THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  Every eye was upon her as she entered the dining room. Simmons’s niece turned her way and gaped at her. Millie hid her smile. The waitress probably wondered if she’d spent all her earnings on clothing.

  Millie didn’t see Mr. Walmore, but the pastor and his wife were seated at one of the center tables and already had soup and biscuits before them. Millie smiled at them but didn’t stop to speak. She didn’t want Walmore to see her with them if he should walk in behind her.

  A man who’d been staying at the hotel for several days jumped up and stood in her path.

  “Good day, ma’am. Care to join me?”

  “Oh, no thank you,” Millie said, and she brushed past him.

  She was afraid some of the other guests would come and sit with her—people usually shared tables when the dining room was busy. She took a seat at the end of one of the long tables, with two seats between her and the nearest diner. She avoided looking around at people, so as to discourage them from engaging her in conversation.

  When Sarah came to her side, Millie gave her order for soup and corn pone. She laid a hand on the girl’s arm and leaned toward her.

  “Do you know Mr. Walmore? He’s a guest here.”

  “That new fellow?” she asked. “Funny accent?”

  “He’s the one,” Millie said. “Has he been in for dinner yet?”

  “Don’t think so. I’d have seen him.”

  Millie nodded. “Thank you. Oh, and I’d like a pot of tea, please.”

  The freckle-faced girl arched her eyebrows. “A whole pot?”

  “Yes, please.” Millie smiled at her. She could see that Sarah was trying to work this out in her mind. Millie usually had a cup of coffee with her meal. Few people asked for tea, and even fewer for an entire pot. But then, Millie had never appeared wearing such a fine dress either.

  “Is Mr. Stone coming down to join you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh.” The waitress turned away, frowning.

  Millie smiled to herself and then glanced about surreptitiously. Mrs. Harden caught her eye and gave a slight nod, then looked back at her husband. The door from the front entrance opened, and in came Mr. Walmore. He kept his head down and shuffled between the tables, hardly looking at other people, but taking tiny glances ahead as he searched for an empty seat. When he noticed Millie he started to smile, then winced.

  Millie caught her breath. A red and purple bruise spread over Walmore’s left cheekbone, and the flesh around his eye was swollen and discolored. She’d seen quite a few black eyes in her day—mostly on Sam—but this one was a prizewinner.

  She pushed back her chair and half stood.

  “Mr. Walmore! Won’t you join me?”

  “Oh, uh…Mrs…. uh…Evans, isn’t it? Are you certain you—”

  “Yes. Please, sit down, sir. Are you all right?” She hoped her concern for his injury was enough to atone for her earlier refusal to dine with him.

  His rueful smile was somewhat of a grimace. “I shan’t say it’s not painful.”

  “Dear me, what happened?”

  “Oh, I…I misjudged which way a horse was going to move.”

  “I see.” Millie shook her head. “I don’t suppose you want to see a doctor?”

  “No, it will be all right in a couple of days.”

  She doubted the bruises would fade in a fortnight, but the swelling would probably be gone in less time. The waitress was approaching with a brown teapot on a tray.

  “Well please, go ahead and order your dinner,” Millie said. “And feel free to share my pot of tea. I’m sure I won’t be able to drink it all.”

  “Most kind of you,” Mr. Walmore murmured.

  Sarah set down the teapot and turned to him with a smile. “Help you, sir?” Her smile skewed. “Oh my! That’s a beaut.”

  Mr. Walmore chuckled. “I expect it looks worse than it feels. I’d like some roast beef, if you have it.”

  “Not until suppertime, sir. This noon we have soup and lamb chops and chicken and dumplings.”

  “The chicken, then. Thank you.”

  “Oh, and we’d like an extra cup for Mr. Walmore,” Millie said.

  The waitress flicked her a glance. “There’s cups and things yonder, with the butter and jam.”

  “Right,” Mr. Walmore said, rising. “I’ll get it.”

