Regina Jennings Page 7

  “And that’s the fastest way to it. There’s some who’ll lead you astray. Some who don’t care about their souls.”

  Bailey’s neck grew hot as he discovered sympathy anew for Mr. Schmidt. Where did Mrs. Schmidt get the misguided idea that Molly was the problem? He hadn’t insinuated that, had he?

  “Ma’am, I’m afraid you misunderstand. I had no grand plans. I was scared to death and knew I needed to do something about it.”

  “If everyone had the courage to correct wrong when they see it, like you and me, the world would be one step closer to glory.” She looked out the window at her husband swinging the ax in his nightshirt.

  As distasteful as the woman’s attitude was, she had stumbled into some truth. While his actions with Molly grieved the Lord, surely his willingness to address his sin pleased Him. His decision to stand before his parents, his church, and Reverend Stoker had been one of the most difficult of his life, but he’d done it. And although it still wasn’t easy, missing Molly and leaving his family while he tried to establish himself, he was shouldering the responsibility. He was persevering.

  Maybe God could find a use for someone like him.

  “All week her father has boasted about the gentleman from New York who dined with Nicholas and him.” Adele Lovelace beamed at Edward as she directed the waiter to add cream to her tea. “And I had to wait until today to meet the man who convinced Thomas that Molly must stay in Lockhart. For days my curiosity has been denied, but I must confess the pleasure of your acquaintance was worth the wait.”

  The candelabrum sparkled, scattering its reflected light across the sapphire walls and the cherry buffet. Who would’ve thought the private dining room at the McCulloch Hotel would be so elegant? When Molly’s mother began to press for an introduction to their most promising candidate, Molly had stalled, but once the practicality of furthering their ruse became clear, she feared that Edward would not be up to the task of impressing her more finicky parent.

  She needn’t have worried.

  The paste jewels in her mother’s plumed hat clinked against each other with each nod as Edward shared tidbits of New York society gossip. He spoke with a quiet authority, the power of his voice being all that was necessary to knit together a world completely foreign to them. Molly could almost forget that her interest in him was contrived, for he possessed the knack of turning words into reality. Music seemed to swell above the sound of the rowdy Friday dinner crowd in the public area. The scent of lilies filled Molly’s head, although the Chinese vases held odorless silk flowers.

  Long after the waiter had removed their empty plates, after the proprietor had asked if they required any further service, Edward continued his tales as Adele pretended to recognize the names he dropped like shimmering gold coins into a marble fountain.

  “The opulence I can only imagine.” The flames from the candelabrum reflected in Adele’s eyes. “You must think us entirely gauche—riding up to meet you in a lumber wagon.”

  Molly’s father roused himself from his after-supper nap, the cushion of his seat hissing under the pressure. “Russell had to make a deposit at the bank, and we had planks to deliver. Three birds with one stone.” His eyes closed again drowsily as his head tilted to his shoulder.

  From the corner of her eye, Molly could tell that Edward had turned his golden gaze toward her. To blush would be to acknowledge his lovelorn expression. She looked to her mother instead and was shocked to see more warmth, more appreciation in her smile than she’d ever witnessed before. All because of the approval of a stranger.

  Her father was no better. Thomas Lovelace had followed the conversation closely during the meal. After reflection, he had admitted a familiarity with the Pierrepont family—not that he knew them, really, but he had heard of them, something to do with foreign affairs in Washington. Whatever the case, he was impressed, and once Edward’s suitability was established, Thomas’s interest waned. They might as well call Reverend Stoker and settle the matter.

  Edward was still looking at her. Molly’s heart hiccuped. Edward Pierrepont was the real McCoy, connected to the best families of the land. Could life in New York truly glitter as he described? She folded her napkin and laid it on the table. He told good stories—that was all. If she wasn’t careful, she’d believe the rest of his tale—that she was the sole reason for him to stay in town, that he couldn’t bear to leave without her. Foolishness, but a tantalizing foolishness at that.

  “Thomas, wake up,” her mother said. “Russell is probably waiting on us.”

  “He can wait.” But her father grunted and strained to rise out of his chair. “It’s been a real pleasure, Mr. Pierrepont. You’ll come out to our place next time, won’t you?”

  Edward held Molly’s chair as she rose. “I’d love to, Mr. Lovelace, but my time here is uncertain. I’m on my way north and would like to get as far as possible before the weather prohibits further travel. I’ve already delayed longer than prudent.”

  “Alaska isn’t going anywhere. You might as well tie up your business here before running off.” The waggling eyebrows did nothing to hide her father’s meaning.

  “Come, Thomas,” her mother said. “Don’t frighten the man away. We wouldn’t want to break Molly’s heart.”

  Good gravy! “Mother, why don’t you and Father wait inside? Edward and I will see if the wagon is back.”

