Chapter Two
Denver, Colorado
1874
Stephen guided the borrowed carriage back into its spot on the cobbled drive to the side of the Howard mansion. As he climbed down from the seat, the driver came running up to him.
“You! You there! What’s the meaning of this? I’ve sent for the sheriff, and he’ll have you in irons in a jiffy!”
Stephen gave the man an understanding smile. “I’m sorry, sir. My name is Stephen Howard, and I live here. I needed to give one of our guests a ride home—she wasn’t feeling well. I took good care of your horse, and I trust no harm was done.” He reached into his pocket and tossed a coin at the man, who caught it with a flick of his wrist. “If you’ll just send the sheriff to the house when he gets here, I’ll explain everything.”
“Well, now, seein’ as how it’s you, Mr. Howard, I’m sure everything is fine,” the driver said, sliding the coin into his own pocket. “I just didn’t recognize you in the dark is all.”
“All right, then. Have a good night.” Stephen climbed the stairs to the porch, not sure which bothered him more—the fact that he’d been so quick to throw the man a bribe, or the fact that the man was so quick to change his story once he’d taken it. It seemed that anything could be solved with money, including lapses in integrity, and Stephen didn’t think that was a world he wanted to live in.
The party was still in full swing when he entered the house, just as he knew it would be. The refreshment table had obviously been restocked, as had the punch bowl, and it could be hours before the last guest had enough and decided to toddle off to their own house. Stephen wished he could send them all home that minute. The evening had only been slightly bearable to begin with, but now, after everything with Miss Palmer, it seemed inappropriate to go on. And yet, here they were, still eating and dancing and giggling in corners behind fans.
“Mr. Howard. There you are.” It was Mrs. Forbes again, but this time, without Charlotte. The way she moved reminded him very much of a hen. “I meant to speak with you earlier. Tell me. How did you find Charlotte? Isn’t she much improved since her trip to Europe? I told her that she’s far more sophisticated than she was before, and so elegant. It’s like all those fancy pieces of art rubbed off on her somehow.”
“Well, I hope she didn’t get any paint on her dress,” Stephen replied.
“What? Oh, I see. You are too funny, Mr. Howard.” She slapped his arm with her fan. “Paint on her dress indeed. But you didn’t answer my question. Don’t you find her so much more mysterious and alluring now that she’s had a taste of the world?”
“I never had the pleasure of meeting her before tonight,” Stephen said. “I did find her a very pleasant dancing companion, though.”
“I just knew the two of you would get along.” Mrs. Forbes beamed. “And of course I told Charlotte’s father that your father is one of the executives at the Denver Pacific Railroad. That way, when you come to call, you’ll already be approved. Do you see how I’ve taken care of everything?”
Stephen had no idea how to reply to that. “You have indeed, Mrs. Forbes,” he said after a long moment. “You’re very thoughtful.”
“I’m quite known for how I like to save time,” she replied. “Why take six months to do something that could be accomplished in six weeks? Life’s too short to drag things out, don’t you think, Mr. Howard?”
“You may be right. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my mother has just caught sight of me, and she’s bidding me come. I’m so sorry to cut our conversation short.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll have many opportunities in the future,” she said with a broad smile, hitting him with her fan again. He had no idea why she kept doing that, or why some women seemed to think it was charming. He’d never once found himself attracted to a girl who kept hitting him with her fan, nor was he taken in by their mothers, either.
He bobbed his head and slipped away, taking a deep breath as he went. Being the oldest son of one of the wealthiest men in Denver—in Colorado, actually—was a dangerous position to be in. This same scene was repeated at every party he attended. The only thing that changed was the identity of the girl being auctioned off.
Perhaps he was being too cynical. He was sure the mothers had good intentions. But when they introduced their daughters to him like baubles on a string, he had to feel sorry for them, mothers and daughters both.
