Manny's Triumph: Sequel (Secrets In Idyll Wood Book 2)

by Marisa Masterson

  Manny’s Triumph

  Secrets in Idyll Wood #2

  Marisa Masterson

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Leave a Review

  Sneak Peek

  About Marisa

  Let’s Keep in Touch!

  Dedication

  I have the best group of beta readers. Thank you ladies for blessing me with your help.

  Chapter 1

  1887, Idyll Wood, Wisconsin

  As she recognized footfalls nearing her location, Carlene January cowered into the darkness of the corner where she hid and pulled the plant directly in front of her body. A maid knocked on the door and called out Mr. Halderson’s name. Curling tightly into a ball, Carlene hoped she would escape unnoticed.

  How had she gotten herself into this mess? Huddled in that corner, she thought back over the day she had believed to be so wonderful.

  Just that morning she had arrived by train. She remembered waiting for the train’s movement to stop completely before she stood up, carpet bag in hand, to exit. Accepting the conductor’s hand as she stepped down the few steps to the platform, Carlene quickly moved out of the way for the next passenger to alight.

  No one met her, but she didn’t expect anyone to. Even so, she looked around at the comings and goings at the depot as she tried to decide if she wanted to stay in this town.

  Seeing a man in uniform she decided must be the station master, she walked up to him and dug a wrinkled clipping from the Milwaukee Sentinel out of a crocheted purse hanging from her wrist. Pointing at it, she asked, “Do you know where this hotel is?”

  The man pointedly glanced at the trunks he needed to unload and then back at her. He glanced over the advertisement and indicated with a finger, “Real close. Go that way.” Without even wishing her a good day he moved to the baggage car.

  The man’s abruptness didn’t faze her. As an orphan, Carlene learned to not expect politeness or even tenderness from the people around her. The nuns and volunteers at the St. Rose’s Orphan Asylum saw to it that she received food, clothing and an education. An orphaned infant left in a park on a cold January couldn’t expect more nurturing than that. Except, of course, for Sister Magdalena’s kindness.

  Now that the man had directed her toward it, Carlene could see the brick three-story building in the distance. After a very short walk, she arrived in front of Halderson’s Restful Rooms Hotel.

  That name is quite a mouthful!

  Carlene gave the bun below her hat a quick pat to be sure none of the dark curls had escaped it. Reassured, she opened the door and stepped into a spacious lobby dotted with velvet sofas and potted plants.

  A counter that appeared to be stained oak stood across the lobby and she crossed to it. A stoop-shouldered and balding man behind the counter fixed her with a stare before his gaze searched beyond her as if seeking her escort.

  “Are you needing a room, miss?” He shook his head at the impossibility of renting a room to a woman alone.

  In answer, Carlene shook her head. Once again, she pulled a clipping from the purse. Glancing at it, she put it back and reached in again for a different one. She laid this one on the counter.

  He read it and then grinned up at her. His expression had changed to a feral leer as he gave her that grin.

  “You’ll want to speak with Mr. Halderson. It’s his lunchtime. Sit down over there.” He pointed to a chair almost hidden by a large potted plant in a corner of the room, next to a closed door that boasted the word “office”. She hoped the man wouldn’t forget her since the plant all but hid her.

  While she waited, Carlene resisted the urge to swing her feet. Seated, her feet didn’t meet the ground. She decided that must be because the chair was tall, all the while knowing her short legs were the cause.

  Instead of dangling her feet back and forth out of boredom, she spent the time rereading numerous clippings stuffed into her purse. One read that a theater in Northern Wisconsin needed performers. Sister Magdalena had decided that one sounded disreputable. Another advertised for workers needed in a lumber camp near Eagle River. Carlene liked the name of the town so she had clipped it and added it to her collection. Next, she reread an article about two skeletons discovered recently in Idyll Wood.

  After finding the advertisement last week for help needed at this hotel, she reread recent issues of newspapers available to her to find any information about Idyll Wood. Except for another article about the arrest of a woman in connection with those skeletons, she found no other articles or advertisements referring to the town.

  Periodically as she waited, she glanced at the man behind the front desk. He seemed to spend his time reading a newspaper. She wished she had the courage to ask him for it when he had finished. Who knew what she might find in the paper to add to her collection of clippings?

  This time, when she looked, the man spoke with an older gentleman wearing a dark suit. He pointed her way and the man’s eyes locked on her before walking in her direction.

  Once the man stood in front of her, Carlene jumped to her feet. His height made it difficult for her to meet his gaze. Standing at barely five feet, Carlene often found it difficult to meet men’s eyes. They didn’t intimidate her; they were just too tall for her.

  “Silas says you’ve come in response to my advertisement for maids.” He paused as if waiting for an answer a question, even though he hadn’t asked one.

  She bobbed her head. “Yes, sir.”

  “And you did not bother to send a letter of inquiry as directed in the advertisement?” His tone censured her. She needed the job and wouldn’t let herself be intimidated.

  “No, sir. I needed a job quickly. The employment arranged for me by the nuns fell through.” She didn’t know how much information he wanted. Not wanting to prattle on, she shut her mouth after saying that and waited.

