by Jodi Thomas
Now, he was about to take another step. Marriage. He’d ask her, if she didn’t run when she saw him.
The realization that he’d have to talk to the girl before he proposed made him sweat on the coldest night of the year. His only chance tonight was to close his eyes and pretend she was older. He could talk to the old widows at church on the rare times he attended potluck suppers. Of course, they were usually holding cobblers or pies. Maybe he’d just pretend Jacqueline was holding a pie.
He’d even proposed to Mrs. Pratt twice. She made the best peach pie he’d ever tasted. She might be near eighty, but if she’d said yes, he would have considered them engaged.
As he walked through the huge hotel doors he wondered how he’d pick Jacqueline Hartman out in the crowd. She’d probably still be thin. He hoped she hadn’t filled out because that was the only detail he had to go on.
Cody had worked herds of cattle all his life but he’d never worked a crowd of people. He’d put his back to the wall and study everyone who walked in. There were bound to be a few signs of who was who and if any young woman would talk to him, he’d do his best to keep the conversation going. After all, it wouldn’t hurt to practice.
The place sparkled like a diamond mine. A hundred fancy lamps reflected off china like he’d never seen. And the people all looked like they were dressed up to stand in some expensive tailor’s windows. They were all smiling or laughing.
Cody brushed the edges of his mouth and pushed up the corners. He hadn’t smiled in so long he may have lost the ability.
Cody figured he must be early because the place wasn’t crowded. He took a deep breath, taking in the aroma of baked pies and seasoned meats. He’d fill a plate before he left even if he didn’t talk to Jacqueline. If he did that, whether the lady said yes or no wouldn’t matter so much.
He’d made it ten feet into the foyer before he spotted Margaret Hartman. She crossed the room, making her whole body float on the music that drifted from the next room. She might be well into her forties now, but she still turned heads.
“Well, if it isn’t my neighbor, Cody Lamar. I can’t believe you left your land.” She offered her hand, then pulled it back as if only waving. “You’re a bit early for the dancing so don’t bother to ask me to waltz. My mother always told me to beware of a man with brown eyes. But then, I do see adventure when I stare in yours.”
She had a way of swaying when she was standing still and her eyes seemed to be sending signals he couldn’t read. She was still a beauty but like a candle, bits seemed to be about to drip.
“You sent me an invitation, Mrs. Hartman. It would have been impolite not to come.”
Now her over-painted eyebrows were moving. “You’re welcome anytime, Cody. A man like you doesn’t need an invitation.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I can tell by the cut of a man’s jaw whether he knows how to treat a woman or not.”
Cody fought the urge to run. He’d sooner face down a drunk gunfighter than Mrs. Hartman. “I think I should pay my respects to Harry and Miss Jacqueline.”
Her face settled. “Good luck with that. Harry is playing poker with the men who hate to dance. Just follow the cigar smoke. I don’t know where Jacqueline is. I bought her a lovely pink dress with ribbons that drift around her. Had it shipped from New Orleans in the hope of making her look presentable.” She waved her hands. “Oh, I know it’s Christmas and I should have bought a red dress, but she’s such an untouched flower, if you know what I mean. I thought she should wear pink. Never had one fellow and now her father wants her married.” She grinned and fine wrinkles rippled across her powdered face. “I told her I’d need to explain the facts of life to her and the poor girl looked like she’d faint. I’ll be so glad when this mothering chore is done. I’ve endured enough.”
Luckily, a middle-aged couple hurried up to Margaret gushing over her stunning crimson dress and Cody backed away toward the wall. He had a feeling poor little Jacqueline was probably the one who had endured.
Grumbling to himself, he swore he should have stayed home. He was no good at conversation. His hands were too rough to hold a lady’s fingers during a dance. Hell, no chance of that. He didn’t know how to dance anyway.
Maybe he could melt into the woodwork and watch from the shadows.
