Grant watched her a moment, thinking what a nosey, arrogant bitch she was. Her reasons for finding out what she could about Addy were not honorable. She was just plain jealous of Addy’s beauty. But the fact remained there was something very important about herself which Addy hadn’t told anyone. “She was probably afraid to tell us for fear she wouldn’t get the teaching job.”
“Of course,” Ethel nodded. “I know that what happened was not her fault, but the fact remains she could have been horribly soiled by those men. It is also possible she was a part of the whole thing, that the abduction was staged. Maybe she got some of the money.”
“Addy wouldn’t be a part of something like that.”
“How do we know?”
“She’s too educated and refined. What’s Sheriff Page’s opinion?”
“He feels Addy had nothing to do with it, that she was an innocent victim. He claims her reputation is quite honorable, although she was rather an outcast in town because of her Confederate connections.”
“She told us that.”
“But she left out some very important information that we should have been aware of. As far as her knowing some man here, I asked when I wrote if Mrs. Kane might have any male companion that he knows of. The sheriff replied that as far as anyone in Unionville knows, she had no connections or relationship with any man when she left.”
Grant felt some relief at the words, but who on earth could she have been talking to that night after the reception? And what really had happened during her abduction? If the man who had helped her had been killed, why did the outlaws suddenly turn around and let her go free? “Who was the outlaw who ended up getting shot trying to help her?”
Ethel felt proud to know so much, impressed with her investigative talents. “Nick Coleman. The sheriff didn’t describe him.”
Grant stood up, walking to a window and looking downhill toward where he knew Addy’s house sat. “Maybe that one they never found or heard about again took a shine to her and followed her out here. What’s his name? Jack Slater? Maybe that’s who she argued with.”
“Wouldn’t she tell Sheriff Watson?”
“Not if Slater threatened her life.” He looked back at Mrs. Brown. “She’s always behaved as though she was afraid of something, very quiet and reserved, can’t seem to really enjoy herself. Maybe there is another man in her life, but maybe not in the way you thought. Maybe the whole thing is linked together somehow. Either way, I see nothing that would demand we stop her from teaching. I do appreciate your interest in the matter and the fact that you did a little investigating on your own. I may look into it more myself before I say anything to Mrs. Kane, and I would appreciate it if you said nothing to the other women, unless you already have.”
Ethel shook her head. “I felt you should be the first to know,” she answered piously. “I’ll say nothing, if that is your wish, but I feel she should be confronted with this. I want to watch her eyes when she tells us she was not soiled by those men. We’ll be able to tell if she’s lying.”
“If it did happen, it wouldn’t be her fault.” Grant felt a surge of desire at the thought of a naked Addy writhing under him, protesting as he took her, then giving in, coming to enjoy it. Had it been that way with the outlaws?
“I am aware it’s not her fault, but there would always be doubt in the minds of others. It would become the talk of the town and would have to be explained to the children, which would be very awkward.”
“I’ll ask her about it,” Grant replied, “but not until after the picnic. I want her to enjoy herself there. Besides, I want to wire that sheriff in Unionville first and see if I can get a description of the outlaws, maybe figure out who might be bothering her.”
“Well, you can try,” Ethel answered, “but so many new men show up in Central every week, I don’t see how you could make a connection. Half the town are transients.”
“I’ll figure something out, question her myself after the picnic. You keep quiet about it until I tell you what we should do.”
“Certainly.” Ethel wondered just how she was going to do that. She was already bursting at the seams to tell Hester. Maybe that would be all right. Hester could keep a secret. If she promised not to tell another soul—“I hope you don’t think me nosey or feel that I have overstepped my bounds, Mr. Breckenridge. It is obvious to everyone that you are quite fond of Mrs. Kane. We wouldn’t want you hurt by perhaps marrying her and then finding out things about her that might change your mind about her.”
“Oh, I understand,” he answered, you nosey old biddy. Ethel Brown loved nothing more than gossip, putting other people down so that she felt perfect and pious. He doubted she would be able to keep this to herself for long. He would have to wire Sheriff Page right away and get descriptions of the outlaws. He’d send someone down to Denver tomorrow to do just that. “Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Brown. I’ll keep the letter here.”
“As you wish.” Ethel rose and picked up her handbag and parasol. “It’s a lovely day today, a bit chilly, but sunny. I hope the weather holds out for the picnic. It won’t be long after that before winter begins to make itself known.” She walked to the door. “The sooner you decide, the better. School starts in just over two weeks. Oh! How soon is your son coming here?”
“About the same time.”
“That will be nice for you, and good for Central. A new young lawyer in town. Our Sharon will be going off to finishing school next year. With Lee being in real estate, we have lived in many locations, but Lee and I like Central best. I’m sure your son will like it here, too. Of course, you have the best reason of all to stay here—a gold mine!” She looked Grant over, and he could see the admiration in her eyes. If he had any desire for Ethel Brown at all, he had no doubt he could woo her into his bed and she would be flattered. He almost laughed out loud. If she learned the same thing about some other married woman, she would have the news spread over Central so fast the poor “adulteress” would be quickly ridden out of town in tar and feathers.
