Banking on Temperance: Book Three of the Cotillion Ball Series (Crimson Romance)

by Lower, Becky

  • • •

  Tears continued to prick Temperance’s eyes as she turned the horse back down the road leading away from town. She brushed the wetness away from her cheeks in an angry motion. She was mortified that she’d cried in front of Basil, but she had nowhere else to turn. He and Ginger were her only friends in this town.

  Her mother was devastated by the loss of her partner. She confided to Temperance that she was expecting a final child in the spring, to Temperance’s total surprise. She didn’t think her father had ever gotten strong enough to make love to his wife, but obviously she was mistaken. But how could they, her parents, who she respected, put the family in further jeopardy? Her mother and she talked about what the family was to do during the long night while listening to her father take his last breaths. The baby would be born next April or May, just as the wagons were heading out of St. Louis.

  How many more tribulations could possibly be heaped on her shoulders? She had better focus on sending touching love letters to Jeremiah so he wouldn’t forget about her and have his head turned by Rebecca Stoughton, her arch rival for his affections back in Pennsylvania. It was not a betrayal of her affection for Jeremiah to lean so heavily on Basil Fitzpatrick during this troublesome time. Jeremiah chose not to come with her family on the trek from Pennsylvania. He wanted to wait until his crops were harvested before he left the farm, and she had no one else. She so desperately needed someone to just talk to, since her burdens were threatening to bury her. That’s the only reason she cried in front of Basil. He realized the strain she was under, and was doing his best to remove some of it. And he was the only person she was willing to share that burden with.

  She reached the restaurant and tied up her horse, stopping to sniff the air. Fried chicken tonight, unless she missed her guess. It was one of her favorites. As she let herself in the back door, she remembered Basil said he was planning to come to the restaurant this evening to discuss their business relationship. He had been as appalled by their encounter as she was, and wanted to propose an alternative arrangement.

  She was grateful for his apology, even though he was not solely to blame for what happened. After all, she was the one out of line, by crawling into his bed. He was devastatingly handsome, and charming, true. But he wouldn’t get her family to Oregon. Only Jeremiah would do that, and she’d best not forget it. Still, she couldn’t control the warmth that flooded over her body as she thought of Basil dropping his plans for the evening to be in attendance at her father’s funeral. Jeremiah could have been here, and chose not to. And Basil was.

  She stopped outside the kitchen door to the restaurant and put her hand on her forehead. What was she thinking? They had just had the discussion that theirs was a business relationship only, and here she was, counting the minutes until she could see him again. Remember Jeremiah instead, she admonished herself. She vowed to write to him that very evening, and to tell him of her father’s passing and how much the family needed him to arrive. Oh, yes, and she’d be sure to mention how much she loved him.

  With a flash of resolve, she pushed open the door to tell the owner she would not be working this evening. As she left the restaurant minutes later, she began composing the letter to Jeremiah in her head. She did fine until she got to the part where she was to write about her feelings to him. Then the memory of Basil’s kiss kept getting in the way. She hummed to herself as she touched her lips, remembering the feel of his mouth on hers. No, Temperance! She banged her hand on the pommel of the saddle, startling her horse, making it shy from the path. Temperance’s wayward thoughts stopped quickly, as all her attention was focused on getting her horse under control.

  As the horse once again settled into a comfortable trot, her thoughts returned to her letter to Jeremiah. Maybe as she composed her letter, she could write about his kisses as if they were Basil’s. That would certainly convince him that she loved him, wouldn’t it?

  • • •

  Temperance listened carefully as Joseph’s mother, Mary Tall Feather, a full-blooded Ojibwa, gave the Jones family precise instructions on how to prepare the body for an Indian burial. In accordance with their tradition, Samuel Jones’s body was washed, groomed, and dressed in his Sunday best. Because he had been a circuit rider preacher, Mary deferred from giving him a painted face. His arms were folded across his chest and his Bible was firmly in his hands. Her husband and sons wrapped the body in birch bark and hoisted it out the window, the only opening in the soddy, other than the door. The Ojibwa belief was if the body left the home through the front door, its spirit would find its way back inside the house.

