“Home? Or back to Denver.”
Tears streaked down her cheeks. “Home.”
41
1878 Morrison, Colorado—Amber
When the train arrived in Morrison, Amber exited their private car with Rick’s assistance and carefully stepped into the station yard. There was no platform, just gravel, and it was now skimmed with mud. The roar of the Bear River racketed behind the station. Yesterday, she’d been able to disembark under her own power.
But not today. She was sick, and she well knew it.
Despite the sun, the temperature was several degrees cooler than in Denver, evidenced by the sprinkling of snow on both sides of the rail bed. Although the scent of pine was heavy in the air, she was more concerned about breathing than what she breathed in. She only had to survive a few more hours, and then she could go home and get a pill that would magically make her better.
Rick found a backless bench in the sun, yet out of the wind, and left her there while he and Noah jogged across South Park Avenue to the Spotswood Stage Coach House and Livery to hire a carriage. Bundled up in her bear coat, she was quite warm. While Ripley sniffed the ground around her, she closed her eyes and let the sun beat down on her face.
Jingling harnesses and a warning bark from Ripley had her opening her eyes. She laughed. She’d never seen Rick so out of place. The hired carriage was not a handsome four-in-hand but a buckboard with an actual two-by-four nailed across the top of the wagon to provide seating for the driver and one passenger. No springs. The heel of his boot was cocked against the edge of the wagon.
He tipped back his hat. “Howdy, ma’am. Need a ride?”
She walked toward the wagon, weighted down by the thick coat and layers of clothing. “I thank you, sir, for your kind offer. My escort abandoned me for the silver mines.” She stopped to take a few breaths. “I’ll be needin’ a lift up to the Swiss Cottage. Are ya familiar with the hotel? It’s back up a ways.” Not only did she need a lift, she needed an oxygen tank.
He scratched his whiskered chin. “I believe I can find it.” He jumped down and swooped her up into his arms. She lacked the energy to protest. “But if I can’t find my way ’round, I’m sure you’ll lead me where ya want me to go.”
She didn’t have the energy to react to the teasing double entendre, either. He wore a grim look—different from his black mood look—when he set her on the seat. She didn’t have the energy to analyze it. He quickly gathered up Ripley and put her in the back with Noah.
Surreal was the only way she could describe the buckboard ride across Bear Creek. It seemed like a scene from Little House on the Prairie, with Pa driving the buckboard down South Park Avenue to Spring Street.
The Swiss Cottage, a three-story structure constructed of large blocks of red and white rusticated sandstone, stood atop a stepstool-like rise at the base of an imposing hill. An expansive porch supported by white columns framed the grand hotel and from its porch, Amber could see the hogback and the red rock formations. The widow’s walk would provide an even more expansive view, but she doubted she could get up there.
On the hotel’s second-story veranda, several couples lingered at the rail, staring in the direction of the red rocks. And on the ground-floor veranda, the gliders of the occupied rocking chairs squeaked as they rocked to and fro.
Rick lifted her from the buckboard. At the porch steps, the owner had pounded into the dirt a neatly lettered wooden placard that read: REMOVE SPURS & CLEAN BOOTS. Amber was instantly reminded of Hughes Cabin and the beginning of her adventure. It seemed like months ago now instead of only two weeks.
They skirted the rocking chairs and entered the grand hotel, built for Governor John Evans by George Morrison in 1874. That tidbit of historical information was on another placard next to the front door.
Inside, the lobby showed subtle signs of refined taste. The heavy but well-appointed sofas and chairs were accented with rich rugs, vases, expensive lighting fixtures, and recognizable paintings by George Caleb Bingham, a famous nineteenth-century Western artist.
While Rick arranged for a room, she and Noah sat on a settee in the lobby and looked out the large windows overlooking the red rocks, that would evolve into the ten thousand–seat open-air Red Rock Amphitheatre. She’d seen dozens of performances there, but her parents had seen the greats—The Beatles in 1964, Jimi Hendrix in 1968, and later, the likes of John Denver, Sonny & Cher, Carole King, U2, The Grateful Dead, and so many others.
