“You must allow me to send the telegram for you, my dear,” said Dirk. “I’m sure your family must be frantic with worry. You’ll want to spare them that, won’t you?”
“I only thought since they’ve waited so long already, I should only contact them when I have sufficient funds to pay my way home.” She took a sip from the glass Jed had filled with lemonade, suddenly embarrassed to admit something so personal as the sorry state of her finances. If only she’d retained that teaching position! “I’d hate for them to think I’m returning only out of desperate circumstances.”
“You can explain you would have returned anyway,” supplied Dirk.
“Yes, I could do that. But…”
“Sometimes deeds are stronger than words,” said Mr. Nolan, so softly she barely heard him over the noise of the dining room.
“That’s it exactly.” She looked at him with some surprise that he understood the real reason behind her decision. But she reminded herself he’d read her letter—all of it—and blushed to think because of that he must know her far better than she knew him. “I want them to know I am coming home without any reservations. But if they must pay my way…well, might there always be some doubt? I don’t want that.”
“Then there is only one solution,” announced Dirk. “You must allow me to pay your way home.”
“Oh!” She nearly laughed the word, she was so surprised. She knew Dirk believed she fit in better to the ways of society as practiced back east, but accepting such a huge favor was out of the question—unless they were married, or at least promised. But she wasn’t ready for that yet, despite Dirk’s many hints at their future together. “I couldn’t possibly accept such generosity, Dirk, as tempting as the prospect sounds.”
“But, my dear, I’ve hoped to take you back east nearly since the day we met. It would only be fulfilling my deepest wish.”
“No, no, Dirk, really. I can’t accept such a gift.”
He reached beneath the corner of the table to take her hand from her lap and squeeze it. “At least allow me to hope you might change your mind,” he whispered intimately.
But she shook her head, looking then at Mr. Nolan who appeared focused now on his meal, as if he suddenly imagined himself an intruder. He wasn’t, though. Not at all.
“Sounds like you’re eager to get back home yourself, Mr. Stanford,” said Mr. Nolan as if to fill an awkward silence. “Leave much family behind?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “No, just parents.”
“But your father…I thought he’d passed?” asked Adora.
“Oh, yes.” He smiled and pressed her hand, which he still held under the table. “But my mother remarried, so I think of her husband as family.”
She smiled, thinking his words an example of Dirk’s endearingly easy love for his family. He once told her his father was a watchmaker, but on another occasion he’d referred to him as a shopkeeper. That made sense now. Perhaps the father he’d been born to was a watchmaker, and his stepfather a shopkeeper. Details never seemed to matter to Dirk, only the affection he held for them.
She looked at Mr. Nolan again. “Tell me about your deliveries. Was mine really the only personal letter of the bunch?”
“Yes, ma’am. The mochila was intact, apart from the missing money. That was what they were really after.”
“You said ‘they,’” Adora repeated. “How many were there?”
“Two. They ambushed my brother with a rope to trip his horse. When he fell off, one man pounced on him while the other took the mochila.” Mr. Nolan paused, looking away as if troubled by the memory. “I suppose it wouldn’t have been so bad if they’d just taken the goods and left, but they shot the horse dead and shot my brother in the leg so neither one could go back to the last station or on to the next to alert anyone about the robbery, at least not until they had plenty of time to get away. They left him there, bleeding and alone.”
Adora wished she could have reached across the table and taken his hand, but aside from the fact that Dirk still held her free hand beneath the table, it would have been highly improper. Instead, she said, “How terrible for him, and for you, knowing what he suffered. But surely God spared him for a reason. He’ll have a long and fruitful life ahead of him.”
Mr. Nolan nodded. “I hope so, miss.”
“And what of the thieves when you catch them?” she asked. “Justice will be served, I hope?”
Dirk slid his hand away, which she noticed had warmed in hers.
