After Detective Smith left the house that day, Margaret had been thinking about Pierre. Then, when two more officers appeared at her door that night, apprehension took hold of her. They were looking for Detective Smith, he hadn't returned to Red Bank. Fear crept up Margaret's spine. She told them Pierre lived in a room over the stable, and they went to talk to him. They returned and said he wasn't there and, because they were eager to return to Red Bank before midnight, asked her again to have him call their station.
After that, she wasn't comfortable around him, and she was concerned because she had allowed him to become so intimately involved in her life. While their relationship remained platonic, he was still aware of most of her business dealings and knew where she kept things in the house. She had also included him in her will. She was going to give him a large sum of money, but if Pierre was a wanted man, she didn't want to dishonor her husband's name by leaving his money to Pierre.
When Pierre was on one of his getaways, she had seen Graham Ross, her lawyer in Red Bank, and had her will changed. She was now prepared to ask him to find another place to live. She'd wished he had gone to California as he'd said he might. It would have been easy to find him a new place and have his items moved when he returned.
She saw Pierre pass the French doors and then the doorbell rang. Ginny ran past her from the kitchen and went to answer the door. Margaret had the locks changed and didn't give Pierre a new key. He was rather put out, and she was vague when he asked when she would give him one. When she saw his face, she knew he'd be asking again and this was the day she would have to tell him to go.
Margaret, however, had always underestimated Pierre's ability to discern her moods. He could predict Margaret's behavior. The day she told him about Mr. Smith, he knew his days in the house were numbered. When the locks were changed, he had no doubt. He knew it was just a matter of time before she told him to go and he'd been planning for that day. When he saw her face, he knew that day had come. He could have spared her and offered to leave. A gentleman would have. His father would have. But Pierre had shed his veneer of gentility long ago and wasn't going to go away quietly. He would rather enjoy watching Margaret squirm.
"Good morning," he said.
He's too cheerful, Margaret thought. Pierre was haughty and didn't like mornings. He seldom came to the breakfast table before nine. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the dining room. It read eight-thirty. She took a deep breath before speaking.
"I'm glad you came a bit early today," she began. "I have something I have to discuss with you."
Pierre spread his napkin on his lap. He didn't say a word. He reached for the teapot and poured himself a cup.
"I think it's time you went out on your own," she said.
"You are asking me to leave?"
"You've been here a long time, Pierre, and you have your position as a teacher. You must have put something aside for the future. I helped you get on your feet and now it's time for you to be on your own."
"But what about Louise?"
Margaret was surprised he'd mention Louise. This had nothing to do with her.
"Why do you ask about Louise?" she said.
"She lives in your house. She has parents and a house of her own. Why can she stay here, and inside the house with you, when I have been in the shed all these years?"
"The room over the stable is hardly a shed, and you're just trying to change the subject. It's time, Pierre. I'll have Harrison look around for a room for you if you'd like, but you must understand that it will happen and it's best to accept it and move on."
Ginny brought him toast and plunked it down in front of him. He shot a look at her and saw contempt in her eyes. She must have heard Margaret telling him to go and felt justified in treating him badly. He had sensed Ginny's growing disapproval, but her loyalty to Margaret had forced her to treat him with respect. Those days were gone.
"Very well, Margaret, I will move on as you say. Thank you for your generous offer of Harrison, but I think I can find a suitable place to live."
His sarcasm wasn't lost on her, but she chose to ignore it. He was hurt and felt the need to hurt her in return. She sipped her tea and watched him eat his toast. His charm had worn off ages ago and she was glad he was going quietly. She wished him well, she truly did, but she wouldn't miss him.
She rang the bell and Ginny appeared by her side.
"Ginny, tell George I'll be going to Red Bank today and I need him to drive."
Ginny nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Ginny went back to the kitchen. Pierre picked up the paper and began to read.
"So, you're going to Red Bank?" he said.
