“Montana, er, Miss Butler has a room here at Dodge House.”
“Thank you again for your service in returning my cattle.” Cyrus nodded then returned to the clerk’s desk.
“Yes, sir. How may I help you?”
“I’d like a room for a night or two and a hot bath. My brother and several of my men will also be staying. Please add their rooms and baths to my account. I’ll settle up with you when we leave.” Cyrus placed his black hat on the counter, running a hand over the growth on his face. Damn, but he needed to at least trim its wildness.
The clerk flipped open the hotel register, handing Cyrus a quill and ink bottle. “If you’ll just sign in, we’ll get your bags to your room and prepare your bath. You’ll be in room twelve. How many other rooms total will you need?”
“I’ll carry my own bags. One for Beau Kennedy and then four others.” Cyrus scribbled his name across an empty line. “Can you tell me what room Miss Suzanne Butler is in?”
“Montana Sue?”
Cyrus looked up at the clerk. Why did everyone keep calling Miss Butler Montana Sue? “No, Miss Suzanne Butler.”
The clerk swallowed then turned the register to look it over. “Mr. Kennedy, I can leave a message for Miss Butler that you are inquiring as to her whereabouts.”
“Please inform Miss Butler that I have arrived in town and ask her to please meet me at six for dinner.” Cyrus walked away from the counter then paused for a moment. “One more thing, when does the next train for Burrton leave?”
The clerk looked up from his scribbling, “In two days, at noon.”
Cyrus nodded and headed out onto the streets of Dodge City. The sooner he shook the dust off from this town and was back on his own land, the better he’d feel.
Suzanne peered out between the curtains of the window. Hope rose when she’d heard the thunder of the cattle and whistles of the drovers on their way to the stockyard. It was the second herd this week and the third in a month. The last two herds of bawling bovines and gangs of trail-weary men failed to bring her new employer. Chances were the same would be true of this group as well.
With her faith fading, Suzanne let the curtain fall back into place. She doubted Cyrus Kennedy would ever arrive. She’d heard many a story of women accepting a position such as she had, only to be left with nothing more than a letter of promise and nowhere to go. After several weeks waiting in anticipation, the same appeared to be true for Suzanne. With Mr. Kennedy’s reply being the only one she had received, her options weren’t good. If he didn’t come as promised, she’d have to defy her father and return to the Lady Gay. Suzanne refused to believe she’d be returning home against her own wishes.
She’d become a woman with a mind of her own over the years. Not a silly girl who quivered at a man’s demands, let alone her own father’s. So why did Suzanne feel like she was that young girl again? Out of respect or out of fear?
Respect for the man who thought more of his land than his own flesh and blood didn’t exist any longer. As far as fear, Suzanne had learned to hold her own, and Father would find out soon enough—if her plan failed. It was the thought of living with Mr. Murray that stiffened the hair on the back of her neck.
Suzanne slid open a dresser drawer, removing the last piece of correspondence from Mr. Kennedy then sat down, re-reading the letter from weeks before.
Dear Miss Butler,
I am pleased to inform you that I will be arriving in Dodge City late spring to early summer. I wish I could be more accurate, but I must take into consideration the weather and perils of driving cattle through Indian Territory.
All the same, I’d be mighty obliged if you’d have your affairs in order by that time. I plan to only be in Dodge City for as long as it takes to settle my business, catch the next train to Burrton, and then on to Fort Worth. Please pack what belongings you feel you need for the journey and to be comfortable living on the ranch. I would suggest a pair of britches for riding, a dress for church, and one for every day.
I am looking forward to meeting you in person and trust you will find much to keep you busy at the Double K Ranch.
Sincerely,
Cyrus Kennedy
Suzanne re-folded the page, letting it fall upon the dressing table. She’d put her affairs in order all right. Watching Logan Granger marry that fugitive wife of his for a second time nearly broke her heart. She’d grown quite fond of Logan and his daughter. Little had Suzanne known he’d only looked upon her as a friend, not a potential wife and mother for his child.
