by Iris Kelly
Mr. Winters scowled. The upper hand had just been pulled out from under him.
“As for you, Mr. Scott, you will never see those two girls again. You knew that you were putting a killer in with one of your girls, and you gave him explicit instructions to rough her up. I got his sworn testimony before he was hanged, when he had absolutely nothing to gain. Your instructions led to her death, and I think a jury is going to be hot for justice.”
“Nobody cares about some whore. Not like this fine lady here. I believe she would genuinely be missed, if anything were to happen to her.”
“Now that’s a fact,” Ajax asserted loudly behind them, forcing the two men at the door farther into the office. “Oh, pardon me for interruptin’. I think you gentlemen know me—Deputy Sheriff Harper. But there’s two things about me that you probably don’t know. I ain’t been in town long, so I ain’t got that many friends. So the Carlyles and the Coopers and the Martins—the soon to be Martins—aside from the Sheriff and my aunt, they’s about the only people I care about in this town.”
“Glad to be included on that exclusive list,” Sheriff Johnson boomed from behind Ajax. They both came into what was now a very crowded room.
Ajax continued, “The second thing you need to know about me is that I used to be a bounty hunter. Brought in over fifty men. And most of them was a dead or alive situation. I gotta tell ya, whenever that’s the case, dead is just the easiest way to go. So yeah, they were pretty much all dead.
My point is - killin’ bad men is my spes-ee-ality. And you two are genuinely bad men. I gotta call’em like I see’em. So here’s what’s not gonna happen. You’re not gonna hurt her. In fact, you’re gonna wish her the best of health. Because if she were to have an accident right now, I would put a bullet in your head. If she fell from a horse and died tomorrow, I would hold you responsible, and I would put a bullet in your head. If she were to catch yellow fever and die in her bed after a long month of wastin’ away, I would put a bullet in your head. Both your heads. I want to give you the proper incentive. It is in your best interest for her to live a long, happy life. And the same goes for Mr. Martin. See, I intend to dance at their weddin’ and whittle a train for their first baby. Now you two are gonna leave here, and I don’t ever want to see you talkin’ to each other again. ’Cause I’ll take that as a sign of bad faith.”
“Sheriff! Are you going to let your deputy threaten us like that? Someone you have charged with upholding the law? I know you can’t condone such lawless corruption,” Mr. Winters demanded.
The Sheriff shrugged indifferently. “My deputy has been authorized to exercise his own judgment in these matters. Whatever he chooses to do, I have no doubt we’d be able to find sufficient evidence to support his actions, if only after the fact. Now, you keep one last thing in mind. I’ve grown pretty fond of this boy. So if anything were to happen to him . . .”
“You’d shoot them in the head?” Ajax asked, touched.
“I surely would. Now, you two say your sweet goodbyes and git outta here.”
The two men stormed out, and they could be seen by all through the large front window, look at each other in disgusted defeat and walk off in separate directions.
“Say, Miss Kirby. Mr. Martin. I didn’t mean to invite myself to your weddin’. I sure didn’t. It just popped out. I know it’s gonna be a really swanky affair and all.”
Beatrice ran up to Ajax and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.
“You’re top of the list. You too, Sheriff,” Beatrice said.
“That’s mighty nice of you, ma’am. Now, Deputy. I know for a fact that you didn’t bring in all fifty of those men dead. Not even half.”
Ajax smiled. “They didn’t need to know that.”
There was a collective chuckle of relief. The day could not have ended any better.
*****
The next few days were filled with dreamy expectation. The recent dangers and uncertainties had evaporated. The wedding plans had commenced, though no invitations had been sent out. Whether together or apart, Avery and Beatrice were buoyed by the growing warm connection between them and certainty in the joyful future that lay ahead.
Avery strolled euphorically down the street, mindful of and constantly laughing at himself for his boundless exhilaration. He quickly scrambled up the stairs to the Carlyle’s apartment. He was to meet Beatrice there in half an hour’s time, but he wanted to get there earlier and get Virginia and Lewis’s opinion on a locket that he wanted to give Beatrice. Lewis answered the door, and had the strangest look on his face.
