by Gina Welborn
“Which is?”
“Omaha.” She answered too quickly—too trustingly—for him to believe that was their final destination.
“And then where are we going?” When she didn’t answer, he added, “My employer specifically said you would provide all the details of the trip.”
“Manhattan.”
He tensed. “New York?” That was the opposite direction of where he needed to go to buy Mac’s horse.
“No, Kansas,” she whispered. “Manhattan is a cozy town on the Union Pacific line. Directions of where to take the girls and what to teach them during the train ride are written down in my diary. I didn’t want to forget anything my…employers told me.”
“But if someone finds your diary—”
“Don’t fret. It’s locked in the safe with my other valuables.”
“Can I read it?”
She chuckled with the ease of someone prone to laughter. “Well, aren’t you the curious sort. Mr. Jacobs, I trust you enough to help escort these girls. I do not trust you with my heart.”
“I don’t mean all of it,” Jakob blurted out, his face heating. “You hold it open while I read the directions you were given. Reading helps me remember things.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Me, too.” Her lips pursed as she thought. “Trust goes both ways. How about we agree that if we reach a situation where you feel you need more information than what I’ve provided, I will show you what’s written in my diary?”
“That works for me.”
She extended her hand. “I’m Miss Letty Pool. You may call me Letty. Welcome to the train, dear partner of mine. Please make yourself at home.”
Her hand was as soft and uncalloused as he expected. While she could be an excellent actress, his gut told him that Miss Letty Pool—or whatever her real name was—was wealthy. Anyone who could afford to own or even just rent a private Pullman car and who, without a hint of awkwardness, wore expensive silk day dresses, pearl necklaces, and matching earrings clearly had more money than she knew what to do with.
“Now that we have introductions out of the way…” Letty looked him over from head to toe. “I’ll move my things out of the executive stateroom, and you can use it for the duration of the three-day journey. The girls are in the parlor. Before you arrived, I was sharing the benefactor’s rules with them.”
“The benefactor?”
“The person who organized the”—her voice lowered again to a whisper—“rescue ring. The benefactor insists upon secrecy.”
So Letty didn’t know who Madame Lestraude was. For her sake, Jakob would keep that information to himself. “What are these rules you were sharing with the girls?”
“Letty,” came from down the corridor, “could you come here?”
“Is it an emergency?” she asked.
Silence. Then—
“Not really.”
“Give me a moment,” she called back before focusing on Jakob. “The first rule requires everyone to keep their identities secret—your real name, where you live, et cetera. The second one is don’t form attachments.” Her nose scrunched as she studied him. “Seeing that you are a handsome man, I recommend you intentionally dissuade the girls’ affections.”
While he understood her implication, Jakob couldn’t resist asking, “You want me to be rude to them so they won’t like me?”
That stunned her silent.
Her quick recovery impressed him.
She smiled brightly. “My dear Mr. Jacobs, what an intriguing sense of humor you have. What I meant to say is, if you are married or affianced, you might find a way to casually inform them where your affections lie. Convince them to view you as an older brother.”
“Letty!”
“Do you mind if I…?” She motioned to the corridor. The moment he shook his head, she walked down the corridor, her skirt swishing in a most alluring way.
“Oh, Lord, help me.” Jakob tossed his hat and traveling bag on the sofa, then hurried after her. The moment he stepped into the parlor, all talking ceased. Three sets of eyes stared at him as he waited for Letty to introduce them, except she was too focused on looking through the pile of books in front of the brunette who had turned around in her chair to face him.
Letty removed an olive-green book from the pile. “Hazel, how about you start with Black Beauty instead of Ben-Hur? It’s a little more suited to your…age.”
The petite blonde, who couldn’t be more than thirteen, if that, clenched the blue hardback book to her chest. “I want to read Ben-Hur.”
“Fine.” The brunette snatched the copy of Black Beauty book from Letty. “I’d rather read about horses anyway.”
