DeRemer seemed amused. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of me. But thank you.” He knocked on a paneled door in the middle of a narrow hallway.
A commanding voice said, “Come in.”
DeRemer turned the knob and gestured for Olivia and Connor to enter. Despite the size of the room, the ornate paneled walls and elegant rosewood desk gave the office a closed-in feeling. Delicately etched chimneys atop coal oil lamps threw back shadows that mingled with the haze of cigar smoke, further darkening the room and giving it an additional claustrophobic effect. She sidestepped DeRemer and, holding up her overskirts, proceeded into the general’s domain.
The general looked at her and instantly removed his glasses. The puzzlement on his face lasted only an instant before giving way to the sudden gathering of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Because of the crinkling in his skin, she assumed a smile crouched beneath the waves of his bushy mustache. He came out from behind the desk, extending his hand, his gaze sliding over her body in a manner she found unwarranted and irritating.
“Miss Kelly,” he said, almost as a question.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“I received several reports about you this morning. All of them intriguing.”
“And I’ve heard extraordinary stories about you.” She turned to Connor. “This is my companion, Mr. O’Grady.”
The general extended his hand to Connor. “Major Grant has spoken highly of you and your brother. He hopes to make Pinkerton men of you. I’m always looking for good men as well. What unit did you fight in?”
“Fight? Oh, in the war?” Connor said. Olivia froze, waiting for him to dodge the question. He didn’t. “I was part of the Irish Brigade, sir.”
“Were you at First Manassas?”
“Yes, sir, but I’d rather talk about the railroad.”
Olivia tried not to stare at Connor, imagining a vivid family story she hoped he would share with her.
The general gave a hearty laugh as he gestured to a cluster of chairs on a green-patterned Wilton carpet surrounded by an inlaid wood floor. “Please, sit.” It wasn’t an invitation, but a command.
She undid the clasp of her cloak.
“Allow me.” Connor’s voice at her ear, as he lifted the cloak from her shoulders, was both warm and intimate. He hung it on a peg behind the door. Then he waited attentively while she adjusted her skirts and sat in the offered chair, the bulky train of the dress flattening. The leather seemed to sigh beneath her, but she couldn’t allow herself the luxury of sighing with it. The general was a distinguished and intelligent former soldier and she had to stay alert.
He returned to his chair. The spectacles he had pulled off upon standing he now tapped idly on a notepad set askew on the desktop, as if wondering how to broach the subject they were there to discuss.
“You would suppose,” he began, setting the glasses aside, “that reasonable men could find a solution to the problems facing us. Yet there’s been nothing reasonable about it.”
“You would have thought reasonable men could have stopped a horrible war,” she said.
He arched an eyebrow. “Many tried. Many refused to listen.” He glanced at a cavalry saber hanging on the wall. Then after a moment, he shook off what must have been a grim vision.
“You didn’t come here today to talk about the war. But like the war, we have a problem without a solution. It doesn’t help either side that the courts contradict themselves. And now we’re forced to hire gangs of cutthroats to protect our rights. Rio Grande’s investors are bleeding money and want to lease the tracks to Santa Fe, hoping that will be a solution.” He tilted back in his chair and fiddled with one side of his mustache.
She leaned forward but kept her gloved hands crossed in her lap. “General, if you lease the tracks, part of the consideration has to be that you control the freight rates south of Denver. If you don’t, Santa Fe can and probably will raise rates to Denver from Pueblo, Colorado Springs, and Caǹon City, and they’ll divert additional traffic eastward over its own line. You’ll lose money and any benefits leasing the tracks might give you. Once shippers undercut you, your income will fall below what you need to pay interest on your bonds, and you’ll be thrown into the hands of a receiver.”
“You don’t paint a pretty picture, Miss Kelly.” He dropped the chair’s legs to the floor and the gravity of the situation seemed to pour into his face.
“I’m not an artist, sir, but I know war is never pretty, and that’s exactly what’s going on here. You’re fighting on two fronts: in the gorge and in the courtroom.”
“How’d you come to be so familiar with this situation?”
She was prepared for the question. “I’ve read every article I could find. I’ve studied the law in this case, and I’ve conferred with other lawyers. It’s my opinion that the Supreme Court will grant you the primary right to build through the gorge.”
“Your opinion? I have lawyers who differ. In your opinion then, what will the court base its ruling on?” he asked.
“That the Circuit Court for the District of Colorado erred in not recognizing that an 1872 Act of Congress granted you the right to use the entire fifty-mile stretch through the gorge. Further, it’s my opinion, after studying the court’s calendar, that the ruling will come down any day now.”
The general nodded soberly, moving his head up and down to the rhythm of the ticking pendulum in the clock atop a corner bookcase. It was filled with leather-bound books, but she was too far away to read the titles.
“You are a canny woman. The company’s board members advised me of your expertise, but I was wary. I believed you had simply bewitched them.”
“So you wanted to hear directly from the source. I understand that, but the most important advice I can give you is this: If you lease your track, hoping to stop the bleeding, you’ll spend thousands of dollars in legal fees later trying to get out of it. You’ll eventually get so tired of fighting that you’ll settle out of court. If you hold out now, you’ll come out better in the long run. Surely, sir, you can keep from inking on the dotted line a few more days.”