“Lewy—that’s my brother—only knew the name of one of them. His stationmaster’s. He was surprisingly easy to track down on his way to Denver, carrying that mochila as if it were some kind of prize he wanted others to notice. He wasn’t a rider, but evidently the bravery of station tenders and managers has been spreading because of tales about Indian attacks and the hardships of living in isolated quarters. I suppose if anyone thought that mochila still had most of its original load tucked right inside they wouldn’t have been so impressed.”
“And the second thief?” Adora asked. “Did he identify him?”
“Only as a man called Jackson, but evidently a nickname because he came from Jackson, Missouri. So far, he’s gotten away scot-free—with half the stolen money. As far as I know, the station manager hasn’t offered any more information, but he may. When he does, I’ll find him.”
“Surely you’ll leave chasing such a dangerous man to the authorities,” Adora said. “A sheriff or someone like that?”
“It’s kind of you to be concerned,” he said, “but what is a sheriff except a man like me? West of the Mississippi the law is in the hands of good men, and who has more incentive to see justice done than I do, for my brother’s sake?”
“Then I’m sure justice will be done,” she said, filled with confidence in him.
Chip barely swallowed the fried potatoes for want of room in his throat as his heart skittered from its usual spot up to his mouth then ricocheted around before finally settling back where it belonged. This was no way to start forgetting Adora; she looked at him in a way that said she believed he could do anything he set out to do.
Maybe it was foolish, but he welcomed the thought of staying a few days, despite the obvious risk to his own welfare if Stanford had already won her affection. Reluctantly, Chip let his gaze travel to the other man. If Chip was to judge whether he was respectable enough for a woman like Adora, he ought to do something about it. He’d only asked one question of him so far, and thought he could chance a few more without sounding suspicious.
“Where are you from, Mr. Stanford?” he asked.
“Indiana. Indianapolis.”
“I’ve never been there myself,” Chip admitted. “I’m from Chicago, which isn’t too far from there, but my travels have always taken me west rather than east. When did you decide to leave Indianapolis?”
“I haven’t been home in a number of years,” he said, slowly cutting the last of his meat patty. “I’ve been trying to make enough money to go home a hero. I guess I can do that now.” He winked at Adora, which did nothing to settle Chip’s stomach after his heart’s gymnastics.
“Have you been in San Francisco long, then?” he asked.
“Nope. Spent most of my time lately in Denver but came here to see about a new investment.”
“Hmm,” Chip said. “I heard there are plenty of new mines in the Colorado territory. Why come all the way out here?”
“To learn how the older miners did it. I like duplicating success.”
“So you’ll be leaving both investments behind when you go back east,” Chip said.
“Yes, that’s true,” Stanford said smoothly.
“I know few successful men who can easily hand over everything to someone else,” said Adora.
Chip saw Stanford’s arm move, likely squeezing Adora’s hand beneath the table again.
“Only to use the fruits of my investments for enjoying the culture offered back east. Because, after all, you really do belong back in the most gent
eel cities, with more history—civilized history, that is—than out here.”
Chip agreed with him, even as he realized Adora had chosen of her own free will to come so far from the more settled territories. But he let his thoughts stay on Stanford. He was certainly different from every miner Chip had met, and he’d met many. Mining was hard work—even for investors who involved themselves as little more than overseers. Stanford’s hands looked like they’d never known a blister.
He stopped such thoughts when a trickle of conviction slid down his spine. He’d welcomed Jed’s warning. He wanted to mistrust Stanford. But that didn’t mean Stanford was guilty of anything.
“I assume you’ll be heading back to Chicago,” said Dirk to Chip. Was it Chip’s imagination, or was the man as eager for him to go as Chip was loath to leave Adora?
“Actually, I have an uncle who commissioned me to assess some investment opportunities for him. Nothing as rugged as mining, but to see about opening a store to supply new settlers and miners.”
“Then Denver is the place for that,” Dirk said with authority. “The forty-niners are finished, but now there’re the fifty-niners in the Colorado Territory. It’s a newer market.”
“I’ll be sure to share that with my uncle,” said Chip.
