With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel

by Amanda Cabot

  Tears of joy filled Laura’s eyes. “You don’t know what this means to me, Doctor. Thanks to you, my dreams are coming true.” She pressed a kiss on the baby’s forehead before looking back at Elizabeth. “There’s no way I can repay you, but if there’s anything I can do for you—anything at all—all you have to do is ask.”

  23

  She had never had a favorite month, never even thought about it, but this year November was turning into the most wonderful month Elizabeth could imagine. Other than Sheila’s death, it had been filled with happiness. Louella had gained weight more quickly than Elizabeth had expected, perhaps as a result of Laura’s constant attention and love, and so Elizabeth had released the baby to Laura and Lloyd’s care only four days after Laura had asked to adopt her. Jason had agreed to handle the paperwork, but even before the adoption became official, it was clear that Louella was thriving in her new home. Even Phoebe, who’d expressed surprise that anyone would want Sheila’s baby, admitted that everything was turning out well for the orphaned girl.

  And, to Elizabeth’s surprise, when she had confronted Phoebe about Sheila’s corsets and the probability that they had contributed to her death, Phoebe had admitted that she’d made a mistake. “It won’t happen again,” she promised. “And there will be no more ergot, either.”

  Elizabeth had left the bordello with a grin as wide as Wyoming Territory on her face, thrilled by Phoebe’s concessions.

  Just as wonderful, both of her sisters now had firm dates for their return to Wyoming. Charlotte’s training would conclude on the first of December, which meant that she, Barrett, and David, the precious nephew Elizabeth had met only once, would arrive by the middle of the month. Abigail and Ethan would be a bit later, but they would be in Cheyenne before Christmas.

  That was cause for rejoicing, but there was more. Elizabeth touched the edge of the curling iron, testing the temperature before she reached for another lock of hair. Though she normally wore her hair in a simpler style, Gwen had convinced her that an evening at the Opera House was special enough to warrant curls. Even if Elizabeth didn’t agree with Gwen’s assertion that Jason intended to propose marriage tonight, the midnight blue silk gown she was wearing demanded a more intricate hairstyle.

  She glanced at the mirror, admiring the result. The gown, one of Charlotte’s creations, was magnificent, and the curls added softness to Elizabeth’s face. But it wasn’t the finery that made her eyes sparkle. It was the thought of her official courtship. Though it had been only a little more than two weeks, they had been the most memorable of Elizabeth’s life. She and Jason had done the same things they’d done before. They’d shared cakes in the afternoons, occasional suppers at night, and he walked home with her every day. It was different this time, though, for they talked—they really talked.

  Instead of trivialities, they shared their hopes and dreams. Elizabeth learned that, although he would handle all kinds of law, Jason wanted to specialize as a defense attorney, ensuring that falsely accused citizens received justice. She told him of her desire to uncover more of the mysteries of women’s bodies so that her patients could live longer, healthier lives. They both spoke of their desire for children, with Jason admitting that he still believed children needed a full-time mother. And through it all, Elizabeth’s regard for Jason grew. He was kind; he was thoughtful; he was everything she could ask for in a man. Jason was the man of her dreams. What she did not know was whether he loved her enough to accept the fact that she was not the kind of wife and mother he had once dreamt of.

  Anticipation surged through Jason’s veins as he turned the carriage onto 17th Street. Tonight would be a once-in-a-lifetime event. Tonight was the night he would ask the woman he loved to marry him. He’d visited Mr. Mullen’s store this morning and had found Elizabeth’s ring. Though he’d gone with no preconceived ideas of style, when the jeweler had shown him a tray of diamond rings, Jason’s eye had lit on one, and he’d known it was the right one for Elizabeth. It wasn’t the largest or the most expensive, but the instant he saw it, Jason could picture it on Elizabeth’s hand. A modest center diamond was circled by a row of smaller ones, and as he turned it, the stones caught the light, reflecting rainbows of color.

  “A wise choice.” Mr. Mullen fingered his moustache when he saw Jason’s interest in that particular ring. “It will be beautiful on your lady’s long fingers.”

