“Empire City?” Tyler choked on the words. “Isn’t that a little high-flown? I mean you can call it Dead End or Empire City or Paradise on Earth if you want, but it’s still the same old town.”
“It won’t be for long,” Randolph said confidently.
“What do you mean?” Apprehension nipped at the back of Tyler’s mind.
“We’ve appointed a Community Betterment Committee,” Maize said eagerly.
“We are the Community Betterment Committee,” Sam corrected.
“That’s what I said,” Maize snapped. Sam gazed upward as if questioning a higher power about the wisdom of including women in this particular venture, or even possibly questioning their very existence.
“And the Committee has decided…” Again Randolph paused as if to heighten the drama of the moment.
His wife rushed ahead. “The Committee has decided a respectable town—”
“A sophisticated town,” Maize interjected.
“A proper town,” Joe groaned.
“A civilized town,” Sam said with a nod.
Randolph pushed back into the conversation. “—would have a mayor.”
“A mayor?” Tye pulled his brows together in a puzzled frown.
“That’s right.” Randolph beamed. “A mayor.”
“So?” Tye narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Elect one.”
For the first time since the meeting began, Joe smiled smugly. “Already did.”
“What do you mean you already did?” Tye said.
“Tyler, we’ve never felt the need for a mayor before.” Maize sighed as if the lack of such an official made them all somewhat illegitimate. “So we’ve never had to hold an actual election. And at this particular point it seems much more important to have a genuine mayor already in office than to go through all the fuss and bother of a complicated election.”
Tyler thrust his hands out in front of him. “Wait. Hold it. Stop.” He shook his head. “I thought you said you already elected a mayor.”
The group exchanged condescending glances.
“We did,” Randolph said. Then he shrugged. “More or less. At least we talked to a lot of folks around town. Everyone agreed the committee should choose the first mayor.”
“It’s really pretty simple, Tye,” Sam said patiently. “Before we can become a proper city—”
“Civilized,” Maize chanted.
“Respectable,” Henrietta chimed.
“—we need to get all these little details ironed out,” Sam said. “Like a mayor and whatever else comes along.”
“I see,” Tyler said slowly. He feared he was indeed getting an inkling of what was going on. And he didn’t like it one bit. “What does all this have to do with me?”
Again the gathering traded looks.
Randolph drew a deep breath. “Tyler, my boy, we think—”
“Or rather, it’s our considered opinion—” Henrietta said.
“After a great deal of thought—” Maize added.
“Oh, just spit it out.” Joe glared. “We want you to be the damned mayor.”
“Damned mayor is probably the most appropriate term I’ve heard here,” Tyler said under his breath. He studied the faces eyeing him expectantly. “I am honored. Thanks…but no, thanks.”
Joe groaned.
The ladies gasped.
Randolph sighed heavily.
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”
“Why not?” A hundred reasons, a thousand legitimate excuses flew through his mind. “First of all, I haven’t been home for years.”
“That’s exactly why we want you,” Henrietta said eagerly. “You’ve spent all that time back East, going to school.”
“You got more book learning than anyone in the county,” Joe said grudgingly.
“What about the schoolteacher? Mr. Robinson?” Tyler said, a note of triumph in his voice.
Sam snorted. “No backbone.”
Randolph shrugged. “No spirit.”
Maize nodded. “And he’s not really one of us.”
“Okay, but there must be someone else.” Tye searched his mind for another likely candidate. “What about Maize? She’s a respected member of the community and a good businesswoman besides.”
“Why, Tyler, how sweet.” Blotches of pale red blossomed on her face.
Joe shook his head in disgust. “She’s a woman, Tye.”
Tye winced at the look on Maize’s face.
“What does that have to do with anything?” she snapped, the blush of embarrassment quickly turning into a flush of anger. “Need I remind you, Mr. Simmons, women have been voting in this state for nearly twenty years.”
“Dammed foolishness too,” Joe muttered.
“Now, Maize.” Randolph’s tone was conciliatory. “No one is saying women aren’t qualified to handle a job like this.” A snicker erupted from Joe, and Randolph directed him a warning glare. “But we did all agree Tyler is the right person for this position.”
“Sorry, folks.” Tye rose to his feet and paced the short distance across the room. “I’ve been away from here for five long years. First, I wasted my time going to college, then traveling Europe, all at the insistence of my aunt and uncle.” He stopped, placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted was to ranch the land my folks left me. Now I’m back, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Big Jack thought you’d be the right man for the job,” Sam said quietly.
Tye groaned and sank back into his chair. If his uncle was behind this, Tye didn’t stand a chance. Big Jack and Aunt Lorelie had given him a home after his parents died when he was twelve. It was right after they’d lost their own child, and they’d treated him like a son. Which was exactly why, after years of fighting, he’d grudgingly given in to the idea of attending a snotty Eastern university. The grand tour of Europe after graduation was yet another part of his doting guardians’ plan for his life. And even though he was a grown man, he loved his aunt and uncle and was willing to set aside his own wishes for their happiness. But this latest proposal…
“No.” Tye shook his head vehemently. “I don’t get it anyway. Why this sudden desire for respectability and civilization?”
