“Thank you, Cassandra.” Harmony studied her reflection critically.
“Call me Cassie, ma’am. Everybody does.” The maid adjusted the material at the back of the dress. “You have the prettiest clothes I ever did see,” she sighed.
“Thank you, Cassie, that’s very kind.” Harmony opened her little purse and withdrew some coins. “Please, may I reward you for your help?”
“You may,” Cassie giggled. “You talk mighty nice too. Jim, that’s the night manager, he said you sound like you got a stick up your…” She ground to a sudden stop. “But I think it’s real nice.” She folded yesterday’s green dress and returned it to the trunk. “Do you need anything else? Help with your hair?”
Cassie had appeared each day with two braids laying over her shoulders and tied with a blue ribbon. Harmony did not much care for the look.
“No, thank you. I can manage,” Harmony assured her.
“All right, Miss Harmony. Should I come tomorrow?” Her voice was hopeful.
“Yes, please, that would be lovely. See you then.” It was a dismissal, and Cassie understood as much. She closed the door with a quiet click.
Harmony studied the heavy mass of golden hair that hung down her back. Grandmama insisted young ladies wore their hair up, and her maid saw to it, but she had not a notion how it was done. She twisted it this way and that and, after much trial and error, wrangled it into a fairly neat bun.
Harmony spent the day walking around the town a bit, not too far from the hotel as she was a woman alone. After lunch in her room, she spent the afternoon reading before dressing for dinner. She hoped her escort arrived soon, she was ready to move on.
She crossed the street for dinner at the usual hour and received the routine warning from the desk manager. Harmony returned as the last ray of light disappeared over the purple mountains.
The manager lifted his head and squinted at her as if she were some colorful, foreign bird. “Somebody to see you,” he said and flicked his fingers toward the sitting room. He didn’t wait for a response but returned his attention to his paper.
Harmony huffed. She’d grown accustomed to the man’s rude behavior, but she didn’t have to like it. She moved with all the grace and dignity seven years of finishing school had instilled toward the room where guests were received.
Several men lounged in over-stuffed chairs smoking cigars, sipping brandy, reading. How was she to know which was her escort?
A tall man with a barrel of a chest and arms reminiscent of the trunk of a tree rose from one of the chairs. He wore a thick, red plaid wool shirt tucked into heavy denim pants. A jacket lined with sheep skin lay over his arm and heavy boots enclosed large feet. His face was broad and bronzed from sun and wind. Two intelligent gray eyes peered from beneath shaggy eyebrows, and his mouth curved into a generous smile. It was not a sophisticated face, but she liked it.
“Hello, Harmony,” he said. “I’d know you anywhere. You look like Melody, only fancy.” He grinned. “I’m Matt Cullen. I’ve come to escort you to Oregon.”
Harmony extended her hand, and Matt engulfed it in his giant one.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cullen,” Harmony said.
“Call me Matt, and believe me, Harmony, the pleasure is all mine.” He held her hand prisoner. “I bought two tickets for tomorrow’s train. It’s only an engine, one passenger car, and one freight car. Nothing else going. It won’t be much, but it will get us headed in the right direction. It leaves at two. I’ll come fetch you at 12:30. Can you be ready?”
Harmony tugged on her hand, but he was unwilling to let it go. “Yes, I’ll be ready.”
He surveyed her from head to toe and those steely eyes left a trail of fire.
“Do you have warm clothes?” he enquired. “The mountains are colder than… well, they’re cold.”
“Thank you. I will dress appropriately,” Harmony assured him.
He released her hand, and she rubbed at the unfamiliar tingling.
“See you tomorrow.” He smiled and pulled the coat over his shoulders before disappearing out the door.
Harmony had never seen a man so big, so raw, so masculine. He could have been carved from the mountains that loomed in the distance. Jerome thought muscles vulgar. An indication of physical labor. That man who just left did not seem less. He inspired thoughts of more, more, more.
Why, she wondered, were people unwilling to finish their sentences? Cassie said the manager thought she had a stick stuck up… stuck up what? And now Matt said it was colder than a… a what? If it happened again, she would enquire.