To his surprise a woman in blue velvet was standing so still he hadn’t noticed her next to the drapes until she giggled.
“Excuse me, Miss.” He nodded once. “I almost backed into you. I hope you didn’t hear me talking to myself. Habit of mine.”
When she didn’t speak, he said more to himself than her, “I had to get away from that lady fast.”
The woman in blue laughed. Her beautiful eyes matched the color of her dress and Cody thought her a simple kind of pretty.
“Most people are drawn to Margaret Hartman, I understand,” she whispered. “I’m told men flock to her like bees to honey.”
“Really?” he said without thinking. “Who told you that?”
“Margaret.” The lady easily ten years younger than him laughed again. “I know how you feel. I try to stay out of her way too. She’s like a porcupine always on full alert.”
He leaned, almost touching the young lady’s bare shoulder. “To tell the truth, I don’t want to be here. I’m not much for parties. I’m only staying in hopes of finding the food. I could smell it when I stepped inside but can’t see it.”
They watched Margaret flutter around the room, then move on to the next parlor. The woman in red seemed to think the night was all about her.
“I didn’t want to come either. I can’t dance or talk to strangers, but my father thinks I need to get out and meet people.” She frowned. “I’m afraid the food won’t be served for another hour.”
“Too bad. I’m not sure I can hang around that long.” He looked out at the people. “Trust me, most of this crowd isn’t worth knowing. Rustlers, gamblers, and bankers.” Cody couldn’t believe he was being so honest with a total stranger. “And, young lady, you are talking to a stranger right now.”
She blushed. “Maybe it’s because I don’t know you.”
“Then, we’ll never introduce ourselves and we can visit here in our own little corner.” He smiled at her. “How about we make up stories about all these fancy people? I don’t plan on taking the time to know any of them, so you can fill me in.”
She nodded and they began to whisper wicked observations about the crowd. Some true, some lies. The preacher’s wife who finished every glass of wine left on any table. The three sisters, dressed alike, who traveled in a tight little pack. The banker who checked his watch as if he needed to run over and close the place down.
Cody kept an eye out for a woman in a pink dress. He saw red and all shades of green. He saw one gold and a few white, but no pink. With his luck he’d just ridden half a day from his ranch for nothing. Shy little Jacqueline Hartman probably ran away from home at the thought of marrying a man like her father.
“You dance, Mr. Nobody?” the woman in velvet blue asked.
“Nope.”
“Play cards?”
“Not much. I figure the weather in Texas is about all the gambling I can handle.”
“Then, tell me, why are you here?”
“I need land. My small ranch is boxed in on all sides, and the only way I can spread out is to marry the neighbor’s daughter. So I decided to come ask her.”
“She’s a friend of yours?”
“Nope. Haven’t seen her in years.”
“How will you spot her?”
“She’s about your age. Skinny, I think, and according to Margaret she’s wearing a pink dress with ribbons.”
The woman in blue looked confused. “You’d marry someone you don’t know, much less love, just to get more land?”
“I told myself all the way into town that I would, but I don’t know if that would be right for her or me. I’ve got the money to buy the land, maybe I’ll just make old Harry another offer. I can foresee a problem with m
y plan. What if I get her home and she don’t like me? I can’t keep a cook around the place. What chance would I have with a wife?”
“Are you a hard man to live with?”
He nodded. “I am. I’ve been told I have a stern look about me.” “And a strong chin,” she whispered with laughter in her tone.
“You heard Margaret say that?”
“Many times,” the lady in blue answered. “At every party.”
Cody didn’t know whether to laugh or cuss so he just shrugged. It felt good to just talk with someone about nothing important.
He spotted Margaret weaving her way toward him and felt the girl in blue slipping behind him. Fully aware that he was sacrificing himself for a stranger, Cody took a few steps toward the overdressed, over made-up woman.
Margaret almost bumped her nose against his chest. “Who was that woman beside you a minute ago? I didn’t see her face but there was something familiar about the way she moved.”