  For a second, Jason was confused, wondering how the jeweler knew that Elizabeth had long, slender fingers. Then he recalled the day he’d borrowed the Mullenses’ boat. Mr. Mullen had met Elizabeth that day, and—just as Elizabeth admitted she looked at even strangers as potential patients, searching their expression and their demeanor for signs of illness—Mr. Mullen had undoubtedly given Elizabeth’s hands a more than cursory glance.

  “You’re right,” Jason told the jeweler as he paid for the ring. “This is perfect for Elizabeth.”

  Now, approaching her home, he smiled at the thought of placing that ring on Elizabeth’s finger. Normally she wore no jewelry other than the watch that she kept pinned to her bodice, but after tonight, he hoped she’d wear his rings. First this one, the symbol of the future they would share, and then the wedding band that would mark their union.

  It couldn’t have been a more perfect evening. Though the weather was cold, the sky was clear, highlighted by a sliver of a moon and thousands of twinkling stars. It was the perfect evening for a concert at the Opera House, and when that was over, it would be the perfect evening for a drive through the park.

  Jason had it all planned. After he claimed the night was too beautiful to waste, he’d take Elizabeth to City Park. Once they were there, he’d tell her how much he loved her and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing her just how deep that love was. He would ask her to be his wife, and when she said yes, he would slide the ring onto her finger. And then . . . then he would press his lips to hers.

  Jason’s smile broadened at the thought of their embrace. He’d wanted, oh, how he’d wanted to kiss her again, but every time he’d come close to pulling Elizabeth into his arms, something deep inside him had told him to wait. It was right that the next kiss they shared would be that of a betrothed couple.

  Looping the reins over one of the hitching posts in front of the new Landry Dry Goods store, Jason grinned at the sight of Rose peeking out of a second-story window. Gwen’s daughter would announce his arrival by racing around the apartment. At least that’s what she’d done the last time, working herself into a frenzy, or so Harrison had claimed. But his friend would not be there tonight. He’d told Jason that he had been banished so that Gwen could fuss over Elizabeth. She had no need for fussing. Even when she’d been exhausted from her vigil over Louella, her hair coming undone, her dress bearing stains from the baby’s tendency to spit up the last ounce of milk, Elizabeth had been beautiful.

  “You’re here!” Rose opened the door and tugged on his hand. “Come see Aunt Elizabeth. She’s bootiful tonight.”

  And she was. Jason stood in the doorway, his pulse racing at the sight of the woman he loved dressed in a magnificent gown of dark blue silk. Though the bodice was modestly cut, the rich color highlighted the creaminess of her skin, skin that he knew was softer than the silk. Elizabeth had been beautiful before, but tonight her beauty surpassed everything in Jason’s experience.

  He cleared his throat as he tried to form words. “An attorney’s never supposed to be speechless,” he told Elizabeth, “but I don’t know what to say. You’re more beautiful than ever.”

  The color that rose to her cheeks only enhanced that beauty. “Thank you. It’s the magic of Charlotte’s gown.” She gestured toward the blue silk, as if she truly believed it was the source of her beauty.

  “I won’t get into that argument again. Just let me say that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” And if the evening ended the way he hoped, that beautiful woman would soon be his betrothed. Jason reached for Elizabeth’s cloak and settled it over her s
houlders. “Shall we go? I wouldn’t want us to be late and disappoint the other concertgoers.”

  “What do you mean?” It was Gwen who asked the question. Jason gave her a quick glance, noting that she looked prettier than he recalled. While no one could compare to Elizabeth, ever since Harrison had asked her to marry him, Gwen had blossomed.

  “Elizabeth and I have seats in one of the boxes.” Jason smiled at the woman he loved. “You and your gown will be on display.”

  “A box at the opera house!” Gwen laid her hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “You’d better hurry, and make sure you remember every detail so you can tell me. I imagine it will be very different from my evening at the Opera House.” Gwen wrinkled her nose. “When your sister and I went there, we sat in the last row. That was all I could afford.”

  The box might seem like an extravagance to some, but Jason hadn’t minded the cost. He’d chosen box seating deliberately, wanting Elizabeth to have no doubts about his sincerity. He was proud to be in her company, and he wanted all of Cheyenne to know it.

