by Sharon Page
Tess rapped on the carriage ceiling.
The slot above the opposite seat slid open. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Take me to the train station.”
She could imagine the furrows in Warren’s forehead. “The train station, Mrs. Bennett? Might I ask—”
“You know how Henry always spoke of crossing the country by rail? Hiring a private Pullman car to take in the scenery from its picture windows?” she replied, her excitement rising. “The advertisements look so enticing—special holiday trips through the Rockies and such. I’m going to do it. No time like the present—and no present like time away from Mr. Mahaffey! Don’t you agree?”
The coach turned down the next busy street, and within minutes they stopped. All around the railway station, people strode with a purposeful air, some dressed in high style with a manservant wheeling their trunks on a cart, while others appeared to be penniless immigrants. But they were all going places. Tess had never in her sheltered, privileged life set foot away from home without servants or without her father or Henry making her travel plans. What if she boarded the wrong train or—
What if Reed catches you? You’ll never be out of his sight again.
Tess straightened her shoulders, fixing a grin on her face. She couldn’t let her driver see her fear as he handed her down from the carriage. “Thank you so much for understanding, Warren,” she said in the firmest voice she could find. She reached into her reticule. “I hope you’ll accept this gift as my—”
“Keep your money, my dear.” He gently closed her hand around the greenbacks. “Allow me to assist with your ticketing, and then I’ll deal with the Delaneys and Mahaffey.”
“What will you tell them?”
“I’ll make up something.”
An unladylike snicker escaped her as she grabbed him around the shoulders. The old fellow hugged her, beaming. “Henry always spoke of a mischievous streak—a sense of purpose that set his wife apart from other women. He would be proud of you, Miss Tess.”
Her heart swelled, but it was no time for tears. “I’d be eternally grateful if you’d arrange my fares and transfers, Warren. I’ll keep you posted on my travels.”
“And I shall assure the Delaneys I’ve seen to your safety, without hinting at your whereabouts to Mahaffey.” He gave her another purposeful look. “If you need anything—anything at all, dear lady—I’m but a telegram away.”
She swiped at her eyes. “What if Reed fires you? I’d hate to think I cost you your position.”
“Plenty of firms need dependable drivers. Hasn’t been the same since Mr. Bennett passed, anyway.” He bussed her knuckles. “Come inside where it’s warmer. I’ll have you on your way in no time.”
Once Warren left her beside a long wooden bench to go to the ticketing window, she had a chance to think about this unexpected turn she’d taken. How will you cross the country in a luxury Pullman with only the clothes on your back? You don’t even know how much money’s in your reticule! Who do you think you are, believing everyone will grant your every wish like Henry—and Warren Coates—have?
Was it the airlessness of the crowded station, or did she feel faint? No time for turning tail, though. Tess lowered herself to the bench and inhaled to clear her head. No time for feeling like a weak-kneed sissy, either. And what was taking Coates so long? As she gawked over her shoulder to view the line at the ticket window, something slithered across her feet.
It was a newspaper page, caught in the current of people coming in from the cold. As a train whistle blasted and a hissssss of steam rose around the platform outside, Tess froze in the moment . . . as though she’d been meant to peruse this segment of the Rocky Mountain News. How odd. She hadn’t read a paper since she’d sent copies of Henry’s and Claire’s obituaries to family back East.
Tess quickly scanned the columns of print, not sure why she felt so driven, so destined, to find whatever beckoned her. Pulse thumping, she turned to the other side and—
Santa seeks a special helper.
The advertisement was positioned in the Help Wanted section. Why on earth did she linger over this page when she’d never worked a day in her life?
Santa seeks a special Helper: Excellent compensation and a sweet future indeed for an Applicant who’s both Naughty and Nice—and who believes in Magic! Only those of childlike mind and stature need apply. Box 8, Cascade, Colorado.