  The body was laid in a shallow grave under a tall red oak tree, which grew near the soddy. Its leaves were only now beginning to turn from green to the brilliant red and maroon colors of autumn, but soon they would rain down on the gravesite. Temperance’s father loved to take long walks in the woods, so he would feel right at home here. She stood next to her mother as they waited for the ceremony to begin. Her mother wept softly, but Temperance cleared her eyes of their tears. This was a first for her — participating in a traditional Indian burial ritual. Even though her father was a Church of the Brethern minister, he’d held an open mind to other beliefs, and so did she.

  The youngest of the Lafontaine sons, Etienne, and Temperance’s sister Prudence took turns banging slowly on a ceremonial drum. Ginger was in attendance as well. Even though she was only a few months away from giving birth, she refused to be confined at home, and stood now by Joseph’s side.

  Joseph was dressed in traditional Indian garb. He wore a deerskin shirt, richly embellished with beading down the front. His legs were covered in deerskin breeches, and a loincloth hung at his waist. Several feathers adorned his straight, black hair. Temperance spent a few minutes watching him as he prepared the sacrificial tobacco.

  She understood why Ginger had been swept off her feet by him. Joseph in full Indian regalia was a very handsome, exotic man. The paint on his face emphasized his high cheekbones and his dark eyes. His hair hung loosely around his face and came alive as the breeze caught it. He, Mary Tall Feather, and another brother, Gaston, chanted softly as they drew near the grave.

  Normally, the offerings to the Spirits would be performed by a high priest of the tribe, or the shaman. But Mary and Emil’s son Raoul, who was studying to become a shaman, was in Canada learning the Ojibwa ways alongside his grandfather. So the privilege fell to the eldest male with Indian blood.

  Joseph stood tall at the foot of the grave and spoke in a low tone to Samuel Jones, wishing him well on his journey to the afterlife. He took the tobacco and raised it over his head. He offered it to the gods of the four winds, facing north, south, then east and west as he continued to chant. He completed the offering of the sacrifice to the sun, moon, thunder, and lightning, as well as the Great Spirit. Joseph continued to chant for a few more minutes, joined by Mary Tall Feather and her other sons. As one, they fell silent, along with the drum.

  Justice walked forward, into the place where Joseph had been standing. He was a reed-thin, lanky boy just coming into manhood. His voice was deep, giving promise of the man he was to become, but for now, Temperance thought he resembled the frightened little boy she once rescued from some unruly playmates.

  To his credit, he read The Lord’s Prayer from his own scuffed and worn bible without stumbling over the words. Then Temperance walked to the foot of the grave and gazed at all the people who were here for this solemn ceremony. She was surprised, having only been in town a few months, to see this many people in attendance as they buried the patriarch of the Jones household. She smiled a bit tremulously at them.

  “My da loved his Lord above all else, so I know he’s walking hand in hand with Him at this moment, and looking down on these somber proceedings with all the love he had in his heart for each of us. I want to honor his time here on earth by reciting one of his favorites. It is the Psalm of David.”


  She took a deep breath and began, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Suddenly, tears sprang into her eyes and she was unable to continue. She swallowed hard and struggled for control.

  “He … He … ” To her horror, she couldn’t finish the psalm.

  “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.” A voice came low and calm from beside her. She gazed up through her blurry tears to see Basil Fitzpatrick standing alongside her. He smiled at her and took her hand before his gaze went to Samuel Jones. “He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness, for his name’s sake.”

  Temperance found her voice again, and joined Basil as they recited her father’s favorite words to him.

  Soon, the ceremony drew to a close. Each person at the gravesite took a handful of the sweet-smelling earth and let it fall on top of the birch bark. An offering of food and water was placed beside the grave, and would be replenished by Mary or her sons for the next four days, to help nourish Samuel’s soul as he journeyed to the afterlife. Temperance thought her father would be well pleased with the ceremony.