Cody fought down a gag as a cloud of perfume made his eyes water. One more thing Margaret overdid. “I don’t remember any woman,” he lied. “All ladies seem to disappear when you’re around, Mrs. Hartman. You must outshine them all.”
She patted her overdone hair. “I don’t see her now. Probably nobody I need to know. Dallas is getting too full of drifters and farmers lately. It’s also becoming quite crowded in here. I can hardly catch my breath. Would you like to step out on the porch with me to take in a bit of the night air?”
“No,” he answered. “I take it in every night. Let me get you a drink, Mrs. Hartman. You do seem a little flushed.”
“Thank you, Cody, and do call me Margaret.”
Cody would have run, but he’d topple too many people. When he made it to the bar, he directed a waiter to deliver a tray of drinks, one of whatever they were serving, to the lady in red.
When the waiter followed his pointed finger, he frowned. Apparently, her beauty didn’t charm everyone in the room.
“Tell her I’m in the poker room if she asks.”
“She won’t join you in there, sir. Her husband is there.”
Cody winked. “I know.”
The waiter grinned, obviously understanding exactly what Cody wasn’t saying. “I’ll be happy to pass the message on, sir.”
Cody was tall enough to see over most heads in the room. The woman in the dark blue dress had vanished and if he was smart he’d do the same until Mrs. Hartman found some other man to bother.
The evening wasn’t working out as he’d hoped. He’d been here an hour and hadn’t seen Miss Jacqueline or found the table of food. At this rate he’d be heading home alone and hungry.
Moving through the hallways, he ended up at the kitchen. The round little cook took one glance at him and smiled. “You leaving, Mister?”
Cody nodded. “Not my kind of place, ma’am. I’m too much of a bull to stay around all this china, but I got to tell you this kitchen smells mighty good.”
Without another word she wrapped up four rolls stuffed with sliced ham. “A man shouldn’t leave before dinner is served. I’ll pack you up something for the road.”
“Thanks, ma’am. You wouldn’t marry me, would you?”
“Sure would if I already didn’t have a man and six kids waiting for me at home.”
“Just my luck.” He stepped out the side door, calling himself a dozen names for even thinking this had been a good idea. He’d been honest with the woman in blue velvet. He couldn’t marry just to get land; it wouldn’t be right. And, there was no chance of some woman falling for him in one night. He might as well go over to the livery and bed down beside his horse until sunup.
The velvet lady had asked him if he’d be hard to live with and he’d answered correctly. He rarely talked. He worked from dawn to dusk. During roundup he often slept in his clothes to save time. If he took out an ad for a wife in the Dallas Herald and was honest, no one would answer.
He stepped out on a small porch that led to what might have been a garden in warmer days. On this moonless night the glow from inside cast an eerie light over the dead plants walled in by brick and iron. The shadows reminded him of black lace hanging over stone. The night was so dark beyond the wall he could almost believe the world ended.
There, in the little walled-in patio, where empty pots lined the top of the fence like sentinels and candlelit lanterns sparkled around a wide walkway, was a woman whirling. Dancing alone to the music drifting out. Waltzing with the breeze.
He couldn’t stop staring. Cody had never seen anyone so lost in a dance. He felt like he’d stumbled into a magical place. He’d always been a man who looked reality straight on. But suddenly, a fairy danced before him, seeming more dream than truth. Tall and slender with hair that flew about her in rays of sunshine. A vision more lovely than his mind could have created.
If he moved, if he even breathed, she might disappear. So, Cody leaned against the back door and simply watched.
Then one fact registered.
The woman wore pink, with long ribbons drifting around her.
Chapter 5
Jacqueline quickly tiptoed her way up the back staircase usually reserved for staff at the St. Nicholas.
“Miss Hartman,” a bellboy in his early teens said as he passed her on his way down. “You shouldn’t be here. Guests use the front stairs.” He shuffled a box of small lanterns to one arm as if he needed to point the direction.
