“We noticed when we found the body . . . under the hay . . . that his belt was unbuckled,” Mr. Earp said. “I’ll put this as delicately as I can. Was he threatening you in a personal way, Miss Caldwell?”
“Yes. He made his intentions very clear, and I shot him with the pistol I was carrying in my pocket.” She lifted the folds to show them the bullet hole in her dress. “Do you need to see the gun?”
“No, that’s quite all right. Can you tell me how his body came to be covered with straw?”
“Miss Hampton was worried that someone passing might see the body and become alarmed. So we moved him.”
“I see.” Mr. Earp made a few more notes in his book. “Thank you for your time, Miss Caldwell. I’ll take the body back to his family for whatever burial they see fit.”
Elizabeth half rose from her chair. “Mr. Earp, aren’t you going to arrest me? I’ve just committed murder.”
He studied her, and his impressive mustache twitched in amusement. “I was just going to hang him anyway. As I see it, you’ve saved me the cost of a rope.”
Elizabeth opened and closed her mouth a few times, almost protesting, but she realized it was foolish to argue with someone so willing to forgive her. “Thank you,” she said at last.
“I’ll speak to Miss Hampton as well, but rest easy, Miss Caldwell. I have no intention of pressing charges.” Wyatt Earp gave a nod and walked out of the office to find Caroline, Colonel Gordon following him.
“I’ll never forgive myself for this,” Adam said, enfolding Elizabeth in his arms again. “You must have been terrified.”
“I was. Oh, I was. I kept thinking about Rose and Mother—and you. I couldn’t bear to lose you after just finding you.”
“It would have been the harshest blow in the world.” Adam slid his hands down her arms, making her tingle with delicious chills. “Oh, Elizabeth, this could have ended so differently. Thank you for being brave and for carrying that pistol. I wish it hadn’t been necessary—I wish you’d never been faced with this.”
“You taught me what to do, and it’s over now.” Elizabeth snuggled into Adam’s embrace, feeling completely safe for the first time all evening. He held her close, and she could hear his heart through his white linen shirt.
“Do you remember that I went and spoke with the judge about marrying us?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble against her ear.
“Of course.”
“He says he can meet with us a week from Saturday. What do you say, Elizabeth? Will you become my wife in a week and a half?”
She pulled back and studied his eyes. They were warm, sincere, and sparkling. “Yes, Adam,” she said. “I would love to. And I’m sure Mother will make our wedding cake.”
He brought her closer and kissed her, sealing the agreement with his lips. Maybe now both of them would find the new beginning they had been seeking.
The End
Special Sneak Peek of A Free Heart, Kansas Crossroads Book Two
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Chapter One
Topeka, Kansas
1875
Harriet Martin looked out the window of the hotel parlor and saw Mr. Adam Brody, her employer, coming through the front gate. He had promised to check in at the post office to see if there was any mail for her, and he did hold a bundle of letters in his hand. She carefully set down the trinket she’d been dusting and then ran out to the porch to meet him.
“Is there anything for me, Mr. Brody?” she asked, trying to appear calmer than she felt.
He chuckled. “Yes, Miss Martin, there is an envelope with your name on it.” He shuffled through the stack. “Let’s see. There’s something here for Aunt Caroline. I wonder what that could be.” He held it up, squinting as though he could see the contents. “Oh, and here’s something for me. Must be a bill of some sort. I’ll look at that later. And another one for me, and another one for me . . . My, I’m quite popular today.”
Harriet knew he was deliberately taking his time just to vex her. He enjoyed teasing his employees. She heard a soft chuckle from behind her as Elizabeth, Mr. Brody’s soon-to-be wife, walked up behind them and put her arm around Harriet’s shoulders, her other hand still clutching the handle of a broom. “Just give her the envelope, Adam,” she chided gently.
