The 12 Brides of Summer Novella Collection 1

by Susan Page Davis

  Joe slid into the seat next to Miss Neal. “I hope you’re not too shaken by this unfortunate incident.”

  “It could have been so much worse,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, but. . .”

  “They stole something from your valise,” she said. “Was it important?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He gazed into her sympathetic eyes for a moment. “Thank you. I shall have to disembark at Cheyenne and send a telegram to my employer.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yes.”

  He felt along the edge of the seat and located the break in the seam. After a moment’s probing, he retrieved her brooch and held it out to her.

  “Oh, thank you!” Miss Neal took it and gazed at it. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me. My friend Polly’s grandmother asked me to take it to Polly, and I was afraid I would lose it to those bandits. I don’t suppose it’s worth much, but Polly will be so happy to get it.” Her eyes flickered. “You lost your watch, too, and all your funds, I suppose.”

  He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Not so bad as all that. It was a cheap watch, and I’ve got twenty dollars hidden on my person, so I’ll be all right.”

  Her face flushed, and she whispered, “I have a bit of cash sewn into a seam myself. My mother insisted, and she was wiser than I gave her credit for.”

  “Good.” He picked up the valise from where he had let it fall after the robbers took his parcel. From it he took out a tablet and pencil. He flipped open to a blank white page and began to draw with swift, sure lines.

  “Oh! You didn’t tell me you are an artist,” Miss Neal said.

  “Of sorts.” He glanced at her apologetically. “If you’ll forgive me, this may be important.”

  “Of course.”

  She watched him sketch the face of the robber who had held the sack. Joe hadn’t been able to see his entire face, but he had taken note of the shape of his nose, eyes, and brow, and the full growth of beard that showed on the sides, where the bandanna didn’t cover it all.

  The detective entered the car with a small notepad in hand. The lines at the corners of his mouth bespoke fatigue and maybe some embarrassment at his inability to stop the robbery. He went down the aisle fairly quickly, taking each passenger’s list of stolen items and descriptions of the robbers. When he reached their seats, Joe nodded toward his companion.

  “Miss Neal.”

  While she told the detective about the change purse and small amount of cash she had lost, Joe put the finishing touches on his second drawing. This one wasn’t as good—he hadn’t managed to catch as many details of the gunman’s face. He didn’t even attempt to draw the third man. He had concentrated instead on memorizing enough to make an accurate drawing of one man and a passable likeness of the second.

  “What’s this?” The detective leaned over him.

  “That’s one of the robbers, sir.” Joe flipped back to the previous page. “This is the one who held the bag of loot. His companion called him Bert. If you’d like to come back here after you’ve spoken to the others, I can also draw the gunman’s pistol for you.”

  “That one looks just like the man with the sack,” Miss Neal said, pointing to the drawing of Bert.

  “Hmm, these could be helpful,” the detective said. “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Joseph Logan. I lost some very valuable property, which I was employed to deliver to San Francisco, as well as my wallet and my watch.”

  Joe went to join the other men who were clearing the tracks, and soon the train was once more moving toward Cheyenne. He kept up a conversation with the charming Miss Neal, but his mind kept going over the robbery. If he had put the parcel in his coat pocket, the robbers might not have gotten it. . .or perhaps if he’d stuffed it inside his hat on the overhead rack. Ah, well. Too late to change anything now.

  When they pulled in at the station, Miss Neal gazed out the window anxiously and seized his wrist when the train was nearly halted.

  “There’s Polly, and that must be Jacob with her! They’ve brought the children. Oh, I’m so thrilled to be here.”

  Joe wished he had time now to draw her portrait, with her features so animated. Maybe later—he knew he wouldn’t forget her soon.

  “I hope you have a wonderful visit with them.”

  “Thank you. And again, thank you so much for your help during the robbery. I wish it had turned out better for you.”

  “I’ll be all right.” He said the words blithely, but his heart was heavy. Mr. Becker would certainly not be pleased with his performance.

