by Regina Scott
“Even when they involve two of your concessionaires? Mr. Freeman’s stage has been crippled, his spotless reputation damaged. I won’t see him punished for someone else’s ill-advised actions.”
Captain Harris’s face was stern. “Rest assured your concerns have been noted and will be included in my assessment of the leases and contracts next spring.”
He simply didn’t understand. “I may not be returning next spring unless I can maintain the hotel over the winter. Is there nothing you can offer to assist?”
He spread his hands. “I have fifty men to manage nearly two million acres. Even if I was allowed to intercede in civilian affairs, I wouldn’t have the staff.”
Will stepped forward. “Thank you, Captain, for allowing Mrs. Tremaine to make her case. With your permission, I’ll spend the night here before escorting her home tomorrow. Unless you have other duties you’d like me to attend to, I could speak to the teamster and see if anything can be done to free up her supplies.”
She thought the captain would argue, set him to some more important task for the Army. But he nodded. “Very well, Lieutenant. I believe you’ll find Mr. Boyne, the teamster, at the National Hotel.”
Of course they would. The Virginia City Outfitters were very likely putting him up in style in the hopes he’d give in to their proposal.
“And Mrs. Tremaine,” Captain Harris added, “I hope you’ll join my officers and me for dinner tonight.”
“We’d be delighted,” Will answered for her.
Kate merely smiled, but she rounded on Will the moment they stepped outside.
“How dare you speak for me! After that interview, I have no intention of sitting down to a meal with Captain Harris or any of his men. At the moment, I’m not sure about you.”
He grimaced. “Sorry, Kate. There wasn’t time to explain. Trust me on this. You are your own best advocate—for the park and the Geyser Gateway. I wasn’t the one who convinced Captain Harris to allow me to assist you. That was all you. It won’t take much to persuade him to side with you against the Virginia City Outfitters either.”
She couldn’t believe that, but she had to eat, and she wasn’t opposed to making the Army pay for the meal after coming this far. “Very well. At least he allowed you to help with this teamster. Let’s find him and get this over with.”
It took a little effort, but they located Mr. Boyne out at one of the stables, checking on his horses. A big man, gut swelling over his dusty brown trousers, he nodded to Kate when Will introduced her.
“Ma’am. You must be here about your supplies.”
Kate kept her temper with difficulty. “Yes. I’ve been expecting delivery any day. When are you heading to the Lower Geyser Basin?”
He tilted his head to glance out the door toward the back of the big hotel, then returned his gaze to hers. “I’ve been asked to send the supplies to Virginia City instead.”
“So I was given to understand,” Kate said. “I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. My hotel is not part of the Virginia City Outfitters, Mr. Boyne. Your contract is with me, not them.”
“My contract is with the merchant in Bozeman, ma’am,” he said, broad face apologetic. “They like the idea of additional profit.”
Was everyone greedy? “They stated their prices; I paid them,” Kate told him. “They cannot raise their prices now.”
He licked his flabby lips. “Maybe you could match what the Virginia City Outfitters are offering.”
“Maybe the merchant could honor his word,” Will put in.
He shifted on his feet. “It’s not for me to say.”
Honey, remember? Kate put a hand on his arm. “Please, Mr. Boyne. I need those supplies to feed my staff and my son through the winter. I don’t have the extra money to pay more or buy more. But I can promise you, if you deliver to the Geyser Gateway, I’ll give you a lovely room and the best pie west of the Mississippi.”
He gazed down at her, eyes bloodshot from the dust of the road, face burned from the sun. He’d likely driven the worst roads of the West and lived to tell the tale. What were her problems to a man like that?
Suddenly, he snapped a nod. “I’ll do it. I’ll deliver them. I’ve been stuck at that hotel for three days while the merchant and the Virginia City Outfitters telegraphed each other. They don’t care about my time, my horses. At least you treat me like a gentleman.”