“Yes, I’ve been a lucky man,” he answered. “Thank you, Mrs. Brown.”
She nodded, obviously elated over what she had discovered. “You’re welcome, Mr. Breckenridge.”
Ethel turned and left, and Grant went to a window to watch her go down the steps to her waiting carriage. He turned and glanced at the letter on his desk. “What is it you aren’t telling me, Addy Kane? And why?” Maybe he’d get his answer from Sheriff Page.
A pistol was fired, and several men, women and children took off in a one-legged race that left onlookers screaming with laughter. Many fell, others argued, all scrambled to reach the finish line first to each receive a two-dollar goldpiece as their prize. Addy watched from a platform in front of the Register office on Eureka Street, sitting beside Grant and other town dignitaries who were sharing the platform for the best view.
She laughed with the others. It felt good to laugh, but deep inside she could not stop thinking about the fact that later she was to have a dance with Cole. It would not be easy to let him touch her and not be able to embrace him. She had been so sure she should not get involved with Cole again, in spite of her promises, until she thought he might have been killed. It was then she realized how much she loved him.
There was still the problem of how to gradually get away from Grant. She would have to be very careful not to anger him. And, after all, he had been very gracious and generous to her.
She had not spotted Cole yet, and wondered if he would think she had dressed just for him. She wore one of her best dresses, orchid and white taffeta. The dress had outsized cap sleeves filled with white lace ruffles, and the bodice was cut just right to show she had a full bosom without actually revealing too much flesh. White lace graced the edging of the bodice, and also fell in a panel down the front of her dress. A fur-lined cape of matching orchid taffeta graced her shoulders to protect them against the cool afternoon, and she wore white, elbow-length gloves. An ivory cameo was t
ied at her neck with orchid ribbon, and the same ribbon in a mass of bows mixed with white lace decorated the crown of her hat. Her hair was swept up at the sides and twisted into a thick braid on top of her head, over which the hat was pinned.
Old Elizabeth Howley had made the dress and hat for her. She had lived up to her reputation among the other women as the best seamstress in town, and Addy had already decided to have the woman make more clothes for her. It was much cheaper than ordering the latest fashions from New York. Such items had to be shipped through Omaha and Denver and on up to Central, which was costly and took weeks, sometimes longer.
Although every woman of importance had dressed as elegantly, if not even more outlandishly, she wondered if she had overdressed, not because of the picnic occasion, but because she feared both Grant and Cole would think she had wanted to look her best for them. She had only dressed up because Hester and the others had told her that’s what all the women did at this occasion, even though most of the day consisted of casual events. Still, she could see the pleasure in Grant’s eyes when he had picked her up, and he’d been strutting like a rooster all day, keeping her on his arm constantly. She felt even more at a loss to know how to get away from him, and this evening she would need to deal with Cole, who had asked her to wait for him.
Two young men in their teens won the one-legged sack race and let out wild whoops when they received their gold pieces. Next came the bed races, all sorts of beds, both real and simple boxed contraptions with mattresses in the middle and wheels attached, perched at the top of Eureka just above the sites that had already been picked out for a new Methodist Church and an opera house. Although the bed races were sponsored by the various town saloons and some of the beds were ridden by gawdily-dressed ladies of “ill repute”, many of whom had already given up their profession in order to stay in Central, the races were allowed because this was a day for fun and laughter, for forgetting things like the women’s march and the battle that followed.
Again a shot was fired, and people cheered and laughed as men began pushing the beds down the hill, the painted women sitting on them screaming instructions and shrieking with their own laughter. Addy spotted Sassy Dillon, who wore bright red today, a gaudy taffeta and organdy piece that sparkled with rhinestones and sequins. Her grating voice cut through the surrounding noise as she yelled, “Go left! No, right! Hurry it up, boys!” Her hardy laughter filled the air, and as her bed flew by the stand, Addy noticed Cole walking amid the crowd on the other side of the street. Her heart leaped with desire at the sight of him. He had dressed pretty fine himself today, wearing what looked like a new black suit, a white ruffled shirt and black string tie, and a new black hat.
For her? Was he anticipating their dance as she was? Dreading it? Wanting it? Wanting more? She did not even notice the rest of the bed race as it continued downhill into Lawrence Street. She did not see that it was won by the Wildcat. Next came a parade, and Addy lost track of Cole. An unlikely band made up of drums, fiddles, bugles, a flute and one tuba marched past, playing a patriotic tune. A few people dressed like clowns followed, then wagons decorated with ribbons and wildflowers, some with banners that read “Central for Capitol,” “Vote for Statehood” and various other themes. After the parade, H. M. Teller stood up behind her and announced through a megaphone that it was time for the pie-eating contest on Main Street, after which there would be a shooting contest.