"Yes, I have some errands to attend to. It's good you don't have to work during the summer. It will give you time to do what you have to do."
"It's most fortunate," he replied. His eyes were on the newspaper.
"I feel two weeks is more than enough time, don't you?" she said.
"More than enough," he replied.
He didn't look at her. In the past, Margaret would have said something about his rudeness, but she let it go. He'd be gone soon and she'd have the table to herself.
Pierre was still sitting at the table when Margaret was ready to leave. She went to the dining room to ask him to leave the house while she was gone. She didn't know that he had taken her house key from the hook on the wall next to the front door. Harrison would have noticed, but Harrison wasn't there. Ginny and Jenny were going out to lunch at the drug store in New Beach while Margaret was away. They had their own key. The house would be empty.
"Have you finished eating?" Margaret asked Pierre.
"Quite finished," he said.
He rose from the table and turned toward her. She was wearing a new black dress.
"You look lovely, Margaret, " he said. "Is that new?"
"It is. Now, you have things to take care of, don't you?"
He took her hint and followed her out the front door. Ginny was standing by the door and Margaret turned to her.
"Please lock up when you leave, Ginny," she said.
"Yes, ma'am," Ginny said. I won't give that man a chance to get back in when we're gone.
Pierre stood by the carriage until Margaret was safely inside.
"Enjoy your trip to town," he said.
He was smiling. He was trying to look sincere, but now that Margaret knew him well, she knew he was pretending.
"I will do my best," she said.
"Oh, Margaret, I wanted to ask you about Jasper."
Jasper was the horse Pierre used whenever he left New Beach. Pierre had become accustomed to the horse and was fond of him. Margaret hadn't been prepared to give him the horse, but he may be willing to leave earlier if she did.
"What about him?" she said.
"I would like to take him with me. How much is he?"
"You insult me, Pierre. I wanted to give him to you as a gift."
"A gift! Are you sure, Margaret?"
"Quite sure, my boy. Take him with my blessings."
He looked shocked. It made her feel good. He hadn't expected generosity from her.
He waved as the carriage drove away. He thought she would give him the horse, and he hoped he'd looked surprised when she did.
Pierre walked to the stable and up the stairs to his room. He had already packed a small bag of things he would take with him to Colorado. He was going to find Hannah. He had found a letter to Louise on the breakfast table one morning and read it before the girl returned for it. It was postmarked Denver and he had bought a map of Colorado.
He regretted leaving so many items behind, but a man had to travel light. He'd taken much of it to the pawn shop in Red Bank and what little was left George could either use or dispose of, it didn't matter to Pierre. His only concern, the focus of his life, was Hannah.
He looked out the window. It was eleven-thirty. He knew the women would leave earlier than noon because Margaret was away. He suddenly felt nostalgic for the old days wh
en Margaret cared what he thought or what he did. Her recent coolness pained him, but he quickly brushed those sentimental thoughts aside. Now, her indifference had given him the impetus to do what he had wanted to do since Hannah left New Beach, and he was grateful. He needed this push out of the nest and he welcomed it. There was just one more thing he had to do. As he watched Jenny and Ginny leave through the back door of the house, he turned and went down the stairs to the stable. He stayed away from the door, went to the small window near it, and saw the women pass by. They glanced at the stable.
"Good riddance, I say," Ginny said.
"Oh, I'll miss him," Jenny said. "He's a good-looking man."
"But a cold fish," Ginny said.
They giggled and continued until they reached the street. Pierre stepped to the edge of the door and watched them walk down the road. Only then did he leave the stable and head to the house. The view of Margaret's house from the road was obstructed by a high hedge. He would get to the house undetected and be in and out before anyone knew he was there.
He ran to the back door and entered the kitchen. He went up the back stairs to the second floor and went directly to Margaret's room. He knew she kept her jewelry in the upper drawer of her dresser. A jeweled handbag she used for special occasions in New York or Philadelphia along with some earrings and one necklace rested on the top of two trays. She would miss those, so he lifted the top tray to see what was underneath. The second tray contained more earrings, a ruby ring, a diamond ring, and more necklaces with matching bracelets, and three brooches.