  He didn’t seem to worry about the fact that Millie had reversed her position by welcoming him at her table. Perhaps he thought she was just being flirtatious earlier when she turned him down. Millie wondered how to bring him around to talking about David without mentioning the gentleman’s name. She decided to pry a little into Walmore’s history first.

  When he returned with his cup and saucer, she smiled across the table at him. “I’m afraid they don’t bring milk for the tea unless you ask them, and I forgot.”

  “Well, when the girl comes back, we’ll put in a request, hey?” If his face wasn’t so colorful and puffy, he would no doubt look very charming.

  “So, Mr. Walmore, what brings you to Independence?” Millie asked.

  “Oh, business. You know. How about yourself?”

  This seemed to contradict what he had told her earlier, when he’d implied that he was a gentleman of means who needed no business. It certainly bore further investigation. “I’m just traveling through. Returning from the West. Uh…what sort of business?”

  He hesitated. “Just looking over some property for a friend. Are you traveling alone? I believe you told me you’ve been helping an invalid?”

  “Not an invalid precisely. One of my fellow travelers was injured in a stagecoach accident, and I stayed here to help.”

  “Oh, I see. That was most compassionate of you.”

  “I don’t know…. It seemed the proper thing to do.”

  The waitress brought Mr. Walmore’s plate of chicken and dumplings. While she set his dish down, Millie dipped a piece of corn pone in her soup and ate it. She wondered if that was considered proper etiquette and shot a glance at her dinner companion, but he wasn’t looking at her. Even so, Millie picked up her spoon and determined to eat as aristocratically as she could.

  “I wonder if we could get a little milk?” Walmore asked the waitress.

  “Milk?” Sarah shrugged. “I suppose so.” She flounced away, clearly baffled that a grown man would wish to drink milk with his dinner.

  As they ate, Millie continued to ply him with questions. Before long she had him telling her about London. None of his stories had to do with industry or business, but rather he told her about parties he’d attended, and his club—which, it seemed, was like a private restaurant for gentlemen—and his friends’ horses and equipages and their impromptu races down Jermyn Street.

  “Your friends must be men of means,” she said, picking up her cup. Over the rim, she glanced toward the Hardens. The waitress was serving them pie.

  “Oh yes, they’re good chaps.”

  “I’m surprised you wanted to leave them and come out here.”

  “Oh.” Walmore sobered and speared a dumpling with his fork. “Well, business. You know.”

  Millie decided she wasn’t going to get anything pertinent from him, and at last she declined dessert and gathered her things. “I must go upstairs and pack. I expect to travel tomorrow. It was pleasant eating with you, Mr. Walmore.”

  “Oh, indeed. Thank you for allowing me to join you.”

  He stood and bowed. Millie gave him a smile and walked away.

  Peregrin ate two pieces of pie and emptied the teapot. He supposed he’d have to go down to the saloon to get a real drink to top off his meal—but would the two thugs let him?

  Sitting through dinner with Mrs. Evans had been an ordeal. What was she scheming at? She’d flat out rejected his invitation this morning, and then she practically forced him to sit with her. If he hadn’t feared that Wilkes and Teddy would thwart him, he would have gone elsewhere for his dinner just to avoid meeting her again. And then she turned all charming.
/>   No matter. Now he needed to formulate a plan. Her chatter had kept him from thinking things through. If he wasn’t going to try to borrow from David, what was he going to do? He needed money, and quickly.

  He couldn’t up and kill the man here, or he’d be found out. On the other hand, if he did, he might be able to lift some funds from David’s person or luggage. And he needed cash if he was going to flee from Baxter’s thugs.

  Carefully he weighed the options. He really disliked the idea of harming Randolph’s cousin, on a purely physical level. However, if he didn’t somehow stop David, Randolph and Merry would never own Stoneford. And he might need their goodwill in the future, not to mention a loan now and then. So he had to do something to keep David from returning to England…permanently.

  But if he hung about Independence too long in order to do that, Wilkes and Teddy would hound him, in which case his own life would be worth less than David’s. That giant, Wilkes, could crush him like a gnat.

