and sipped her sherry, thinking. “Betty said he wasn’t a very nice boy. He took after his father. Maybe he hates her. What if he’s a terrible person? Have you asked him if he’s Betty’s son?”
“Not yet, but I did talk to him yesterday. You see, after you mentioned his name, I remembered the bartender here was Tom Buck. I didn’t want to tell you for fear he was somebody else. It’s not such an unusual name, I suppose. So I got to talking to him last night. He said his mother was dead and he’d run off from his father. Do you think he looks like Betty?”
Nell turned to stare again at the bartender. “Maybe. He has her coloring.”
“I didn’t want to pry too much until I talked to you. What if Betty wouldn’t want to see him?”
“Of course she would, even if he turns out to be a disappointment. Wouldn’t you?”
“I can’t imagine not wanting to know your own child.” He reached over and squeezed Nell’s hand. “Let’s give it a try.” James got up and went to the bar, leaning over and saying something in a low voice, while Nell watched, barely able to contain her excitement.
“Sure,” Tom Buck replied.
“I asked him if he could join us for a minute,” James said after he returned.
The Patchwork Bride Page 15