Marblestone Mansion, Book 9

by Marti Talbott

  Matt and Dale found paradise!

  The hardworking residents of Salina, Kansas were not pleased. Nevertheless, they learned to put up with the brothers, and once a week, people donated to a food basket just to keep them out of their gardens.

  After they finished their breakfast, the brothers started down Babbling Brook Lane for town. There was always something interesting to see in town, and with any luck, the sheriff would be too busy to run them off.

  “We’d not have to walk, if you hadn’t killed Peaches,” said Matt. It wasn’t all that far to town, but Matt resented walking just the same. A few trees and bushes grew alongside the fenced lane, but for the most part, the land was covered in tall Indian grass where sheep and cattle were allowed to graze. Occasionally, they passed a field in which a local farmer had planted his crop, but there were not many of those on their side of town.

  “I killed Peaches?” Dale scoffed. “You rode her last.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did too.” Dale abruptly shoved his brother and nearly made him fall. “I was all the way off her by the time that stupid horse fell over dead. She was a hundred years old anyway.”

  “A hundred? No horse I ever heard of lived past fifty.”

  “If only Pa hadn’t run off with the widow Percy. We could be riding her horse.”

  Matt enthusiastically nodded. “And eating her flapjacks instead of yours.”

  “Why do you figure Pa did that?”

  “He liked her better than us, I suppose. Anyway, we don’t need him. He was always wanting us to work.”

  “That’s true,” Dale agreed. “Hurry up, the train is coming.”

  Matt’s idea of hurrying was to take longer, exaggerated strides. “I thought we were going to watch Beth Ann swim in the river this morning?”

  “Well, stupid, look at the sun. It is well past morning. Besides, I’ve got a better idea.”

  “You haven’t had a better idea in your head for nearly half a year…not since we put a bee in Mrs. Hammond’s bonnet.”

  Matt remembered that day well, and grinned just thinking about it. “That was dazzling of me.”

  “Not that dazzling. Pa nearly skinned us alive.”

  Matt glared at his brother. “Because you told him we done it. You got the biggest mouth this side of the Mississippi River.”

  Dale shoved his hands in his pocket, kicked a rock and started to pout. “Pa got a switch and made me tell him.”

  “And look what happened. The Sheriff made us pick beans for three whole days instead of taking us to jail.”

  “We’d be happy if it weren’t for the sheriff.” Dale kicked another rock and then stuck his tongue out at a cow that looked like it was watching them.

  As they reached the edge of town, the mention of the sheriff made them both pay more attention to their surroundings. They paused to look at a ladies’ hat in a shop window, decided they didn’t like the bird on top, and then paid no attention to the barber shop, although both could have used a haircut. Matt started growing facial hair the year before, but it wasn’t enough to pay attention to, and Dale was still wondering and waiting for the time when he could call himself a man. It was taking forever.

  Before long, they made it all the way through town to Union Station. They were in luck…the train had not yet arrived. Outside the station was a bench where travelers could sit and rest while they waited for the next train. It was Matt and Dale’s favorite place to relax after their exhausting walk through town, and that’s exactly where they were when they first encountered the duchess.

  *

  The duchess discovered Salina, Kansas quite by accident.

  Naturally, she could not mail a copy of her book to the editor of the Colorado Springs newspaper, or to Gloria for that matter, with a Cleveland postmark on the package. Therefore, three days previously she dressed in her new blue traveling suit, packed a few necessities in her bag, and slipped out of the hotel lobby before anyone arrived to take pictures. It was liberating and the driver that came to take her to the train station was very attentive. Being seen and admired made her feel more alive than she had in months. She badly needed the time away, even if it took two days by train to reach her destination.

  Sending the books from Denver was sheer genius; at least she thought so. What a panic it was sure to cause when the MacGreagors and Whitfields believed she was hiding just a short distance away – ready to snatch their precious Blair from them at any moment. The duchess delighted in imagining Hannish rushing off to look for his first wife. Even if he somehow found her, the duchess did not fear him. Why should she? His clan had a senseless edict that forbid men to hurt a woman or a child out of anger, and Hannish would be more than angry – he would be enraged.

  The duchess mailed her packages and thoroughly enjoyed her overnight stay in Denver. In the hotel lobby, a handsome gentleman introduced himself and invited her to dinner. She readily accepted and then proceeded to entertain him in her usual flirtatious flare, and stories of a life she had not truly lived. No finer time was had by either of them. When he suggested a play after dinner, she was eager to agree and when he took her back to the hotel, she was truly sorry to be leaving town. Nevertheless, staying in Denver was completely out of the question.

  It was on the train trip back to Cleveland that the direction of her life took a sudden turn. The duchess was enjoying her seat near the front, and was happily recalling the events of the previous evening, when the train came to an unexpected stop.

  The conductor looked terrified when he opened the door to the passenger compartment and shouted, “Get off the train this instant!”

  “Why?” a man asked as he helped the woman seated next to him get to her feet.

  “Just get off!” the conductor demanded. “Get as far from the train as you can!” He opened the door, hopped down, pulled out the portable steps, and began helping the passengers step down.