“Since you’ll be in town a few days longer,” said Adora, and Chip could barely conceal how easy it was to give her his attention, “perhaps Dirk can help you gather information that would be helpful to share with your uncle. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Dirk?”
The man looked less than enthusiastic as he reached for his glass. But to his credit, when he pulled the lemonade away he managed a smile. “Yes, that would be fine. We do owe him a debt, don’t we?”
Stanford being the other half of that “we” made Chip want to bolt, but he stayed put for Adora’s sake.
Because, despite his effort to like the man, Dirk Stanford appeared to Chip to be every bit as shady as Jed suspected.
Chapter Seven
Adora counted the money she kept hidden in the small box in her bureau drawer. In the two years prior to leaving home, she’d saved money from birthdays and holiday gifts from her grandmother, even sold a favorite gold bracelet. But the two-hundred-dollar fare to reach San Francisco had put a huge dent in her funds from the start. Not to mention purchasing meals along the three-week journey.
Without the teaching position that would have provided not only a modest salary but also free room and board, even Adora’s frugality hadn’t allowed her to save much. Roseleen allowed free rent because of Adora’s work in the kitchen but paid so little above it that Adora had been able to set aside only twenty dollars in the entire six months since her arrival.
In total, she possessed not even a third of what she would need to go home. At the rate she was able to save, it would be a year before she would have the money she needed.
Echoes of Dirk’s offer to pay her fare replayed in her mind. How tempting it was to accept! But she reminded herself that to receive such a gift would seal their future together. Was she really ready to do such a thing? Dirk was fine in so many ways—good-looking, polite, and obviously generous. She certainly enjoyed his company. Yet there was something that held her back, some unnamed hesitation to jump ahead with marriage.
An image of Mr. Nolan came to mind, proving she was certainly attracted to the man. Was she incapable of falling in love with just one man, with a kind of love that would last forever, and forsake all others? If she’d met him before Dirk, perhaps she’d have fallen in love with him. Hadn’t Mr. Nolan proved himself worthy of any woman’s attention with the noble way he’d handled his brother’s misfortune? Traveling across the country to fulfill one’s own promise was one thing, but to do so on behalf of another spoke to his true, obviously chivalrous, character.
Adora shook her thoughts loose. She’d had reservations about marrying Dirk before meeting Mr. Nolan. Sometimes men weren’t all they presented themselves to be. She had only to think of Mr. Glassbrook—on a school board no less—to know sometimes appearances weren’t authentic.
Besides, she may not have promised to marry Dirk, but they certainly had an understanding. He was the only gentleman she’d allowed to come calling, which had surely led him to believe she thought more highly of him than any other. That demanded an amount of loyalty, even if she and Dirk had spent the last two days—Monday and Tuesday evenings—seeing some of San Francisco with Mr. Nolan.
She’d enjoyed their company despite fears left over from the school board fiasco. Adora had almost expected Mr. Glassbrook or his wife to leap out with a wagging finger and shout: “Courting two men! She’s unfit to be an example to the precious youth of our city!” It cut to the quick that Mrs. Glassbrook had believed her husband’s claim that Adora had repeatedly pushed herself at him until the unfortunate day another board member had seen Mr. Glassbrook kissing her. Perhaps Adora shouldn’t blame a wife for wanting to think the best of the man who took care of her—the father of their children. Far easier to blame a stranger for the scandal. After being fired, Adora had fled so fast she didn’t even defend herself against the tale Mr. Glassbrook told.
Wednesday evening was the one night Dirk didn’t accompany Adora on her weekly outing. The little church she attended held revival meetings each and every week, filled with prayer, readings from the Bible, and worshipful songs. Unlike Sunday, there was no sermon, but Adora always came away spiritually refreshed.