Mr. Brody pretended to be surprised. “Oh, that’s right. She’s waiting for a letter. My apologies. Here you are, Miss Martin.” He finally handed it over, doffed his hat, and went inside the hotel, whistling.
“He’s certainly been in a good mood this week,” Harriet said, watching him go with a smile on her face. “I don’t suppose your wedding on Saturday has anything to do with it.”
Elizabeth laughed as she resumed sweeping the porch. “Maybe. I know it’s made me a lot happier. Now, read that letter before it burns a hole in your hand.”
Harriet lifted the flap and slid out the sheet of paper with trembling fingers. The words were written in a very straight line, the penmanship neat and tidy, and she sank down onto the porch steps, absorbing the message. She didn’t realize she was crying until Elizabeth handed her a handkerchief.
“What’s the matter, Harriet?” Elizabeth asked, leaning on the stair rail.
Harriet wanted to share, but she wondered what she could possibly say, how to take everything that had happened and everything she was feeling and condense all of it into a few short words. But if anyone understood heartbreak, it was Elizabeth. Harriet could trust her friend to understand her emotions and to keep her confidences.
She wiped her face with the handkerchief, embarrassed and knowing she must look a sight. The dust in Kansas flew thick in the air, especially here, on the edge of town, next to the railroad. She had no doubt that her tears had created mud tracks down her cheeks to rival the train tracks a hundred yards away.
“It’s a long story,” she said at last. “And I’m not sure there’s time to tell it before the train comes in.”
“Well, then, give me a hint, and we’ll talk more about it after dinner,” Elizabeth said. “Please, Harriet—I’ve never seen you so upset. Let me help you, if I can.”
Harriet chuckled. “I’m not sure there is much help for me, but I suppose I can let you try.” She took a deep breath, realizing that the best way to say it would be to do it all at once. “Very well, here’s your hint. I fell in love with a man who used to be a slave on my father’s plantation.”
Elizabeth blinked several times. “A slave?”
Harriet nodded. “That’s right. His name was Sam Johnson, and his mother, Jane, was a house slave. I’m the youngest in my family by quite a bit—my two brothers were born to my father and his first wife. She died, and then some years later, Father married my mother, and I came along. I had no full siblings, no one my age to play with, and I was an ornery child.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m still ornery. Anyway, Jane suggested that what I needed was a friend, and she brought her son up to the house one day.
“We were both probably three at the time, and we had no idea there was anything going on in the world that said we shouldn’t get along. We took one look at each other and made fast friends. I called him ‘my Sammy.’ He showed me how to make mud pies, I taught him his letters, and over the next few years, we went fishing and did all kinds of things a polite Southern girl should not be doing, especially with a slave. The worst was the laundry incident.”
“The laundry incident?” Elizabeth asked, a furrow in her brow.
Harriet grinned. She hadn’t thought of it in years, but now she could see it as though it had all happened just yesterday. “Oh, it was so funny. The laundry had just been put out on the line, all those white sheets flapping in the wind. We couldn’t have been more than about five years old, and we wanted to play ghosts. We stole two sheets off the line and put them on, running all over the lawn, making ridiculous noises. I don’t remember what put the idea of ghosts in our heads, just that we thought it would be fun.
“Well, at the same time, the geese had got
ten out of the pen by the kitchen porch, and they were running around loose too. They thought we were chasing them, but we couldn’t see because of the sheets over our heads, and we didn’t even know they were loose. We just heard these horrible honking sounds, and we thought some real ghosts were after us.” She used the handkerchief to wipe her eyes again. This time, the tears were from laughter, and they eased some of the pain in her chest. “I don’t know why we thought ghosts would sound like geese, but we were so young, we were frightened out of our minds.”
“I’m sure you were,” Elizabeth said, traces of amusement in her voice.
