“Oh, I’m sure there’s no need for the constable,” Reed said quickly.
“What else would you recommend doing?” Dan asked. “It seems likely that Mr. Stone was injured. If he never came in last night….”
“But Mr. Stone is an unpredictable man. He’ll come here for a day or two and then go off to his mining claim. When he comes back, we open the suite for him again. Next thing you know, he’ll be off to Eugene or who knows where.”
Reed glanced toward the desk clerk, as if for confirmation. The young man, who leaned on the counter chewing a wad of spruce gum, nodded emphatically.
“But you saw him last night,” Anne said.
“Well, yes,” Reed replied. “He had supper in our dining room with Mrs. Evans.”
“Mrs. Evans?” Anne asked. “Who is she?”
“Room 202.”
“You mean she’s a guest in this hotel?” Dan asked.
“That’s right, sir. She’s been here three or four days. Proper lady, I assure you.”
“And she’s acquainted with my uncle?” Anne frowned at him. This was the first she had heard of a woman connected to David.
“I wouldn’t know if they were acquainted earlier, ma’am, but they’ve dined together the last several nights.”
“I…see.” Anne glanced at Dan, unsure how to proceed.
Dan cleared his throat. “She’s not the same woman who ran out of here a moment ago, is she?”
“I couldn’t say, sir,” Reed said. “We’ve had some supplies delivered, and I was out in the kitchen.”
“It was her,” the desk clerk said laconically.
“I knew we should have stopped her,” Anne said. “How could she have come by that dress? I’d hate to think she and Hastings robbed the Whistlers when they left Eugene.”
“Oh really,” Dan said. “Do you think they’d go so far? I mean…dresses look alike.”
“That one was custom-made in Paris last winter, and I haven’t seen the same material since we crossed the Atlantic. I’m saying it was my dress, Daniel. Not that it looked like my dress, or that I think it may be my dress. That was my dress—one I left in my trunk on Rob Whistler’s wagon in Eugene. And now that Millie person has it.”
Dan held up both hands. “All right, I’m convinced. I’ll go for the constable.”
Anne felt some mollification but also some shame at behaving so forcefully in public. Her intention was to learn the truth, not to humiliate Dan.
“I’ll get him for you,” Whitey said. He’d hung back during their conversation, but now he stepped forward. “It looks like it may be a while before you find ol’ David, and I expect I ought to get back up to my cabin. But I can swing by the constable’s and let him know you need him over here.”
“Thank you,” Dan said. “That would be very helpful.”
“Yes, Whitey. Thank you very much.” Anne held out her hand and squeezed the old man’s fingers gently. “We so much appreciate your help and hospitality.”
The old man nodded and ambled toward the door. Just as he reached the threshold, it occurred to Anne that they hadn’t decided what to do about Sam Hastings’s horse. They couldn’t let Whitey ride off with it. Maybe he was shrewder than she’d realized—offering to fetch the constable and then head home while she and Dan were too distracted to think about the dubious ownership of the horse.
“Dan, do you think—”
Whitey’s piercing yell cut her off.
“Hey! Come back here, you!” He shot back inside and scrambled toward them. “Somebody done stole my horse!”
As David reached for his jacket, a soft tapping came on the door. His heart accelerated. He stepped over to the door and waited, listening.
“It’s me.” Another tap.
He threw back the bolt and opened the door. Ernie ducked inside and closed it.
“Those people—they found blood on the floor in your room. I must have missed a spot when I cleaned up.”
“Oh great.” David grimaced. Now what?
“They’re talking to the manager, insisting he call the constable in.”
“Well, I was thinking I’d get out of this room anyway. The question is, should I sneak away or should I reveal everything and trust the constable to protect me? I’m not too confident right now, knowing the man who tried to kill me is still out there.”
“I don’t know.” Ernie looked down at the pitcher of water in his hands, as if suddenly realizing what he carried. “Oh, I brought this as an excuse. And I have to get right down there. The dining room is open. But that woman keeps claiming you’re her uncle, and—”
“What woman?”