  • • •

  “Thank you, Mr. Fitzpatrick, for coming to my aid. I was appalled when I lost my way through the psalm.” Temperance stood beside him still. He finally released her hand, although he did so with great reluctance.

  “You didn’t lose your way. You were only overcome with the emotion of it all. The first Indian burial ceremony I attended choked me up, too, and it wasn’t for anyone in my family. This was for your father, so it’s understandable.”

  “Nonetheless, thank you. It seems as if all you’ve done since we arrived in town is to come to our aid. When we relay the tale to our children and grandchildren about our migration West, your name will be a part of our story. As will this ceremony. It was lovely, and moving.”

  Basil rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. He had no wish to become part of the Jones family lore. But what role did he want? Temperance was right. He had been helping the family ever since they arrived in town. He told himself it was because they reminded him of his own large family back in New York, but was he really merely trying to tamp down the feelings of homesickness? Or was it something more?

  Ever since he’d given into temptation and kissed her last night, he wasn’t so sure his feelings towards her family were as good-hearted and untainted as they’d both thought. Her kisses were sweet and innocent, the taste of her was pure, her mouth soft and gentle. When was the last time he’d kissed an innocent? He couldn’t remember.

  And there was good reason why it was such a rarity. He gnashed his teeth together as he reminded himself good, pure, innocent women such as Temperance were not to be toyed with. They were even more dangerous than the saloon girls and dance hall ladies. They were the kind you marry and take home to meet your mother. He was nowhere near ready to be tied to only one woman. Maybe he was ready to settle down with a mistress, but a wife? He was years away from marriage.

  His gaze flitted over her face again. Her color was pale in the early dusk. Understandable, since they’d just lain her father to rest. He could only imagine the terror her family was feeling, being in a strange part of the country without the head of the household. Yes, he wanted to make the way a bit easier for them. Maybe his fate with this family had been sealed the very minute Samuel Jones collapsed in his bank. Or maybe it was the minute Basil gave into temptation and Temperance’s lips scorched his when they kissed.

  Good Lord, listen to him. He was talking as Joseph had done when he referred to his relationship with Ginger. How he had known from the minute they met they were meant to be together. Basil thought it was hogwash then, and his thoughts about Temperance were hogwash now. Sure, she was a tempting little morsel, but he didn’t have to give in to his baser instincts.

  It was much better, for his state of mind, to merely befriend her. After all, he had done that today. He had not had one lustful thought all day. Well, maybe just one, when she was crying on his shoulder, dampening his suit jacket with her tears. And maybe one more, when his eyes fixated on her lips, which had so recently set his on fire.

  That was all. Twice in one day, and only because of the circumstances. Well, possibly one additional time, when he took her hand as she faltered during her recitation of the psalm. All right, three times. But what Temperance, and her entire family, needed right now was a friend, not someone to toy with her affections. They were heading on in the spring, with her beau leading the way, and any involvement with Basil would put that goal in peril. He could ill afford that, and Temperance wouldn’t tolerate it.

  But still, her lips were very tempting.

  Chapter Nine

  In the days and weeks that followed, Basil and Temperance settled into a comfortable, friendly routine. She came to the bank three times a week to clean. On the other two weekdays, he would usually end up out at the public house, where they would be able to snatch snippets of conversation in between her duties as a waitress. Basil’s admiration for her intensified as she worked hard to provide for her family. When she told him of Martha’s impending new child, their conversations took a turn from playful to contemplative.

  “Perhaps you should stay in St. Louis for another year, then. Give yourself time to save up the money you’ll need, and give your mother a chance to deliver a baby in civilization rather than in the back of a moving wagon. Besides, Justice has only turned sixteen. He needs at least one more year to be considered the man of the family.”

