Once he had his passengers settled in their room, Sam departed to get the Yellowstar rig put up at the local livery—two blocks away, according to Mandrake, the hotel concierge. The plan was to partake of supper in the dining room, after he had returned and everyone had had a chance to freshen up.
“Oh, Auntie, isn’t it grand?” Jessica, having quickly put herself into order with a minimum of fussing, was now almost hanging out the window while Sophie moved about behind the ornate corner screen. “Thank you for inviting me to keep you company. I feel so connected to all the—the liveliness, and the hustle and bustle here. I think I am made for living a city life.”
“That might be rather difficult to accomplish, dear,” came Sophie’s muffled voice, “since your father has decreed that you and Sam shall eventually take over management of the ranch, after you’re married.”
“Oh, I know. It’s the most practical solution. But…perchance—inconvenient…”
Sophie emerged, smelling of lavender soap and eau de violette toilet water, with her hair neatly brushed and all available surfaces washed with cool water. “Has Riley not spoken to either of you about that plan?”
“Not so much to me. A bit to Sam, from what little I’ve been able to get out of him. He might be related to the Sphinx, for all he communicates. At any rate, I knew that would be a possibility.”
“And? You sound not completely happy about the arrangement.”
Turning away from the window with a dissatisfied sigh, Jessica seated herself and her moss green skirts upon a damask settee. “I’m not sure that I am. Oh, probably it would be Sam’s lifelong dream, for half-ownership of a place like the Star, but I’m reconsidering. I don’t know that I could thrive, being buried out in the middle of nowhere for the rest of my life.”
Sophie, smoothing her white cuffs into place, gave her niece a curious glance. “This seems to be quite a momentous decision, Jess, as to just where you shall spend your future. I thought that, by now, you would have discussed your options with Sam.”
“Oh, Sam.” She fluttered a hand, as if such a scenario concerning her reluctant bridegroom mattered little in her scheme of things. “He’ll want to do as I ask, of course. And, believe me, this taste of San Antonio, and all the wonderful things the place offers, certainly has me reconsidering where I want to be.”
“Indeed.” Her aunt’s tone was dry, and growing dryer the longer she listened to this claptrap. “And you assume that Sam will have no opinion in all this?”
Jessica, every inch the antebellum damsel, looked up with a brilliant smile. “No doubt he will. However, if it’s against my wishes, I’ll simply change his mind, that’s all. Just as I intend to change him, to mold him into the man I expect him to be.”
“Change?” Sophie began to replace her hat. “Oh, Jess, what a lot you have to learn!”
There was amusement in her tone, and something else. A trace of condemnation. Jessica bridled, and her own tone emerged with coldness and stiffness.
“I have learned enough to realize that men need to be managed. Sam’s manners are atrocious, and his attention to me and my needs have gone unmet. His whole personality is so in desperate want of improvement that I hardly know where to begin refurbishing the man.”
For a moment, a thunderstruck Sophie had no response. Finally, she managed, “Jessie, I truly know not whether to laugh at you or pity you. If poor Sam is so far from your ideal of a husband, then why are you set upon marrying him?”
“Well I have to marry someone, of course,” the girl replied airily. “And Sam seems more amenable than most. Why, I can wrap him right around my little finger.”
“Where have you gotten such—such ideas? I hope you haven’t learned any of these outrageous dealings from me, over the years!”
“Of course not. Oh, Aunt Sophie, you’re sweet, but you’re a bit of a fuddy-duddy. My school chums and I used to discuss such subjects all the time. Alice Thompkins, in particular—”
“The mayor’s daughter?”
“Yes, exactly. Well, I can tell you, she had the most outlandish ideas. I’m just putting them to the test, that’s all.” Before Sophie could clutch at her heart and beg for reprieve from what she considered utter nonsense, Jessica calmly went on, “I hope Sam returns soon, because I’m starving, aren’t you? And I’m perishing to see how the dining room must be furnished.”
The light but firm tap at their door couldn’t have been more timely.
“Well, well,” said their tall escort, glancing back and forth between the women, “I have the pleasure of takin’ both you lovely ladies to supper. Will you come with me?” He executed a small gentlemanly bow in their honor.
“You certainly may.” As the trio moved out into the hall, Jessica reached for his extended left arm, angled for her convenience. “Whatever have you been doing? It took you forever.”
Catching Sam’s disgruntled eye, Sophie gave him a small shake of the head, as in, Never mind. Fighting back isn’t worth the fuss. “Thank you, Sam, dear,” she said smoothly. “We appreciate all that you’re doing. It will be interesting to see what menu items are offered, don’t you think?”