“The one who was in your suite. She insists she’s got to find you, and if Mr. Reed won’t do something, she will.” Ernie walked across the room and exchanged the pitcher of water for the half-empty one on the washstand.
“She said she’s my niece?”
“That’s what I said.” Ernie turned and scowled at him.
“Did she give a name?”
“I don’t know. I only heard a tiny bit myself, and the rest I got from a waiter. It’s chaos down there right now, which is why I figured I could dash up the back stairs and warn you. They’re making a to-do about the blood, and now some guy is claiming his horse was stolen.”
“I think I may have witnessed that,” David said.
“Really? So what do you want to do?”
“I think it’s time I met this woman who claims to be my niece.”
Ernie grimaced. “I’d love to see that, but if Reed sees me outside the kitchen…”
“Can you send someone to help me get downstairs?”
“How about I just help you back to your suite? Then when they come up to look at the blood spot…”
David clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a genius.”
Ernie helped him into his jacket, and David pocketed his wallet and pistol. “All right. Let’s go.”
He hobbled down the hallway, leaning just a bit on Ernie. When they got to the suite, the door was ajar. Ernie peeked inside.
“Guess they left it open.”
“All right,” David said. “Go on down the back stairs. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
He nodded. “No one’s going to shoot me in front of Mr. Reed.”
Ernie gritted his teeth. “I guess not. Let me know how it turns out, will you?”
“I sure will.”
Ernie disappeared down the hall, and David walked slowly to the settee. He lowered himself to the cushions then took out his pistol and laid it on the seat beside him.
Before long he heard voices and footsteps approaching.
“I assure you, if he were injured seriously, Mr. Stone would have notified us,” the manager said in his most pompous voice. “The fact that he is not in his rooms should tell you—”
Reed came through the doorway and stopped short, staring at David.
“Mr. Stone.”
“Hello, Mr. Reed. What’s all the fuss about?” David didn’t feel like rising, but he could hardly remain seated when a woman entered the room just behind the hotel manager. He pushed upward with his legs and left arm, striving to control his facial expression and not give away his pain.
Reed approached with his hand extended. “Oh Mr. Stone, you’ve no idea how happy I am to see you. How happy we all are.”
“Uncle David?”
He looked at her then and stood still. She was the perfect image of her mother, Elizabeth. Her dark hair was pulled back in sweeping waves under a stylish hat, and her sweet, heart-shaped face took him back years, to Stoneford, leaving him no doubt that she was indeed his niece.
“Anne? How can this be?” He took a faltering step, and she met him in the center of the carpet and grasped his hands.
David ignored the pain and gazed down into her eager face. Could this be the dark-haired little sweetheart he’d bounced on his knee a score of years ago? The achy longing for England and Stoneford that he thought had f
aded to nostalgia reared up and called to him.
“Uncle David, I’ve looked so hard for you!” She burst into tears, and he did the only thing an uncle could do. He drew her into his arms, clenching his teeth against the fiery pain it caused him.
“Anne, my dear, I can’t imagine how you ever found me. But—”
He looked beyond her and Mr. Reed, hoping to see his elder brother accompanying her. What he wouldn’t give for a chat with Richard right now. His brother would know exactly what to do when one was pursued by an assassin and the woman one felt an attraction for turned out to be a blackguard.
Instead of his steady, practical brother, a grave young man hovered, watching Anne with obvious concern, but holding back to permit her a measure of privacy in the reunion. An older man, one with white hair and a long beard, stood in the doorway scowling, his face ruddy against the cottony beard. Whitey Pogue. What was the crusty old miner doing here with Anne?
“You must sit down and introduce me to your friend,” David said. “Mr. Pogue and I are acquainted already.” As an afterthought, he turned to the manager. “Mr. Reed, could we please have a tea tray and some refreshments sent up?”
