David frowned. “I don’t suppose that lady would go in with Mrs. Evans and let another man take her place?”
“I highly doubt it,” McLeary said primly.
“Well, what are the other gents doing?” David tried to remain calm and sent Millie a glance he hoped she would take as reassurance.
“I told the last three they’d have to sleep in the barn. I’m only charging a dime out there.”
“Then I suppose that’s where I’ll be tonight. But you certainly can’t send Mrs. Evans out there.” David took his wallet from his inside pocket and took out two one-dollar bills. “Here. Mrs. Evans shall have the room you spoke of. And don’t you think for one instant of putting anyone else in there with her.”
Millie grasped his sleeve, but not before the station agent had seized the money.
“Oh, you mustn’t. It’s too much.”
“I know it’s too much, but it’s the way it is.” David fished in his pocket for a dime and handed it to McLeary. “That’s for me.” He pulled Millie aside. “Do you have enough left for supper?”
“Yes.” She looked down at the floor, her face coloring. “Thank you.”
“Good. Have a pleasant evening.” He walked away in search of his own meal, knowing McLeary and his family would speculate mightily over this friendship. He wished he’d been more alert and taken care of the lodgings first thing.
He wasn’t surprised when Millie approached him later. Outside, the rain continued to fall and the wind howled. The passengers who had rooms retired early. The men who’d been relegated to sleep in the barn sat around the dining room stove, telling yarns and drinking coffee or whiskey, as their preferences fell. David kept quiet but listened with half an ear.
About eight o’clock, Millie came down the stairs and asked the agent’s wife if she might get a cup of tea. While she waited, she looked David’s way. He made himself turn his gaze away quickly, but most of the other men were ogling her. Millie was wearing the lovely gown she’d worn in Scottsburg. He wondered why she had put it on in this rustic place. Was she out to snare a man this evening?
“My, don’t we look fine?” Andrews murmured.
David shifted in his chair and took a swallow of coffee.
A moment later, Millie was at his elbow.
“Excuse me, Mr. Stone. If you don’t wish to speak to me, I understand, but I thought perhaps we could have a word.”
As David rose, Andrews winked at him, but David ignored him.
He followed Millie to the far end of the room, near the kitchen door, carrying his coffee mug with him. He pulled out a chair for her at the end of one of the tables and sat down kitty-corner from her.
“You’re looking very elegant this evening,” he said.
“Thank you. I didn’t like to wear this dress, but my traveling clothes needed washing so badly, I felt I should take advantage of the stop. This is the only thing I had available that wasn’t in dire need of laundering.”
“Aha.” What she said made perfect sense—his own stock of shirts was getting quite soiled, but he’d had no opportunity to have them laundered lately, and he was sure he smelled no worse than the other men they traveled with. At least Millie had a washbowl in her room where she could rinse out a few items.
“I hope you won’t think I put it on to taunt you.” Her lovely green eyes studied him anxiously.
“Because you were wearing that frock the last time I saw you? In Scottsburg, I mean?”
“Yes. That and…well, your niece must have told you it was her dress.”
“I seem to recall her saying as much. But she didn’t know how you could have come by it.”
Millie’s cheeks went scarlet, and she looked down at her hands. “I took it from her luggage in Eugene. Her friends were taking her trunks to their house to keep for her, and I—I took it from their wagon.”
David nodded. Rob and Dulcie Whistler, who had escorted Anne to Eugene in her search for him, had surmised as much.
“I regret the action deeply,” Millie said, “but I haven’t the means of making restitution just now.”
David wished she hadn’t brought it up. Or had he been the one to steer the conversation? No matter—they were both thoroughly embarrassed now. But that was progress, wasn’t it? He doubted Millie had known how to be ashamed when she’d first worn the dress. Here she was, talking of restitution.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sure Anne doesn’t expect anything of the sort.”
“No, but it was wicked of me. I see that now. Perhaps you could give me her address, and later on I could send her the cost of the gown.”