  “Nuns? Are you an orphan, by chance?” The oddly satisfied tone to his voice made Carlene crane her neck to survey his face.

  He wore a calculating expression. “Glad to be of help to you. Of course, you can work for me.”

  “Should you like to see my letter of introduction from St. Rose’s Orphan Asylum?” She removed the reticule from around her wrist and made as if to open it before he stopped her.

  “Not necessary. I can see by looking at you that you have all of the qualifications I want in a new girl.” The leer he directed at her sent a shiver of fear down her back.

  This is a reputable hotel and Sister Magdalena told me it would be a good job for me.

  Reassuring herself with that thought, she followed the man who had yet to introduce himself. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even asked her name. How odd for him to hire her without even knowing her name!

  Later that evening she paused outside of the office door. Earlier the man behind the desk, Silas, directed her to a room at the very top of the hotel and left her there to settle in. A meal arrived for her so she hadn’t needed to leave the room. For all of her misgivings after speaking with the owner, she started to feel hopeful again. She had a room to herself, a job, and a full belly.

  Now, she could be content with something to read before settling into sleep. That’s when Silas’s newspaper came to mind. Deciding to see if he left it at the front desk, she crept down the backstairs.

  To her relief, no one stood behind the counter.
She nosed around freely. Not seeing the paper, she searched the lobby, hoping someone might have left a paper on one of the small tables placed by the sofas. Then she spotted a folded newspaper on the chair next to the office.

  Hearing voices behind the door, she moved to quickly grab the paper and leave. Her ears caught the words “the new girl” and she couldn’t resist. She stopped to eavesdrop.

  “…weren’t planning to make another trip to Hurley this month. LeClaire won’t be down for at least two weeks. Since that trouble with the Fuller girl, we can’t leave her with Shirleen. You’ll need to take her up to Hurley tomorrow.”

  As the other person spoke quietly, Carlene couldn’t make out the response to those words. What she heard next chilled her. “Don’t leave her there without getting the money from LeClaire. He’s sure to buy a lovely little virgin like her, but he’ll try and cheat you since we didn’t arrange the details ahead of time. I wish she wrote to me as the others did so I could have the brothel owner here.”

  A voice that she recognized as belonging to the desk clerk whined, “Why can’t the boss deliver her, Mr. Halderson?”

  At that point, she heard footsteps and rushed to hide behind the plant. She put thoughts of the day aside and focused on the here and now.

  Peering through the plant’s leaves, Carlene decided that the girl knocking on the office door must be a maid. At the knock on the door, her boss opened it and brusquely asked, “What is it?”

  “Sir, are you wanting me to take a uniform to the new girl’s room?” the maid asked.

  “No, I’ve decided she won’t be staying with us, Gretchen. If you’ve finished your jobs get to your room now.”

  She wasn’t staying? So, the two men had been talking about her. Tomorrow they’d sell her if she stayed here. What would she do?

  Since she poured over every newspaper she could get ahold of, she’d been aghast at learning the news about the white slavery rings in Northern Wisconsin and Michigan. She’d read many editorials criticizing Governor Rusk for refusing to become involved with the problem. Actually being trapped by white slavers after reading about them came as a terrible shock to Carlene. Forcing away the terror that held her immobile, she tried to form a plan.

  Sister Mary Boniface had advised her about this. “You answer an advertisement at the risk of your virtue,” she’d warned. With that warning in mind, Carlene had asked Sister Magdalena to read through the job notices in each paper with her. She wanted wise counsel on which jobs would be safe.

  Both women knew that white slavers lured young women with the promise of theater jobs. That had been reported in more than one paper. Carlene had never heard of entrapping young women by advertising for maids. What a pickle she was in now!

  The lobby was quiet again and Carlene decided it was time to leave the camouflage of the potted plant. Poking her head out to be sure no one was there she left the safety of the large plant. Before racing up to her room, she moved first to grab the paper off the chair.

  Drats! The man took it with him. She had wanted to check the job notices she felt sure she’d find in it.

  Sneaking back up the rear stairs and to her room, she stealthily entered it and locked the door. She refilled her carpet bag with her few possessions she unpacked only a few hours ago. Done, she unlocked her door and peered out into the hall. Seeing it empty she crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. She would exit using the back door in that room.

  She slipped into the room and stopped. A maid stood directly in front of her. The girl’s gaze darted from the bag Carlene held to her terrified face. With a pitying glance, she nodded her head and pointed to the door with her chin.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Carlene escaped into a small garden at the back of the hotel. Keeping close to the building, she inched along in the shadows until she reached the boardwalk that ran along the street.

  She needed a disguise and a ride to the lumber camp.

  Manny Strong paused with his hand on the door of The Biergarten. The tavern had become his second home and he had believed the drunks inside were his friends.

  This had to stop.

  His hand shook. Oh, how he wanted to pull open the door and go in. Behind him, a rough voice egged him on as if the man had read his thoughts.

  “Go on and open that door. We’re wantin’ to go in!”