The décor, as Sam graciously seated first one, then the other, at a round table covered by linen starched within an inch of its life, amid a number of extra tables similarly dressed, appeared even more sumptuous than the lobby. A waiter in formal dress appeared out of nowhere with menus, a pitcher of water, and a wine list.
“Oh, my goodness,” marveled Jessica, perusing the selections. “There are dishes here I’ve never even heard of! Teal duck, what on earth. Is that the color, do you think?”
“Type, I believe, dear,” responded Sophie, with a small smile.
“And roast brant? Whatever do you suppose that might be?”
“Goose,” surprisingly supplied Sam. He sipped from his goblet before continuing, “Shipped in, I expect. Comes from saltwater coasts.”
She cast a speculative look in his direction. “Such an exotic variety. Sam, you might consider using a napkin. You’re out in public now, not slopping around in your mother’s kitchen.”
Evidently he felt that a hissed-in breath of outrage would be of no consequence to Her Royal Highness, for he remained silent. Subdued. It was to be wondered if the man ever felt at ease in her presence, carping as it was.
“Jess,” chided her aunt, in a sharp tone. “Either speak pleasantly or not at all. Sam, I apologize for my niece’s manners, since she has none.”
“You needn’t take responsibility for my behavior, Aunt Sophie.” Jessica’s tone came back equally sharp. “Sam understands who I am. Ah, there you are,” she smiled up at the waiter, who had returned and was waiting discreetly for acknowledgement. “I’ll have the Pheasant Saute, please; also, the green corn, the stewed tomatoes, and plum pudding with brandy sauce.”
Snapping shut and handing over the double-sided menu, she sent a smile meant to be disarming around the table.
Shaking her head, in lieu of an eye roll, Sophie murmured something about exotic variety, indeed, before placing her order for much more plebeian fare.
Sam followed her lead. He wanted something plain and simple, if it could be found amongst all these dishes that were a mite extravagant for his palate: just some good roast beef and biscuits, and whatever else might come along with it.
“Oh, you two stick-in-the-muds,” pouted Jessica. She exhibited no concern whatsoever for her obnoxious behavior, which seemed to be growing more childish and reprehensible the longer she was exposed to the bright city lights she had craved. Actually, she was finally feeling freed from the Yellowstar leash, on her own and was enjoying herself immensely. “You ought to take advantage of this wonderful food while you can; who knows when you’ll get a chance like this again?”
Her reflected image in any mirror gave reassurance time and again how pretty and winsome she was. Golden hair, usually curled into ringlets and done up every morning into a cunning coiffure. Sweet, dimpled expression, with eyes whos
e color ranged from light aqua to stormy turquoise, a complexion of smooth skin and rosy cheeks, and a smile to die for. A figure of generous womanly proportions, slim but curvy, always provocatively covered in the most exquisite of designs and fabrics.
If her attitude, especially to her nearest and dearest, was not as congenial as might be hoped, so what? Most people were willing to forgive a bit of southern girl haughtiness and naughtiness, simply on appearance alone. And that was just fine with Jessica. It was partly her stock in trade.
No, she reflected, she had not forgotten the purpose of this visit to San Antonio. Nor was she cold-hearted or insensitive to her aunt’s unpredictable condition. Not at all. It was just—the power of opportunity! All that was out there in the world beckoned…and she longed to answer the call.
Conversation stalled after that, and it was a relief to everyone when the meal was finished and each could retire to separate quarters.
To sleep not necessarily the sleep of the just.
* * * * *
“Oh please, Sam, please—I beg you to escort me downtown so that I can explore the shops. After all, that’s what I came here to do.”
He sent her a sideways look that was almost breathtaking in its indifference. “Thought you came here to keep your aunt company, see her through whatever bad news she might get.”
“Well yes, of course,” she purred, clutching his arm with both hands to work her wiles with fluttering lashes and a beaming smile. “But we can’t do anything more right now. We’ve gotten her in to see this specialist and, except for me, we’d still be sitting in that stuffy office while things are going on in town all around us. Why, Sam, some of these department stores are three stories high! Just filled with all sorts of tempting merchandise…”
Thanks to the happily informative Mandrake, who seemed to be stationed behind his desk at the Menger Hotel every hour of the day and night, Sam had acquired the address and location of the office of Dr. Thomas Hartford, along with directions on how to get there.
“Oh, quite an excellent reputation,” declared Mandrake, when asked his opinion. “He attended my own mother for a time. You just go two blocks this way, and turn right for another four…”
For the convenience of his afflicted passenger, Sam had decided to hire a hansom cab. There was no point in hitching up the team for such a short time, and he wasn’t about to subject Sophie to walking any distance at all. Might as well go in style. Surely Riley Clark would approve of such consideration for his sister.