“Of course, sir. I must say I’m delighted to find you looking so well. We were all worried when you didn’t appear this morning. I hope you’ll forgive me for opening your room to your niece.”
“I’d expect you to do no less.”
“Thank you. I’ll go down to the kitchen and speak for a tray now.”
Reed bustled from the room, dislodging Father Time from the doorway to do so.
Anne, meanwhile, had excavated a handkerchief from her reticule and was wiping her eyes.
“Sit down, dear,” David said tenderly. “Tell me what has brought you here and how the family is doing.”
“Oh Uncle David!” Her tears spurted out again, but she sat and arranged the skirts of her blue velvet riding habit. It looked as though the outfit had seen a great deal of the countryside lately, what with a film of dust over it and dried mud spatters along the hem. Even so, she looked more charming than any of the women he’d seen lately on the frontier—with the possible exception of Charlotte Evans, about whom he would reserve his opinion until he’d had more time to consider her precipitous flight on the stolen horse.
That thought brought him full circle to the white-bearded man, and David gazed at him. “I say, Whitey, was that your horse that was taken from the rail out front not ten minutes ago?”
Pogue’s face went redder, and he blustered, “It most certainly was. That hussy jumped on him and took off without so much as a fare-thee-well. Took my saddle and all the stuff on it, too.”
“And one of my dresses from Angelique in Paris, unless I’m mistaken,” Anne said, “though I can’t for the life of me understand how she got hold of it.”
“How bizarre,” David said.
Whitey turned his hat around in his hands, watching Anne for a cue. “I was about to go fetch the constable for Miss Anne anyhow, because she thought you’d been kilt or somethin’.”
“Oh? I’m sorry I caused you such distress,” David said. “As you can see, I’m alive and well. Mostly well, that is. Won’t you gentlemen be seated, please?”
“How rude of me.” Anne jumped up again. “Uncle David, it gives me great pleasure to introduce Daniel Adams. Dan has been a good friend and a pillar of strength to me since Independence, Missouri.”
“Indeed.” David eyed Adams openly. Anne was obviously indebted to the fellow. Was she in love with him? And did Richard know about him? This bore looking into.
Adams took a seat in an armchair and shuffled his long legs until he at last appeared to be comfortable. Whitey hesitated, sticking close to the door.
“That horse, Miss Anne. Shall I get the constable anyway, even though Mr. Stone ain’t done in?”
“Oh, I…” Anne looked doubtfully toward Adams. “What do you think, Dan?”
“It wasn’t our horse, Whitey,” Dan said softly, as one would tell a child not to take the biggest biscuit. “Perhaps we should tell Constable Owens, but the man who owns the horse is the one he’s got locked in the icehouse.”
“Yes, that horse belongs to Mr. Hastings, like it or not,” Anne said.
“Hastings?” David frowned at her. “Not Sam Hastings from my farm in Eugene?”
“The same, sir,” Adams said. “He followed us here and tried to keep us from finding you.”
David felt rather stupid as he stared at them. “But…whatever for?”
Anne looked uncertainly at Adams, then back to David. “We’re not really sure, except that he tried to impersonate you when we arrived at your farm, and we think he was afraid you’d be angry when you found out.”
“What?” David’s jaw dropped, and he made himself close it. “I don’t understand. Sam? Impersonating me?”
“It’s quite a tale, sir,” Adams said.
“Shall we send Whitey for the constable while you tell it?”
“That may be best,” Anne said.
“I’ll get right over there.” Whitey turned to leave but whirled back for a moment. “Glad you ain’t dead, David.” He slipped out the doorway.
David put a hand to his forehead and laughed. “How did you link up with that old fellow? He’s quite the character, you know.”
“We gathered that,” Anne said. “But he took us in when I was near freezing to death.”
Adams shifted in his chair. “Yes. I truly believe Anne might not have survived the night in the mountains if we hadn’t found Pogue’s cabin. He was generous to a fault with his limited resources.”