Suzanne also couldn’t dismiss the fact that Mother’s letter warned her that Father and Mr. Murray were still hunting her down after so long. The piece of paper had forced Suzanne’s hand. Father was one thing but spending her life with Mr. Murray would be a prison sentence for any woman. Suzanne had placed that dang advertisement, not giving thought to the truth.
She may have embellished a bit regarding her qualifications as a housekeeper. Well, more than a bit. Suzanne had grown up on the Bar B Range with house servants and a cook. She didn’t know how to go about cleaning a house, cooking a meal, or mending clothes, let alone washing them. She’d led a privileged and orderly life with Mother and Father guiding her education and social circle.
As for being a teacher, she’d told the truth, of sorts. That’s where her skill truly lay. Many of the women at the Lady Gay often asked her to help their children learn to read and write, even do sums on occasion. Suzanne loved being with the children; their innocence gave her joy. Keeping watch over the children kept her out of the saloon itself and away from the drovers most of the time. In retrospect, her life at the Lady Gay was more pleasant than the other girls who worked the floor every night.
Looking out the window again, Suzanne prayed that her feeling was wrong. According to the last post, it was near time for Mr. Kennedy to arrive from Texas with his herd. Surely, he hadn’t reconsidered his offer of employment without informing her. She read the accounts of the perils of traveling through Indian Territory, could he and his men have been slaughtered by cattle rustlers?
Lord, please bring Mr. Kennedy safe and sound to Dodge City.
A quick rap on the door brought her from her musings. “Yes?”
“Message for you, Miss Montana,” a voice informed, slipping a piece of paper under the door. “A man who’s only just arrived asked me to bring this to you immediately.”
Suzanne drew in a breath then reached down for the missive as the footsteps retreated down the hall. Standing near the only chair of the sparsely furnished room, she read the words scrawled in careful precision.
Meet me downstairs at six for dinner. -Cyrus Kennedy
Peering out the window, relief flooded her, and fever spread from her toes to her head despite herself. A cowboy covered in dried sweat and layers of dust stepped out into the street then strolled toward the stockyard with confidence. Dark curls poked out from the bottom of the Stetson upon his head, and buckskin chaps covered his legs, flapping with each long step. There was no doubt in her mind.
Cyrus Kennedy had finally ridden into town.
Cyrus’s gaze swept up and down the street, dread creeping up his spine. Two things he knew for sure. If not for his cattle being rustled and the fact that he’d hired a woman from Dodge City to look after Johnny and the house, he never would have made the godforsaken journey. He’d eaten more trail dust than was healthy, plus his muscles quaked in protest over the constant hours in the saddle.
Truth be told, Beau could have handled the cattle and most likely retrieving the new tutor, Miss Butler. So why had he felt compelled to make the trip and suffer along with his men? Hell if he knew. All he wanted was to get on the first train back to Texas and his feet back on the Double K before any trouble started.
Cyrus caught up with his brother in the street between the hotel and the stockyard. “Everything in order, Beau?”
Beau nodded his head, slapping the trail dust from his chaps. “Found the rustled cattle they were holding. The boys
worked them in with the rest of the herd while I finished our business. The Double K brand hadn’t been altered, so they were easy to work in.”
“Good. The sooner we leave Dodge City, the better I’ll like it.”
Cyrus tugged his hat low over his eyes. Being in town unsettled him—too many unpredictable people in one place. He preferred the solitude the ranch provided. The quiet and peacefulness being in the country soothed his still grieving soul. Cyrus missed his Maggie a bit less every day, and it scared the hell out of him.
“Aw, come on, Cy. There are plenty of girls just waiting to heal that broken heart of yours if you’d only be willing. It’s been well over two years since Maggie was laid to rest,” Beau half teased, giving Cyrus a rare smile. “Maggie wouldn’t want you working yourself to exhaustion like you do. The good Lord ain’t gonna let you see Maggie anytime soon, so you might as well come to terms with it.”