“Can’t say I care one way or the other,” Joe mumbled.
“We’re heading into a new century. Miracles are being invented every day. The world itself is getting smaller,” Sam explained.
Randolph bobbed his head in agreement. “Once people recognize the benefits to be found in our wide-open spaces, mark my words, the population of the West will boom. Why, in a year or two, Wyoming will even be a state.”
Henrietta sniffed. “Just as good a state as any in the East.”
Maize nodded eagerly. “We need to show residents of the big cities that civilization doesn’t stop at the Mississippi.”
“We want to attract new business and new people,” Randolph added.
“It’s a question of progress,” Sam said.
“A matter of growth,” Henrietta said.
“Business,” Maize added.
“Pride.” Randolph pounded the table with his fist. “And…respectability.”
“And we got to have a mayor to be respectable,” Anna Rose said.
“I don’t want to be mayor,” Tye said through gritted teeth. “You said it yourself. My uncle’s always pretty much run things. Why change?”
“Jack agrees with us,” Randolph said firmly.
“We need you, son.” Sam smiled in a matter-of-fact manner.
Tye stared at the gathering. He’d known these people his entire life. He also knew that if this was what his uncle wished, he could struggle all he wanted but it would be a waste of time.
Big Jack was a powerful force in this part of the territory, and he’d never arbitrarily impose his will on his nephew. But Tye knew that his uncle—and his aunt too, for that matter—would work on him with the dedication of a dog worrying a bone, the same way they’d worn down his
resistance to going off to school, and in the end he’d throw up his hands in defeat. Tye had a will of iron, but no one could beat the combined efforts of Jack and Lorelie Matthews. And they were his soft spot. It was almost easier to give in now and accept the inevitable.
Tye leaned back in his chair and considered his options. There weren’t any. Well, hell, how bad could it be anyway?
He heaved a defeated sigh. “What exactly would I have to do?”
Sam grinned broadly.
Randolph smiled benevolently.
The ladies twittered.
And Joe emitted a grunt that might have passed for approval.
“There’s any number of things this community needs to start working on,” Maize said.
“But that’s in the future,” Randolph added quickly. “For now, we just need you to represent the town at official civic functions.”
“And present the key to the city to distinguished visitors.” Excitement colored Henrietta’s voice.
“What key?” Tye laughed. “What distinguished visitors? Just who do you think is coming to Dead End?”
“Empire City,” Maize corrected.
“Well…” Randolph began, and Tye narrowed his eyes in curiosity.
“Well…” Randolph repeated.
“You said that,” Tye snapped. He studied the older man. What was going on now?
Henrietta sighed with exasperation. “For heaven’s sake, Randolph, just tell him. I don’t know why you don’t say it outright.” She turned to Tye with sparkling eyes. “It’s quite the most delightful thing that’s ever happened to Dead End.”
“Empire City,” Sam amended.
“What is?” Tye’s tone was cautious.
“Royalty, Tyler.” Maize flushed with excitement. “A real live English countess is coming here. To Dead End.”
“Empire City,” Tye said absently, his mind struggling with the absurdity of her statement. “Why would a countess be coming here?”
Randolph grinned. “She’s touring the West. We got a letter a month or so ago asking about accommodations in Dead End.” Pride puffed out the banker’s chest. “It seems someone in her party heard about the beauty of the territory and she wanted to see for herself.”
“The hotel really isn’t up to royal standards, so they’re going to stay at Big Jack’s place,” Maize said.
“I got rooms,” Joe muttered.
“Hah.” Maize cast him a lethal glance. “No respectable human being, let alone an English countess, would consider setting one foot into that…that…that brothel of yours.”
“It’s not a brothel,” Joe said loftily. “It’s a saloon.”
Maize snorted her disbelief. “And I suppose those girls of yours are all waitresses?”
Joe narrowed his eyes in an unspoken threat. “My girls are—”
“Stop it now, both of you.” Sam cast them a stern glance.
Tye sighed to himself. The public debate about the actual duties of Joe and Anna Rose’s girls was nothing new. But privately, everyone knew exactly what the girls did and how they earned their money.
Sam turned to Tye. “At any rate, Tye, the countess is arriving tomorrow. We’ve got a big welcoming ceremony planned with a band.”
Tye scoffed. “A band? Where did you round up a band?”
“Well, it’s not an actual band,” Henrietta admitted.
“More like an accordion, a couple of fiddles and a mouth organ,” Joe said, shaking his head contemptuously.
“And tomorrow night,” Sam declared, ignoring the interruption, “Big Jack is hosting a huge celebration for the countess and her party.”
“We thought you could bring that English friend of yours,” Maize said eagerly.
Tye stared at the group. “Why haven’t I heard anything about this?”
“Tyler, you’ve been home for two months now,” Randolph said. “And you’ve spent all your time on your ranch. Today is, what, the second time you’ve come to town?”
“Third,” Tye muttered. And if he’d only known about this scheme, he wouldn’t have come in today or ever.
“Tyler.” Randolph leaned forward earnestly to emphasize his words. “The point is, we see this visit as the first step toward the changes we want in this community. If this woman is impressed, we could get a lot more visitors, which would lead to business and growth and prosperity. Why, we could be the Chicago of the West.”
