by Cat Cahill
Dora closed her eyes and tried to imagine this valley as it stood hundreds of years earlier, when the Ute came and went as they pleased. If no one had ever disturbed them, then perhaps she wouldn’t be in the predicament she was in now. Instead, she’d be with her mother, helping her prepare a meal or trading stories and jokes with her cousins. Her mother never would have met her father, a white man Dora knew nothing of except the very little her mother had told her. Perhaps then Dora might have a good father, a proud man of the Muache band who kept his promises and loved his family.
She’d never have met Jake.
Despite the coldness he’d shown toward her that morning, the very thought of never having met him made her heart ache. Dora pressed her hands against the freezing window, letting the cold seep into her bones until the ache diminished and the frigid, hard truth crystallized in her mind.
She’d come here on her own, determined to do what she could to earn money for her mother, her aunts and uncles, her grandparents, her cousins. Without her, they’d starve. Her family was her priority, and she needed to remember that. She’d been foolish to trust a man like Jake. If her own father had shown her anything by leaving his marriage and family before she could walk, it was that men were not to be trusted with one’s heart. Dora had known that, and yet she’d let down her guard and allowed Jake in. And where had that gotten her? It was even more foolish to believe he’d still care for her once he learned she wasn’t who she’d presented herself to be.
Dora tapped a finger on the glass, melting the frost that had accumulated on the other side. If she was honest with herself, she’d also admit something about their conversation earlier had unsettled her—something beyond his coolness toward her and beyond him acting as if she were the thief. Dora couldn’t quite grab hold of it, though. It was . . .
She chewed on her lower lip and left the window, pacing the small room until she came to the door, and then back again, dropping onto her bed. It was strange, but the feeling she’d gotten was that he was judging people—the thief, really, but it had felt broader than that—for being poor.
Now that she’d placed it in words, Dora almost laughed. It sounded ridiculous. It was almost as if she was imagining him coming from a well-to-do family, and not a policeman’s home. Perhaps it was simply the company he’d kept. After all, he’d somehow befriended that wealthy man and his sister, the one he’d rescued from a thief in the alley.
All the more reason for her to keep her distance from him. If those were the sort of people he preferred to befriend, he would never understand her circumstances.
Dora stood and walked to the vanity table, where she sat and examined herself in the small, handheld mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but that would pass after some time. She unpinned her hair, brushed it out, and repinned it, her mind made up.
She’d give all her attention to what was important—finding the thief so the hotel could remain open and she could keep her position here. She’d figure out once and for all if Millie was the culprit. Nothing would make her happier than to exonerate her friend, but she needed to find out for certain. As soon as she finished her hair, she pinched some color into her cheeks and then stood, casting her gaze about the room.
She’d make a thorough search of their room again. If that turned up nothing, she’d decide what to do next.
And—most important—she’d keep her distance from Jake. As much as it pained her heart to admit it, she was better off without him. The last thing she needed was to follow in her mother’s footsteps and marry some untrustworthy man.
No. Dora Reynolds would remain true to herself, her family, and her friends. And no one else.
Chapter Twenty
The minutes ticked by on Jacob’s pocket watch. He’d set it on the desk as he worked his way through Peterson’s shift. He’d only been scheduled to work through two in the afternoon, but at six, he’d received word that Peterson had taken ill and couldn’t finish his shift. So Jake found himself behind the front desk again. It had been lively at first, with new passengers checking in and existing guests checking out to leave on the train that had just arrived.
But now, the evening rush had worn into a nighttime stupor. He should use the time and occupy his mind with his investigation, but all he could think about was Dora. Guilt gnawed away at the edges of his mind. He’d been so cold to her, and he was certain his suspicion shined through when he questioned her about the thief’s motives. She’d shown no hint of sorrow or guilt. Still . . . who else could it be? No one else had the access. And while he wasn’t entirely sure she had the motivation to steal the money, she’d said she was here to work for her family. And she’d all but said they depended upon her wages for survival. After all, who would send a beloved daughter hundreds of miles away to the frontier to work as a waitress if it wasn’t absolutely necessary? Perhaps things had taken a turn for the worse at home, and Dora felt compelled to steal the money to aid the family she loved so much.
That explanation wasn’t so horrible. In fact, Jacob felt himself sympathizing with her. He might even do the same for his own family if he were in such a situation. If there were no other options, and the wages he made working at whatever menial job he was qualified for weren’t enough to keep his family in a decent home with enough to eat, he just might . . .
That doesn’t excuse it. Jacob rubbed his hands across his face. His usually clean-shaven chin was beginning to grow a beard, something he would have never considered wearing back home in New York or during his time in Chicago. Despite the fashion, he’d much preferred a daily shave. But here . . . He could have laughed at himself. He hadn’t shaved in days, he wore boots he would have sneered at two months ago, and he’d traded in his perfectly tailored jackets and trousers for those more befitting a desk clerk.
And he didn’t seem to mind any of it one bit.
In fact, none of it had even crossed his mind until now. He’d been far too busy with his investigation and with—he had to admit—Dora. She certainly didn’t mind his clothes or his unshaven face. She hadn’t complained when he’d almost kissed her in the stables that evening . . .