Tess blinked. Warren was now at the ticket window, so she quickly turned her attention to the quaintly phrased text again. Both Naughty and Nice . . . believes in Magic . . . childlike mind and stature. Whoever wrote this had a whimsical mind and a different perspective on the world than, say, Reed Mahaffey. Her heart thrummed: She was petite—a Dixie pixie, Henry had always called her. And she so wanted to believe in whatever magic had whisked her from the house to the train station.
But naughty and nice? The idea sent a delicious tingle through her body: She’d been told all her life she was nice—mostly when somebody wanted something. But naughty?
Her grin flickered. Tess studied the signs and arrows posted on the walls and then scurried toward a small office a few yards from where Warren counted out money to the ticket agent. “I need to send a message, please,” she said breathlessly. She thrust the newspaper beneath the window bars, jabbing the address with her finger.
The telegrapher handed her a pencil and paper. “Please write legibly and—”
Tess’s hand flew at the speed of her thoughts: Don’t you dare hire anyone but Tess Bennett! I’ll be in Cascade shortly and you’ll see why!
The man in the booth paused, his fingers poised over his telegraph key. Then he gazed quizzically at her. And was it any wonder? Why on earth had she presumed to . . . She had no idea who had written such an ad or what she might be getting into when she disembarked.
Does the train even go to Cascade?
Tess blinked. She clearly needed to consider the consequences of her bold, brash actions. A woman traveling alone had no safety net—no Warren Coates to turn to, should this ad have been penned by a man with nefarious ways of putting women to work.
But the expression on the telegrapher’s face, and the fact that Coates was searching the crowd for her, pulled out all her stops. “Please, sir! I’ve a train to catch!” she urged him sweetly.
“Thirty cents, if you please.”
As she dug in her reticule, Tess’s mouth went dry. Wasn’t that awfully expensive for such a simple message?
As though spending thirty cents is a hardship. Get over yourself. And get on with this Christmas adventure, naughty girl!
2
“Excuse me, sir, but does this train stop in Cascade, Colorado? I don’t see that town on my ticket.” From her seat beside the picture window in the observation car, Tess smiled up at the uniformed conductor. After a lovely four-course dinner, she’d spent several minutes gazing at the distant sunset while snowflakes drifted around them, catching the day’s last light.
The agent smiled indulgently. “No, ma’am. The closest station to Cascade is Colorado Springs.”
Tess’s heart lurched. She studied her itinerary again. “And . . . is Colorado Springs near Denver, then?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. That’s a different line, requiring a transfer. Shall I look at your ticket?”
Her mouth went sour. Not even two hours from Memphis and her adventure was going awry. And isn’t that what you deserve for going off on your own tangent, Dixie Pixie? Had you followed Warren’s plan instead of answering that ad—
“Might I be of service, miss?” A mustachioed gentleman and the man beside him nodded cordially from across the aisle. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but my partner and I are quite familiar with the Springs. Cascade’s only a stagecoach ride away.”
“Unless the roads are snowed shut,” his friend added. His gold-rimmed spectacles twinkled when he grinned. “This time of year, that’s quite common, you see. Not many folks live in Cascade, and those who do spend a good bit of each winter holed up in
their homes.”
This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. These two looked respectable enough in their vested suits, with their brandy snifters and cigars, but she’d been pondering the pitfalls of traveling as a woman alone. Her trusting nature could get her into trouble if she believed everything every nice-looking man told her.
Tess sat straighter, which subtly thrust out her breasts. Henry had always said attitude was everything: He’d believed himself the most competent cotton factor in the Memphis region—and had worked diligently to prove it—so everyone who dealt with him considered him the best as well. Never mind that she was dressed in mourning and obviously beyond familiar boundaries. She would not whimper and board the next train home. She would prevail!
“I have it on good authority that Santa himself lives in Cascade,” Tess asserted demurely. “And if Saint Nick delivers toys around the globe in a single night, in a sleigh pulled by reindeer, his magic will direct me to his door!”