My God, Margaret, if these aren't your best, what do you keep in the safe?
He weighed the value of each piece and tried to remember which he had seen her wearing in the last seven years. One of the brooches was unfamiliar to him. He had never seen her wearing the round, gold piece encrusted with a variety of precious stones. It was a garish, ugly thing, but it was valuable. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. He would have to wait until he was out of town before pawning it, however, for the jewelers in Monmouth County knew Margaret and might recognize the brooch.
He focused next on the earrings. Margaret wore the same set every day and only changed them for social occasions. He had seen her in several of them, but he found one small pair in a box shoved behind the trays. They were drop earrings, each with a small diamond dangling from a short gold chain and a pearl at the clasp. Margaret didn't care for pearls. She refused to wear them. Pierre had always wondered at her dislike for it seemed irrational, but women were that way and he'd just accepted it as one of Margaret's quirks. He decided she would never miss them and he pocketed them.
He put everything back in place and closed the drawer. He then went to Margaret's bed. He dropped to his knees, bent over, and looked under the bed. He pulled out a small wooden box and opened it. It contained a woman's derringer. He hesitated. If she ever looked inside the box, she would know he had taken it. But it could be months or even years before that happened. Margaret didn't like the gun. Her husband had bought it for her protection. He had even taught her how to use it, but she was concerned she might shoot someone accidentally, which is why she kept it out of reach. He put the gun and the spare bullets in his other pocket. He shoved the box back under the bed and stood up.
He went to Louise's room. He saw Hannah's letter on her desk and grabbed it. He made sure it was the same one he had read, the one with the Denver address, and put it in his breast pocket. He saw a small portrait of Hannah on Louise's dresser. He picked it up and looked at it. His heart filled with longing as he recalled the scent of her hair. He wanted to take the portrait with him, but he knew Louise would miss it. But, she was gone. She had left for Colorado and wouldn't be back for a month. He took the picture out of its silver frame and put it, too, in his breast pocket.
He stopped in the dining room before leaving. Margaret had two sets of silverware. She used only one -- the set she'd received as a wedding present. The other had been her mother-in-law's. She didn't like her mother-in-law. The chest was in the large breakfront on the bottom shelf. It hadn't been removed from the shelf since Margaret moved into the house. A layer of dust covered the chest. Pierre carefully opened the lid. He didn't want to disturb the dust. He knew what he wanted -- the large serving spoons. They contained the most silver, and this flatware wasn't plated -- it was pure silver. He reached in and pulled out three spoons. They were tarnished. He would shine them up before he presented them to the pawnbroker.
He took a last look around. He didn't have time to dawdle and went through the kitchen door to the porch. He suddenly remembered the key in his pocket and went back inside. He ran to the foyer and placed it on the hook. From the tiny side windows next to the front door, he could see George arriving in the carriage. He was coming back from dropping Louise at the station. Pierre ran to the kitchen. He could hear the key turning in the front door and heard the door open. He made it to the porch before George got to the kitchen, where he would make himself some lunch.
Pierre went to the side of the house and peeked in the French doors. He didn't see George. He must be in the kitchen. Pierre breathed a sigh of relief and ran to the stable. After putting his booty in a small traveling bag, he went to the dresser and took out his wallet. He had six hundred dollars he had saved from his wages over seven years. It was more than enough for his train ticket. Taking the horse would cost an extra fifty dollars. He had decided on a Pullman so he could sleep lying down. The train from Philadelphia would leave in two days.
He went to find George to tell him he was going to Long Branch. He usually took a bag with him when he went there. If George saw him with the bag, he wouldn't think anything of it. It would be days before Margaret missed him and by then, he would be on the train heading west. He had chosen a new name for himself in case the police came looking for him and suspected he'd taken a train out of town. He would call himself Jean Duval.