Gilbert caught his eye as he was rounding the refreshment table and waved him over. “Quite the night, isn’t it? After that whole to-do with Miss Palmer, I’ve had more young ladies introduced to me than I even knew lived in Denver. At first, I thought it was a disaster, but it’s turning out quite nice after all.”
“Quite nice? Quite nice? What are you talking about?”
“This!” Gilbert answered impatiently. “The party. The girls. Mother outdid herself, didn’t she? And my social calendar will be full for months.”
Stephen just stared at his brother. “Are we even from the same family? How can you look at everything that happened and think it was nice? Miss Palmer was humiliated, Gilbert. In front of everyone. That’s not nice.”
“She’s a hardy girl. I’m sure she’s already over it.” Gilbert picked up a glass of punch and raised it. “To all the other lovely, more eligible young ladies in town. After tonight, I’ll have my pick—they’re all so sorry for me.”
“I’m sorry for you too, brother,” Stephen said. “I’m sorry that you have no compassion, no human feeling whatsoever.” He turned on his heel and strode off. He knew he had family duties to perform, that he was expected to stay at the party and make nice and dance until the very last person had gone home, but he was ill about the whole thing. Taking the stairs two at a time, he disappeared into his room and collapsed on the bed, wondering how people could be so thoughtless.
Chapter Three
Denver, Colorado
1874
Felicity nearly dropped her coffee cup back onto the saucer. “In front of everyone?”
Sarah nodded. “In front of everyone. I don’t know how far his voice carried, but it was certainly far enough.” Retelling the story to her cousin had been almost as difficult as experiencing it. She’d hoped that morning would bring a new perspective, but no—it still hurt.
Felicity took a deep breath, then turned to face her husband. John’s lips were pressed into a firm line. “What should we do, John?”
John shook his head. “I have no idea. We can’t make him marry Sarah, and I don’t think that’s what she wants anyway.”
Sarah shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. And I don’t think there is anything that can be done. He said what he said, and there’s no way to take it back. I’m just going to go on as if nothing happened.”
John nodded his approval. “You’re right. There’s nothing to be gained by dwelling on the matter. We know you’re the better person, and we’ll support you in whatever you decide.”
“Thank you. What I decide is to go to church and enjoy the sermon and let this pass from my mind.” Sarah ate the last bit of egg on her plate, wiped her mouth, and stood. “I’ll help get the boys ready, Felicity.”
An hour later, they were all seated neatly in their pew. The boys had gotten dressed with a minimum of arguing, and Sarah was quite proud of how they looked. At ages five, six, and seven, they most likely would start squirming any minute, but for now, they were being perfect little gentlemen.
At the conclusion of the services, they made their way down the aisle toward the outer door, where the pastor stood to shake hands and greet each member of the congregation. Sarah heard whispers all around her that seemed to grow louder as she drew nearer to the door. Once she’d nodded to the pastor and stepped outside, those whispers turned to regular voices, and one of the ladies slipped her arm through the crook of Sarah’s elbow.
“I must say, Miss Palmer, that we all feel quite sorry for you. Yes, quite sorry.”
“I beg your pardon?” Sarah asked, wondering who this w
oman even was. She hadn’t met her before.
“The whole fiasco at the Howards’ party last night. My dear, you were made quite a laughingstock, and we are so sorry.”
“We? Who all do you mean?”
The woman nodded back toward the church. “Why, all of us women, of course. We’ve been discussing it since last night.”
Sarah blinked. “The women of the entire congregation?”
She gave Sarah’s arm a little squeeze. “You needn’t worry your head, my dear. We all think it’s scandalous, and we don’t blame you at all. It’s that Howard boy. He’s always thought himself above everyone else. If you notice, none of the Howards even bothered to come to church today. They’re probably ashamed of themselves and didn’t want to step foot out of their precious mansion. We all think you’re brave. So very brave.”
Sarah couldn’t find a single word to say.