“No need.” Hearing from the thief who stole her belongings was probably the last thing Anne wanted now. And Millie would no doubt be staggered to learn the cost of that gown. Anne had probably had it sewn by a skilled modiste in London or Paris.
“But I would feel better, sir.”
“Perhaps she would feel worse.”
“Oh.” Millie eyed him pensively. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. You’re saying it is kinder not to remind her?”
David shrugged. “Let the past go, Mrs. Evans. That is my advice.”
“I’ve sought to do that, but it’s been difficult.”
“Yes, I can see that.” He took a sip of his cooling coffee.
The mistress of the house bustled in from the kitchen with a tray and set it down beside Millie.
“There you go. Sorry it took so long, ma’am.”
“It’s quite all right,” Millie said. “Thank you.”
“Ten cents, please,” said Mrs. McLeary.
“Oh.” Millie’s eyes went wide, and a panicky look drew her mouth in a pucker.
David reached automatically for another coin. “I’d like more coffee as well, please.”
“Certainly, sir.” Mrs. McLeary accepted his money with alacrity and headed into the kitchen again.
“I’m sorry,” Millie said. “I didn’t think she would charge me for a cup of tea, after I’d paid full price for supper.”
“Ah, but that was more than an hour ago.” David smiled. “These folks have us over a barrel, as the saying goes, and they seem eager to take advantage of that.”
“Well, thank you for your courtesy and generosity.” Millie looked anxiously toward the window. “This storm! What if it doesn’t let up?”
“Then we may be here awhile.”
She winced, and David could almost read her thoughts.
“Don’t fret, Mrs. Evans. I have enough to see us both through.”
Tears stood in her eyes when she turned to face him. “But I shall owe you such an awful lot.”
“There now, don’t weep on me. I’m running out of handkerchiefs.”
Her startled look made him chuckle. The hostess returned with the coffeepot and topped off his mug. David lifted it and winked at Millie. “To good weather.”
Her smile was only a bit watery as she lifted her teacup. “And a swift journey.” He noted that her hand trembled as she took a sip.
Merrileigh Stone could scarcely wait to see her brother again. She’d persuaded Randolph to take her to a large, noisy party thrown by a woman her husband detested. Mrs. Simwell held a rout once each season and invited far too many people. Her father had made his vast fortune in coal, and many of the aristocrats snubbed the couple. But Chester Simwell was a likable man, the younger son of the younger son of a knight. Barely in the upper class. Yet he was so much fun that the men of the ton embraced Chester and tolerated his wife when they couldn’t get around it.
Randolph took a few turns about the dance floor but tended to slink off into a corner with a few of his cronies to chat with a glass of punch in his hand. Merrileigh danced a couple of times, but mostly she worked her way around the room, conversing with dowagers and watching the door for her brother. Peregrin had promised her by way of a note that he would see her at the Simwells’ tonight.
Midnight was nearing before he arrived. As soon as he’d greeted the hostess, Merrile
igh pounced. She knew his habits. If she didn’t corner him quickly, Peregrin would slide off into the card room, and she wouldn’t see him again before dawn. She seriously doubted Randolph would last that long.
“Perry! Come here.” She plucked at the sleeve of his rather flamboyant blue velvet tail coat and practically dragged him into the adjoining room. It held a pianoforte and a few chairs, and Mrs. Simwell referred to it as the music room.
“What’s got you in a dither, Merry?” her brother asked. “Don’t tell me. It’s about David Stone.”
“Shh. Yes.” Merrileigh closed the door and unclipped her reticule from her sash. “I’ve got thirty pounds more for you.”
“Really?” His eyes lit. “How did you get it?”
“I told Randolph I needed a new corset and shoes for tonight. Of course, my old corset doesn’t show—it will last for some time yet—and he was good enough not to pay any mind to my shoes this evening. He never noticed they are the same pair I bought last fall with new buckles.” She hiked her skirt a few inches and smiled down at her kid slippers.
“A most accommodating man, your husband,” Peregrin said with a saucy grin.
“I think so sometimes. I’ll tell you, I was very surprised he came across for me. I think he’s happy because Albert is doing so well at school.”
