by Barbara Goss
Dangerous Illusions
Barbara Goss
NOTE: This book was originally published by a large publishing company, under my maiden name: Barbara Masci. When they gave me the rights to the book they no longer had the original file. I had to copy the book from a paperback using OCR (Optical character recognition). This often causes unusual characters and in this book, spacing that I can’t fix between paragraphs. Due to this, and as an apology to the reader, I’m making the book free. Someone left a low scoring review because of something I can’t really help, so to remedy this the book will be free. I hope you can enjoy it.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without express written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2015 Barbara Goss
All Rights Reserved
Kindle Edition
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter One
After frantically brushing the dust from the sleeves and bodice of her gray traveling dress, the young woman clapped her white-gloved hands together to rid them of the grit. As the stagecoach squeaked toward the livery, she fought down a desire to call it back. The last familiar sight—part of her travels since she’d boarded it in Kansas City— disappeared behind the little red train station just as she leaned forward, one hand half raised to beckon to the driver.
Absently tucking her stray brown curls into her bonnet, Kate Hunter realized her hair was already damp with perspiration, and the loose locks curled tightly about her face. No morning had ever been this hot back home.
Looking about in wonder, Kate sighed. “So this is Hays City, Kansas.” Shiny rails of the newly laid train tracks glistened in the early morning sun. A man on the stage had promised that by spring the Kansas Pacific Railroad would run right through Hays.
Kate climbed the wobbly step onto the wooden sidewalk, shaded her eyes with her hands, and read a crowd of signs announcing: Cable and Wyatt Outfitting Store; Dalton’s Saloon and Faro House; The Perty Hotel; White’s Barbershop; M.E. Joyce, Justice of the Peace. Various other businesses littered the street. To the north lay a courthouse square, complete with sheriff’s office and jail.
In the midst of such a crowd she could not perceive one human form.
Kate tapped one high, laced boot on the sidewalk nervously. The school-district agent had promised that someone would meet her. Should she remain there on the sidewalk or venture along the street?
Before she had time to answer her own question three figures popped out from one of the buildings and walked swiftly toward her. Kate breathed deeply and silently prayed that it was someone sent to meet her.
As they approached, she noticed the large figure practically pushed the two smaller forms. Soon she could distinguish two small, red-headed boys who made her think she was seeing double, and a tall, sturdy woman, her hand clutching two small shoulders almost painfully.
The woman nodded curtly and asked, “Are you the new teacher?”
Kate nodded shyly and smiled. “I’m Katherine Hunter, but everyone calls me Kate. Did the school-district agent send you to meet me?”
“Yes. My name is Margo Dutton,” she stated forthrightly. “And this is Carl and Earl.” She pushed each petrified boy forward respectively. As the freshly scrubbed, identical faces gazed up at her, Kate wondered how she would ever tell them apart?
“Twins!” she exclaimed. Their blond-haired mother nodded.
“Yes, they’ll be ten years old in October. They can’t wait for school to start.” She prodded her boys with her hand, gently this time. “Can you, boys?”
Both nodded, and Kate noted that beneath the freckles their cheeks became almost as red as their heads.
“Is the schoolhouse far?” She asked, looking up and down the street paved with buffalo sod.
“We don’t have a schoolhouse…” Margo began.
“But the agent said…” Kate could barely contain her disappointment.
Margo turned her boys around and said cheerfully, “Let’s go home and talk.”
“H-home?” Kate asked, bewildered.
“Yes, you’ll stay first in our home. Didn’t O’Brien tell you that you’d be boarding around?”
“Boarding around?” Kate stopped, frozen to the wooden walk. “What exactly does that mean?”
Margo Dutton threw back her head in laughter. “It’s not half as bad as it sounds, and it’ll sound even better in my kitchen, over a hot cup of tea.”
With a helpless shrug Kate silently followed Margo down the walk and through the front door of the store under the sign The Dutton Bake Shop.
Even in her agitation Kate appreciated the smell of freshly baked bread, pies, and cakes. What a delightful place to live! Shelves along the side and back walls of the shop displayed the baked goods and homemade candies. Kate’s empty stomach lurched; she hadn’t eaten today.
A thin, white-aproned man smiled warmly from behind the counter.
“Miss Kate Hunter, I’d like you to meet my husband, Mr. Elmer Dutton.”
Elmer stretched out a firm hand, and Kate gladly accepted it. “How do you do, Mr. Dutton?” She immediately liked this gentle man with twinkling, kind eyes. His hair, in contrast to his wife’s, gleamed black as coal—except the top, where a bald spot shone through.
Margo pushed Kate through a back door and asked over her shoulder, “Mind the store and the twins for about an hour, Mr. Dutton?”
“Sure, take your time,” he answered. “Nice meeting you, Miss Hunter.”
She nodded, felt Margo’s gentle push, and soon found herself sitting at a wooden table in a comfortable kitchen that made her momentarily homesick.