“Since I’m not willing, I’ll leave that adventure up to you and the boys.” Cyrus ignored the reference to what his dead wife would or wouldn’t have wanted him to do. She wasn’t here and hadn’t been since the snake bite took her. “I’ve secured rooms at the Dodge House for you and the boys, and dinner is at six. I expect to see you at the table with your manners in check, brother.”
“Ignoring it doesn’t make it better, Cy.” Beau shook his head, slapping Cyrus on the back. “Did you meet your Miss Butler then?”
“No, I had to leave her a message. And she’s not my Miss Butler!” Unexplained disappointment edged through Cyrus. He’d hoped to have it all arranged: the train tickets bought, and an agreement reached before supper. “I’ve asked that she meet us for dinner.”
“You asked, or you demanded?” Beau inquired.
“Asked,” Cyrus muttered, shoving his hands into his front pants pockets. He knew he could be overly demanding with his requests; it was something Maggie would laugh at and tell him he sounded like a bitter old man.
Beau grabbed Cyrus’s arm, turning him around. “So, what’s bothering you? Meeting a woman for a sit-down dinner, or just meeting a woman, plain and simple?”
Anyone else would have been met with Cyrus’s fist to their jaw. Even though Beau meant well, his constant badgering for him to find a woman and marry again scorched him.
“I’m not sure Miss Butler has been truthful. Everyone I’ve asked about her, including the Pinkerton, has questioned if I was asking for Montana Sue.” Cyrus looked at his brother, seeing the ever-present tormented look in his eyes. “Something just doesn’t feel right about it.”
“Well, didn’t she say she was from Montana? Seems to me that would make sense to be referred to as the place you come from,” Beau suggested, doing little to ease Cyrus’s suspicions. “Makes her sound a bit mysterious and alluring if you ask me. Which you weren’t, but just the same…”
“She did, and if she were a man, it wouldn’t matter, but she’s a woman. A woman who I am supposed to take back to the ranch. Now, I’m not so sure.” Cyrus glanced over at the Dodge House, contemplating the unknown Miss Suzanne Butler. “Just sounds like a dance hall girl’s stage name. I’m not sure I want that kind of influence around Johnny. I hope that Miss Butler is a common-looking girl, with no designs on finding a husband.”
Beau laughed slapping Cyrus on the back. “You worry too much. Let’s get a drink at that saloon we saw coming into town. It’ll take your mind off your new housekeeper.”
“Not this time. You go ahead. I’m gonna grab my saddlebag and get cleaned up. I need to get that trail dirt out from under my skin.” Cyrus forged ahead to the stockyard, Beau matching him stride for stride. “You still plan on riding the trail back to the ranch, or should I get you a train ticket?”
“Riding back. The only thing I want moving under me is a horse or a woman.” Beau tipped his hat, turned, then headed toward the Lady Gay. “Me and the boys need to wet our whistles and see the backs of more than cattle!”
“I best not have to bail you out of jail tonight, big brother!” Cyrus called out, his brother’s back stiffening slightly. “See you at dinner; six sharp!”
Cyrus made sure his horse was settled then slung his saddlebag over a shoulder and grabbed his valise, heading back to the Dodge House. It had been years since he’d been trail boss over a herd, and every muscle in his body was reminding of just how long it had been. He looked forward to the hot bath, a civilized meal, and the soft bed waiting for him at the end of the day.
First, he had to settle things with Miss Butler before closing his eyes for the night.
2
Suzanne glanced at the wall clock as it chimed the hour. “Mr. Kennedy did say to meet him at six o’clock. I’d best make my way to the dining room. I don’t want to give a bad first impression.” Peering at her image in the mirror, satisfaction swept through her. Gone were the flashy earbobs and face paint. The simplicity of her look managed to make her appear younger somehow.
She’d taken care to make herself look demure and respectable. She’d pulled her hair back into a snood, letting a few wispy strands frame her face. Smoothing her hands nervously over the black vest and matching skirt she’d bought the week before, the high-collar blouse with tight-fitting sleeves bothered her some but not enough to make her want to discard the garment. She’d grow used to it in time…she hoped.