He thought about going to town to have something to eat. He would pass Hannah's house. He could knock on the door and say hello. When he saw Hannah, he could tell her about the new residents. It would be a way to start a conversation.
He hadn't developed a plan to explain his presence in Colorado yet, but he had no doubt something would come to him soon. He felt excited as he thought of her eyes lighting up when she saw him and knew he would go straight to Philadelphia. He had to get out of this town. He pulled her photograph out of his breast pocket.
"Soon we will be together," he said as he gazed at her face. "Soon."
Chapter 32
High Bend, Colorado
It was warm by the train tracks, but Hannah's excitement at seeing Louise gave her chills. She was longing to see her old friend. She had been so lonely for someone who shared her love of art, someone who shared her passion to paint. She arrived at the station too early, and two trains had already passed. Adam had brought her in the wagon so they would have room for Louise's trunks. As Hannah paced the wooden platform, Adam watched her.
He thought about Hannah all the time. He knew she didn't like him, for every time she was around him, they would argue. He didn't understand her one bit. He talked to James about it and the older man would simply shrug and say that's how women are.
Adam often asked James about women. Adam had little experience with the opposite sex. Living with his uncle and his wife had been rough. His aunt didn't talk to Adam. She believed he was a burden and even though they had no children of their own, she didn't want Adam. As soon as he turned sixteen, he was put out.
The ladies of ill repute at the Half Moon Saloon were nice if you gave them two bits, but they didn't talk very much. Adam didn't know what to do with a woman like Hannah. She was smart and pretty, but she was also nice, like the girls he'd see at church. Adam would try to talk to them and they would turn their noses up and walk away. James said it was because he was a ranch hand and those girls were looking for a husband with prospects. Adam didn't own any land.
The night before, he asked James
again what he thought about Hannah. He and Hannah had had another argument. She was sitting on the porch of her house and he was standing by the barn. He had brushed down Blue and had left him in his stall. He saw her sitting alone and walked over to her.
"Evening," he said.
"Evening," she replied.
He thought she might ask him to sit with her, but she didn't.
"Nice night," he said.
"It is."
"Are you looking forward to your friend coming tomorrow?"
"Of course, I'm looking forward to it. What a silly question."
"I didn't mean anything by it."
He stood there feeling foolish and then walked away. Why did she always do that?
He went to James' and knocked on the door. James answered and saw Adam's frustration.
"Let's sit," he said.
They sat on James' rocking chairs; James pulled a cigar out of his pocket and handed it to Adam. They puffed their cigars for a few minutes before Adam began to speak.
"What's wrong with Hannah?" he said.
"Son, a woman wants..."
Adam rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me what a woman wants," he cried. "You keep telling me what a woman wants, but I don't see many hanging around you."
James took a puff of his cigar. He thought about Becky and wondered what she was doing. The boy was right. James didn't know what a woman wanted. He just knew what they didn't want.
In his day, James was considered a catch. He was young, handsome, and rich, and he knew how to dress well. Once he got to Colorado, however, he abandoned his society ways for life on the range, and now he looked more like a well-worn rancher than a citified gentleman. His hair was cut four times a year. He trimmed his mustache with a pair of dull scissors he bought in Philadelphia twenty years ago. He wore white or chambray shirts and plain blue jeans since he'd seen the pants in a store in Denver. He was still handsome, but older, and the girls didn't pay him any mind anymore.
Hannah was a mystery to her uncle, too. She was a nice girl who treated him with respect, but she was cool toward him and James didn't understand why. He hadn't met Randall Dawes and didn't know how he had treated his sister. They hadn't discussed her late husband and James felt that if Marian wanted to, she would. Perhaps her relationship with Randall had affected Hannah by making her a little too cautious with men. While some care is necessary, a woman had to show a little interest. James had noticed she could be downright rude to Adam, and he didn't understand why.
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