Relief left her sagging. “Thank you, Mr. Boyne. If you reach the inn before I do, tell Alberta, my cook, that I said to treat you not like a gentleman, but like a king!”
They were all predisposed to do her bidding. Will wasn’t surprised. She had a way about her, a sparkle in those misty eyes, that engaging grin. And Boyne was right. Kate treated everyone with respect and admiration.
Until they wronged her.
Captain Harris was lucky. The fire in her eyes at his initial refusal could have burned down the blockhouse. As Will escorted her to the National Hotel, he was a little afraid he’d lost some of her respect. But he knew what he was doing. Kate had persuaded him to see the park in a new light. She convinced her guests the same way. She’d just encouraged Boyne to defy his employer and deliver her supplies. She’d have Captain Harris singing her praises before dinner was over.
“Dinner is usually at six,” he told her as they approached the hotel porch. “I’ll come for you at a quarter to.”
“Is that why you suggested I bring my best dress?” she asked as they started up the steps. “To show me off to your captain?”
He darted ahead and held open the door for her. “Not to show you off but to show up everyone else in the room. You have a presence, Kate. Use it to your advantage.”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, as if she doubted that. Then she jerked to a stop on the floor and turned in a circle, gawking like the visitors she hosted.
It was an impressive place. He couldn’t argue that. They had walked into a rotunda more than forty feet wide, with hallways leading off in various directions. Fine woodwork covered the pillars holding up the second story and edged the stairs and landing.
To one side, through open doors, he spotted leather-bound chairs and brass spittoons that proclaimed the gentlemen’s parlor, while more dainty chairs dotted the room on the other side of the rotunda for the ladies. In between, along one wall, framed pictures and a long table displayed curiosities of the park, while straight ahead, past the clerk’s station, stretched a dining room nearly as big as the first floor of the Geyser Gateway, with tables draped in white linen.
The young clerk behind his mahogany desk waved a hand at them. “You must be Mrs. Tremaine,” he warbled.
Looking more than a little stunned, Kate wandered up to him. “Yes.”
“A pleasure to have you with us,” he assured her, green eyes bright in his square face. “I’ve been instructed to put you in the Presidential Suite.”
She looked to Will, then back at the clerk, and her usual aplomb fell over her. “A typical room will do,” she informed him.
“I’m afraid they’re all full,” he said, offering her the brass key with a regretful smile.
“So late in the season?” she asked with a frown.
“We’re nearly always full,” he said blithely. “All four hundred rooms. The price of having the best hotel in the park.”
Her face darkened.
Will reached around her to accept the key. “Which way?”
“Down the north corridor, the corner rooms, with a commanding view of the terraces.” A dimple popped into view beside the clerk’s mouth. “I took the liberty of having her bags delivered.”
Will stepped aside so Kate could head for her room.
The wide corridor was well lit with lamps suspended on brass chains from the ceiling. Kate stared up at them. “So, it’s true. They have electricity.”
“Only in the public areas,” Will assured her, glancing at the brass plates on the doors that proclaimed each room’s number. Her key’s number matched the one o
n the double doors at the end of the corridor, which gave way to a parlor as big as his would-be cabin, with a massive brass bedstead visible through the door on the left.
She sank onto the horsehair-covered sofa, shoulders slumping. “I can never compete with this.”
“You don’t have to,” Will told her, turning from the view of the terraces out the curtained windows. “Not everyone can afford to stay in a place like this, certainly not in the Presidential Suite.”
She snorted. “Presidential Suite. They make it sound as if the president himself actually stayed here. This hotel was only half finished when the previous president, President Arthur, rode through the park after I first arrived.”
“That’s the difference between this place and the Geyser Gateway,” Will told her. “It’s all flash in a pan. Your hotel is genuine.”
She glanced up at him. “You really think people will favor the Geyser Gateway?”
“You’re closer to the bulk of the major sights,” Will reminded her. “You’re reasonably priced. And you have Alberta’s pie.”
Her smile was soft. “True. No one’s ever refused a piece of Alberta’s pie.”