  “Will you come and meet them?”

  He almost declined, citing the need to get his telegram off quickly. But what difference would a few minutes make? He would not be taking the train on to San Francisco, he was sure.

  He gave Miss Neal his hand down the steps, and Polly Tierney dashed up and swept her friend into her arms.

  “Ava! Your train was so late, and we heard the station master say something about a holdup. What happened?”

  “It’s true,” Miss Neal said, smiling as though the whole thing had been a picnic. “We were robbed. But we’re fine.”

  “Oh dear! You’ll have to tell us the whole story later.” Mrs. Tierney pulled her husband forward. He was cradling the baby in one arm and held a two-year-old’s hand firmly with the other. “This is Jacob, and Harry Clyde, and the baby is Amelia.”

  “How lovely! And I’d like you all to meet Mr. Logan, who was of greatest assistance on the journey since St. Louis, especially during the robbery.”

  Joe greeted them all and turned down an invitation to join them for supper.

  “I’m sorry. It sounds delightful, but I need to send a wire to my employer right away and get his instructions.”

  “Well, thank you for looking after Ava,” Polly said, appraising him with her china-blue eyes. “If you’re in town any length of time, please call on us.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Joe shook hands with Jacob Tierney and turned to Miss Neal. “It’s been delightful. I hope we meet again.”

  She held out her gloved hand. As Joe took it and studied her sweet face, he realized how much he meant those words. But the next moment, Miss Neal took the baby in her arms and Polly led her friend and young Harry Clyde toward the family’s wagon, while Jacob went in search of their guest’s luggage.

  Joe turned away, squared his shoulders, and asked for directions to the telegraph office.

  He kicked around town while waiting for a reply to his brief message.

  Train Robbed Packet And Papers Lost Send Instructions

  There seemed no need to go into detail. Becker and Fixx would see that the telegram came from Cheyenne and would decide what they wanted him to do. The stationmaster informed him that the next eastbound train wouldn’t go through until the next morning, so Joe set out walking, suitcase in hand.

  The city was young and raw, but full-blown in its offering of commerce. Cattle pens spread out beyond the railroad depot. Hundreds of businesses lined the streets, from small shacks with signs declaring them to be gun shops, saddle makers, or grocers, to substantially built hotels and emporiums. Joe hadn’t expected to see a sturdy hardware store flanked by a barbershop and a lawyer’s office. There seemed any number of places where a man could risk his money in a card game or buy a glass of beer. He found a restaurant that offered fresh beefsteak and rhubarb pie. Suddenly ravenous, he entered and sat down on one side of a long table where a dozen men were already eating.

  The tasty meal fortified him, but Joe was still uneasy and knew he would be until he heard from Mr. Becker. He asked the restaurant’s owner for the name of a quiet hotel. After he’d registered, he checked the view from his second-floor window and decided that if this was a quiet hotel, the ones nearer the railroad and stockyards must be noisy indeed. He could count four saloon signs without leaning out the window. The desk clerk had mentioned that Cheyenne was
known as “the gambling capital of the world.” Joe decided to stay in that evening. He couldn’t chance losing the small amount of money he had left.

  But first he must check to see if his employer had replied to his telegram. He wandered back to the train station by a different path and discovered more saloons, dance halls, and gambling dens, as well as a trader who bought buffalo hides and a group of Indian women sitting beneath a canvas roof not far from the depot, selling moccasins, baskets, and other handmade items.

  His telegram came in just minutes before the office was scheduled to close for the night. Joe stared down at the words, his stomach churning.

  Half Pay on Return Employment Terminated

  He shoved the slip of paper into his pocket and trudged toward his hotel.

  Chapter 4

  The next day, Ava slept late and then joined Polly in the kitchen of the snug little frame house on the outskirts of Cheyenne. She ate a hearty breakfast and then held the baby while Polly coaxed young Harry Clyde to finish his oatmeal.

  “Jacob’s taking a stage to Horse Creek,” Polly said. “He won’t be back until this evening. Would you like to go shopping or just rest today?”