As Margo poured tea into delicate china cups Kate studied her. Her hostess was lofty, broad, and muscular, reminding Kate of the Grecian statues she’d seen in books: beautiful but full-bodied and strong.
Margo’s hair reminded Kate of butter, and she wore the tresses braided and wound about her head. A complexion like milk and honey complemented eyes as blue as the sky on the clearest day. Only the slightest wrinkles at her eyes denoted her age and the frequency of her smiles.
Before joining Kate, Margo slapped a pan of honey buns, fresh from the large oven, onto the table. “They’re best hot.” She winked.
“They look luscious, and I’m so very hungry,” Kate admitted.
Margo patted Kate’s hand. “While they cool a bit, let me explain away some of your worries.” She slid into the kitchen chair across from Kate and smiled. “First of all, boarding around isn’t so terrible. I think it will be fun.” Margo slipped a flat utensil under each honey bun and placed them on an oval platter that matched the china cups. “We arranged for our last teacher to live with a different district
family each week. Well, she soon tired of so much moving about and quit. So we decided to do it differently this time. You will stay here with us until my friend’s betrothed comes from New York, in about a month. Then you will live about four weeks with another family. Wait until you see how they treat you! Like a queen, I promise!” She laughed. And the children love having their teacher all to themselves.”
Kate sipped her hot tea. “I understand. It’s just that though the agent didn’t actually say it, he gave me the impression that I’d be living on my own at the schoolhouse.” She couldn’t for the life of her remember exactly what Mr. O’Brien had told her, but he had painted a pleasant picture, which she had framed in her memory throughout the long journey.
“That’s because we want to build a meeting house that can also be used as a church and school. It’s in the final planning stages.”
“Where will I teach until it’s built?”
Margo served Kate a large honey bun on a plate. “Would you believe that we still haven’t decided?”
Kate looked up from her attack on the delicious, warm, sticky pastry. “After the experiences of this trip, I’d believe anything. By the way, this is the most delicious pastry I’ve ever tasted.”
Margo smiled broadly. “We have three locations under consideration and decided to wait until you arrived before selecting. We thought you’d like to be a part of the decision.”
“Thank you. That is very thoughtful. I would like to see them.”
Margo folded her hands before her and smiled serenely. “Until then, how would you like to learn to work the store?”
Kate nearly choked on her tea. “Work the store?”
“Not alone, of course, we’d be here,” she added with a chuckle. “I thought it might be fun for you, and this being canning season as well as time to mend the boys’ clothing for school, I thought it would be both helpful for me and a time filler for you.” She gazed at Kate apologetically. “I won’t be able to entertain you at all.”
Considering Margo’s position as hostess and all the work she had to do, Kate understood. “Of course, I’d love to learn.”
Margo smiled. “I’m so glad!” She stood. “Would you like more to eat?” When Kate shook her head, she continued, “I’ll show you the room I’ve fixed for you. It isn’t grand, but I hope you’ll like it.”
“You shouldn’t have …” Kate began earnestly.
“I loved every minute of it! I enjoy this sort of thing. And I didn’t do it just for you—remember our friend’s betrothed is coming soon.” Margo led Kate from the kitchen through a large dining room, all spotlessly clean and well furnished. A small but cozy living room reached to the rear of the building, with a stairway spiraling down with polished wooden banisters.
“Your home is beautiful,” Kate commented.
“Thank you. One’s home is his world; is it not? He should feel comfortable and gain pleasure from it. Mr. Dutton, myself, and the boys enjoy ours. God has truly blessed us.” Margo led Kate up the glossy wooden stairs.
Kate’s heart lurched at the mention of God. Could she have been placed into a Christian home? Fearing disappointment, she didn’t explore the matter.
Margo led her to a bedroom across the front portion of the house, which looked as if it might have been empty or used for storage before her arrival, as the carpet leading to it was hardly worn. The eaves sloped downward on both sides, giving a cozy look. A double bed with a wooden headboard stood to the far left, and a carved mahogany dresser with dangling, metal drawer handles regally commanded the room’s center. To the far right a wardrobe with a floor-length mirror graced one wall. Pink and white roses neatly papered the room, meeting the white wood trim and molding. The white bedspread’s border of dangling yarn almost touched the highly polished hardwood floor, covered here and there with pink throw rugs. A black and white cat darted out from under the bed.
“Goodness!” said Kate. “Who is that?”
“That’s Jezebel, our cat. You might as well make friends for you’ll be seeing a lot of her. She thinks this is her room.”
Kate’s throat tightened as she gazed at the bedroom. “It’s . . . lovely. I’ve never slept in such a delightful room, and I love cats.”
“I’m so glad you like it. Makes every hour spent well worth it.” Margo sighed with relief. “After dinner you must tell me all about yourself and your family. Will you?” She asked hesitantly.
“I’d love to,” Kate replied, already liking Margo Dutton.