“I know.” She fought down panic that always seemed to want to choke her. “I only need a minute to be alone.” She’d become an expert at hiding, at being invisible, since her father brought Margaret home. Only tonight she was in foreign territory.
The kid must have read the fear in her eyes. He seemed to understand. “Yes, Miss. I’ll see you to your room.”
“No. I need to be totally alone. Someplace where no one will find me.” The boy could have no idea how angry her stepmother would be if she found Jacqueline hiding.
He smiled. “That won’t be easy to find, Miss. All three floors are packed with guests and staff and it wouldn’t be safe for you to go outside alone. Dallas is a rough town. Mrs. Cockrell is even having the maids who live in town bunk in with the single girls who stay in the attic. She says she doesn’t want any of her girls out late tonight trying to dodge drunks on their way home.”
“I just need a bit to think before I have to face so many people. There must be a hideout somewhere.”
“Afraid of strangers, are you?”
“No. Mostly afraid of my stepmother, to be honest.”
His kind face relaxed a bit and nodded slightly, telling her he comprehended. “Don’t ever tell Mrs. Cockrell, but I know a place. Sometimes I hide there to rest and everyone else thinks I’m just in another part of the house.”
“I swear. I’ll never tell anyone.” Jacqueline crossed her heart across blue velvet. She knew all the staff, including the owner, Widow Cockrell, had been putting up with Margaret’s demands for three days. “I just need to disappear for a while.”
The boy reversed his direction and headed up the stairs without even looking back to see if she was following. His words came in rhythm to his steps. “We store the empty trunks up here until the guests need to pack. Folks wouldn’t be able to move around in their rooms if we left the trunks with them. No one will be coming up here tonight. Too much going on.”
He hurried toward the back of the third-floor hallway, then opened a door hidden beneath what looked like attic stairs. Trunks of all sizes lined the room, and hatboxes were stacked up like funny round Christmas trees. “You’ll be alone here, Miss. I’ll leave a candle and a flint for you.”
“Thank you.” She took the little lantern that looked more like a decoration than real. “I don’t think I’ll need it. I’m used to the shadows.”
“Sam, Miss. Sam Barkley. Someday I’m going to own a fine hotel, bigger than this one.”
“I have no doubt.”
He held the door as she slipped in.
“Thank you, Sam. When you have that fine hotel, I’ll remember your kindness.” She met his eyes. “Swear you’ll never tell where I am. No matter what, you’ll keep my secret.”
He bowed slightly. “I swear, Miss Hartman. You’ll be warm here. The heat from downstairs will rise and there’s slits near the ceiling that lets a bit of light in from the hallways.”
Silently he closed the door.
Jacqueline moved among the luggage, feeling a bit like a giant crossing over rows of houses. She carefully maneuvered her way to the far corner. She sat on one trunk and placed the candle on another, but she didn’t light the tiny lantern. She thought it brilliant that the room had been built with slits near the floor as well as the ceiling to allow just a bit of light and air in. Maids and footmen retrieving luggage wouldn’t bother lighting a candle or lantern. It would be easier to simply move in the shadows.
“You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding,” she whispered to herself. Her only real escape for years had been in books. The one expense her father never denied her.
This morning Margaret threatened to burn her entire library if she didn’t follow instructions tonight.
The plan was simple. Pick a man from the hundred attending the ball. Marry one. Get out of her father’s house.
She covered her face, letting her long hair curtain her in. “Why can’t I simply hide away at home?” Her words sounded hollow in the still, dusty air.
“Why not? Hiding isn’t so bad,” a low voice drifted on the still air. “I’m an expert at it of late.”
Jacqueline jumped up. “Who’s there?”
With a bit of laughter the voice came again. “Would you believe the Ghost of Christmas Past?”
“No.” She relaxed at bit. Anyone who knew Dickens couldn’t be too bad.