“How many?”
“A week, ten days. But in the meantime, as you well know, Santa Fe is laying track in the gorge. When the court hands down a favorable ruling, you’ll have to pay Santa Fe for the track they’ve already put down. Let them lay all the track they want. It will put you that much closer to completing the line to Leadville.”
“Pay them? Pshaw. If the company had full coffers we wouldn’t consider this step. How much are you suggesting?”
“For the track Santa Fe’s laid in the gorge, grading, materials on hand, interest, it could be a million and a half.”
The general gasped, pushed to his feet, and leaned over the desk, knocking over a standing leather photocase. He supported his weight on two fists. “That’s outrageous.”
Olivia refused to be cowed. She jumped up, leaned forward, and supported her weight on her fists, mirroring him. “Look into the future, General. This line could provide passenger and freight service for a century. Whatever you’re bleeding now, you’ll make back a hundredfold.”
“Why should I believe you?”
She waited for him to sit down before she moved, but then realized the general was too polite to reclaim his chair while she remained standing. She adjusted her skirts and sat on the edge of her chair. From the corner of her eye, she caught a slight twitch of Connor’s lips.
“There’s no reason I can think of. I’m just an educated woman with opinions, but I hope the issues I’ve raised will give you food for thought, and that you’ll discuss them with your board members. There’s only one way to win this war, sir, and that’s through the courts.”
He made a noncommittal head wag. “You’re spouting only assumptions and suppositions, nothing a scout could verify. My attorneys don’t have your confidence. Why is that?”
“I guess they don’t have a crystal ball.”
A knock on the door drew their attention. �
�Come in,” the general said.
Daniel entered the room and Connor stood. After acknowledging the general, Daniel took Olivia’s proffered hand and bowed over it before shaking hands with Connor.
“I’m sorry I was detained. Did ye have any trouble?”
“No, we came right here,” Olivia said.
The general sat back, fingers interlaced across his waistcoat. There was an expectant air about him that she found unnerving. “Any news, Major?”
“It’s quiet right now, sir.”
“Good. Miss Kelly just told me the Rio Grande would ultimately win this war because her crystal ball told her. What do you think of that?”
The look Connor had given her earlier paled in comparison to the one Daniel gave her now. Connor saw it, too, and immediately stepped between Daniel and Olivia. Once again, playing the role of protector. But what was he protecting her from? Daniel looked angry, but he wouldn’t physically hurt her. Her sister wouldn’t have fallen for a violent man. And Noah was not an abused child. He had such a gentle and loving spirit.
Then what was the source of Daniel’s anger? The unknown? Lies? Lack of trust? Whoa, she could identify with that. If he was suspicious of Amber, he would also be suspicious of Olivia. She and her sister could divine the future and that had to be scary as hell to an alpha male who had to be in control of his world.
“Ye’ll have to evaluate her scrying against the recommendations of yer attorneys, board members, and bondholders,” Daniel said. “Ultimately, ye’ll have to make decisions based on what’s best for the long-term health of the railroad, not on prognostications.”
The general sat forward and adjusted the lamp’s wick, adding additional light to his desk. “Excellent advice, Major.” He hooked his reading glasses over his ears, withdrew a piece of paper from one of a dozen pigeon holes on the side of the desk’s writing surface, and inked the steel nip of his pen. “That’ll be all.”
Olivia bristled. What? That’ll be all? Excellent advice, Major.
The general might as well have slapped her. He didn’t even have the guts to look her in the eye. She glared, hoping he’d raise his head. If he’d paid a retainer for her legal advice she would have thrown the money back in his face. Never in her life had she been summarily dismissed. She couldn’t speak around her mounting anger. Instead, she tugged at her gloves, making a show of her impatience to quit his company.
Connor lifted her cloak from the peg and folded it over his arm. Once the door closed behind them, he placed it around her shoulders, hissing in her ear. “Don’t say a word until we get back to the train.”
Her anger had grown to the size of a fist in her throat. Not even a scream could get past the blockade. Daniel’s rhetoric abilities and relentless honesty aside, his comment confirmed what she suspected. Whatever she and Amber had said to him that he couldn’t understand or fit within the limitations of his world scared him, but he was courageous enough to face that fear, and a showdown was coming.
But the general… There was no excusing his behavior. He was simply rude. She and Connor had come to Pueblo at his request and he could at least… What? He did listen to her. He asked questions. He seemed engaged. That really was more than she’d expected.
She marched out, holding her umbrella in a stranglehold, thankful her long skirts masked her unsteady gait. Get over it. She’d had rude clients before, and she’d have others. She swept back small twists of hair that escaped from the pins and took a deep breath to settle her umbrage. By the time they crossed the rutted yard in front of the depot, her pique had played out—almost. She and Connor could now get back on the train for a delightful return trip to Denver.
Daniel’s horse was hitched at the tie rail. He yanked the reins and held them in his hand. “I’m staying at the St. James Hotel at Fifth and Santa Fe. It overlooks the town square. I have an appointment with R.F. Weitbrec. He’s the onsite commander of the hired army, which includes the Pinkertons. Whatever is going to happen here, he’ll be at the forefront of the action.”