“I’m sorry I’m a bit early, but there was something I needed to show you and Virginia.”
Avery walked in and was surprised to see an elegantly attired couple in the Carlyle’s sitting room. Virginia jumped nervously to her feet.
“Mr. Martin, we weren’t expecting you quite so soon. We . . . have had a surprise this afternoon - my father Oscar Bellamy and his wife Florence Bellamy just arrived in town, and we had no idea they were coming.”
Oscar Bellamy was holding baby Felicity on his lap. “You kept putting us off every time we tried to schedule a visit. And it was high time I met my grandchild. Mr. Martin, is it? Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise, Mr. Bellamy. Mrs. Bellamy. This is actually a wonderful time for Virginia and Beatrice’s family to visit.”
“Beatrice? Our maid Beatrice?” Florence asked incredulously.
Avery laughed. “No, not a maid. My fiancé Miss Beatrice Kirby - your niece, I believe, Mr. Bellamy.”
Oscar Bellamy’s mouth dropped open and Florence, after a split second of shock, started laughing uncontrollably.
*****
Beatrice was filled with nervous excitement - she was going to enjoy afternoon tea with Avery and the Carlyles, and then Avery would return to work and Virginia would accompany her to the dressmakers to look into getting a wedding dress. Another fairytale milestone.
But she had one other matter on her mind, the same thing that had been hanging over her the entire time she had been in Cheyenne. But it was taking on a new emotional urgency. She needed to talk to someone about her last minute reservations. For once and for all, should she tell Avery? If only for her own peace of mind. And if not that, then because he deserved it of her. She knew that he loved her as deeply and passionately as a woman could ever want to be loved. Would that buffer their attachment against any shock or disappointment? Or would it spoil things irrevocably? Was anything worth ruining the true joy they had achieved? Perhaps this was the kind of secret that really needed to be taken to the grave.
Virginia let her into the apartment, but the look on her face immediately put Beatrice in a state of alarm. As she stepped into the room, she was greeted by the impossibly nightmarish sight of Florence and Oscar Bellamy, and a grave looking Avery, all in the Carlyle’s sitting room.
Florence beamed wickedly. “There she is. Naughty, naughty Beatrice.”
“They came to see the baby,” Virginia said, fervently apologetic. “We had no idea they were coming.”
“Of course we came to see the baby. And of course, it was about time we saw how Virginia was getting along,” Oscar said, looking around the small home distastefully.
“And we thought how nice it would be to surprise everyone. But Beatrice is the one who is full of surprises,” Florence gloated. “Virginia tells us that you’ve been pulling some nasty tricks on poor Mr. Martin here.”
“That is not exactly what I said,” Virginia said tensely.
Beatrice locked eyes with Avery. The stunned looked on his face was unbearable for her.
“Beatrice?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes. I know what you’ve been told. And it’s all true. I was their maid. I was the Bellamy family maid.”
Avery let out a long, deep breath. “You are not family to Mrs. Carlyle or Mrs. Cooper?”
“No. I was an employee under their roof. That is the truth. Finally, the truth.”
“A shocking turn of events, I’m s
ure,” Florence said.
Beatrice walked closer to Avery. Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Martin. It was a terrible lie. I just want you to know grateful I am for everything that happened between us, even though I didn’t deserve it.”
She turned and fled the apartment. Florence grinned with delight. She had been dragged onto this journey most unwillingly, but now - what a delectable turn of events. The time and expense of coming across country had just been rewarded tenfold. People from that class should never be allowed to forget their place. Thankfully, Beatrice would be back to scrubbing floors in no time—where she belonged.
*****
From the south end of town to the north, and from the west end to the east, Avery walked. And walked. And could not stop walking. How could they do this to him? What sort of a heinous conspiracy was this? Lewis and Virginia, and Lydia and Giles Cooper as well - all of them in on it.