The third girl, the one with the black braids and bright blue eyes, never looked away from Jakob. “Who are you?”
“Matthew Jacobs, at your service.”
Letty moved to his side. “Mr. Jacobs, let me introduce Victoria”—she motioned to the girl with braids—“and these two are Ada and Hazel. Girls, Mr. Jacobs and I are partnering up to ensure you’re comfortable on the journey and to prepare you for school life.” Letty looked utterly satisfied with that explanation.
He wasn’t.
“I’m also here to help you feel safe,” Jakob said. “If you see someone looking at you odd or who makes you uncomfortable, let me know.”
Victoria glanced from him to Letty then back to him. “Why would anyone look at us odd? We aren’t getting off the train, are we?”
“No,” Letty answered then grimaced. “I’ve not scheduled a de-boarding. However, you know the rules. Mr. Jacobs and I have promised to follow them.”
“But if we do step off the train,” Jakob put in, “please know I’m here to protect you.”
Hazel and Victoria nodded.
With a “Humph,” Ada turned back to her pile of books.
Letty touched his arm. “Would you care for a beignet and coffee? Or tea?”
Beignet? Jakob looked to the table. Hazel added three familiar-looking, sugar-sprinkled, round pastries to the two on her plate, then scooted the still-full pastry platter toward an empty plate in front of the empty chair.
Jakob gave in to his curiosity. “Your chef makes beignets?”
“I’m sure Mr. Gaines could if he had a recipe,” she said, smiling, “however, I bought them this morning in Helena. The hotel restaurant employs a French chef.”
Who just so happens to be my sister-in-law.
“I’ll take coffee. Black.” Jakob slid onto the empty seat at the table and watched from the corner of his eye as Letty headed down the corridor to what he presumed was the kitchen.
She was lovely. Too lovely. Thus too likely to attract attention anytime they stepped off the train. And despite her insistence otherwise, they would step off the train at least once before they reached Manhattan, Kansas. He knew that, not because he was a prophet or because his gut was warning him, but because he’d yet to meet a woman who knew how to stick to a plan.
Instead of three girls to protect, he now had four.
He should have brought a second gun.
Chapter Six
When so many hours have been spent convincing myself I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong?
—JANE AUSTEN, Sense and Sensibility
Homestead Hotel
Fargo, Dakota Territory
That evening
Did Letty expect him to sleep tonight?
Jakob paid the desk clerk, then waited for the man to bring the room keys. They had a sleeping car attached to a train heading straight to St. Paul. There’d been no need to leave the Pullman. Under no circumstances should they have detached and de-boarded.
Except they had left the safe and secure car because Hazel had eaten too many beignets and drunk too much lemonade…on a train that rocked.
In Letty’s estimation, the Pullman was too warm and smelled too rank for any of them to sleep in it tonight. Thus, because of the consequences of Hazel’s unsettled stomach, the five of them were staying in the hotel while the Gaineses cleaned the car’s parlor. And Hazel’s berth. And the observation room. In the morning, according to the ever-cheerful Letty Pool, they’d attach the rented Pullman to the next eastbound train to St. Paul and continue on their way.
If only he could be as cheerful about the change in plans as she was.
The cost to book each of the second-floor rooms with balcony access made an unwelcome, albeit minor, dent in the funds Madame had given him, but the expense was worth it for the privacy. This way no one could attempt to access the girls through the less-secure balcony doors. The odds were slim to none that anyone was likely to recognize the girls here in Fargo. Still, he would rather not take a chance.
He looked to where his four ladies were standing, the girls listening to whatever Letty was telling them. The woman was a library of stories. She must have friends all over the country considering how many cities she’d mentioned visiting since they left the Billings depot. What did she do that afforded her the ability to travel so much?
Maybe she was an actress.
“Sir, here are your keys.”