God, she missed her parents. She hadn’t seen them in almost two months and a century and a half. Every so often, Amber got slammed with the fear that she’d never see them again.
“This place is quite a resort to be out in the middle of nowhere,” Rick said.
She looked up, coming out of her reverie that had placed her safely at home under her mom’s watchful eye. “They don’t think they’re in the middle of nowhere. They think they’re in God’s country.”
“Then God’s country has a mineral spring, ballroom, tennis court, stable, and an eighteen-hole golf course.”
“A golf course?”
“That’s what the advertisement says, but when I asked the clerk, he said it was only on paper.”
“Looks like the governor hopes to develop tourism in the area. But false advertisements aren’t good for business. It’s just as well, I’m not up for eighteen holes today. What about you, Noah?” Amber asked.
“No, ma’am. I have a full calendar, thank you.”
Amber snickered because that was all she had the energy for. “Did they have any vacancies?”
“Out of forty-two rooms… No, but I offered to pay an outrageous fee to rent a room until dinnertime. The clerk bumped a couple from Colorado Springs.” Rick handed her the key. “You have a large room on the second floor with access to the deck walk. I hope you can make it up the steps because they don’t have an elevator.”
“I’m not an invalid. I can walk.”
The climb upstairs was not an easy one-foot-in-front-of-the-other endeavor. In fact, she couldn’t make it past the first landing. Breathing became so difficult she had to stop and rest. Rick’s patience seemed limitless, but the look she’d seen on his face when he set her in the buckboard, she was now able to identify as fear. And that exacerbated her own.
“Let’s go home, Amber. You don’t have to do this.”
“Just a few more hours,” she pleaded. “I’ve come this far, I have to see it through.”
“Then I’ll ask the front desk to send up the doctor.”
“What can he do? There’s no magic pill. I need a pulmonologist and cardiologist. Please, just give me a few more hours. Help me, Rick. I need my dream to come true.”
“At the expense of your life? Is it really worth it?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. Instead, he picked her up. “Come on, sweetheart, I’ll help you.” It was one of the smoothest moves she’d ever seen, and Clark Gable couldn’t have done it any better.
When they reached the room, Noah took the key and opened the door. The breathtaking view would have stolen her breath if she’d had any to steal. Rick set her gently on a reclining sofa and turned it toward the window overlooking the hogback. Ripley jumped up on the end and put her head in Amber’s lap, guarding her. She didn’t know how Ripley knew something was terribly wrong, but she did.
“I’ll have a lunch tray sent up,” Rick said. “Try to eat something.”
“I will.”
“And don’t go out on the walk. I’d hate for you to faint with nobody there to catch you.”
“I’m not prone to fainting, and I promise not to leave this spot.” She pointed toward her rucksack. “Will you give me my journal?”
Noah handed it to her. “I better stay here with you. Rick can go find Dr. Lakes.”
She put the sack aside and cupped his cheek. “No, sweetie. You go with him. You know the things I want to see. And if you find Dr. Lakes, and he won’t come to town, you know what to ask him.”
Noah shook his he
ad. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Ask him the questions you would ask me. Be my eyes, Noah. Be my heart and voice. Share our passion with him.”
He hugged her, and his tears wet the side of her face. “I don’t want to leave you. What if something bad happens while we’re gone and you’re all alone?” He looked at her with an odd expression, and she couldn’t fathom the meaning.
She put her hand to her chest, wishing she could push air into her lungs. “Nothing will happen. I want you to enjoy the hogback for both of us.”
He walked away, head down, shoulders slumped. What was wrong with him? He should be excited, not worried. Then it dawned on her. “Noah,” she said. “Come here.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m not sick like your mom was.” She stopped to breathe and then continued. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ll be right here when you return, and then we’ll take the train back to Denver.”