  “You’re spoiling me,” she said as they descended the steps.

  “That is my intention.”

  When they reached the street, Jason helped Elizabeth into the carriage, then climbed into the driver’s seat. As he flicked the reins, another coach barreled down Ferguson, headed toward them. It wasn’t unusual to see other carriages on the street, but this one’s speed was unexpected. Moreover, it should have been on the opposite side of the road.

  “That’s Phoebe’s landau.” Elizabeth laid a restraining hand on Jason’s arm. “I wonder why she’s here.”

  A second later, the carriage lurched to a stop, and a girl leaned out.

  “Dr. Harding,” she cried, her voice shrill with emotion, “you’ve got to come. Something horrible happened.”

  “You don’t need to come in with me,” Elizabeth said as she and Jason approached Phoebe’s bordello. When she’d heard Katie’s plea, Elizabeth had rushed back into the apartment to grab her medical bag; then she and Jason had followed Katie and Phoebe’s driver back to 15th Street, racing as if it were a matter of life and death. Perhaps it was. Katie would say nothing more than that Elizabeth was needed in Phoebe’s suite, repeating the word “horrible” several times.

  When they arrived, the girl who’d summoned Elizabeth to Sheila’s side only a few weeks before leapt from the landau and hurried to Jason’s carriage. “Come, Doctor. Around the back. That’s where I heard the noise. I was too scared to go in.”

  Elizabeth nodded. No wonder Katie had been unable to give her details of what had occurred.

  “I’ll be fine,” Elizabeth assured Jason with false bravado as he helped her out of the carriage. The truth was, she was concerned about whatever had spooked Katie. The girl had always seemed sensible. Even when Sheila had been dying, Katie had remained calm, but tonight she seemed close to panic.

  Jason shook his head. “I’m not going to let you go in there alone. We don’t know what happened.” He handed Elizabeth her medical bag, then put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close for a second. “You can send me away once I see that you’re safe inside. I’ll wait in the carriage until you’re ready to leave. You won’t be alone.” He repeated the words that had comforted Elizabeth when she was struggling to keep Louella alive.

  “Thank you.” Though she hadn’t wanted to ask Jason to accompany her, believing it would be an imposition and yet another reminder that her profession was interfering with his plans for the evening, Elizabeth felt a sense of relief that she would not be alone when she faced the cause of Katie’s panic. Perhaps Katie was mistaken. Perhaps whatever had happened was not serious, and Elizabeth and Jason would be able to reach the Opera House before the concert began.

  Elizabeth shivered as they rounded the corner and approached the back of Phoebe’s house, apprehension mingling with the cool November air.

  “This way, Doctor.” Katie pointed toward the outside entrance to Phoebe’s apartment.

  To Elizabeth’s surprise, the door was ajar, and though the breeze was carrying most of it away, there was no mistaking the smell of blood. Katie had been right to believe something was wrong. Her heart sinking at the realization that she might be too late to help, Elizabeth approached Phoebe’s parlor.

  “Someone has lost a lot of blood,” she said softly, in case Jason did not recognize the smell.

  He nodded, then pushed the door open for Elizabeth. She entered the room, trying not to recoil at the sight. A lamp cast its warm yellow glow over the room, revealing a crystal decanter and two glasses set on a low table in front of the tapestry-covered settee. A potted plant with a few blossoms decorated a tall plant stand. Everything seemed normal, so long as Elizabeth did not permit her gaze to move to the floor. She had feared death, but it was worse than she had expected, for not one but two bodies were sprawled there.

  Nelson Chadwick lay in the center of the room, his legs bent at an awkward angle, his sightless eyes staring at the ceiling. He had been dead for a few minutes. Elizabeth knew that instantly, just as she knew that the cause of death was the stab wounds he’d sustained to his chest. The slit shirt and the bloodstains on its previously snowy front told her that. Though there was no sign of the weapon, Elizabeth suspected a knife.

  “Poor Nelson. He didn’t deserve that.”