“My mother looked outside through her bedroom window, saw two little ghosts chasing her geese around the yard, and nearly had a fit. She came charging down the stairs, grabbed us each by an arm, sat us down on hard chairs in the kitchen, and left us there for an hour until she was calm enough to speak to us again. The cook was even forbidden to give us cookies, and that was a terrible punishment. I nearly lost the right to play with Sammy after that day, but I convinced her it was my fault and that he hadn’t made me do it. Truth is, I don’t even remember whose fault it actually was.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I can picture the whole thing.”
“If you’re ever bored, I highly recommend giving it a try. It’s great fun, and we’d just need some geese. Although, now that I’ve washed some sheets myself, I feel guilty. I’ll never look at linen the same way again.”
The train whistle sounded in the distance, and Elizabeth jumped up from her slouched position against the railing. “We’d better hurry if we’re going to be ready on time. Harriet, we need to talk later—I must hear the rest of this story.”
“I’ll tell it. I promise.” Harriet felt a little better already, having someone to share the burden with her. Now she wanted to tell it all. Maybe Elizabeth would know what she should do, for she certainly didn’t.
“I’ll hold you to that. Now, get on upstairs and change your dress.”
Harriet looked down at herself. “Why? What’s the matter?”
Elizabeth chuckled. “That’s how I knew something was wrong. You sat down right in the middle of my dust pile.”
Harriet leaped up and twisted to look at the skirts of her dark dress. Sure enough, they were covered in the dust that had been swept up from the porch. “Oh, no!” She glanced out at the horizon, where she could see the smoke from the train drifting up into the air. “I’ll be right back.” She dashed inside and up the stairs to the attic room she shared with the other girls who worked at the hotel. She had just a few minutes before she would be expected downstairs, crisp, tidy, and ready to serve. She only had one more clean dress—it looked like she’d be washing her own clothes as well as linens that afternoon.
She filled the basin in the corner with water from the pitcher and washed her hands and face, then smoothed down her bright auburn hair. A glance in the mirror hanging over the basin showed that she’d succeeded in wiping away the streaks, and she was quite presentable now. She took a deep breath and smiled, hoping she looked as polite and hospitable as she ought to, then turned and tucked her letter under her pillow. She would read it over again later after the meal had been served.
A familiar rumbling under her feet told her the train was pulling into the station. She wondered if this was one reason why Mr. Garrison had abandoned this building years before—she certainly wouldn’t like to live in a home that was supposed to be for luxury, but instead was jiggled to pieces on a regular schedule. She picked up her skirts and trotted down the stairs, pausing at the linen closet to fetch a fresh white apron. By the time the front door to the hotel opened and guests started coming in, she was calm, composed, and lined up with the other girls, ready to do her job, and ready to pretend that her heart wasn’t breaking.
About the Author:
Amelia C. Adams traces her family tree right back to the settlement of the west—her great-great-grandmother even drove a wagon to her new home. Amelia is a wife, a mother, and a novelist. She spends her days dreaming up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you might just see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels. She loves all things historical and enjoys learning about days gone by, but she's glad she was born more recently (she won't say how recently or not recently) because the Internet is awesome, and she's glad she doesn't have to wash her clothes by hand in a galvanized tub.
You can reach Amelia at [email protected].
If you enjoyed A New Beginning, be sure to check out the next books in the series. Visit www.ameliacadams.com for titles and release dates. While you’re there, you can sign up for Amelia’s newsletter, which will keep you updated on everything going on at the Brody Hotel.
You’re also invited to “like” Amelia’s Facebook page. https://www.facebook.com/pages/Amelia-C-Adams/584870491648423
Do you love all things Western? Maybe the Pioneer Hearts Facebook group is for you! Fans and writers of Westerns alike meet in one place to talk about books … and cowboys … Visit us here. https://www.facebook.com/groups/pioneerhearts/
Author’s Note: Every effort was made to remain true to the history of this region, down to including real-life historical figures Wyatt Earp and Colonel Gordon, but I do confess that some artistic license was taken with the layout of the town of Topeka and the train schedule.
A New Beginning Page 13