“Thank you.” Jakob pocketed the keys, grabbed his travel bag, and then joined his ladies near the stairs, settling his attention on Hazel. “How are you feeling?”
She shrugged.
“Would you like to go to the room and rest?” he asked.
She eyed Letty. “Can I?”
Letty nodded. “I’ll go with you. Ada, would you and Victoria find a table in the restaurant? Mr. Jacobs will join you shortly.”
“Sure,” Victoria answered. She tugged on Ada’s arm, but Ada didn’t move. Her face was as pale as Hazel’s, although Jakob suspected from fear, not nausea.
He looked at Letty. “Take the girls to dinner. I’ll stay with Hazel.”
Letty touched Hazel’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm. Are you sure you don’t want to try to eat something? A piece of toast maybe? Applesauce?”
Hazel shook her head.
“All right.” Letty gave Hazel a book, then turned her attention on Jakob. “You have a kind heart.” Letty handed him her brown-and-beige-striped suitcase. “I packed their things inside, too. We’ll divvy it up later. What would you like us to bring you for dinner?”
“Order me the special.”
She looked at him with sassy eyes. “You live dangerously.”
He grinned. “Or I could’ve read the sign in the window.”
“So that’s how you operate.” She grinned at Victoria and Ada. “Let’s order Mr. Jacobs something special. Very special.”
“I said the special, not very special,” he called out as the three of them giggled while strolling arm in arm into the hotel restaurant. That little minx. Despite what he might end up eating for dinner, he gave in to his smile.
“You like her.”
Jakob looked down at Hazel. “I like all of you.”
Hazel just stared at him. Then she headed for the staircase.
Jakob ignored the temptation to glance over his shoulder to see if Letty was looking his way. He liked Letty Pool, more and more every minute he spent with her. She was funny, laughed easily, and was quick to speak encouragement to the girls. Not knowing who she really was plagued him as much as not knowing how Madame Lestraude—the benefactor—ran her rescue operation. He’d proven his merit in rescuing two girls out of Helena’s brothels in the four months he’d been working for her. She should know she could trust him with more information.
If something ever happened to her, wouldn’t she want her charity work to continue?
He took the stairs two at a time to catch up to Hazel, his travel bag in one hand, Letty’s suitcase in the other. After checking each balcony room and leaving his bag in the room closest to the stairs, he allowed Hazel to choose which one she wanted, which ended up being the room next to his. As he laid Letty’s suitcase on the quilted bed, his gaze caught on the two small holes under the handle. Jakob ran his fingers over the holes and then around the faint shadow of where a brass nameplate once had been tacked down.
Her suitcase looked exactly like the luggage Pa had bought from Lord Hugh Bradley before the Englishman forfeited his ranch and left Montana for good. Jakob hadn’t understood why Pa priced the luggage as he had, until Pa shared that Mrs. Hollenbeck confirmed the luggage was made by Louis Vuitton, the premier European luggage maker. Everyone traveling first class owned Louis Vuitton.
How could an actress afford expensive luggage?
The missing nameplate could mean nothing. Someone could have given Letty the suitcase and the matching trunk that was still on the train. Or she could have bought them at a resale shop. Who was she really?
“I’m proud of you for doing this,” Hazel said sweetly. “Be safe.”
Be safe? Huh?
Jakob looked to where she sat in the rocking chair next to the balcony door. In her lap lay the opened book. In her hand, she held a sheet of stationery with a crease through the middle.
“Love, Mother. That’s how it ends.” Hazel refolded the stationery. “If Letty didn’t want to risk someone reading the note, she wouldn’t have left it for anyone to find, right?”
Jakob wasn’t sure what to answer. Nor could he, as jealousy pricked at his heart. Why should Letty’s mother know what she was doing when he was required to hold the strictest confidence?
“It’s all right to like her,” Hazel said, sliding the note between the pages of the book. “She doesn’t have anyone who does. I mean a suitor and all.”
“Letty told you she doesn’t have a suitor?”