“That sounds like Whitey.” David gazed down at his niece. “Now, suppose you begin at the beginning. What induced you to leave England?”
Anne’s bittersweet smile told him her news would not all be pleasant. He reached for her hand.
“It’s all right, my dear. Why don’t you give me the worst of it right now? We’ll fill in the gaps from there. Your parents—I hope they are well.”
Her eyes shimmered as she raised her chin in resolution. “I’m afraid not. Mother’s been gone three years now, and Father…” She drew in a ragged breath. “Father died about a year ago. I’ve been hoping to find you ever since.”
“Oh, poor Anne. I’m so sorry to hear this.” David felt the burning of tears in his eyes. How horrible for the girl to have lost both parents in quick succession. His own affection for Richard ran deep, and he’d been fond of Elizabeth as well, but he had all but cut the ties with his family these last twenty years. For Anne, however, the loss was incalculable.
“We sent letters.” She swiped at a tear with her handkerchief. “Mr. Conrad, the solicitor, was quite diligent about it, but we couldn’t learn where you’d gone when you left St. Louis. So I set out in March with Elise—do you remember Elise Finster?”
“Why, yes, I believe I do. She was employed at Stoneford, was she not? A pretty German girl.”
“Yes indeed.” Anne’s smile broadened. “She’ll be so pleased to hear you remember her. Anyway, she came with me. We found you’d gone to Independence.”
“So you followed me there?”
“Yes. Again we were disappointed.”
“My dear, dear girl. I’m so sorry I neglected to write and tell Richard where I’d gone. That was remiss of me. It was unconscionable.”
“Well, we got a hint that you’d removed to Oregon, so we joined a wagon train.”
He laughed involuntarily. “You and Elise?”
“Yes. It was arduous—and very educational.”
“Quite.” He chuckled again. “I can’t quite take all this in. You and Miss Finster, driving an ox team?”
“We used mules. It was on the wagon train that we met Daniel and his brother.”
David again surveyed Adams.
“Daniel and Hector were very helpful to us and became good friends,” Anne said. “They took up farming near Champoeg.”
Adams nodded gravely.
Anne
continued, a little breathless, “And then Elise got married, and Daniel offered to accompany me to your farm.”
“Elise married…who? Your brother?” David turned a questioning gaze on Adams.
“Oh no, sir, she married the wagon train scout, Eb Bentley,” Adams said.
“Yes, and you’ll like him, I’m sure,” Anne said. “I do hope you’ll be able to go to Eb’s ranch in Corvallis with me and see Elise.”
“Well, I…of course I’d like to see her. But today’s events prompt me to think I should return to Eugene quickly and see what’s going on at my property there. I’ve obviously stayed in the hills too long.”
“Oh, the deputy marshal asked your neighbors to take care of your cattle,” Anne said quickly. “That was after he arrested Sam Hastings for fraud. But he had to let him go….” She shook her head. “I’m telling things all out of order. I’m sorry. But the thing that’s most important, Uncle David, is the thing I most urgently need to tell you. The whole purpose for my journey, in fact.”
“I…don’t understand.” What could be more important than telling him of Richard’s death? And what urgent purpose would retain its urgency for a year?
“It’s…” She inhaled deeply and reached for his hand. “It’s Uncle John, I’m afraid.”
“John? What—”
It hit him suddenly, like an arrow out of nowhere. The thing he’d always considered so unlikely as to be impossible had happened.
“John is dead,” he said.
The confirmation stared at him from her liquid brown eyes.
“Yes, dear uncle. In the Crimea, a year ago last summer. I’m afraid this means you are now earl of Stoneford.”
CHAPTER 22
David rose and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He walked to the window overlooking the street and stood gazing out for a long moment.
Anne looked uneasily at Dan. The slight twitch of his lips was less than a smile, but still an offer of sympathy. They waited together, united in their knowledge. The pain and confusion that faced David now would bring some men to their knees.
THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy Page 55