The conductor coughed: He figured her for a real twit now. That line about Santa probably wasn’t a sound strategy for a woman alone. Or maybe it’s the best thing you could’ve said. If these fellows think you’re stupid, they won’t go sniffing after your business in Colorado.
The railway agent returned her ticket, smiling kindly. “I’ll telegraph ahead to see what I can do about rerouting you, Mrs. Bennett. Shouldn’t take but an hour or so to secure you a seat on—”
“If the lady will allow us, we shall accompany her,” the man across the aisle said. “We’re bound for Colorado Springs, anyway, and I know a trustworthy coachman who will see her safely to her destination in Cascade.”
Tess smiled radiantly. As often happened, she had situated herself in just the right place at the right time: that same sort of magic alluded to in the advertisement! “How lucky can I get?” she exclaimed graciously. “Not one but three gentlemen lighting my way. I can’t thank you enough—because I don’t yet know your names.”
“Spencer Penrose, known to my friends as Spec,” the first gentleman said as he rose from his seat. “And this is my partner, Charley Tutt. So pleased to make your acquaintance—Mrs. Bennett, is it?”
“Yes, but please call me Tess. ‘Mrs. Bennett’ reminds me of my mother-in-law.”
Mr. Penrose’s hearty laughter filled the observation car and made people smile when they turned their heads. As he bowed debonairly over her hand, his face radiated a boyish sense of fun. Mr. Tutt, too, gripped her hand; he seemed to think she was witty rather than critical of Henry’s mother.
And the conductor, whose eyes had widened, seemed much more interested in her now. “Francis Turley at your service, ma’am,” he said crisply. “I shall return with your new ticket in minutes.”
“Thank you so much, sir.” Tess watched him walk quickly through the door, toward the front of the train. Who might these two other gentlemen be, that Mr. Turley had snapped to attention at the mention of their names? Maybe she should behave like a proper lady before she put her foot in something she couldn’t shake off.
“Won’t you join me?” she asked, gesturing to the seats directly across from her. “It was awfully kind of you to offer me an escort, after the way I spouted off about Santa and his magic. You probably think I’m behaving childishly.”
Spencer Penrose smiled like a cat who’d swallowed the proverbial canary, while Mr. Tutt took a long sip of his brandy to cover a knowing grin. What had she gotten herself into now?
“Santa does live in Cascade, Tess,” the man in the stylish tweed suit assured her. “Charley and I are his close personal friends.”
“Well, if indeed Ed—er, Santa—has any close friends,” the other fellow chimed in as the two men took their seats. “What with all his charity events and spending time in his workshop with his, um, elves . . .”
“At the very least we’re on his list, Charley,” Spec insisted with a purposeful look at his partner. “Very near the top of the good boys and girls. So at our first opportunity, we’ll send him a telegram to say you’ll arrive safely and soon, Tess.”
“Regardless of those snowy roads I mentioned earlier,” Charley added with a nod.
Tess followed their patter, trying to read between the lines. What was this about, really? Had she unwittingly spoken in some sort of code when she’d mentioned Santa living in Cascade?
And why were they insinuating that this Santa had no close friends? Was it because of the sparse population of Cascade? Or did the man who’d written that advertisement pose a threat she should know about before she continued her adventure?
Tess blinked, wondering if Warren had assured Margaret and George of her safety . . . wondering how Mr. Coates had appeased his boss as well. Her stomach tightened around the rich dinner she’d eaten. Perhaps she should’ve stayed home to face Reed Mahaffey rather than running off on such a whim....
“You seem perplexed, my dear. Have I said something that alarms you?”
Tess focused on Spencer Penrose to quell her rising doubts. He looked very successful: well groomed yet comfortable in his vested suit. Comfortable about who he was and what made his world go around. All of the truly wealthy men in Memphis had this same air about them: an understated way of doing things for others, without touting their money.