“No. If she had one, wouldn’t she talk about him? She talks about her friends, especially Bea and Millie.”
He expected Letty would share if she had a suitor. After all, she’d advised him to share if he was married or had a girl. She’d said it was for the girls’ sakes. But she also said she thought he was handsome.
“Why are you smiling?” Hazel asked.
Jakob schooled his features. “No reason.” He reached inside his suit pocket and withdrew a velvet bag. “How about a game of marbles while we wait for them to return?”
* * * *
Later that evening
Colette stopped at the iron footboard. She used the towel to squeeze water from her hair as she studied the girls standing on the left side of the bed, damp hair in long braids, wearing nightgowns, each ready to turn in for the night. She’d agreed to share the room with the three of them because (1) none of the girls wanted to sleep in a room by themselves, (2) Hazel wanted to share a room with Ada, (3) Ada wanted to stay with Victoria, (4) Victoria wanted to stay with Letty, and (5) Mr. Jacobs agreed it would be safer if she stayed in the room with the girls.
Colette glanced about the room. “What happened to the mattress Mr. Jacobs was going to bring from next door?”
The girls exchanged glances.
Ada spoke. “We decided it would be more fun to all share this bed.”
All in one bed? Colette glanced at the mattress. Granted, the four of them were lean, but still…“I’m hesitant to believe we can fit.”
“We can,” Victoria answered, while Hazel nodded vigorously. “It’ll be cozy and comfortable.”
“It is possible,” Ada said in the perpetual flat voice of hers. “If we sleep sideways like sardines in a can.”
Nothing about that seemed cozy or comfortable.
Colette studied the bed. It’d be a tight fit—the four of them bundled tight, their legs dangling over the side—but the iron headboard and footboard would provide a barricade in case any of them were wigglers. Oh, why not? This was the next chapter in the girls’ new adventures. After all they’d endured, this trip should
be full of fun and laughter. And even a bit of silliness. Besides, starting tomorrow, until they reached Manhattan, they’d be sleeping on the train.
“Let’s do it!” The moment the words left Colette’s mouth, Victoria and Hazel squealed.
Ada smiled. “The oldest get the ends.”
Colette hung her towel on the pegboard holding the girls’ towels. “Victoria, help Hazel separate the bedding. Two sharing a quilt is tolerable. Four is inviting trouble. Ada, please dim the lamp while I open the window for some fresh air.”
The second the girls sprang into action, Colette crossed the room. After ensuring the balcony door was locked to keep people out (which was pointless really since they’d booked all five balcony rooms), she looked out the window, the top pane cracked in the upper left corner. Wood scraped against wood as she raised the window high enough to let in air. She slowly drew a breath of the midnight air—a sweet floral breeze, earthy yet with a hint of freshly dropped manure.
Fargo, North Dakota, was more than she’d expected. Larger than Helena in populace but still a fraction the size of Denver, Fargo—this gateway to the northwest—had foundries, mills, shops, stately churches and schools, and houses contentedly looking down on the busy heart of the city. To think that less than a score years ago, this was wild, waving prairie grass. Now steel ribbons of transit pierced the land. This same steel that brought her thus far would also carry her home.
And then she and Robert would marry.
Mr. and Mrs. Robert Moring.
Colette Moring.
Marrying Robert was the sensible thing to do. If only she could feel some anticipation for the wedding. Or joy. But neither was she wrought with fear, doubt, or worry. She felt… nothing. No tightening in her chest. No breathlessness. That had to mean marrying Robert was the right decision because whenever she wasn’t sure about something yet had to make a decision, her heart pounded and she felt out of breath and panicky. Besides, Robert wouldn’t marry her if he didn’t think it was the right thing for both of them.
Colette touched her forehead to the windowpane. Help me feel something, Lord. Please. I want a love like what Mother and Father have for each other. And give me wisdom and knowledge on how to best chaperone these girls.