It still felt strange to have given up the lavish clothes she’d worn for the past year. The silk corsets, crinoline, and velvet skirts all belonged to another girl down at the Lady Gay now. Suzanne’s new clothes reminded her of home—the thought both excited and scared her. In some ways, she couldn’t wait to leave Dodge City and its wild life behind. In other ways, she would probably miss the hustle and bustle of living in town. Ranch life could be a very isolated life for a woman.
At twenty-one years of age, she’d left her mother to tell lies and keep Suzanne’s whereabouts from her domineering father. Suzanne had given up more than any young woman should have had to, leaving the only home she’d known to escape an unwanted arranged marriage. It appeared Mr. Murray hadn’t found another bride to take her place. Either that or he was a widower again. A chill crept up Suzanne’s spine, and she quickly shook it away.
Suzanne was once again giving up a life, such as it was, living and working in a saloon for a new one, all because her father wouldn’t be denied. How many more lives must she sacrifice in order to find where she truly belonged? To find the happiness she desperately sought? Until her father gave up and realized she wasn’t the sweet, innocent girl he remembered.
“Won’t you be surprised, Father, at how your little girl has grown,” she laughed then stepped out into the hall near the top of the staircase.
She was willing to put all her hopes into the hands of a man she’d agreed to work for by tutoring his son and doing household chores. She knew nothing about Cyrus Kennedy except what he’d written in a few brief letters. There was no doubt in her mind he was a man who would only look upon her as his employee. She knew he was widowed but didn’t know the details. Suzanne also knew from his letters that he never mentioned looking for a wife but only required her services. Could it be enough for her to find happiness? It would have to be, that’s all there was to it. At least until Father gave up his pursuit of her. The sooner that happened, the better she’d be able to live her life as she wanted. If only she knew exactly what that was then maybe—
“Did Miss Butler receive my invitation to dinner?”
The silky smoothness of the deep Texas drawl spread a wave of heat through Suzanne like a shot of smooth whiskey. Peering over the railing, she caught a glimpse of the man she presumed to be Cyrus Kennedy. No one else had asked her to dinner.
His hair was long, its waves landing softly just past the back of his neck. Gone were the clothes covered in trail dust and the worn-looking chaps that had been strapped around his legs. Broad shoulders lay under a clean, white shirt and dark leather vest. A pair of dark pants covered his long legs, and there wasn’t a holster at his hip. No m
an in his right mind would walk around Dodge without a gun, especially not one who carried himself the way Mr. Kennedy did. Judging from his backside, Suzanne would say this was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Kennedy.”
“Was there a reply?” He sounded annoyed that she hadn’t sent word whether or not she’d be joining him. What did he think? That she would expect him to take her home with him without so much as a discussion over what was expected of her? Well, Cyrus Kennedy had already misjudged her if that was indeed what he was thinking.
“No, sir, there wasn’t. But Miss Butler will arrive on time. Montana Sue, er, Miss Butler, that is, is very punctual. Of that, you can be sure.”
“Yes, well, we shall see. Please direct Montana Sue to my table when she comes down.” He swiped his hat against his knee then looked out into the street. “I am also expecting my brother to join us. Be sure he is escorted to my table as well.”
Darn it! So now he’ll suspect something is wrong. Why can’t anyone just call me Sue or Miss Butler in this town? Well, he’ll just have to come to terms with the old Montana Sue Butler since she’s gone.
Holding her head high, Suzanne grasped the railing and proceeded to walk down the stairs with as much refinement as her memory could muster. No point in making this take any longer than necessary, but she didn’t want to appear to be overly anxious either. Suzanne only wanted to get things settled and be on their way.
“Mr. Kennedy, I assure you that you’ll have your dinner on time. If not, it won’t be on my account.” Suzanne almost laughed out loud. The seemingly proper Mr. Cyrus Kennedy stood at the hotel desk, his gaze sweeping over her with his mouth gaping open.
Cyrus swallowed then stepped to the bottom of the staircase, offering his hand to her. “Miss Butler?”
Brides Along the Chisholm Trail Boxset Page 24