She sighed. Better to confess than to suffer the consequences of a split-second decision. Tess pulled the folded newspaper page from her reticule. “At the risk of looking ridiculous . . . I came west on the spur of a desperate moment. I saw this ad, and again—not thinking things through—I sent a telegram saying I’d be arriving soon.”
Spec and Charley sat with their elbows on their knees, listening intently. “And?” Spencer’s thick mustache flickered.
“You seem to know this . . . this Santa, but how can I be sure I haven’t signed on for something . . . indecent? Or even dangerous?” she queried in a small voice. “I’m the widow of a successful cotton factor. I have no business running away from—”
“Sadness? Painful memories?” Charley asked quietly. “Unbearable holidays in an empty home?”
“Or perhaps the unwanted attentions of a man who’s after your husband’s money?” Spencer Penrose glanced at the ad, smiling kindly. “It’s your business why you left home, dear Tess, but I assure you there’s nothing indecent or dangerous about the man who posted this.”
“Well, he has his particular . . . tastes in employees,” Charley pointed out.
“But those employees love him so much they’d never leave him,” Penrose said as he studied her. “You’ll be the perfect addition to his staff, Tess. He’s already working his ingenious, childlike magic—casting it out like a net woven of cotton candy—to attract just the right helper for his Christmas charity events.”
Tess let out the breath she’d been holding. “So he’s legitimate?”
“Oh, more than that, he’s generous and sweet-natured—”
“Hardworking and admired. Loved by all who know him.”
“And whoever you’re running from won’t catch you, way out there in the Rockies,” Spencer concluded. “However, if I were pursuing you, dear Tess, I wouldn’t let deep snow or the treacherous, winding roads—”
“Or wind or sleet or dark of night.”
“—stand in my way of finding you,” Penrose concluded with an intense gaze.
Tess sat very still, fixed in Spec’s gaze, aware of a thrilling little undercurrent that made her insides tighten. Was he flirting with her? Attracted? Or did he carry on this way with every woman he met? “Matter of fact, there is a man vying for my attentions in Memphis,” she admitted quietly. “But he mostly wants to control all the shares of the partnership, now that Henry’s gone.”
Both men smiled endearingly. “I’m sorry for your loss, Tess,” Mr. Penrose said as he reached for her hand.
“But there’s not a man alive who wouldn’t want you, regardless of your financial standing,” Charley Tutt joined in. “Perhaps it’s the best thing that could’ve happened, your taking off
for Cascade to work with . . . Santa. You’ll be safe and warm—”
“Well paid and befriended by all,” Spencer agreed.
“Protected from your husband’s partner well into spring. Yet, should you require assistance from your attorney back home, or need to send him directions concerning your accounts,” Charlie continued, “he’s but a telegram away. Colorado may be a far frontier, but—thanks to the development of the gold mines in nearby Cripple Creek—we have all the modern conveniences.”
“You’ll be fine, my dear,” Spec assured her as he gazed raptly into her eyes. “And should you need the least little thing, I shall be at your service!”
Tess blinked. Their rapid-fire conversation had left no time to read between their lines, yet their goodwill amazed her. She grinned as both fellows pulled vellum cards from their coat pockets. “I . . . I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Oh, we’ll find a way,” Charley teased as he rose to go.
“Every man takes his turn at being the giver and the receiver,” Spec chimed in. His head turned as the whoosh of the doors announced the conductor’s return. “Mr. Turley has found a way to reroute you, I’ll wager. We’ll wait at the station to secure your coach to Cascade, Tess. Enjoy your ride on the rails! Life’s a journey to be lived with joy and exuberance.”
Exuberance. When was the last time she’d known anything approaching that? As Mr. Penrose had predicted, the railway agent handed her a new ticket, grinning profusely. “Here you are, Mrs. Bennett! What an extraordinary stroke of luck that the movers and shakers of Colorado Springs were aboard in your hour of need!”