And then what? She would have to tell him goodbye.
His face went through a series of emotions, none of which relieved her worry for him, and then he seemed to relax. “Maybe you’ll feel like having dinner in the fancy restaurant downstairs before we leave.”
“That sounds like a lovely idea. On your way out, why don’t you make a reservation.”
Rick kissed her forehead, scratching her with his whiskers. “If anything happens to you while we’re gone”—He gave her a wicked grin that usually did the trick in boosting her spirits—“I swear I’ll never volunteer to be your bodyguard again.”
“I hope I’ll never need a bodyguard again, but I’ll behave myself, so you won’t turn down the job.”
Noah called to his dog, “Come on, Ripley.” Ripley glanced up, whined, then nestled her head on Amber’s lap.
Rick petted the dog. “Looks like you want to stay and guard your mistress. Okay, but don’t let her leave the room.” Then to Amber he said, “I’ll lock the door, but that means you’ll have to get up to let in the room service attendant.”
“I can handle that.”
She worked hard to appear untroubled. Acting was not her forte, and Rick had learned to read her well. He knelt so they were face to face. “I don’t like this at all. I promised David I wouldn’t leave you.”
“You have to go. This is the only chance I’ll have…” She stopped for a breath. “You have to take it for me.”
He butted his head with hers. “I love you, sweetheart, like I love my sister. When you meet her, you’ll see how difficult she can be to love. Don’t take any risks. We’ll be back in an hour or two.”
If Rick teared up, she’d call off the whole thing and get right back on the train. But he smiled. “Remember, you have no way to communicate with me. If it’s an emergency and you have to go home, go.”
“I won’t go without you, and the stone doesn’t seem to work anyway.”
She gave them a toodle-oo wave, and as soon as the door closed, she cried. This was one of the biggest days in her life and some stupid bug was keeping her from enjoying it. On top of her breathing issues, she’d shed more tears in the last few days than she had in her entire life. If she were ten years older, she’d buy into a pre-menopausal diagnosis. Since she was compiling a list of specialists to see upon her return, she might as well add an OB/GYN.
She dozed off and woke when Ripley barked. “What is it, girl?” She petted her head. “What’s the matter?” A knock on the door produced another bark. “That’s just room service.” Then she noticed the lunch tray on the table that she hadn’t touched, and vaguely remembered opening the door for room service then immediately falling back to sleep. They must be coming for the tray. She pushed to her feet and Ripley trotted behind her. “I’m coming.”
She unlocked and partially opened the door. Ripley growled at the two men standing there. They definitely weren’t hotel employees. She tried to slam the door, but one of the men put his boot in the way. He pushed his way in, forcing her to step aside.
Ripley growled again.
One of the two men, a rangy-looking man wearing a sheepskin coat drew a Colt .45 from a gun belt and pointed it at Ripley. “Shut her up, or I will.”
“Shh, Ripley. What do you want?” She backed away from the door. “I don’t have any money or anything of value.” She had the brooch, but she would guard that with her life. She wobbled and leaned against the wall. “I have to sit down.” Her heart raced. Perspiration broke out on her forehead, above her lip, and her limbs shivered. She should be afraid of the men, but she was more worried about her next breath than whether they intended to steal her last one.
The man without the gun had a tidy Van Dyke beard, a great mane of… She stopped cataloging personal details when she realized she had seen him at the train station shipping crates to Yale.
Bluntly he asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know.” She collapsed on the sofa, her head swimming. What time was it? Rick said they would be back in an hour or two. If he came in now, the situation would escalate. She had to find out what the men wanted and get rid of them. She glanced at her lapel watch. It was almost one o’clock. There was still time.
“Come here, Ripley.” She held her by the scruff of her neck, and she sat obediently at her side but growled low in her throat. “What do you want?” Her patina of bravery was thinner than she wanted to admit.
“I’m Leonard Hendrix.” He pointed to the man guarding the door. “My associate.” Hendrix sat in a chair opposite her.