“Ah. So we have your son to thank for this piece of good fortune as well.”
“Indeed.” Merrileigh took out the cash Randolph had given her the day before and handed it over. “I was afraid he would say no or tell me to have the bill sent to him. So I told him I wanted to be sure I didn’t start incurring debts for him, and he seemed to think me a considerate and frugal housewife.”
Peregrin guffawed and then looked quickly over his shoulder toward the closed door. “Sorry. Now, I take it you want me to put this with my bit for tonight?”
“Only if you feel lucky.”
“All right. I’ll see how things are going.”
“Perry, if you’re losing, you’ll walk away from the table, won’t you?”
“Yes, darling. Don’t worry. And whatever I win, I’ll put it all on Pastiche tomorrow?”
“Yes. Everything. If we win tomorrow, we’ll have enough to send a man to New York and intercept David.”
“But if we lose? Merry, can you stand that?”
“I…don’t know. Just don’t tell me how much you have tonight unless you’ve kept even or worse. If you come out ahead…”
“Oh, I see. You won’t miss it if you don’t know how much it is?”
“Something like that. And you mustn’t breathe a word to Randolph. He’s not above betting now and then himself, but he’d kick up an awful fuss if he knew what I am up to.”
“No fear.” Peregrin leaned down and kissed her cheek just as Merrileigh’s friend, Lady Eleanor Fitzhugh, opened the door of the music room.
“Oh, excuse me—dear me, Merrileigh! It’s you and your brother. I thought I’d interrupted a tryst.”
Merrileigh laughed. “Nothing so exciting, my dear. Just catching up on things with Perry. We don’t see enough of each other these days.”
“That’s right,” Peregrin said, edging toward the door. “I’ll drop by and see the kiddies one day this week, Merry. Oh, and do tell Randolph I want to see his new shotgun.” He nodded with a dazzling smile toward Eleanor and ducked out.
Eleanor frowned. “Dash it, I wanted to make him promise to dance with my Cornelia. She thinks he’s ever so handsome.”
Merrileigh grinned. “Well, he is.” For the moment, she was inordinately pleased with her brother, and with herself. “I suppose Randolph is looking for me. He’ll want to go home as soon as supper is over.”
“I thought this party was a little better than the usual Simwell standard, didn’t you?” Lady Eleanor asked as they glided toward the door.
“Oh, I don’t know….” Merrileigh realized she’d been too focused on her scheme with Peregrin to pay much attention to the decorations, the music, or the other guests’ evening wear.
“Did you see the flowers in the little drawing room?” Eleanor took her arm and led her back toward the crowd.
CHAPTER 14
David lay wrapped in a blanket in the hayloft in the barn. Below him, the extra horses from the stage line’s stalled coach teams snorted and stamped. Four other men had staked out spots in the mounds of loose hay and burrowed in for the night. The rain drummed on the roof for the first hour, but then it let up.
Maybe they’d be able to cross the river in the morning. David sent up a quick prayer to that effect. The delay in Idaho, where they’d buried Sam Hastings, had been less depressing than this place. And less expensive.
Thinking of money made him think of Millie. He wished she’d leave him alone. Yet he anticipated seeing her again in the morning. Would she wear the drab traveling dress, or would she enter the stagecoach in Anne’s gown? The men in their party had thronged her as soon as she and David had ended their conversation. The dandy—Andrews—was bolder than the others. He’d tried to draw her into conversation and had even offered to buy her a drink. Millie had brushed him off with the rest by giving a cheerful goodnight and escaping to her room. That had made David feel perversely contented.
Now he pondered the things she’d said to him over tea. Since they’d left The Dalles, she’d told him several times that she was truly sorry for what she had done in Scottsburg. To all appearances, her penitence was real. Why couldn’t he accept that? He supposed it was his male pride that still stung.
She’d said tonight that she prayed for him—that all would go well for him. That bothered him perhaps more than his attraction to her green eyes and appealing face. How could he think she and God were on speaking terms? That seemed a little farfetched to him, knowing she’d lived for some time by stealing and deceit. Shouldn’t he be the one praying for her?