  Naturally, the duchess didn’t see the urgency, nor did she take kindly to having someone disturb her perfectly pleasant journey. She waited until everyone else was gone and then took her time getting off. The air was a bit stifling, the sun was bright and when she realized she left her parasol inside, she started to go back to get it.

  The conductor abruptly took hold of her arm. “Madam, you must get away from the train.”

  “But…”

  He had a no nonsense expression when he said, “No buts, Miss, just follow the others and be quick about it.” He put his hand on her back and gave her a good shove.

  Instantly furious, she walked a few steps and then turned her glare on him. If she recalled correctly, she once shot a pushy conductor like that one. Unfortunately, she also recalled ending up in a Colorado prison because of it. The duchess gave no further protest and followed the other passengers to a bright red train station, complete with a red roof and a red bell tower. She found a stretch of shade beside the station, ignored the two gangly teenage boys sitting on a bench gawking at her, and then turned around to look back at the train. Everything looked normal to her, and except for collisions or derailments, trains were hardly ever dangerous. It was all a hoax, she was convinced.

  When she finally happened to notice him, she found the man standing beside her quite a sight. He had a round face, plenty of brown hair, a round belly, and a bit of a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He tipped a one size too small derby hat to her and she nodded in return. The duchess tried not to stare, but she hadn’t seen such a sight in years. Had his head grown, or could he simply not afford a bigger hat? He wore long pants, a striped jacket and a vest that did not match either his jacket or his vest. On his feet were two-toned brown and white spectator shoes. Even more fascinating was his handlebar mustache. It curled downward into his short beard instead of up, and made him look like a walrus. The duchess almost laughed out loud.

  “What do you suppose is the matter?” she composed herself enough to ask.

  He kept his eyes on the train as he absentmindedly began to twirl th
e tip of one side of his mustache, as though he could eventually train it to point up. When he stopped to motion toward the train with his hand, his mustache sagged again. “A stuck valve, I suspect.”

  It was so uproariously funny; she had to turn away, which caused her to unintentionally look at the rudely ogling brothers. She gave them a disapproving look and then turned back. “What does a valve do?”

  “It releases the steam when the boiler gets too hot. When the valves do not work, the boiler explodes.”

  This time it was the duchess who had a twinkle in her eye. “Oh, I do hope it explodes.”

  The stranger eyed her for a moment, decided she wasn’t serious and began to laugh. Even his laughter was comical, for it began with a wheeze and ended with a rat-tat-tat. At length, he calmed down enough to say, “The name is Marcus Reginald Jolly, Reggie for short.”

  She offered her hand. “Mrs. Rebecca Lyons, widow for short.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.”

  “Then you are alone, for I am not.”

  “Well said, Madam, well said, but pray, do not let my wife know I agree.”

  “Mr. Jolly, everyone needs at least one tedious marriage.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Well, we cannot learn from our mistakes if first we do not make them.”

  He pushed his hat back a little, thoughtfully scratched his forehead, and then pushed his hat back in place from behind. “I have never heard words as wise as that.”

  “I am not often called wise,” the duchess honestly admitted. “How long do you think it will take to fix the boiler valves?”

  “Hard to say. Unless there is someone on the train who knows how, they shall have to…”

  Just then, the conductor made his way to the passengers. “Sorry, good folks. Looks like we’re stuck here until the railroad sends a man to…” he paused in midsentence and stretched out his arm to shake the hand of the man standing next to the duchess. “Sheriff Jolly, good to see you again.”

  “Sheriff,” the duchess mouthed. She thought to quickly dart away, but decided that would draw suspicion. She was not thrilled to see the pushy conductor either, but a sheriff?

  “Harold, good to see you again as well.” Sheriff Jolly turned to face the other passengers. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we’ve got plenty of empty rooms at the hotel and you are more than welcome. Soon as I make a few calls, we’ll have buggies come take you into town.”

  “Is it safe to get our traveling bags,” a man among the passengers asked.

  “It will be in an hour or so after the boiler has cooled. We’ll send your luggage to the hotel,” said the conductor.

  That passenger was not happy, but neither were several of the others. They mumbled and grumbled among themselves, but short of walking or hiring a rig to the next town, it didn’t look like there were any other options.

  Conversely, the duchess was not that unhappy. She was tired, hungry, and in no hurry to go back to Cleveland. “Where are we precisely?”

  “Welcome to Salina, Kansas, Mrs. Lyons.” Sheriff Jolly glanced behind him and then frowned. “If you will excuse me, I have business to attend.”

  She watched as he sauntered over to the brothers and then put his hands on his hips. It did nothing to flatter the view of his backside and she tried desperately not to giggle.

  “Matt, Dale, you know very well this bench is for the guests. Get along with you now, and don’t let me catch you here again.” He was not surprised when the brothers took their time standing up. “I got a row of beans with your name on it come harvest time.” That made them move faster, and in no time at all, they disappeared around the back of the station.