It was odd, but his anger was aimed more fiercely at the people around her than at Beatrice herself. They had advised her badly and she was too much under their influence. And if he was honest with himself, he just couldn’t bear to be angry with her.
What if he had never found out? A large part of him wished that were the case. Was there any conceivable way the clock could be turned back and this shocking turn of events could be undone?
The Bellamys would soon leave town and since they had no acquaintance here beyond the Carlyles, they would take the secret home with them. Everyone else who knew had already demonstrated they were well capable of keeping secrets.
It was the only solution. Preserve the secret. For if it leaked, his grand political future would vanish in an instant.
Exhausted, Avery found himself at the Montrose Hotel - where he was informed that Beatrice was already gone.
*****
It hadn’t taken long for Beatrice to pack her things and check out of the hotel. She accepted a carriage ride as one last amenity of that life. Otherwise, she didn’t want to accrue any more obligations or expense to Mr. Martin. She needed a place to hide from the world. From him. From all of Cheyenne society who was still filled with news of their engagement and congratulations. She needed to hide from the enormity of her wrongdoing. She went to the only retreat that came to mind, Miss Mabel’s boarding house, that had served so well during Harriet’s time of need, and during Virginia and Lydia’s turbulent entries into Cheyenne.
Brides in crisis were now what Miss Mabel considered to be the norm. She was not at all fazed by a tearful Beatrice requesting a small room and an indefinite stay. Eventually, the full story came out, which Miss Mabel was not so much shocked by, as entertained.
“What did you expect? ’Course he was gonna find out. I heard about that stepmother of Mrs. Carlyle’s. My word! She sounds like the devil in a bustle!”
Thank goodness for Miss Mabel. It was the first time Beatrice had smiled in three days.
“Looks like I need to put a sign out front—We Specialize in Brokenhearted Boston Ladies—’cause that’s all I keep gettin’ these past few years.”
“I really had hoped to ask you one day if you could specialize in something else. I had hoped, if the city or the ladies’ association covered full expenses, if you would have taken in young women here, like Harriet—well, not exactly like Harriet. Before they had a chance to fall in bad. Maybe allow some tutoring sessions every day in the parlor. A little halfway house until they could support themselves. That’s what I would have asked if . . . if everything had remained the same.”
“Hmmph. If I got paid in full, I suppose I woulda considered it. Girls pay the same for board but they eat less than men. Works out fine for me.”
“If I still had any influence, I would certainly recommend this place. Unfortunately, I don’t think anyone will be inclined to listen to me now.”
“No, they ain’t gonna listen to a maid. No one listens to me and I got my own business.”
Miss Mabel stood up and headed for the kitchen. “A maid! Guess that means you can clean up your own room up there. Hee-hee!”
Miss Mabel may have had a peculiar sense of humor, but Beatrice didn’t mistake it for mean-spirited. It surely spotlighted the new limitations of her life. The luxury days as an elite and valued guest at the hotel were over. The balls, the teas, the social invitations, the respect given to her ideas—all over. But more importantly, the love that had started to become the center of her world was gone forever. How torturous it was to remember how his arms felt around her. How comforting it had been to feel his devotion. How real it had all felt.
Beatrice was so lost in these miserable musings that she didn’t see or hear Avery come to stand at the parlor entrance.
“I have been looking for you for two days,” Avery said.
Startled, Beatrice tried to rein in her composure. “But I have been gone for three.”
“Well, some of that time was admittedly consumed with reflection. It is quite disorienting to be unsure of what was true and what was not.”
“Everything was true. Though that may be hard to believe. I did grow up alongside Virginia Bellamy, playing with her, studying beside her. My mother did die when I was eight. She was the Bellamys’ housekeeper.”
“Your stories of Boston. Of traveling. Of London.”