“Do you think there’ll be violence?” she asked.
“What do ye think?”
“Do you want my opinion, or was that a rhetorical question?”
Daniel ignored her. “There’s a dining room at the hotel. If ye’d like to join me for a late lunch, I could meet ye there in thirty minutes.”
Connor glanced at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. He was leaving the decision to her.
“Thank you for the invitation. We’d like to join you,” Olivia said, imagining a crescendo of additional questions she might have to sidestep and dance around. “We’ll hire a hack and be right along.”
Daniel swung up on the horse, reined the black Morgan around, and put two fingers to the edge of his hat. Then he touched the horse with his heels and galloped off, straight up, shoulders back. She’d never seen a Union officer before, and now she’d seen two—the general and Daniel.
And two was one too many. “You saw the look Daniel gave me, right?”
“In Palmer’s office. Yeah, I did. I almost punched him in the face. What’d you do to piss him off?”
“He seemed fine when he came in, but at soon as the general mentioned a crystal ball you could see the anger rise in his face. He’s struggling with what he doesn’t understand. It scares him.”
“Hell, it’d scare me, too, if two beautiful women—”
“Three. Don’t forget Kenzie.”
“Three beautiful women came into my life and challenged my beliefs and one of my core values—”
“Would that be honesty?” Olivia asked.
Connor nodded. “I believe the stones were created for the benefit of mankind, to force the owners to exhibit selflessness. But it also forces us to go against the grain of our core value—honesty. It’s a juxtaposition. Daniel sees the goodness in us, but he knows innately that we’re lying. It’s like a pink, lacey T-shirt with a motocross emblem. They just don’t go together.”
She laughed. “Thanks for that visual.”
He gave her a smoldering look. “If you want something to visualize, visualize yourself naked in my arms.”
“I have.” She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, hoping to cool the sudden heat in her lower body. “And I can’t wait to replace it with the real thing.”
He grinned. “Consider yourself kissed, woman.”
She pressed two fingers against her lips and puckered. “Thanks.”
“Okay, let’s switch gears, if we can. No more prognosticating. Let’s have a quiet lunch with Daniel, unless he hasn’t cooled off,” Connor said. “Then we’ll head back to Denver. This town is heating up. I don’t want to be here, and I definitely don’t want you here.”
“And if Amber is finished at Morrison, we can go home tonight. What do you think of that?”
Connor signaled a hack driver and it squeaked to a stop in front of them. “It’s a great idea. Your parents are due home, and it’s time I met them.”
He helped her up into a two-passenger carriage. “You’ll love them, and they’ll love you,” she said.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m just an ex-cop from New York City. I might not be the kind of guy they want for their daughter.”
“Once they get past your accent, they’ll love you as much as I do.”
He removed his hat, lowered his face to hers, and tenderly lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. His hot breath fanned her cheek, and goose bumps peppered her arms in anticipation. When his lips found hers—a touch at first, molding lips against lips—a burst of unbridled hunger drove her to distraction. His tongue slid deep within her mouth for a few blissful seconds. Then, she became aware of where they were, and she pulled away.
“We keep getting to this point and circumstances force us apart.”
He laughed, and the sound was deep and rich and sensual. “This is the last time.”
A few minutes later, they were driving down Santa Fe Street toward the center of town, where armed men lin
ed both sides of the street.
“One hour,” he said, his face creased with concern, “and we’re out of here.”
“One hour might be sixty minutes too long. Those men are preparing to storm the Bastille.”
45
The Present, Richmond, Virginia—Rick
When the fog lifted, Rick was lying in damp grass with Amber, Noah, and Ripley. Glancing around, he took in their surroundings. They were in a grassy area at the edge of a full parking lot next to the entrance of the VCU Medical Center Department of Emergency Medicine. Sirens blasted, along with the sounds of heavy traffic. The weather was balmy, and shades of yellow leaves predominated in the landscaping.
He made some assumptions. They were in Virginia on a weekday in late fall, probably mid-morning.
“Where are we?” Amber asked.
“If VCU stands for Virginia Commonwealth University,” Rick said, “then we’re in Richmond.”
“How’s Ripley?”
Rick checked on the dog. “She’s listless and appears unaware. I’ll get her medical attention as soon as I take care of you.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on. “I’ll call Charlotte and give her a heads-up that we’re coming in. She’ll cut through red tape that could slow us down once we get inside.”
Noah looked around, his eyes wide, his breathing erratic. Rick hugged him. “Hang in there, buddy. I’ll explain everything in a minute.”
When his phone came on, the first thing he noticed was the date. The second thing was the time. Same date and within one or two minutes of his departure from the farm with Kenzie and David. He’d be sure to include that piece of information in his After Action Report. He hadn’t written an AAR since… He shook his head, needing to forget that Charlie Foxtrot that almost got him killed.
He scrolled through his contacts until he found Charlotte’s number. He’d never phoned her before, so his name wouldn’t show up with his phone number. She might not answer an unknown caller.
It rang twice, and a woman’s voice said, “Dr. Mallory.”
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 53