Then she remembered she’d seen both men in Leadville. “You walked out on my performance at the Tabor Opera House. I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy it. I hope you got a refund.”
There was a look of surprise on Hendrix’s face. “You had a standing room only crowd. I’m surprised you noticed.”
“How could I not. You were the only patrons leaving.”
“We found out what we needed to know. No point sticking around. You see”—He flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his coat sleeve—“we believe you’re in the employ of Dr. Cope and are here to sabotage Dr. Marsh’s project.” He looked hard, angry, at her, as if he thought she was too sick to listen. “You’ve been spreading drawings of unknown creatures along with rumors and innuendo. We’re here to see that you desist slandering our employer.”
“I know all about Cope’s and Marsh’s hatred for each other, and the lengths they’re willing to go to discredit each other’s work.” She stopped to breathe and after a long pause continued, “I’m not here to interfere. I’m strictly an observer.”
The man pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and held it in front of her. “This is your work, correct?” His tone made it clear he didn’t expect her to deny it. It was the sketch she had drawn for Noah her first night in Leadville.
“Where’d you get that?”
“Doesn’t matter. What I want to know, what Dr. Marsh wants to know, is where it came from.”
She reached for the drawing. “I drew it from memory. It’s mine.”
He folded it and returned it to his pocket. “We talked to Judge Adams in Leadville. He said you told him that you attended Smith College, then studied geology under Dr. Marsh at the Peabody Museum of Natural History at Yale—unofficially. Dr. Marsh said a woman has never studied under him and that you’re a fraud.”
“That’s not nice,” she said. “If that’s what he thinks…” She stopped to take a few breaths before continuing, “then why does he care about my sketch?”
“He believes you’re working for Dr. Cope and spreading falsehoods to discredit his work.”
“I’m not here to interfere with their work. They’re both…” She pursed her lips and took several shallow breaths. “They’re both outstanding geologists and paleontologists. I’d like to see them work together. I believe they can accomplish more together than separately.”
“That wasn’t your position last night at the Robinson residence.” Hendrix removed a small notebook from his inside jacket pocket and flipped to the las
t page. “I believe your comment was, ‘Aren’t you more interested in dinosaurs and prehistoric life because of their intense rivalry and hatred for each other?’ That sounds to me like you were encouraging the dissension between them.”
“Gossip travels faster in Denver than the news does by telegraph…” She put her hand to her throat and closed her eyes for a moment. Then continued, “I want the doctors to work together so it won’t take them years to realize the Stegosaurus isn’t a gigantic prehistoric turtle.”
“If it’s not, what is it?”
“A Jurassic dinosaur, and that’s all I can say.”
“Where’s your proof?”
She pointed in the direction of the hogback. “Everything Marsh and Cope need to understand about the Stegosaurus is out there. They just need to work together to figure it out. If they do, they’ll come to an understanding about the dermal plates, too.” She had to stop talking. Every word made the next breath that much harder to claim.
Her chest pains were more intense. She turned to straighten out on the settee to see if that would ease her breathing. When she switched positions, her journal fell to the floor.
Hendrix made a hard, scraping noise as he pushed forward to pick it up. “What’s this?”
She made a move to stand but she couldn’t. “Give it to me. You can’t have that.”
He thumbed through several pages. No one’s eyes ever went wider in recognition. He knew what he had, and he was mentally calculating how much money he could extort from Marsh for the treasure trove of information. Hendrix’s Adam’s apple bobbed with an involuntary gulp. He croaked, “Where’d you get this?”
“I’ll tell you, if you give it back.”
He seemed shocked, amused. “This is better than I expected.” He stood and walked toward the door.
Amber pushed to her feet, wobbled. Her journal contained sketches and descriptions of every dinosaur found in Colorado. Marsh would consider the book to be the Holy Grail of paleontology. “It’s mine. You can’t have it.”
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 49