“Let’s go back and mind the store while Mr. Dutton brings up your luggage,” Margo announced, leading the way without waiting for an answer. Kate loved the way Margo took charge.
At the store customers came, purchased and left… one after another. It was a busy place.
This is an excellent way to meet the people of Hays City, Kate decided.
As Margo waited on a customer, Kate’s mind wandered. My new room’s the perfect place to curl up with a book. She anticipated many hours of enjoyment. On the stagecoach, she’d finished Jane Eyre and begun Wuthering Heights, but the motion of the vehicle had often kept her from her favorite pastime.
She shivered with anticipation. Tucked away in her trunk were Agnes Grey, an assortment of dime novels, as well as her Bible and Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.
At home she’d often escaped from daily monotony by immersing herself in a good romance or adventure. In her mind she’d seen Ivanhoe win the fair Rowena, played the part of Juliet to a most handsome Romeo, and cried over countless near-lost loves. Once she left the Duttons’, would her new hosts afford her the time and privacy for her books?
Just then a loud, jovial group of men thundered into the store, grabbing everyone’s attention. Margo hugged each, while exchanging hearty greetings. Unlike the other customers all three were as fancily dressed as any Kate had seen in Chicago. They sported leather boots, colorful vests, ascots, starched white shirts, and the finest riding pants and jackets Kate had ever seen. Who were these handsome fellows with their aristocratic bearing? They didn’t seem to fit in with the rustic town.
Momentarily forgotten, Kate had time to study them carefully. The fair-haired man was tall with a square jaw and brown eyes. The shortest man had brownish hair and a thin, curling mustache. But the one who held her attention was of medium height; with hair so black it appeared blue when the sun hit it just right. Long, curled lashes, shaded large and water-blue eyes, by far his best feature. When he smiled, the slightest dimples creased each fleshy cheek. Kate fought not to stare at the handsomest man she’d ever seen.
Suddenly everyone seemed to notice her. Margo apologized and introduced her as the new schoolteacher, Miss Hunter. Kate’s hostess pointed to the blond man. “This is Mr. Reginald Safford. Mr. Mitchell Hadden,” Margo nodded toward the mustached man. “And my dear friend Geoffrey Grandville.” Margo pinched his cheeks. “These fine gentlemen are from Victoria, which is about twelve miles from Hays. Originally they hail from England.” Each man in turn took Kate’s hand and, to her surprise, kissed the back of it. When Geoffrey’s soft lips touched her hand, goose bumps rippled up her arm and down to her toes. Kate fought to keep from blushing.
The glance that met hers, when she finally looked up, was warm and gentle. Kate felt as if his eyes had touched her soul. Had she known him for a lifetime—or only a few moments?
“You’ll see plenty of me, for I am a frequent customer and caller.” Geoffrey’s hand still held hers, and his eyes sparkled.
Our hearts agree! Her mind exclaimed. Why else would he have looked at me that way?
Watching Geoffrey turn reluctantly to his friends, she thought of the heroes from her books. None is as fine as he: handsome, charming, and wealthy. What more could a girl ask for? I’ve finally met the man of my dreams.
Katherine Grandville, she tried on for size and thought it suited her.
Intent on her thoughts, Kate hardly noticed the turn of the conversation until one word drew her attention: bride. Mentally
she replayed the conversation that had preceded it.
Margo had said, “When is your bride coming?”
Kate looked at the men. Who would answer? Which expected a bride? Finally one spoke, and Kate felt as if her newfound dream had turned into a nightmare.
Chapter Two
“My bride claims she’ll be here in about a month— give or take a week,” Geoffrey said. “Her father wants her to wait for the railroad to open, but—“
“Gracious, no!” cried Margo. “We have only a few months to plan for this wedding! She’ll be coming in by stage, then?”
Geoffrey nodded. “But don’t expect her in a month to the date. She’s never been on time in her life! Yet she did promise me she’d be here by October at the latest.”
Margo gasped. “But that’s a month and a half late!”
“That’s Lydia!” Geoffrey’s cheeks dimpled as he smiled.
Kate remained flawlessly cheerful until she was alone that night in her bed. After crying softly for several moments, she sighed and punched her pillow, reasoning: It isn’t as if he’s married already. Anything could happen. What if Lydia never arrives or changes her mind? If he loves me, things could be different. Of course it wasn’t just the disappointment that Geoffrey was engaged, that brought on her tears, but a combination of arriving in a strange town, and home as well as finding out she’d be “boarding around”. Suddenly, it just felt like more than she could handle. She suddenly felt homesick.
In the next few days Kate Hunter worked beside Margo in the store and began meeting many of her pupils.
Early the next morning a woman hustled into the store, dragging two well-dressed girls. “Are you the new teacher?” she asked boldly, tucking her straight blond hair behind her ears to hold it back from her face.
Kate smiled and nodded.
The woman pushed the children forward. “This here’s Ellie and Martha. I’m their ma, Jane Kessler.”