“Then don’t worry. Just be yourself around Captain Harris, and he’ll approve that lease next spring, no question.”
She rose, chin coming up. “I’ll do it. But I don’t want another one-year lease. A ten-year renewal would give me and Danny the security we need. That’s what I’ll push for tonight. Thank you, Will, for the opportunity.”
She came to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He felt as if her touch reached down inside him to the honor he’d tried so hard to nurture, set it blossoming like a flower in the sun.
Would she still think so highly of him when he told her the truth? He hadn’t been willing to burden her on the way north, knowing what she might face. If she returned triumphant, as he expected, he would tell her on the way back to the Geyser Gateway.
And pray she would still smile so softly at him.
22
Kate had never considered herself a woman who charmed men into doing her bidding. But then, she’d rarely been put in a position where she had to try. She hadn’t had to work to attract Toby. He had never met a stranger—only friends. It wasn’t appropriate for a businesswoman to charm her guests. Her approach had always been franker, but after Toby’s death she’d become downright cautious. Still, if Will thought her mere presence at dinner might convince Captain Harris to recommend the Geyser Gateway for a ten-year lease, she was willing to give it all she had.
She’d brought the dress she’d worn the night they’d dined with Lieutenant Kingman. Riding for miles in a saddlebag, no matter how carefully packed, hadn’t helped it or the petticoat she’d wear under it. But there was a bell pull in the hotel room, and a yank brought a helpful maid who took the items away for pressing.
Who in Yellowstone needed their clothes pressed on a regular basis? Elk didn’t care what you wore; the geysers didn’t judge you on the number of wrinkles. Did the visitors judge her hotel against this one?
Once more, despair threatened. If she spent every last penny of profit, she could never afford electric lights. Where would she put separate rooms for the ladies and the gentlemen to lounge without losing beds? And she’d seen some of the other amenities: a Steinway piano, not one but two billiard tables, room to host a ball.
Small wonder Captain Harris hadn’t renewed her lease past the spring after seeing this palace.
She raised her head. No. This wasn’t a palace. It was a luxurious hotel, but not nearly as warm and cozy as the Geyser Gateway. She’d take Pansy’s steadfast care over the work of any other maid. Surely no employee was as enthusiastic about the wonders of the park as her Danny. And who could possibly rival Alberta for a welcome? The Geyser Gateway provided comfort and sustenance to all who visited. Her goal was to keep that trade for years to come. She would not give up.
She was in the lobby, waiting for Will, well before the appointed time. Several gentlemen, guests of the hotel, wandered past, one going so far as to ogle her through his gilt-edged monocle. She ignored them to peer instead into the dining room. Cane-backed chairs? Not as good as her wooden ones, but she would be hard-pressed to match that crystal chandelier. Then again, it probably only sparkled so brightly because of its electric bulbs.
A waiter with a long white apron bearing nary a spot on it hurried up to her. “May I seat you, madam?” he asked, as if the room wasn’t nearly empty.
“No, thank you,” Kate said. “But I’d love a peek at your menu.”
“Of course.”
He returned with a pasteboard card, which Kate scanned before handing it back with a smile.
“Ice cream, what a treat,” she noted.
His smile broadened. “We have it every day.”
Every day! Where did they get the ice, let alone churns for so much? What, was there an employee named official ice cream cranker? Well, at least they didn’t have pie. That was still Alberta’s calling card.
And the room was suspiciously empty, particularly when the clerk had indicated the hotel was full. Perhaps they had to eat in shifts.
She returned to the rotunda to find that Will had arrived. He was once more in his dress uniform, and she couldn’t help admiring how well it looked on him. That square-cut navy coat emphasized his shoulders. The gold stripe on his trousers followed the strong line of his legs. As his gaze met hers, he stopped, then bowed. “Mrs. Tremaine. A vision.”
Cheeks feeling warm, Kate bobbed a curtsey as he straightened. “You look pretty nice yourself.”