He’d watched her on the stagecoach, and honestly, he hadn’t seen any behavior on her part that he could criticize—other than asking him for money. He hated it when acquaintances approached him for loans. In the old days, he would have given her a set-down.
The only thing was, now he knew the cruelty of the West. There was a sort of unwritten code of chivalry out here. Not all the men he met were gentlemen, but very few would leave a woman stranded in the wilderness when they had the means to help.
David rolled over in the hay, comforting himself with that knowledge. He hadn’t helped her because she was Millie. He’d have done the same for anyone.
But she was Millie. And this Millie held up well under strain and hardship. She exhibited great patience and discretion. And her green eyes danced through his mind whenever he tried to sleep.
He just wished he could know for sure that she was telling the truth and that she had really repented. She’d mentioned reading his Bible. Was that true, or had she said it to gain his sympathy? He pressed his lips together in a firm line. A bewitching smile wouldn’t fool him again. Still—if he knew she’d truly settled things with the Almighty, would he feel differently about her? He told himself he would not, but he couldn’t be certain he believed that.
One of the other men coughed and rustled about in the hay. David wondered what these rustics would say if he told them they were sharing their hay mow with an earl. He smiled in the darkness. They wouldn’t believe him, not a man of them.
Millie rose early. The stage station was packed to the rafters with stranded travelers waiting to cross the river. The agent and his wife had their hands full, and this might be the one time during her journey when she stood a chance of earning some money. Her brown traveling dress was still damp around the hem, but she put it on anyway.
She tiptoed down the stairs and through the dining room. Two men had spread their bedrolls on the floor near the stove, and she didn’t want to awaken them. She pushed open the kitchen door. Sure enough, Mrs. McLeary was coaxing the coals in her cookstove into life. Her eyes were rimmed below with dark circles, and her shoulders had a weary stoo
p to them. Millie eased into the room and shut the door softly.
“Good morning.”
Mrs. McLeary jumped and dropped her poker with a clatter loud enough to wake everyone in the house.
“I’m sorry.” Millie hurried forward to pick it up for her.
“What do you want?” Mrs. McLeary eyed her suspiciously. “Breakfast won’t be served for another hour.”
“I thought perhaps I could help you this morning.” Millie smiled. “You have so many guests, surely you could use a bit of help setting the table or serving coffee—anything that will ease your load, ma’am.”
“Well…” The hostess’s eyes narrowed. “Can you make biscuits?”
“Oh yes. How many do you want?”
“Ten dozen.”
Millie smiled. “Give me an apron, and point me to the lard and flour, ma’am. The first batch will be ready by the time you have the oven hot.”
Mrs. McLeary opened a cupboard and tossed an apron to her. “Good, because I’ll be hard-pressed to fill those men up. My hens only gave eight eggs this morning. Maybe I should charge extra for the eggs.”
Appalled, Millie tried to stay calm as she tied the apron strings. “You seem to have plenty of side meat. Perhaps you could scramble the eggs and give them each a small portion. Or if you have plenty of potatoes, I know a recipe for an egg and potato dish that goes well in the morning. Oh, a bit of cheese helps it.”
“Yes, I’ve got spuds and some cheese,” Mrs. McLeary said grudgingly. “I guess that would be all right.”
“Marvelous. And have you any dried apples?”
When the men started filtering to the dining tables an hour later, the women were ready with mounds of biscuits, a large crockery bowl of applesauce, fried bacon, and a large pan of what Mrs. McLeary told them was “my special breakfast ramekin.” It gave off such a tempting odor that all of the diners accepted a portion.
Mrs. McLeary scurried into the kitchen with an armful of empty dishes. “Is the new coffee ready? My, they like your egg-potato dish, Mrs. Evans.”
Millie, who was elbow deep in a pan of dishwater, smiled. “Oh, I’m glad. And yes, I think that pot of coffee should be just about drinkable by now.”
THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy Page 75