Tomorrow she would take a giant step closer to Melody.
She would cross the Rockies, the backbone of the country, and enter the west. A tingling rushed up her body, and her fingers and toes vibrated. It was an unusual, but not unpleasant, sensation. Excitement, that’s what it was. She was excited.
Grandmama would disapprove.
Chapter 2
Matt closed the hotel door behind him before turning to study Harmony through the window. He’d never seen such pretty, but impractical, clothes. They pushed him away and pulled him in at the same time. His eyes followed the wide band of ribbon that encircled her hips before dipping to a V as if to point at her female parts. He snorted. As if men weren’t thinking, dreaming, and fantasizing about those parts enough on their own without drawing a map to it on their clothes.
Harmony remained quiet for a moment before turning toward the stairs. Her spine rose straight up from a bottom concealed beneath that silly puff of fabric all the way to the top of her back. He marveled. How did she stand like that? Why did she stand like that? As he watched, she rotated her body as if it were a single, fused unit, lifted her skirt with her left hand, laid the right gently on the bannister and began the journey up the stairs. Each step was measured perfection.
She was a surprise—a big one. His laugh was rueful and filled to the brim with self-scorn. Harmony looked like Melody, but not. Their voices had the same low timbre that weakened a man’s knees and inspired dark thoughts, but they vibrated to a different key. She was like a sheet heavy with water from the washtub that had been twisted to rid it of excess moisture. Someone had wrung the life out of her. It was a damn shame.
Had he expected the sassy, swinging bottom he’d so admired in his friend’s wife? Foolish man that he was, he guessed he had. Harmony was her own woman, had her own memories, and her own visions of her future. He’d see her safely to Oregon as promised, but he’d best let go of his deeper reasons for this escort. Harmony belonged in a small western town about as much as a bear belonged in the local saloon.
“Evening, Marshal,” Matt called as he entered the jail. The prisoner he’d escorted was wailing his innocence from behind bars.
“Evening, Matt.” The man grimaced and jabbed a thumb toward the cell. “Did that man make that racket all the way from Oregon?”
Matt nodded. “He did. The conductor made us ride in the freight car some of the way. The other passengers complained. Not that I blame them, but it was more than a little uncomfortable.”
“He’ll have his day in court,” the marshal declared. “Then he’ll go to the state prison or hang. Either way, I’ll be shut of him.” He sat behind his desk and ran a hand over his tired face. He motioned at an empty chair and Matt sank into it. “You’re welcome to stay in the cottage out back. It came with the job, and I lived there when I was single. When I married, my wife didn’t want to live so close to the jail. We have a house up the street. We have a new baby, and I probably won’t get much more sleep there than I would here listening to that son of a gun, but I’d rather hear the baby cry than the whining of a grown man. Anyway, that shack is empty, and you’re welcome to it.”
“Thank you, that’s mighty kind, and I accept. That hotel up the street is expensive. I hate to spend that kind of money to sleep alone.” The two men shared a laugh, quiet and companionable. “I’ll be leaving on the 2:00 p.m. train tomorrow.”
; “Stop by the house for breakfast. I’ll tell Sally to expect you. You go on to bed. My deputy will get here soon and spend the night watching over our noisy friend.” He shuffled the papers on his desk into a neat pile. “You’re lucky to find a train heading west. Haven’t been many lately. Snow’s been a problem.”
“Goodnight and thanks for the bed.” Matt paused at the door. “I’ll be much obliged for breakfast.”
It was colder than a witch’s tit in the marshal’s cabin. Matt blew on his hands to provide welcomed heat. He put several sticks of wood in the stove and before too long he removed his jacket and pants and slid between chilly sheets. He grimaced. Lord. He’d almost said that to Harmony. Colder than a witch’s tit. Laughter shook his body and sent the rickety bed rocking. He wiped a tear from his eye with the corner of the rough sheet. Yes, sir, he’d almost said those words to that prim little miss. New tremors of humor ran through his bed and body. Her face would have been a study in shock. He’d better watch his language. Harmony was a lady from top to toe. With that fine image in mind, he drifted to sleep.