“Well, you keep that chin up, young lady. Don’t let them make your situation even worse.” The woman waved the tips of her fingers before striding off, leaving Sarah standing on the lawn of the church absolutely speechless.
She glanced around, but didn’t see John and Felicity anywhere. She’d wait for them in the carriage. As she walked across the expanse of grass toward the horses, she kept her head down, not wanting to draw attention to herself, but she got it anyway.
“It was her own fault, really. Throwing herself at Gilbert like she was some sort of prize.”
She walked past that particular group of women a little faster.
“I feel so sorry for him.”
“He was saved from a very bad situation.”
“I could have died when Mr. Howard had them both come up—Gilbert was clearly miserable.”
Sarah nearly ran.
When she reached the carriage, she found John and Felicity already there. “I’m sorry, but the boys dragged us out of the building like it was falling down on their heads,” Felicity said with a chuckle. “They’re more than ready for their naps.” She stopped when she saw Sarah’s face. “What’s the matter?”
“The entire church congregation is talking about it,” Sarah said. “They’re laughing at me, and feeling so sorry for poor Gilbert. I . . . Can we just go home?”
“Of course,” John said. He flicked the reins, and the carriage moved down the street.
As they drove, Sarah looked out at the homes and buildings of Denver. Coming here had seemed like a grand adventure. Since the deaths of her parents some years before, she’d lived with Aunt Clasby in Topeka, a larger town. Denver seemed fresher and newer, even though it was actually only four years younger than Topeka.
As though Felicity had somehow known Sarah was thinking about Aunt Clasby, she said, “Mother will be furious. Absolutely furious.”
“I wonder . . .” Sarah paused, imagining her aunt’s reaction. “I wonder if we need to tell her.”
Felicity turned to Sarah, surprise on her face. “Why wouldn’t you tell her?”
Sheer mortal embarrassment seemed like a very good reason, but that wasn’t all. “It would only upset her, and she’s been a bit down as of late.”
“She did mention that in her last letter.” Felicity pressed her lips together. “All right, I agree that I won’t tell her. But when you get home, if you feel as though you should, please do. She loves you, Sarah, and I know she cares about the things that happen in your life.”
Sudden tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes. Yes, Aunt Clasby loved her—she had no doubt. That was all the better reason not to tell.
The more she thought about her aunt, the more she realized she wanted to go home. Denver had lost all its allure.
As the carriage pulled up in front of her cousin’s house, she voiced her thought. “I think it’s time for me to leave.”
Felicity reached out, grasped her hand, and gave it a squeeze. “I’ve loved having you here, but I think you’re right. Those old gossips won’t stop until they find their next juicy bit.”
“You’ll always be welcome in our home, Sarah,” John told her. “I hope this experience won’t put a damper on our relationship with you.”
“Family is family, and nothing will ever come in the way of that,” Sarah promised him. If only her family had chosen somewhere else to live—someplace where the Howards didn’t even exist.
***
The next morning, Sarah took a train back to Topeka, where her aunt received her with open arms and everything went back to normal. Until Aunt Clasby decided to move in with Felicity and John the following year, that is. Felicity was expecting again, and she was worn out from caring for three boys in addition to that. She needed her mother, and Sarah agreed. However, she herself was not about to return to Denver.
She insisted she’d much rather stay in Topeka—she had so many friends, and she’d hate to leave them. This was a lie, but one she told out of a sense of self-preservation. She still hadn’t told her aunt about the party or Gilbert Howard or any of it, and saw no need. Felicity would do well with the extra help, Aunt Clasby would feel useful, and Sarah would get a job at the new hotel that had just opened next to the railroad tracks. They would all be happy. It was a brilliant plan.
Chapter Four
Topeka, Kansas
1875
The kitchen shelves at the Brody Hotel were lined with every sort of baked good from cake to pie to corn bread. A huge cauldron of stew simmered over the fire, and baked beans stood at the ready. Sarah took a deep breath and wiped her hands on her apron. They were prepared for the first and second meal services of the day, the two that were her responsibility. Ruth, the hotel’s other cook, would be in shortly to begin preparing food for the next shift. It truly never ended.