“That’s what I’m waiting for,” Grant told her. “Cole Parker is going to put some money in my pocket today.” He ushered her off the platform, and with others they walked around to Main Street to watch the pie eating. Addy had herself baked one of the pies, and she had helped Hester and Ethel and other women plan some of these events. Children sat lined on either side of a long table, each with a pie in front of them and with their hands tied behind their backs. Parents stood behind them, urging them on when a man announced they should begin eating. Little faces dove into messy pies, and the race was on.
“I’m going over to the target area to place some bets with some of the other men,” Grant told her, giving her arm a squeeze. His familiarity with her in front of the others irritated her, as though he wanted to be sure they all realized she belonged to him. “The other women can join us there. It’s up Nevada Street and over to the left by the Golden Lady mine tailings. Will you be all right alone?”
“Of course. Why would you ask that?”
“Just making sure. You stick close to Hester and the other women.”
He left her, and Addy watched him walk away. Why had he told her to stick close to the other women? Was it because there were so many miners on the loose today, men bent on having a good time, many of them already full of whiskey? That was probably his reasoning, but something had been different the last couple of days, the way he looked at her with new questions in his eyes, sometimes a look of distrust. He often looked around carefully today, as though he were looking for someone. Who?
After several minutes a plump young girl of perhaps ten won the pie-eating contest, raising her purple face with a smile. Her mother helped wash her face while Hester presented her with a free pie for her family and a cameo necklace. The crowd then moved excitedly on up the street toward the tailings of the Golden Lady. The crowd grew much bigger, joined by many men, all of them pressing and shoving to get to the shooting contest and make their bets. Of all the talk she’d heard today, Addy had realized that the shooting contest was the most important event. There would be others, contests of strength and skill among miners, but the shooting match seemed to mean the most, and Addy could already hear Cole Parker’s name being mentioned among many.
“Ain’t nobody faster or with better aim,” someone behind her said. “I seen him take George Williams that night at the Hard Luck. A man couldn’t blink faster than that. They say he shot them men in the Wildcat before they even got their guns out of their holsters.”
Memories flooded through Addy’s mind and heart, the bank robbery, Cole’s shootout at the cabin to save her, their first heated liaison in Abilene, the way he had ridden out of nowhere to save her from death or capture by the Indians. It seemed whenever she had a need, he was there. It would be easier to forget, to be unable to forgive him for his outlaw ways, if she didn’t know the truth about his past, little Patty, the nightmares that haunted him.
The crowd turned into groups of men rushing to make bets, while others lined up to shoot, taking practice aims at targets in the distance, bottles and cans on rocks and posts. Whoever missed the fewest times would win five hundred dollars, the money put up by mine owners. Other men could make whatever bets they wanted. Cole Parker drew the lowest odds. Grant found Addy and whisked her through the mob of men to another platform that had been built specifically for Central’s chosen elite.
“Too bad you’re not a betting woman,” he told her. “You could make some money today.”
Addy sat down in a wooden chair. “If I wasn’t afraid the ladies of Central would fire me, I would bet—on Cole Parker.”
Grant laughed. “It would be a wise bet.” He pointed out to the field of targets. “Some of those cans are several hundred yards away. First there will be rifle shooting for distance, then pistol shooting and a quick-draw contest.”
Addy watched things being set up. The men lined up, and mass confusion reigned below them as men frantically waved money in the air shouting the names of their favorites. It took several minutes for things to calm down, and men crowded around the shooters, most behind Cole. One of the women behind her commented, “That’s the man who rescued Mrs. Kane from the drunken miner the day of the march.”
“He’s quite handsome,” another said.
“Still pretty much a stranger in town,” Dresden Howard spoke up. “He sure does know how to use a gun, though.”
“Yes, he is still rather an unknown,” Ethel Brown said. The woman sat on the other side of Grant. “And yet he hurried right to Mrs. Kane’s aid,” she added, “as though he kn
ew her.”
Addy glanced at the woman, noticing that Grant was also looking at her. It almost seemed as though they shared some kind of secret, and it gave her an uneasy feeling. “I assure you I do not know the man, other than the fact that he works for Grant,” she told Ethel.
She turned her attention to the contest about to begin, little knowing that Grant was beginning to suspect something himself. He said nothing, but he watched Cole Parker, wondering if Addy had been too quick to defend the man and too quick to accent the fact that she did not know him. He realized that every time she had been with him in Cole’s presence, she had seemed very distant and uneasy. He didn’t want to think there could be any connection there. He liked Cole. He wouldn’t want to have to run him out of town.
The contest began, and one by one, men dropped out as they missed their targets. Cole Parker never missed once, and it was difficult for Addy to keep from jumping up and cheering for him. She knew how much that five hundred dollars would mean to him … yet her heart tightened at the realization he was probably doing this for her, to add to his nest egg so they could be married some day.
Finally the rifle contest came down to Cole and one other man. The targets were set farther away and were only the size of small medicine bottles. The last contestant missed his mark. It was up to Cole. He positioned his rifle, nestling it into his shoulder. Addy was surprised he could still do so well after his head injury, but he seemed undaunted—or perhaps just damned determined. The scar across the right side of his head was still fresh but uncovered. It reminded her how close he’d come to getting killed.
Until Tomorrow Page 32