  Jason was right. Knowing there was nothing she could do for Nelson, Elizabeth turned toward the second body, dreading what she would find. Like Nelson, Phoebe did not deserve violent death. No one did. The blonde-haired woman who’d proudly placed her name on this building lay facedown a few feet away from Nelson, a pool of blood spreading beneath her.

  There was no way of telling whether she was still alive, but Elizabeth said a brief prayer as she knelt next to Phoebe, carefully turning her over. Oh, Phoebe! Elizabeth shuddered at the sight of the pale face and closed eyes. The knife embedded in Phoebe’s chest left no question about the source of the blood.

  “She killed him! She killed Mr. Chadwick!”

  Elizabeth turned, startled by the shrieking. Though she had thought Katie had remained outside, it appeared that she had entered the room behind Elizabeth and Jason. “I heard voices,” Katie screeched. “I heard arguing. Then someone fell.”

  Elizabeth gave Jason an imploring look as she placed her stethoscope on Phoebe’s chest, hoping against hope that the woman was still alive. She did not need a frantic woman shouting while she tried to treat a patient.

  Jason grabbed Katie’s arm. “Dr. Harding and I will take care of this,” he said sternly as he marched Katie through the interior doorway and into the hall. “You go back to whatever you were doing. And don’t say anything to anyone until the sheriff arrives. He’ll want to talk to you.”

  It was a futile request. Elizabeth knew that, but she didn’t care. What mattered now was saving Phoebe. For, though she had lost a large quantity of blood, she still clung to life. Her breathing was so shallow that her chest barely moved with each inspiration, but so long as she breathed, Elizabeth had hope.

  “I think the knife may have punctured a lung,” she told Jason when he returned.

  Though his face whitened at the implication, he nodded. “Do you need help?”

  She shook her head. She had handled knife wounds as part of her training, although this was the first time the victim had been a woman.

  “Then I’d better get the sheriff before he hears a distorted view of what happened. Are you sure you’ll be all right until I return?” Jason asked, inclining his head toward Nelson’s body.

  Elizabeth nodded. “It’s not my first experience with death.” Although it was the first time she’d encountered violent death. Moving as quickly as she could, Elizabeth cut away Phoebe’s gown and corset before removing the knife. The gush of blood that she’d feared did not happen, but the wound was deep and would need to be sutured. And then there was the blood loss. Elizabeth had seen patients die after losing less than Phoebe had.

  Saying a sil
ent prayer as she kept her eyes focused on Phoebe, Elizabeth cleansed the wound site and began to suture the gash. Fortunately for Phoebe, the knife appeared to have missed her heart, though Elizabeth’s first diagnosis had been accurate and Phoebe’s left lung had been punctured.

  “Oh, Phoebe, what happened?” Elizabeth murmured as she took tiny, careful stitches to close the wound. There was no answer, but she hadn’t expected one. Phoebe was so near death that she was unable to speak, and as far as Elizabeth could tell, she was unaware of her surroundings. Given the amount of blood she’d lost and the seriousness of her condition, that was a mercy.

  While her fingers moved mechanically, suturing the layers of skin and tissue, Elizabeth’s brain continued to whirl. The girls had told her that while Phoebe rarely entertained men, there were one or two special customers who were admitted to her suite. Nelson must have been one of them. But if that was true, Elizabeth could not imagine why Phoebe had killed him. Though she didn’t know Nelson well, he had always struck Elizabeth as a peaceful man. And though Phoebe had a quick temper, Elizabeth had never seen any signs of violence. Phoebe tended to be more bluster than bite.

  Elizabeth tied a suture and clipped the end. It could have been a lovers’ quarrel. She’d heard tales of them. But though that was possible, something still did not feel right. Elizabeth simply could not imagine Phoebe killing a man and then trying to take her own life.

  “In here, sheriff.”

  Elizabeth turned at the sound of Jason’s voice. He ushered a tall, very thin man with graying brown hair and shrewd brown eyes into the room. After he’d acknowledged Jason’s introductions, the sheriff walked around the room, his expression grave. Though he did not touch either body, Elizabeth had the impression that his eyes were cataloging everything.