Mr. Brody walked into the kitchen, whistling a merry tune. “I’ve just picked up the mail,” he said, handing over an envelope.
Sarah wiped her hands again before opening it. The handwriting on the outside didn’t look familiar, and she only ever received mail from Aunt Clasby or Felicity. Furrowing her brow, she sat down to read.
Dear Miss Palmer,
I’m writing today on behalf of your aunt, Eugenia Clasby. I’m her personal care physician, Dr. Ridley, and I fear her health is beginning to fade. She asks if you can come to Denver to see her before her untimely end. Those are her words, rather than mine. My professional diagnosis is that she yet has some time remaining, but it would do her good to see you.
Regards,
Richard Ridley
Sarah lowered the letter and stared out the window at the softly falling snow outside the hotel, curious as to why Felicity hadn’t written herself. The fact that the doctor had taken it upon himself to pen the letter made her wonder if the situation was more serious than Felicity would have said. Sarah loved her aunt, the woman who had taken her in after her parents died, and she would do anything for her. But going to Denver was something she absolutely would not, could not do—not after everything that had happened.
But if she didn’t go, she might regret it.
With a sigh, she pushed out of her chair and put on a clean apron. The train would be there any minute, and she needed to throw herself into work before the memories came flooding back, as she knew they would.
She’d thought she’d put the whole escapade behind her rather nicely, but from time to time, she was reminded of just how difficult that chore had been. A letter from her aunt a few months ago had spoken of driving past the Howard mansion and how she thought it was the loveliest home she’d ever seen. Sarah’s cheeks had flamed just at the mention of the place. How could she go back to the town itself?
How could she not, when her aunt was doing poorly?
She shook her head. She could drive herself crazy thinking this way. She needed to make a decision and then follow through with it.
A few minutes later, the kitchen was all a flurry with waitresses scampering in and out, placing their orders. Sarah was kept busy dishing up stew and handing out plates of pie, but she must not have been as focused as she thou
ght.
“What’s the matter?” Giselle asked on one of her trips into the kitchen.
“What do you mean?”
“You just seem a little distracted today.”
Sarah debated whether or not she should say anything. She had kept this secret for so long, it might be nice to share it with someone. “I’ll tell you after the meal.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Giselle picked up a plate of bread, set it on her tray, and whisked back out.
The new train schedule meant that the hotel was now running meals four times a day, and each meal service had increased by about ten plates of food as well. Mr. Brody had commented on the growth of the population of Topeka as people came west to seek their fortunes, many of them deciding to settle in Kansas. Sarah was glad to see the hotel so successful, but she was even gladder that there was now a second cook. Ruth still needed to learn a few things, but she was a quick student, and Sarah didn’t have any qualms about turning the kitchen over to her when the first and second shifts were over.
For some reason, this meal seemed even busier than usual, and Sarah found herself wishing she could grow another set of hands. When at last all the passengers had been fed and filtered back out of the dining room to their waiting train, she sagged against the table, completely worn out.
Giselle entered the kitchen a moment later, her arms full of linens she’d stripped from the tables. “All right, the meal is over. Time to tell me what’s bothering you.”
Sarah glanced around at all the dirty dishes waiting to be washed. “If you’ll rinse and dry, we can talk while we work.”
Moments later, up to her wrists in hot, soapy water, Sarah told Giselle what had happened in Denver the previous summer. The other girls were doing the laundry in the little winter washing shed that Tom, the handyman, had built for that purpose, so Sarah wasn’t concerned about being overheard. She liked the new waitresses, but she hadn’t known them long enough to have formed a connection.
The Bitter and the Sweet (Kansas Crossroads Book 9) Page 2