“The St. Louis,” Henrietta added.
“The Boston,” Maize said dreamily.
“The Abilene.” Joe glared defensively at the others. “I like Abilene.”
Tye ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He had so much work to do to get the ranch going again that he hated the idea of wasting his time playing mayor to impress some snobby foreign female. Maybe he could enlist Sedge’s help. The man was from England, the second son of a titled family; surely he knew how to entertain a countess. Tye brightened at the thought. Sedge might even take over some of the hosting chores that were no doubt planned for him by the diabolical minds that comprised the Betterment Committee.
Tye held out his hands in a gesture of surrender. “When do I start?”
Randolph grinned triumphantly. “She arrives on the afternoon train. It’s just the beginning of a new way of life for us, my boy, just the beginning.”
Tye rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “And the finish of Dead End.”
The group chorused together. “Empire City.”
“What do we do now?” Jenny said with a weary sigh.
“I’m not certain yet.” Ophelia forced a brightness she didn’t feel to her voice. “But let’s sit here and think for a minute.”
What were they going to do? Ophelia adjusted her parasol and sank onto the huge pile of trunks and traveling cases stacked on the train siding. The heap of obviously expensive luggage had been unloaded from their train, but she and Jenny were the only passengers to disembark. Jenny settled in beside her.
Ophelia glanced around the tiny station, and her gaze fell on a weathered sign propped up against the wall. It proclaimed this wide spot in the road to be Dead End, Wyoming. She wondered if the sign had fallen and no one had bothered to put it back where it belonged. She wouldn’t be at all surprised. Anyone who lived in a place called Dead End no doubt had little ambition or civic pride.
Her gaze wandered upward, and she stared in surprise. The sign apparently hadn’t fallen after all. It had been replaced. A newly painted plaque announced a new name.
“Empire City,” she said under her breath. For some odd reason, the new name lifted her spirits. Surely a community called Empire City had far more to offer an enterprising young woman such as herself than anything called Dead End. Why, if there was a decent gambling parlor here, she could probably make enough to get them back on their feet and headed once again toward the distant goal of settling down.
“Oh, dear! We thought you weren’t coming.” A short, balding man came out of the office and scurried toward them. “What I mean to say is, we got your telegram and canceled everything.”
Ophelia and Jenny traded glances. Ophelia eyed the clerk cautiously. “You canceled…everything?”
“Yes indeed.” The bald head bobbed up and down. “Although I am delighted to see your plans have changed.”
“Yes, well,” Ophelia said vaguely. What on earth was this man talking about? “Plans do tend to do that now and then.”
“Everyone will be so thrilled.” The little man fairly beamed with excitement.
“They will?” Confusion colored Jenny’s words. Ophelia threw her a warning glance. Best not to say too much until they figured out what was going on here.
“Of course. Why, the whole town has been planning this since we first heard you were coming.” The clerk stopped abruptly and gasped. “Dear Lord, I’m sure I’m not doing this right.” He swept low in an odd imitation of a bow or a curtsy or possibly something never before seen. What kind of strange town had they stumbled into? “Your majesty.”
“Your majesty?” Apparently, the man had mistaken Ophelia for someone else.
“That’s not right, is it?” He shook his head in a worried manner. “None of us was quite sure how to address a countess.”
“A countess,” she repeated slowly. Jenny nudged her and glanced toward one of the trunks. Ophelia followed her gaze, and for the first time noted that a crest marked each piece of baggage. Below the crest was the name Bridgewater. Ophelia extended her hand in a gracious manner. “My lady is acceptable.”
Jenny threw her a sharp glance, and Ophelia smiled a silent admonition for her to keep still. The clerk grasped her hand and babbled incoherently, apparently caught up in the thrill of being the only one in Dead End or Empire City or wherever they were to greet the arriving countess.
Eventually, sanity seemed to return to the little man, and he glanced curiously around the station. “Where is the rest of your party?”
Ophelia shrugged and sighed. “They were delayed.” Jenny raised a brow at Ophelia’s newly acquired English accent. “I daresay we will meet up with them at a later date. For now”—she rose with as majestic a manner as she could muster and gave the man a beneficent smile—“I assume our accommodations are still available?”
“Yes, of course. You were going to stay at Big Jack’s place, just a short drive out of town.” He cast a questioning glance at Jenny.
“This is my…lady’s maid,” Ophelia said quickly. “I assume arrangements can be made for her to be lodged as close to my own quarters as possible?”
“Of course, my lady.” The clerk executed his quirky bow once more, turned to leave, then turned back. “If you’ll pardon me for just a minute, my lady, I’ll arrange for your ride.” He bobbed again and took off, his enthusiastic mutterings trailing behind him. “Imagine, she’s actually here. And I met her first. Who’s going to believe…”
“Your maid!” Sparks of outrage shot from Jenny’s eyes. “You get to be the countess and I get to be the maid?”
“Well, you couldn’t be the count, dear,” Ophelia said absently, her gaze following the flustered clerk.
“But the maid,” Jenny moaned.
The Emperor's New Clothes Page 2