“Pardon me, sir.” A smartly dressed man stood before the front desk, unlit cigar in his hand. “I hear there are billiards tables in this hotel.”
“There are, in the smoking parlor. Second door to the right.” Jacob pointed to the other side of the front desk.
The man nodded, and just as he walked off, Jacob spotted her.
Dora, gliding across the lobby with a woman he didn’t recognize. Neither of them wore the usual Gilbert Girls uniform dress. Instead, Dora wore a lively green frock that wasn’t fancy in the least, but illuminated her skin and made her dark hair look even shinier than normal. It wasn’t until she looked up at him that he realized he’d been staring. She said something to her companion, a slight blonde in blue and white, who then glanced up at him, unsmiling. Jacob nodded to her out of politeness, but looked back down at the desk as quickly as he could.
What had Dora said about him? His mind raced with the possibilities, none of them good. When he dared to glance up again, they were making their way up the stairs. Dora herself hadn’t so much as acknowledged him, and that hurt more than anything she might have said to her friend.
Possessed with the urge to see her again—and make her see him—Jacob strode around the desk toward the stairs. He was halfway up when sense hit him. What would he do when he saw her? Was there anything he could say that might make up for how he’d acted earlier?
And should he? If she was the thief, he needed to keep his distance. And if she wasn’t . . . Jacob curled his fingers around the banister. He needed to know.
He raced up the stairs, hoping the women were going to the parlor. If not, he’d be out of luck this evening, and he didn’t know if he’d sleep at all tonight without a definitive answer. He entered the room, his eyes searching through the waitresses, maids, and other hotel employees until he found them.
Jacob strode through the par
lor until he reached the corner in which they were sitting. There were no free chairs, so he stood awkwardly before them. Dora glanced up and then immediately looked back down at her lap. Her friend kept her eyes trained on Jacob.
“Good evening,” he finally said, the rules of propriety, such as they were here, slowly returning to his head. Without Dora introducing him to her friend, he was left to do it himself. “I’m Jake James, desk clerk here at the hotel.” He held out his hand, and the blonde woman laid hers in it.
“Mrs. Caroline Drexel, former Gilbert Girl,” she said in a soft but pointed voice. He couldn’t quite place her accent, but it was the cultured manner of speaking that came only from an upbringing similar to his own.
“Ah, of the general store?”
“Yes. I run the store with my husband.”
Jacob had approximately nine hundred questions about how that had possibly come about, but he held his tongue. He was here to see Dora, to either put his doubts to rest or face the fact the woman he’d spent so much time with was actually stealing from his family’s business. “Good evening, Miss Reynolds.”
She glanced up at him again, her eyes shielded. The very look made him want to apologize until he was blue in the face. He’d hurt her.
Or had he? Was it a truthful look, or one she wished him to believe was truthful? Jacob’s head spun. He needed to remain in control if he had any hope of discerning the truth.
“Good evening,” she finally said, the words so cool she might as well have told him to have a terrible evening.
“I trust you’re having a fine visit?”
“We are.” She looked away from him to her friend.
“May we do something for you, Mr. James?” Mrs. Drexel finally asked. The words were friendly enough, but with an undertone that indicated they wished he’d leave.
Dora watched him now, her eyes blazing straight through to his soul. But her expression was anything but warm.
It’s for the best, he reminded himself. He had a sole purpose here, and that wasn’t falling for the wiles of a thief. If she is the thief . . .
“Mr. James?” Mrs. Drexel prompted.
“I’m sorry, I . . .” Why was he here? Did he think Dora would suddenly confess her crimes? “I simply wanted to make your acquaintance, given that I’m still new to the hotel.”
Mrs. Drexel nodded, ever the bastion of politeness. He wondered what she really thought of him. Dora certainly made no secret of her feelings, with the way she’d seemed to turn as icy as Silver Creek was now behind the hotel. What did he expect, though, after pushing her away and indicating his suspicion?
“Then we’ll bid you good evening, sir,” Mrs. Drexel said.
“Good evening.” He gave a polite bow and then turned on his heel. Only when he exited the door did he let down his guard. He leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. Why did he think she’d confess or offer up some unquestionable alibi just because he followed her upstairs? And why did he worry so much about what she thought of him? She made a fine distraction, which may have been her intention all along.
He never should’ve let his affections get in the way of his work. He’d made a mess of everything, and now he might have to order the arrest of a woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. If he could ever catch her, that is.
And yet . . . he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all wrong. No matter what the facts said, how could the time they’d spent together be all a lie? The way she’d looked at him right before he tried to kiss her in the stables . . . nothing had ever felt more real in his life. She had been genuinely upset that night when he’d comforted her. And what about the way she’d tried to keep him at a distance when he was first getting to know her? He’d thought she was a refreshing change from the practiced flirts he’d known in Chicago and New York. But was it something else?
What was real? And what was made up?
When he returned downstairs, his thoughts still running circles in his mind, Mr. Thomason, the depot clerk, waited at the front desk. Who knew how long the man had been standing there, since Jacob had abandoned his post to chase after a woman.