  Peregrin touched his cheek gingerly and winced at the pain. He did not want to deal with Wilkes again, but if he lingered until three o’clock, he would have no alternative. The scant three hundred dollars he had left would take him back East. Perhaps that was best. He couldn’t return to New York, where Baxter was, but some other city, perhaps.

  On consideration, it appeared that he had two possible courses of action. He could either flee from his adversaries immediately or stay to carry out Merrileigh’s business. His fear of Wilkes loomed larger and more immediate than his desire to please Merry—tempered as it was with his distaste for completing her charge. He drained his teacup and mustered his courage.

  Millie passed the Hardens’ table and gave a little nod. They appeared to be finished as well. She went into the lobby, if one could call the dim entrance hall that, and waited near the stairs. A moment later, the couple emerged from the dining room.

  “Do you have time to come up to Mr. Stone’s room?” Millie asked.

  “Should we?” Mr. Harden glanced at his wife and back to Millie. “Did you learn something?”

  “No, not really. He never mentioned David or the Stone family. He seems a rather vacuous, lazy fellow who likes to go about with his chums and watch horseraces.”

  “Ah,” said Isabelle Harden. “Perhaps you’ll have to be more direct.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Harden said. “You might have to ask him flat out if he knows Mr. Stone.”

  “I guess it comes down to that if we want to know what he’s about,” Millie said.

  “Speaking of his rather nebulous activities,” Mrs. Harden said, “did he explain to you why his face is so disfigured?”

  “And was it that way the first time you met him?” the reverend asked. “You didn’t mention it.”

  “No, he looked fine this morning. He said something about running into a horse.”

  Isabelle frowned and shook her head, as though she’d never heard anything sillier.

  Millie looked back toward the dining room. “Do you think I should—”

  The door opened, and Mr. Walmore, glorious in his multi-hued bruises, emerged.

  “Mr. Walmore,” Millie called without benefit of further deliberation, “come and meet my friends.”

  He looked at her, startled, and approached, uneasily eyeing the couple with her. “Hullo.”

  Millie put on her brightest smile. “I was just telling Mr. and Mrs. Harden about you.” She smiled at the couple. “This is Mr. Walmore, a guest here.”

  “How do you do,” said Isabelle.

  Mr. Harden shook Walmore’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “Likewise,” Walmore said.

  “When Mrs. Evans told us about you, we of course thought of our other acquaintance here at the hotel,” Mr. Harden said. “Pray tell us, are you acquainted with Mr. David Stone?”

  “I—” Walmore blinked at him, then shot a glance at Millie. “Uh, Stone, you say? Here in this hotel? I don’t believe—”

  “He’s from England,” Millie said quickly. “We thought perhaps you knew him.”

  “Oh. Well, there are lots of people in England.”

  “True.”

  He hesitated. “There was a family…hmm…country estate…well, I wouldn’t say I’m chummy with them, but if that’s the family you mean…”

  “It may well be,” Millie said. “I’m sure Mr. Stone would be happy to make your acquaintance.”

  “Oh well!” Unless she was mistaken, Walmore’s face flushed, but it wasn’t easy to tell because of his injuries. “Er…not sure I know the chap personally. Perhaps…”

  “May we look for you in the dining room this evening?” Millie asked. “Say, six o’clock? You could meet him then.”

  He chuckled, but it sounded a bit nervous. “You Americans eat so awfully early, what?”

  “I suppose we do,” Millie said. “Would seven be better?”

  “Oh no, six is fine. And now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  “Of course,” Millie said.

  The Hardens bade him farewell, and Walmore strode to the front door. He opened it and stood for a moment, looking out. To Millie’s surprise, he backed away from the door and turned about. He kept his head down and didn’t meet her gaze as he walked quickly to the main staircase.

  “Well!” Isabelle said when he’d disappeared above.

  “Well indeed,” her husband mused. “Didn’t want to come out and say he knew the Stones, did he?”

  “No, he certainly didn’t,” Millie said. “What shall I do?”

  “I suppose you should tell Mr. Stone and let him decide whether he thinks it would be a risk to come down to supper.