  Temperance poured some water into the glass on his table. “No, we can’t wait any longer. We can’t continue to be a burden to the Lafontaines, and we certainly can’t consider moving out of the soddy, since we have little money as it is. Besides, Jeremiah will be arriving before winter sets in, and we can be married straight away. Then he can get the wagon and supplies we need for the next leg of our trip. He’ll be the good strong man we need to lead us into the wilderness.”

  “So you’ve gotten a letter from him?” Basil shifted in his seat as he listened to Temperance talk about Jeremiah. He already had made up his mind that he didn’t care much for the man. How could he have let Temperance go off into the wilderness without him, if he cared for her as much as she claimed he did? Crops or no, if Basil had been in that position, he would never have let her go. Any solid upstanding man would have done so, not just Basil. His opinion of Jeremiah was extremely low because of his foolish decision last spring. At least that’s what Basil told himself. It had nothing to do with the place Jeremiah occupied in Temperance’s heart. Absolutely nothing.

  “He wrote about a month ago. I sent him a letter right after Da died, letting him know he was now going to be the head of this family. He responded right away and told me he couldn’t wait to get here, so we could pick up where we left off.” She blushed prettily as she cleared the dirty dishes from Basil’s table.

  “Where exactly did you leave off with him, Temperance?” Basil asked quietly, as he took hold of her wrist.

  Temperance pulled her hand from his. “That’s an impertinent question, sir.”

  “I just don’t want you to be disappointed if he changes his mind. I know the ways of men, and it’s a heavy burden you’re placing on him — it won’t be just you and him, but your entire family as well. And a newborn.”

  “He won’t change his mind. He loves me.”

  “Maybe so.” Basil put a few bills on the table to pay for his dinner, stood up, and placed his hat on his head. “He’d be a fool not to. But even love has its limits. And I’m telling you, as a man, I wouldn’t want to be heading west with a wife, five children, and a mother-in-law who was about to have a baby. It’s hard enough getting from St. Louis to Oregon without stacking the deck against yourself.”

  Temperance’s green eyes sparkled as she stood before him. “Well, then, it’s fortunate for us that Jeremiah will be the man heading west with us, and not you. He’ll come. You’ll see.�
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  • • •

  Temperance hadn’t shown up for work after the bank closed. Despite their rather heated discussion about Jeremiah the other night at the restaurant, she wouldn’t leave town without saying a proper goodbye. Of that, Basil was certain. She’d lord it over him and introduce him to that blasted Jeremiah, had he shown up, finally. Basil had not seen her at all yesterday, either, since he had a meeting in the evening with one of the bank’s clients and did not make it out to the public house. He paced the floor of his apartment, as it registered that, since she had rolled into town with her rag-tag family and her disaster of a wagon, Temperance had been a part of his daily routine. Except for the past few days.

  He wondered if something new had befallen her, and was mildly concerned for her welfare. But she was a strong, capable young woman who didn’t let anything get in her way. By five o’clock, she’d be starting work at the restaurant, so he rode out. He tied his horse up at the hitching post out front, and went inside, only to find she had not shown up there, either.

  He was out of the restaurant and halfway to the soddy before he realized he had decided to ride out and see what was going on. It wasn’t Temperance’s nature to shirk her responsibilities. He told himself that, as her employer, he had a right to check on her. But his mild concern ratcheted up a few notches when he discovered no one had seen her for two days.

  As he drew closer to the soddy, his horse’s muscles tensed as it went on high alert. If a horse sensed danger, something was truly afoul. The nearby howling from a pack of animals sent shivers running down his spine. He slowed his pace, pulled his gun from its shoulder holster, and cautiously turned the corner to the dirt tracks leading to the humble dwelling.

  Seven wolves circled the small home as dusk fell around them, and one more was on the roof, trying to dig a way into the structure. A half dozen or more carcasses lay around the yard. Basil’s heart twisted in his chest as he studied the movement of the wolves, careful not to get too close.