He rubbed his freshly shaven chin. “Mammoth Hot Springs has a few more amenities than our camp at the Fire Hole.”
She glanced back at the dining room entrance, where two couples in fine evening wear now stood. “So I noticed.”
“This place still can’t hold a candle to the Geyser Gateway,” he told her, offering her his arm.
At least he agreed with her. Kate put her hand on his. “Thank you. Shall we?”
He accompanied her out the door.
The night was cooling. The moon had yet to rise, and fitful clouds crossed the stars. But the lamplight from the hotel and the various buildings surrounding it lit their path up to the Norris blockhouse. The bubbling of the springs and the fall of water followed them. Steam drifted on the breeze, bringing with it the familiar scents of sulfur and pine.
“You feel that nip in the air?” she asked as they crested the rise. “It won’t be long now.”
He reached the door and held it open for her. “I’m looking forward to it.”
She laughed as she slipped past him into the building. “Let’s see how you feel come spring.”
He met her gaze. “My feelings won’t change.”
The warmth of his regard once more flushed heat into her cheeks.
“This way,” he said.
The officers’ mess at the back of the first floor was directly below the gun turret, so the windows were few, small, and high. A round table draped in gingham sat in the center of the whitewashed space, surrounded by mismatched chairs she assumed they had plundered from other buildings. A potbellied stove gave off a welcome heat.
Captain Harris and two lieutenants were standing on either side of it. The commanding officer came to greet her. “Mrs. Tremaine. You grace us with your presence.”
“Always delighted to join such fine officers,” Kate replied.
He introduced her to his staff. Lieutenant Vickers was a bright-eyed young man who tripped over his tongue in his hurry to make a good impression. Lieutenant Tutherly, Harris’s adjutant, was more in command of himself, bowing over her hand. His face was distinguished by prominent ears, a large nose, and a bristling mustache that stuck out well beyond his firm lips. His conversation was more measured, as if he hesitated to state an opinion that might contradict that of his commander. Like Will, they had shaved recently, and their hair was slicked back from their faces.
Still, it didn’t seem rig
ht they should outrank him. Will stood, confident, calm, answering questions put to him with nary a hesitation. There was no question in her mind which of the three would be more likely to come to her aid swiftly in an emergency. He was a geyser to their mud pots.
And what would he think to know she’d compared him to a geologic formation!
Captain Harris offered her his arm and led her to the table, seating her on his right with Lieutenant Tutherly on her right and Will beyond him. Vickers was between Will and the captain.
Kate had just draped her napkin across her gown when a private brought in a platter of sliced beef followed by a tureen of mashed potatoes and a bowl of gravy. It looked like Alberta had chosen well when she’d decided the menu for Lieutenant Kingman’s dinner—it seemed to be standard Army fare. Captain Harris said grace, and they all dove in.
But this was nothing like what Alberta had served. Stringy, too salty, and what was in that lumpy gravy? Kate hid her distaste over a long drink from the overly tart lemonade before her.
“How many visitors did you have at the Geyser Gateway this season, Mrs. Tremaine?” Captain Harris asked, forking up another mouthful as if he hadn’t noticed the state of the food.
Kate poked at the gray mass of mashed potatoes and couldn’t make herself take a bite. “Double last season. The reports in the newspapers from those who have visited seem to have made the public more aware of Yellowstone.”
He nodded, stirring the gravy into his mashed potatoes. Would that help the texture? “And you’ve had no troubles with vandals or poachers?”
Kate looked to Will, who quickly swallowed his food as if getting down a bitter dose of medicine.
“A few guests had to be taught the proper respect for the formations,” he allowed. “We only found evidence of the one poacher.”
“Jessup,” Vickers growled. “The fellow’s a blight.”
“Slippery, though,” Tutherly commented. “We still don’t know where he went.”
“He’ll be back,” Captain Harris warned them. “Men like him will continue to plague Yellowstone until we have rules and the means to enforce them.”