  Manny turned. By the light from the tavern’s windows, he made out three men waiting behind him. All wore dirty work clothes and looked tired and angry with him.

  He mumbled, “Sorry,” and stepped away from the door. The one who spoke shook his head and gave Manny a shove as he passed him. The other two chuckled at that shove and followed the man into the tavern.

  He didn’t want men like these to be the only friends he had. He wanted to escape.

  Manny went back to his home, hoping to find refuge there. Idyll Wood’s largest house, the Strong family’s home, sat not far from the bank his father owned. As Manny approached, he noted the windows of his father’s study were lit. Since his mother’s death, no light shone from the parlor or any other window of the large house except the study.

  Other than the housekeeper and cook, the only people who lived in the house with Manny were his father and Manny’s brother Ram. Darkness filled his brother’s window as Ram sat in jail. Shame filled Manny that he hadn’t gone to the sheriff when he realized Ram had kidnapped Zelly Fuller.

  My own friend’s girl and I didn’t snitch on my brother. Well, Manny experienced shame for a lot of things so what did one more matter?

  After passing through a garden archway, he walked carefully along the path that led through Cook’s kitchen garden and let himself in the back door. In the dark kitchen, he breathed deeply to savor the aroma of fresh bread. Still, he didn’t stop to eat.

  He didn’t have much appetite for food lately. He only craved alcohol and fought continually to be free from his incredible thirst for it. He wanted to “man up” like his father often told him. He found it nearly impossible, however, to be more than the disgrace his father often belittled him as being.

  Manny wanted his father to see he had chosen to come home rather than spend the evening drinking. He went to the partially opened study door and raised his hand to knock. Behind the portal, his father said Manny’s name, making him freeze.

  “…and all they’ve left me with is Manny. Dear God, but I wish he’d live up to his name and be a man. I don’t believe someone like me could produce such a sniveling weakling for a son. Do you see my reasoning, Amos?

  So, his father’s attorney, Amos Ledbetter, was in the study also. That made sense, considering the legal help that Ram needed.

  But it hurt to hear his father belittle him to someone outside the family, even if it was said privately to his lawyer. Manny’s father, Ezekiel Strong, snarled similar things in the past to Manny’s face. For some reason, Manny had believed that his father wouldn’t say them to an outsider, though.

  “…no one to leave the bank to without him. What can you do to get Ephraim out of that jail? I do pay the sheriff’s…”

  Silently, Manny walked away. He was a clerk in his father’s bank, nothing more.

  There had to be a reason his father disliked him and there had to be a way to impress his father. He would show his father that he was his son.

  Grabbing a lamp, Manny lit it with matches kept in the drawer of the hall table. Taking the stairs two at a time, he ran to his room. There, he grabbed the saddlebags that had been a birthday present from his father last year.

  Maybe Father was hoping I’d use them and move on.

  Manny stuffed a few changes of his most durable work clothes into the saddle bags. He’d need cold-weather items so he added gloves, hat, and a muffler. Grabbing up his winter coat along with the saddlebags, he left the room.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Manny thought about telling his father that he was leaving. Standing in the dim light of the oil lamp, he heard footfalls approach from the direction of the study. Amos L
edbetter was letting himself out the front door.

  When Amos neared the door, Manny spoke quietly and approached him from his spot near the stairs. “Mr. Ledbetter, I’m leaving town. Please, let my father know, but wait until tomorrow.”

  Amos didn’t say anything. In the weak light, Manny thought he saw pity in Mr. Ledbetter’s expression. He didn’t want pity. He just wanted to leave behind his father and to outrun this god-awful thirst that rode him.

  Manny set the lamp down on a table by the door and shifted his items. He could carry them more securely now that he wasn’t holding the light. Without saying anything else to Amos, he went out the door and headed to the livery.

  No one was around to saddle Brownie. Manny rested his saddlebags against the outside of the stall and grabbed the tack himself. As he tightened the girth, a voice from a dark corner startled him.

  A short dark-haired boy suddenly appeared out of the darkness of the stable and approached Brownie’s stall. “Going north, mister?”

  Manny had no idea where he was going, so he decided to agree. There was a desperate edge to the boy’s voice that made Manny want to help him. “Sure am. Want a ride?”

  “I’d…” The boy’s voice started out high, as a girl’s voice might sound. Then the kid broke off what he was saying.

  Must be going through that time in a boy’s life.

  The kid tried again, forcing his voice to sound deeper. “I’d appreciate it, mister. Got to get up there real soon.”

  Manny saw this as his opportunity for a new life and a new name. Might as well have a name that reminded him of his goal. “Call me Manly, kid. Where’re we headed?”

  Chapter 2

  I’m alive!

  Manny Strong woke to sun penetrating the slits in the tent where canvas edges didn’t quite reach together. Blurry from sleep, he still had the presence of mind to whisper a prayer of thanks. He wasn’t buried alive. It had just been hysteria.

  In the night when demons drove him from a restless sleep, he’d opened his eyes and had been sure someone had buried him alive. The dark silence pressed down on him. He thought that he might have even screamed.