“I was told you’d be here tonight,” he said when Jacob slid behind the desk. “I have a telegram for you. Thought I’d bring it over before closing up for the night.”
Jacob thanked him and handed him a coin for his trouble. Once the clerk had left and Jacob had taken stock of those who remained in the lobby, he unfolded the paper and flattened it on the desk. Drawing the lamp closer, he read:
JG had change of heart. Feels you to be more useful here. Return on next train. JG, Jr.
Jacob crumpled the telegram in his fist. His father couldn’t even be bothered to send the message himself, making his brother be the bearer of bad news. He itched to chase Thomason down with an insistent message that he had five more days. But all that might do was make his father angrier.
He stared out over the lobby. There was nothing to do but return to Denver and plead his case.
Chapter Twenty-one
Dora was quiet when Jake left the parlor. Her emotions felt as if they were fighting each other, and she wasn’t sure how she should feel, much less how she actually felt. Why had he come upstairs? Had he planned to interrogate her again and only stopped when he saw she was with Caroline? She’d found nothing in her and Millie’s room that would serve as proof Millie was the thief, so she couldn’t have even used that to defend herself from his accusations.
Caroline laid a hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t know.” Dora squeezed her eyes shut. She’d cried enough over this man. He didn’t deserve any more of her tears. “I wish my mother were here.” Her mother would know the right words to say to soothe Dora’s battered soul. She’d never ached for her mother’s embrace the way she did now.
Caroline took her hand and stood, gently pulling Dora up. “Come, let’s go somewhere more private.”
Dora followed her friend numbly. She hadn’t seen as much of Caroline since she’d married and gone to live with her husband at the new general store. But Caroline was an excellent listener who always had good advice, and Dora was thankful she had happened to stop by the hotel for a visit.
Caroline led her down the hall to Penny’s room. Penny answered right away and swept Caroline up in a hug. “Oh! I’m so glad you’re here. I need your help. Now, for the wedding—” She stopped the moment she saw Dora.
Dora figured she must look a fright, because Penny pulled her into a hug too. When Penny let her go, she kept hold of her arms as she studied Dora’s face. “It’s that man, isn’t it?”
Dora pushed her lips together, trying to keep her emotions from taking over yet again. She nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak.
“He followed us upstairs to the lobby, for what seemed to be no apparent reason,” Caroline told Penny.
But Penny kept her eyes on Dora. “You do have feelings for him, don’t you?”
Dora nodded again, more slowly this time. She should’ve trusted her friends from the beginning. Especially Penny. She, Caroline, and Emma—whom they all looked forward to seeing as soon as she made her way back to the valley with her husband—only had each other for months when they first arrived in Crest Stone. Dora trusted these women like her own family.
But not enough to tell them who she really was. That truth ate away at her conscience, more so now than ever.
“Oh, my poor dear.” Penny drew her into a hug again before letting her go to sit on the bed. Caroline took the chair at the desk, while Dora sunk onto the mattress next to Penny. “What did he do?”
She’d only briefly told Caroline that Jake had played with her affections, giving her attention until he’d seen she had developed feelings for him before pushing her away. It was the truth, and she told Penny as much now, even if it wasn’t the entire truth. “It’s for the best,” she finished.
Caroline wrapped her fingers tightly around the reticule she carried. “What do you mean
?”
“If you mean because it’s forbidden, well . . .” Penny gave a knowing glance at Caroline.
Dora knew exactly what they were referring to. Each of her friends had found love, even though it was against the rules of being a Gilbert Girl. “It’s not that. Well, yes, it is, but only to an extent.” If she kept talking, perhaps she could keep her head about her instead of dissolving into a teary mess again. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as her friends waited patiently for her explanation. How could she share how heart-rending it was to know he suspected her of thievery, without giving away his true purpose here or her involvement in the investigation? Even though he’d betrayed her affections, she felt it best to keep the investigation a secret, for the good of the hotel. And perhaps also for Jake’s safety. If word got out to the thief, Jake might be in danger.
Instead, she concentrated on the strange feeling she’d had during their conversation outside, that he hadn’t been entirely honest with her either. “I had the oddest feeling the last time we spoke. It was as if . . .” It was hard to put into words. “As if he knows more about certain ways of life than he should.”
At Penny and Caroline’s quizzical expressions, she tried to explain it better. “He grew up in Chicago, and his father was a policeman. Yet, his good friends were quite well-to-do, and he speaks of impoverished people as if they have all sorts of options. While I imagine his family wasn’t poor, I doubt they were wealthy either. It doesn’t fit together.”
“Do you think he’s lying?” Penny asked.
Dora lifted her eyes to Penny’s window, the blinding white world outside offering no answers. She tried to imagine what it might be like to live as a policeman’s son in Chicago, but it was so far removed from her own experience, she didn’t know where to begin. “I don’t know. I don’t know enough about that life to be certain. It simply strikes me as strange.” She turned to look back at her friends, both of whom had grown up in cities, albeit in entirely different circumstances. “Do boys from working-class families normally spend time with the children of wealthy families?”