Matt emerged from the marshal’s house the next morning patting a stomach full of flapjacks, bacon, coffee, muffins and fried eggs. His wife laid a fine table and that was a fact. He gave his stomach another appreciative pat and headed for the Mercantile.
“Howdy,” a slight man with a balding head called from behind the counter. “Can I help you?”
“I’m headed out on the afternoon train,” Matt explained. “I want to take enough grub to see me through the mountains.”
The fella nodded understanding. “Jerky, crackers, bacon. I got some hard-boiled eggs and apples. Maybe a loaf of bread?”
“That sounds right. Get me enough for two people,” Matt instructed. He spotted a bin of hard candy. “I’ll take a sack of those.” A little treat on the way never hurt, and it might please Harmony. He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned at the floor. Harmony was used to much grander fare than a piece or two of rock candy.
He carried his bulging pack to the train station. Wagons stood in front of the building ready for rent. He threw his pack into the back of one and headed for the Colorado Copper Hotel.
Harmony was descending the stairs as he entered. He stared at her half in dismay and half admiration. She wore a jacket of deep brown fitted to her body. It dipped in tight to her small waist and flared over womanly hips and covered her bottom. A matching skirt emerged from beneath the jacket and clung tight to her thighs before flaring out in a swirl of fabric around her feet. Gold braid adorned the wide lapels of the coat and matched the buttons marching up the front. A blouse of pale pink peeked from beneath like a cloud before the rain. She had boots of thin, soft leather on her feet. His eyes swept up where a small hat with a wisp of netting settled atop her honey-colored hair.
“Morning, Harmony,” he began. “You look mighty pretty.” He gulped before gathering courage to continue. “I was just wondering if you had anything warmer to wear. We’re heading into the mountains, and it can be terribly cold.”
“This is my best traveling suit.” Harmony’s eyes flashed displeasure. “It will have to do, and I have my cloak.” She patted the matching cape draped over her arm.
Matt swallowed his reply. Wouldn’t do any good, and he wanted to start out friendly-like. “Is your trunk in your room?” he asked.
“Yes, they are stacked against the wall,” she replied.
Matt hesitated. They? “All right, sit right here, and I’ll fetch them down.”
After three trips to her room and back, each with a heavy trunk balanced on his shoulder, he escorted Harmony to the wagon.
“I’ve never ridden in a wagon,” she admitted. “How do I get in?”
Usually women wore skirts wide and full. They put their foot on the platform and swung up, or their man might give a little boost. He studied Harmony’s narrow skirt in dismay.
“I’ll lift you in,” he declared. Before she could launch a protest, Matt picked her up and jiggled her until she lay close to his body. She fit nice. Real nice. Her bottom nestled between his arms, and he took its measure. Her long legs swung over his arm their slim outline visible through the tight skirt. He placed her on the seat and stifled a groan.
Matt circled the wagon, and climbed onto the bench. The wagon tilted with his weight, and he steadied Harmony with a hand to her shoulder and an apologetic smile. With a snap of the reins and a click of his tongue, the wagon jolted into motion.
He settled Harmony in the passenger car of the train as close to the black pot-bellied stove as he could before placing her three trunks in the freight car. Three trunks. All his worldly goods would barely fill half of one of those shiny containers with their gold locks. He imagined they were full of clothes unsuitable to western living: small hats that offered protection from neither sun nor wind, dresses covered with buttons and ruffles that served no purpose, skirts that did not allow a woman to walk. His mind balked at the thought of her under garments. Harmony was tall and slim, but the size of her waist was simply not normal. He could span it with his two hands. Under that braid and ribbon and folderol she was laced tighter than a calf roped for branding.
The engineer stood talking to three men and Matt moved to join them. He extended his hand. “Matt Cullen,” he said.
“My name is Benson. The fella stoking the engine is Smitty,” the engineer began. “This here,” he jerked his thumb to his right, “is Jeb Wilson. He’s traveling with his wife, Nan.”