  “Let’s take it easy, unless you need something in town,” Ava said. “I’d like to get used to not jostling along and have a chance to get acquainted with your adorable children.”

  Polly got up and went to the stove for the coffeepot. “All right. You must tell me all the news from home, and every detail about the wedding.”

  “It was lovely,” Polly replied. “Sarah was the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. And they’ve gone to New York for their honeymoon. Conrad promised to show her all the sights.”

  Polly sighed. “New York. I’m sure she’ll enjoy it, but I’m afraid I would feel claustrophobic now. Cheyenne is bad enough. Those years I spent on the prairie with Ma and Pa at the stagecoach stop, I learned to appreciate the open land.”

  “Where are your parents now?” Ava asked.

  Polly laughed. “Three streets over. Pa’s got a position with the railroad. He weighs the freight and makes out the invoices.”

  “Sounds like good, steady work.”

  “It is, and I think Pa likes not having to worry about the stock and the Indians and all of that.”

  Ava frowned. “You told me you never had any trouble with the Indians.”

  “We didn’t, where we were. Some of the stations were attacked, but on Pa’s section of the line, we had more trouble with robbers.” She chuckled. “Now they’ve moved on to train holdups.”

  “Yes.” Ava pushed aside the memory of the robbery. “It will be good to see your folks again.”

  “We’ll take the kids over to see Ma tomorrow, if you like. Though it wouldn’t surprise me if Ma showed up here today to check on you. She’s as anxious to see a face from home as I was.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. I have some things from your grandmother.” Ava stood and handed Amelia to Polly. “Here, take her for a minute, and I’ll go fetch them.”

  A moment later she was back in the kitchen with the two books and jar of chokecherry jelly Grandma Winfield had pressed her to carry to Polly. Harry Clyde had been excused and was now playing on the floor with a half-grown puppy they called Spot.

  “Here are your goodies.” Ava laid the gifts on the table.

  “Oh, how sweet of her.” Polly picked up the jar of clear red preserves. “She knows I’ve always loved her jelly, and I can’t find the chokecherries out here.” She opened the covers of the books. “Dickens and poetry. I shall have to write Grandma a nice long letter. There’s talk of starting a public library in town, but I can never lay hands on enough books to suit me.”

  “There’s more.” Ava sat down across from her and held out her closed hand. She opened it, revealing the cameo brooch in her palm.

  Polly gasped. “Grandma sent me her cameo?”

  “Yes. She told me she had especially wanted you to have it, but she didn’t dare send it by post. I guess she was wise in that, though I nearly lost it in the train robbery.”

  “So, they didn’t look in the baggage?” Polly asked.

  “It wasn’t in the baggage. I was actually wearing it, to make sure it wouldn’t get lost.”

  Polly gazed at her with wide eyes. “Did they not think it was valuable then? Grandma always told me this was her most precious piece of jewelry, though I don’t suppose it’s worth an awful lot.”

  Ava felt the heat rise in her cheeks, all the way to her hairline. “Do you remember the young man I introduced you to on the platform? Joe Logan?”

  “Oh, sure.” Polly eyed her carefully. “What about him?”

  “You only have that brooch now thanks to Mr. Logan.”

  “Really?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Ava plunked down in the chair where she had sat for breakfast. There was no getting out of telling the whole tale now. “He rescued it from the robbers. Otherwise I’d have had to toss it in their vile gunnysack.” She shuddered. “I felt so bad about it. I mean, he lost his watch and his wallet, and even the things his employer had given him to deliver.”

  “That’s a shame.” Polly shifted the baby to her other shoulder. “What’s he going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I think he was afraid he would lose his job over it. But even in the middle of that, he helped me save your grandma’s brooch. And afterward, he drew pictures of the robbers for the police.” She smiled wanly at Polly. “He’s quite an artist.”

  “I see he made quite an impression on you.”

  “Well. . .” Ava laughed and waved a hand through the air. “He was nice, and I admit I enjoyed his company, but I’ll probably never see him again.”