As she finished dressing in anticipation of attending with Roseleen and Jed, she considered this might be one reason she wasn’t rushing into marrying Dirk. Of course, not every faithful person need attend church on Sunday and midweek, too, but it suddenly occurred to Adora that Dirk didn’t seem to enjoy services in general. They rarely discussed the sermons, and she’d never heard him singing. She’d convinced herself he was either uncertain of his vocal abilities or unfamiliar with the songs. Not all churches used the same hymns, and these might be new to him. She did wonder why he didn’t seem to want to discuss the sermons beyond agreeing with everything she liked about them, but his attitude had always been so amenable she’d never thought twice about it.
Until tonight. Perhaps he agreed with all of her opinions regarding the sermons because he didn’t have opinions of his own.
She was still frowning when she met Roseleen at the foot of the stairs.
“Now what reason has such a lovely young lady to look unhappy?”
“Oh, no reason,” she murmured. How could she speak ill of Dirk when he’d been so kind to her? “Are we ready to go?”
Instead of answering, Roseleen scanned the parlor. “Jed invited someone to come along, only I don’t know where they’re off to. I heard him welcome someone a moment ago.”
Just then Adora heard the deep rumbling of men’s voices coming from behind, emerging from the kitchen. Her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the tall silhouette of Chip Nolan beside Jed’s smaller, wiry form.
The moment Chip caught sight of Adora, his heart did the familiar flip it always did when seeing her—or even thinking of her. But his next thoughts were equally familiar: caution that the uninvited dance going on inside his chest might be similar to the jig Adora’s heart performed when she saw Stanford.
At least Chip wouldn’t be competing for Adora’s attention tonight. Not that he was in the habit of stealing affections pledged to another, but he could barely contain his growing dislike for Stanford. Yesterday at an outdoor festival the three of them had sat drinking cool sweetened tea. It was then he’d put Stanford to a test devised entirely by Jed, but employed by Chip.
On Jed’s counsel, Chip had been able to ask numerous questions about mining. He’d barely understood the words that came out of his own mouth, but Jed had written them down and Chip had only to memorize them. He’d have known few correct answers, but according to the information Jed supplied, either Stanford was the most uninformed mining investor in the city or he wasn’t what he said he was.
Chip knew
it was too easy to distrust him. So when Jed mentioned the midweek prayer meeting Adora liked to attend, Chip was more than willing to come along, especially when he learned she went without Stanford. Not only would he spend the evening with Adora, Chip could use the time to pray for the best course of action regarding Stanford.
Besides, that very afternoon he’d had an idea that Adora might welcome and he wasn’t sure he wanted Stanford around when he shared it. Tonight, he planned to provide the means for Adora to go home. With—or without—Stanford.
During the course of the prayer meeting, Adora’s confusion multiplied. Wednesday evenings were a highlight of her week, one filled with peace and hope for a brighter future despite the separation from her family, her current impoverished circumstances, or lingering residue from Mr. Glassbrook.
In the past few weeks, Dirk had contributed to her general high spirits. However, there was no use denying it: Mr. Nolan was the source of her growing perplexity.
His voice rang out in praise and she warmed to his easy tenor. He sang as if he’d been singing hymns his entire life. She stole a glance his way during one of the prayers; he appeared entirely concentrated on whatever matters he thought necessary to bring before God. And when the pastor asked for prayer concerns, Mr. Nolan raised his hand and said the circumstances were too complicated to explain but he would appreciate others mentioning his name in their prayers with a specific situation that God would know about.
One surprising thought erupted through her own prayers: Mr. Nolan was exactly the kind of man she’d imagined herself marrying. But hadn’t she thought the same of Dirk? Was she truly fickle, then? If she were this way now, what made her think marriage would change her? Perhaps she wasn’t meant to marry at all if she couldn’t be loyal to just one man!
Besides, she must think only of going home now. Saving her funds, finding extra work if she could. She’d heard one of the local newspapers needed a typesetter and wondered if she might find work there. She could rise early in the morning, well before she was needed to start cooking breakfasts. If they were willing to hire a woman, she could certainly do the job, at least for the morning edition.
The Pony Express Romance Collection Page 29