  “Every town has their vagabonds, Mrs. Lyons, and we have been blessed with those two, unfortunately.” He took her hand, wrapped it around his arm and escorted her toward several carriages and automobiles parked beside the station.

  “Are they dangerous?”

  “The Fifer brothers have never harmed anyone as far as I know, but they tend to pester our good citizens from time to time.” He helped her into an automobile that had a white star painted on the side. “I shall be right back.” He closed the door and then hurried off to make his calls inside the train station.

  She was far from comfortable sitting in a car that represented the law, but for a sheriff, Mr. Jolly seemed a little too round to have chased many criminals. She could surely outrun him, and that put her mind at ease considerably. In no time at all, he came back, and opened the door on his side of the automobile.

  “Ever been to Salina before?” Sheriff Jolly asked. He put a foot on the floorboard, and with one hand on the back of the seat and the other on the steering wheel, he hoisted his bulky frame in and plopped down in the driver’s seat.

  “I do not believe I have.”

  “I’m not surprised. We were pretty important during the Colorado Gold Rush. The best way for easterners to get to Colorado was through our town, but things settled down after all the claims were staked.” He started the engine, waited a moment until the motor had an even beat, and then pulled out of the parking lot as he spoke. “Before that, we had our share of troubles with the Indians, but the bushwhackers were the worst.”

  “What are bushwhackers?”

  “Men who were unhappy about the outcome of the Civil War. They came out west and tried to take our land without paying for it, but we sent them packing. After that, the town saw cattle drives and all that came with it, but our women objected to the…” he paused to think of just the right word.

  “Painted ladies?”

  “That’s as good as any way I can think of to say it.” Sheriff Jolly turned down a wide street in the heart of town. “This is Santa Fe Avenue. You’ll find most everything you need in the shops on this street.”

  The duchess marveled at the pea green cable car running down the center of the street. “You have a cable car?”

  “We do, although it doesn’t go far enough to be much use to some folks.”

  “You have a theater too, I see.”

  “A theater, a courthouse, barbershops, and even a business college. Ah, here we are.”

  The duchess hung on to her hat and then leaned back to look up at the six-story National Hotel. It was much larger than she expected to find in a small town.

  “This here hotel has a hundred rooms with electric lights, telephones and steam heat. I suspect you’ll be wanting one with a bath. They have thirty rooms with baths, which is why I brought you here myself – so you could get ahead of the others.”

  “How very thoughtful of you, Marcus Reginald Jolly, Reggie for short.”

  “Reggie will do. Everyone calls me that, even my wife. What do they call you?”

  “Mrs. Lyons.”

  He grinned, struggled to propel himself out of his seat, walked around the back of the automobile and opened the door for her. “You need anything, you just ask. The National Hotel has a reputation for keeping its patrons happy, so I am confident you will find everything to your satisfaction.” He walked her to the door and then tipped his hat once more. “I best get back and help the others. You need me, just call the courthouse. They always know where to find me.”

  The duchess watched him drive away, looked up and down the street, and then took a deep breath. After the hustle and bustle of Cleveland, the peaceful little town of Salina was indeed a breath of fresh air. The street was not very clean and each vehicle driving down it kicked up its share of dust, but she didn’t even mind that. There was not a cloud in the sky, the people seemed to be smiling and just as she started to go inside, a little girl reached for her hand.

  “Smoky is going to love you,” the child said.

  “Who is Smoky?”

  “My brother. He’s a fireman. Did you know the firemen make five extra dollars if they are the first one to reach a fire?”

  “I did not know that.”

  “It’s true, the Mayor said so. My brother needs a wife and you sure are pretty.”

  �
��Thank you, but I am not in need of a husband. What is your name?”

  “Evelyn Mercer, what’s yours?”

  “Mrs. Lyons.”

  “Lyons? That’s a funny name.”

  “I suppose it is. Well, Miss Mercer, I best go inside before all the rooms are taken.” She dismissed the child as a nuisance, went inside, got a room with a bath on the top floor and waited for her luggage to arrive.

  Just down the street from the hotel, Matt and Dale were still awestruck over the beautiful woman who had just come to town. “I’ll marry her, or my name ain’t Matt.”

  “I saw her first,” Dale boasted as he tried to step in front of his brother. Matt immediately shoved him out of the way.

  “Did not. I bet she comes back out.”

  “Of course, she’ll come back out, everyone does.”

  “I mean soon. She’ll come back out soon,” said Matt.

  “How soon?”

  Matt rolled his eyes, waited for a team of horses pulling a wagon to pass, and then led the way across the street to their favorite barrel perch in front of the general store. He sat down, removed his hat and checked to make certain there was a crease in it. He always admired a good crease and considered it the best way to attract a woman.

  From her window, the duchess could see a winding river and as soon as her luggage arrived and she was settled, she thought to hire a buggy and see the sights. That’s just what she did; only she sure didn’t expect the driver to be the sheriff.

  “Have you no criminals to capture?” the duchess asked as he helped her into the two-seater buggy. Both of them ignored the still gawking and now drooling brothers across the street.