Matt shook the man’s hand. “Where you headed?” he asked.
“Sacramento. My little brother has a spread there,” Jeb said.
“I’m escorting the young lady in the car to Oregon to meet her sister,” Matt explained.
The engineer tipped his head at the other two men. “These two are guards. We’re carrying the payroll for the Conroy Silver Mine. Shouldn’t make no never mind, but I thought you should know.”
Matt gazed toward the Rockies looming in the distance. With one thing and another, there might not be another train for days or even weeks. “Thank you. That’s fair warning. You’re not expecting trouble?”
The two guards shook their heads. “No, sir, we are not.”
“I think it best we keep this to ourselves. The ladies will only fret,” Matt said. “Harmony’s never been west of Chicago, and I don’t want to alarm her.”
Jeb nodded. “All right. We’ll keep it under our hats.”
“Here’s the travel schedule for today.” When the engineer finished his explanation, the four men boarded.
Matt sat down next to Harmony. Her back was still straight as a ruler, and her hands were folded neatly in her lap.
“The Rockies appear close, but we are approximately one hundred miles away. It will take the train about three hours to reach the foothills. Once there, we’ll climb a way before coming to a station where we’ll spend the night. The engineer wants to go through the bulk of the mountains in daylight. A man name of Morris and his wife run the station. They’re expecting us, so we should find a hot dinner waiting. Sleeping accommodations will be tight.”
Harmony turned quizzical eyes his way. “Tight?” she asked.
“There’s just the one big room with cots,” he explained. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep watch.”
His protective nature surged like a tide. No stopping it, no turning it back, no reasoning with it. She was a babe in the woods so far from the rules and regulations that had governed her life she might as well be on the moon. He would see she came to no harm.
“Come meet our fellow travelers.” He helped Harmony to her feet. “This is Jeb Wilson and his wife, Nan.”
“How do you do?” Harmony enquired.
“We’re fine, thank you. Anxious to be on our way,” Nan replied.
“These two are Gil and Ted,” Matt gestured toward the two guards.
“Pleasure, gentlemen,” Harmony said.
The whistle screeched, the train’s wheels squealed, and they jerked into motion.
The landscape rolled by as the train crossed the land between Denver and the mountains climbing ever higher as they went.
“Oh, look,” Harmony sat up and pointed out the window.
“Buffalo,” Matt said. The giant animals shook their shaggy heads. “Used to be many thousands of them. They covered this land, but too many men have passed this way with rifles. The Indians depended on them for food and shelter. It’s a damn shame.” His voice choked on bitterness.
“I’m sorry,” Harmony offered.
“It’s not your fault, darlin’,” Matt said. He hadn’t meant to be so familiar, but the little word had popped unbidden from his mouth. She didn’t seem offended, and he heaved a heavy sigh. “I spent about ten years in Montana territory and saw for myself the beaver disappear. When I first got there the rivers were alive with them jumping, building dams, and just enjoying themselves. Then beaver hats, beaver coats and beaver collars and God knows what, got popular. It was so damn sad I had to leave.”
“Where did you live before Montana?” She blushed a pretty pink. “I don’t mean to intrude, but you seem to know about Melody and me, and I’d like to know about you. If you don’t mind, that is.”
“No, I don’t mind.” He smiled before running his hand behind his neck. “I grew up with my ma, pa, two sisters and a brother in Kansas. Pa had a farm, and we all worked it. My brother was my best friend, but we took a liking to the same gal. Seems a mite silly now, I guess, but we were both smoking mad at the time. We were like two bull moose locking horns and bellowing. Well, long story short, she picked him. After they married, I thought I’d strike out on my own.”
“Did you ever go back?” she asked.
“No. We write some. My brother has six young ‘uns. He took over Pa’s farm when he passed. My sisters are married. Ma lives with them still.” He paused and watched the buffalo slide by. “It was for the best. Turns out I’m not suited to be a farmer.”
The hours passed as the train climbed and twilight fell like a purple curtain. Matt listened as brakes screamed to a stop.
Harmony (Journey's End Book 3) Page 2