  “Yes. I can’t think of anything else.”

  “Well, we really ought to go home,” Isabelle said. “I left the girls alone, and they’re good girls, but I don’t like to be gone too long.”

  “Yes, and I must work on my sermon this afternoon,” her husband said. “Please thank Mr. Stone. I’m sorry you didn’t learn something useful.”

  Millie shook his hand and gave Isabelle a brief hug. “Thank you both for your kindness.”

  “You’re welcome, dear,” Isabelle said. “Have a safe journey. Joseph and I shall be praying for you.”

  Millie hurried up the stairs. She had a feeling David wouldn’t be pleased, but there wasn’t much she could do about that.

  CHAPTER 31

  Peregrin hurried to his room and hastily threw all his things into his bags. He could leave word for Millie Evans that he’d been called away suddenly. He had to leave quickly. If he stayed around for a couple more hours, Wilkes and Teddy would pay him another visit and thrash him—or worse. They were lurking directly across the street, in plain view. When he’d looked out, Wilkes had leered at him, while Teddy calmly whittled away at a stick with a lethal-looking knife. Peregrin shuddered and pocketed the stash of money from the dresser drawer.

  Fleeing now would mean he wouldn’t meet David Stone tonight. But if he came face to face with Stone, he doubted he’d have the nerve to go ahead with Merrileigh’s request. No, it would be better to leave before the thugs’ deadline expired.

  He flirted with the idea of going up to David’s room now and introducing himself. But what then? He’d already convinced himself that he couldn’t kill the man in his hotel room and get away with it. He doubted he could steal from him either, without being caught. And one could hardly barge into a fellow’s chamber and say, “Hello, I’m a social connection of your family’s. Would you give me a loan?”

  On top of all that, Merrileigh would be furious if he borrowed from David for his own purposes. And she’d still expect him to turn around and kill the poor man. Why had he ever told her he’d do it? Peregrin clutched his head with both hands. Was he insane?

  Best to make a run for it. If all else failed, he would appeal to Stone, but it seemed horribly bad form to cadge from a fellow you planned to kill later.

  He couldn’t walk out the front door, or they’d see him immediately. Besid
es, his luggage was too heavy to carry all the way to the train station, and it would make him conspicuous. After some thought, Peregrin went downstairs and found the boy, Wilfred, and paid him to go and hire a rig at the nearest livery stable.

  “And tell the driver to be sure and come to the back door,” he said sternly.

  It was almost too easy. He gave Wilfred enough money to cover his hotel bill and a tip. With the rest of the three hundred dollars he’d salvaged divided among his pockets and a five-dollar bill in his shoe, he urged the driver to head out the lane behind the inn and take a back street for the first few blocks.

  He hoped a train would be ready to leave when he arrived, so that he could board it at once, with no waiting about on the platform. He didn’t particularly care where the first train was headed.

  Over and over he played out his conversations with Millie Evans. How close were she and David? If he had gone up to Stone’s room, would she have been there? Maybe he should have stayed and tried to set up David’s “accident” at once. Or if he could have hidden from the thugs long enough, maybe he could have gotten into Stone’s room while he was at dinner. Other scenarios appeared, now that he was out of striking distance. Could he have killed him and taken all his money, so that it looked like a stranger had robbed him?

  The driver pulled up before the depot and climbed down to set his bags out. Peregrin paid him, though it hurt to part with more of his funds. Now to buy a ticket and board a train. He wouldn’t feel safe until the wheels were rolling over the rails.

  He didn’t even make it to the ticket window. Wilkes stepped out from the shadows at the depot entrance and yanked him aside.

  “Going someplace, Walmore?”

  “Uh…” Peregrin swiveled his head and took in Wilkes’s sneer and Teddy’s grim face. “Just seeing off a friend.”

  “Oh, and taking his luggage in for him, were you?” Teddy asked brightly.

  Peregrin’s stomach dropped. He should have taken a steamboat instead of the train. But they probably would have followed him there as well. He let go of the bags, and they thudded to the ground.