“Yes. The Bellamys went to London and Paris, some ten years ago now. They didn’t need to take me. They weren’t going to, but Virginia insisted that she needed a maid to dress and chaperone her. She didn’t, of course. But she knew how badly I wanted to go, so she whined and complained until they let her have her way.
Once we were there, I got a lot of time on my own to walk around, see the museums and parks. And there were some buildings and performances that I never would have gotten entrance to alone that I saw because she would tell her family that she needed her maid close. It was for me, not her. It was the nicest thing that she ever did for me . . . until Cheyenne.”
“She and Mrs. Cooper . . .”
“Please, don’t be angry at them.”
“I’m not. Not anymore.”
“Of course, I release you from the engagement. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”
“Trouble, you call it? You have re-shaped me like a piece of clay till I can hardly recognize myself. Beatrice. I don’t want to be released. Listen to me. The Bellamys will be gone in less than a week. And when they leave, the secret will leave Cheyenne with them. Our friends are the only ones who know. To all the rest of society, it can remain a secret. They will still know you as the society lady from Boston who they always believed you to be. We can still go forward. I don’t want things to end. I find I can’t bear the thought of it.”
By then, he had come to sit beside her, and she put her hand over his.
“May I hold your hand one last time?” she asked.
“It’s not the last time. It’s not the last time,” Avery said adamantly.
“It will be. Because I’m done with secrets. I know what you want in life. And I’d have to keep up the lies so I could fit into your life. I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep pretending with the Cheyenne ladies, or the hotel manager, or all your business associates.
I don’t want to ever have to turn my back on someone like Harriet because she’s not proper company. And where would Ajax Harper have sat at our wedding? In the front row where he belongs, or in the back row so that the Cheyenne Club won’t be disturbed by the sight of him?”
I know you have to keep on their good side. I know that you need for them to like you. That’s just the way things are.”
Beatrice pulled her hand away, and headed for the stairs. With her back still to Avery, she said, “I’ll remember every moment of it for the rest of my life. I know I’ll never feel that way again.”
She ran up the stairs, and after a shocked moment, Avery tried to follow. But the way was blocked by the stocky and determined Miss Mabel.
“Hold it right there, Mr. High and Mi
ghty. You said your peace and she said hers. Now leave her be.”
“Miss Mabel, you don’t understand—”
“Oh, I think I do. I seen it all before. Now she plumb out and told ya to do what’s best for ya. So go on, now. You got some thinkin’ to do.”
There was no getting past her. Not to mention, she was right. Avery made a reluctant departure, and Miss Mabel prepared for another weepy evening.
*****
Avery sat listlessly at his desk. It was settled.
He would have to start his search all over again, and one day, some other lady was going to be his wife. This thought was accompanied by such a stab of pain, he might as well have been informed of the death of a dear relative.
He needed to get a hold of himself. His ill-founded attachment to Beatrice would fade - that infernal attachment that felt so much like love.
Avery was a man who prided himself on his rationality and reasoning ability. It was those assets he would have to rely on to guide him out of this crisis. It would ease his mind to remind himself of the benefits and liabilities of each of these incompatible options, and to confirm that the right decision had been made.
Firstly - the benefits had he married Beatrice. Well, she was lovely and intelligent, and wonderfully opinionated, and unintimidated by anything. And compassionate. Interested in the most unassuming people around her. Avery scoffed to remember how he had avoided discussing his farmer parents and the locust swarm that had ruined them, because he was a sure a society lady like Beatrice couldn’t possibly take an interest in such humble origins.
And that day - when they were in danger and he pulled her onto his lap - so warm and close. Whew! Best not to dwell on the positives. Negatives: scandal, the loss of all political support from Cheyenne’s most powerful families and consequently, the loss of an ambitious dream that had been with him for so many years.
Now - finding a suitable lady and continuing to stay strategically focused on his career. Positives: He wanted to make his mark in this world, have a legacy, and have the power to change things for the better. This was the guaranteed road toward achieving all those goals.