Certainly Sophie appreciated the gesture. As did Jessica, although her comfort was hardly Sam’s primary concern. After all, Jess was a ranch girl. She should be used to getting places on her own two feet when necessary. When had she turned into such a pantywaist?
The doctor’s office was neatly and richly appointed. He was seeing another patient at the moment, a young shirt-waisted woman wearing pince-nez informed them. But if the lady didn’t mind waiting a bit, Dr. Hartford would be free soon for a consultation.
When Jessica, who hated waiting for anything, suggested they, as a couple, leave and return later, Sophie shooed them away.
“Of course I don’t mind. You two go on and enjoy yourselves. You can tell me all about your explorations and adventures when we reconvene.”
Plainly Sam had been reluctant to leave her there, on her own.
“I’ll be fine, Sam, truly. This will give me time to catch up on my reading.”
“Of course,” Jessica reassured him. Or herself. “Auntie always carries a small book in her reticule. Excellent. Then we’ll see you shortly.”
Once in the cab, headed toward the main shopping district, she suggested this would be a good chance to visit a “really spectacular” jeweler’s, whose establishment offered all sorts of gems and baubles for sale. There, she and Sam together might choose the perfect ring for her betrothal.
“Sure, you can look all you want, if we come across such a place.” Seated behind the driver, Sam was restlessly tapping his fingers atop one thigh. To indicate his mood? Or to prevent having to hold her hand? “But I didn’t bring any cash to buy stuff like that for you.”
“Why, Sam!” Her eyes widened. “Certainly you did. I saw your wallet. It’s full of—”
“Hush!” he hissed peremptorily, giving a slight jerk of his head toward the audience inadvertently overhearing their conversation. Maybe the man was honest; maybe he wasn’t. No point in affording him cause for robbery, right here in broad daylight.
Evidently still not understanding she started to voice another protest, which he nipped in the bud by an almost painful clench of his brawny hand around her wrist.
“I said, be quiet. We’ll talk later. You got any particular place, other’n that, you wanna go to?”
Jessie decided that pouting would not aid her quest. “Oh, indeed. I noticed a store called Wharton’s, whose front windows are filled with all sorts of feminine goodies. And a milliner’s shop—I am simply perishing for a couple of new hats to take home.”
“New hats. Ahuh.” Sam’s mouth had tightened into grim lines, and a muscle had begun to clench and unclench along his jaw. Sure sign, had she cared to notice—and comprehend—of possible trouble ahead.
It wasn’t until the cab and its driver had discharged his passengers, and the couple were strolling along honest-to-God sidewalks, that Jessica reminded Sam of the condition of his notecase.
“Yeah, it’s full, all right,” he acknowledged, pausing to move her deftly out of the way of some stout woman pushing a perambulator. “But that’s your Pa’s cash, to pay everything needed for this trip. It ain’t mine, and I got no intention of dippin’ into it for my personal affairs.”
Now pouting seemed a very apt response to this unwelcome news. “Sam. Does that mean you are really, truly poor?”
He couldn’t hold back an ironic smile. “Thoughtcha knew that already.”
“Hmmm. Well, we’ll certainly fix that, once we’re married. Whether we stay at the ranch, or whether we move to a nice big city, I’ll ensure that you have plenty of—”
“Move?” This was not a pause; it was a sharp, deliberate halt, right in the way of traffic. “What’re you talkin’ about, move?”
“Oh, Sam, nothing to think about now. Another time we can discuss our future. Right now—oh, do look at that wonderful little rosewood writing desk in the window! I would love to have that for my bedroom. Come, let’s go look inside the store.”
Sam, as the leader of this brief expedition, kept a determined eye upon the clock and the passage of time. Finally he informed his entranced betrothed that they’d ought to be getting back to the doctor’s office.
“Not already! We’ve not even finished browsing through the contents of this store, let along any others. Or the jeweler’s that you promised we’d visit.”
“Don’t recall promisin’ any such thing,” he said grimly. “But we’d better go see how your aunt’s farin’, and what that doc has to say.”
Whatever had transpired between physician and patient during their absence, Sophie Clark was sitting quietly near an open window, staring at—without appearing to actually see—the few passersby on this secluded street. Her posture gave no indication of mood; neither positive nor negative.
“Aunt Sophie.” Jessica hastened across the medical waiting room to indulge in an equally hasty embrace. “I’m sorry, have you been sitting here for a long time?”
Blinking, as if she were being recalled from some place far in the distance, Sophie bravely called up a smile. “Hello. Have you finished your shopping already?”
“We wanted to see if you needed us. Or if we ought to confer with the doctor.”
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