  “I’ll try to take your mind off that,” Polly said.

  “By showing me the West?”

  “Yes, but besides that, Jacob and I have several unmarried friends.”

  Ava shook her head. “I came out here to visit you, dear, not to marry a stagecoach driver as you did.”

  “We haven’t got so many drivers now, and the best of those are married, but I’m serious. There’s a fellow at the feed store you might find interesting. I’m sure he’d be interested in you.”

  “Oh, really, I don’t—”

  “Then there are the Crawford brothers. They have a ranch west of here. They’re a little shy, but they’re good men, both of them, and they go to our church. We could invite them over for dinner on Sunday.”

  “Please don’t. I’d feel like merchandise on display.”

  “Well, it’s no secret there’s a shortage of decent, eligible women out here. And you can’t avoid meeting several bachelors at the Independence Day celebration tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? You’re right—tomorrow’s the Fourth. I fear I’d lost track on my trip.”

  “There are going to be speeches and displays and races and a shooting match, all over near the stockyards. There’s a big field where they hold livestock auctions, with benches and—”

  The puppy yipped in the next room, and a clang sounded, followed by a thud. Polly jumped up, holding Amelia out to Ava.

  “Harry Clyde, what was that?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “It’s never nothing.” Polly hurried into the small parlor, and Ava followed. In the middle of the modestly furnished room, Harry Clyde wriggled on the floor, with Spot licking his face. One of the toddler’s shoes lay a couple feet away, beside the fireplace poker. Polly sighed and stooped to pick it up. “At least there’s no fire today. Come on, young man. Let’s get your shoe back on. I think it’s time we took Spot outside and showed Aunt Ava the garden.”

  “And the chickens?” Harry’s eyes lit with excitement.

  “Yes, and the chickens.”

  Ava sat down on the rug beside them. She would rather concentrate on Polly and her family, especially since Joe Logan had no doubt left Cheyenne already. “Will you show them to me, Harry Clyde?” she said. “I adore chickens.”

  Joe packed his few belongin
gs in his suitcase and picked up the leather valise that had held the package. Heading home in defeat did not sit well with him. The one bright spot on this entire journey was Ava Neal, and now he would board a train taking him away from her.

  He ate breakfast in the hotel dining room and walked slowly to the depot, but he was still an hour early for the train. A few yards from the ticket window was the railroad police’s cubbyhole of an office, and on a whim, he stopped in.

  The man behind the desk wore a suit as nice as those the lawyers wore back in Connecticut. Joe pulled his hat off and nodded.

  “Good morning. I’m Joseph Logan. I was on the train yesterday when it was robbed. I wondered if there had been any progress in catching the thieves.”

  The man jumped up and came around the desk. “I’m Dan Colson. So you’re the fellow who drew the sketches.”

  Joe nodded with a tight smile.

  “As a matter of fact, there has been some progress,” Colson said. “The local sheriff recognized the bagman from your drawing as Ed Robbins. They’d had him up before, for theft and disorderly conduct. They nabbed him late last night at his own house. He’s not talking, though, and we haven’t caught the rest of them yet.”

  “Well, that’s something,” Joe said.

  “Yes. And they’ve recovered some money and things from Robbins that they’re sure came off the train—including four pocket watches. I don’t suppose you lost your watch to them?”

  “Yes, I did. But I’d much rather hear they’ve found the packet I was carrying for my employer.”

  “Hmm. Don’t know about that, but Detective Simms might be able to tell you.”

  “Him being the one who was on the train yesterday?” Joe asked.

  “One and the same.”

  “Where could I find him?”

  “He’s set to travel on the eastbound today, and he’ll probably stop in here in—oh, twenty minutes or so.” The man glanced at the clock hanging on the wall near the door. “You can wait for him if you’d like. They’ve got the recovered valuables in the vault over at the bank, until they can sort out what belongs to whom. If there’s time, Simms might let you take a look for your package.”