  She beamed. “That’s a fine idea. Ask the waiter to bring our wraps.”

  Even with the doors closed, Edward kept to her side, dutifully playing his part. “I’m in a conundrum.”

  Molly lifted an eyebrow.

  “This subterfuge has begun to weary me.”

  He wanted out? “I understand. You can’t keep me safe from their plotting forever.”

  “Perhaps I can,” he said.

  He wore the same expression that had impressed her mother, but why? There were no parents observing them now.

  Molly was pressed against his side as they squeezed out the doorway, crowded by a line of cowboys entering. She banged into the frame of the door as Edward was jostled by a dusty straggler wearing his slouch hat indoors.

  “Hear, hear,” he said. “Take heed of the lady.”

  A sterner reproach was on her lips until the man turned. His puffy, bloodshot eyes were proof that Michael James had conquered more than one bottle of whiskey that morning and would be in a foul mood until he’d bested another.

  He sneered. “Are you talking to me?”

  “Yes, sir, I am.” Edward pulled her behind him and squared his shoulders. “I’m willing to overlook your carelessness, but you owe the lady an apology.”

  What was he doing? If Edward Pierrepont wanted a taste of the Wild West, he was about to get it, along with a bellyful of his own teeth.

  “I’m fine, Edward. Let’s go.” She pulled at his sleeve.

  Michael James leaned into Edward’s face. His sour breath drifted over Edward’s shoulder to assault Molly’s nostrils. “Sounds like your woman is worried you might get hurt. She knows I could mess up her pretty little friend.”

  “Michael James,” Molly warned. “Your father will be along any minute. Please don’t embarrass him in front of everyone.”

  “There’s no shame in running off fancy-pants fellows who don’t belong here. Varmint control. That’s all.”

  Edward tugged on his glove, tightening it over his fist. “Push me,” he said.

  “Edward!” Molly couldn’t believe her ears. He couldn’t know that Michael James was a notorious brawler. He couldn’t know that he spent more Sundays in jail than a parson spent in the pulpit, but couldn’t he see the obvious size difference?

  Before she could explain to Edward the folly of his actions, Michael James shoved him on the shoulder. The sneer on Michael’s face didn’t disappear, but suddenly his eyes widened and his head snapped. And Molly saw that his nose was bloodied, his lip split.

  “Edward, you broke his nose,” she gasped.

  “That’s the only move I know
, lovey. If he has any fight left—”

  “Why you . . .” Michael James lowered his head and charged at Edward, arms spread wide. Molly screamed and jumped aside. He did have fight left and more than Edward was equipped to handle, but he was determined to give a good account for himself. With a powerful swing upward, Edward connected with Michael’s unprotected face before he was tackled, but once on the ground beneath the bigger man, he could hardly escape a pummeling.

  Molly’s screams brought men running from every direction. Thankfully, the besotted attacker wasn’t in his finest form and was quickly restrained by a couple of drovers. Hauling him to his feet, they pulled him away—right into his father’s path.

  “Michael!” Russell James searched his bloodied face. “You weren’t harassing Miss Lovelace, were you?”

  “Of course he was.” Thomas burst through the doors, somehow considering himself an expert witness, even though he’d been inside. “Your no-account son attacked my daughter and her escort.”

  “He didn’t attack us, per se.” Edward sat up. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  But Michael didn’t stay around to appreciate Edward’s balanced report. He’d vanished between buildings before the law could be summoned.

  “I apologize, sir.” Russell passed his handkerchief to Edward, who dabbed at a cut above his eye. “When Michael is in his cups, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s no excuse, but—”

  “When has he ever known what he’s doing?” Thomas bellowed. “It’s a bad reflection on me when my employee is involved in a brawl in the middle—”

  “Russell wasn’t involved.” Molly knelt to aid her hero, but he would need nothing more than a cold compress and a new pair of gloves.

  “Still,” her father continued. “I can’t have you dragging my name through the mud. Go tend to your son, and I’ll tend to business.” And with that, Thomas Lovelace marched to the wagon, leaving Russell at a loss before the gathering crowd.

  Edward extended his hand to Russell and used his help to rise. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  “I . . . I’m mortified at my son’s behavior. He could’ve seriously hurt you.”

  “Yes, he could’ve, but as long as Miss Lovelace isn’t inconvenienced, there’s no harm done.” His eyes twinkled. “I traveled many miles for such an adventure.”

  6

  LOCKHART, TEXAS

  DECEMBER 1879

  Despite Thomas’s tantrum, Russell James did return to work the next week, and Molly’s mother was grateful, or so her letter said. As much as Thomas claimed to be disgusted with the Jameses’ family situation, Russell was a loyal employee, and Thomas would be hard-pressed to replace him.

  Molly tucked her mother’s letter into her reticule and turned her attention to the man sitting across from her at the picnic table on the courthouse lawn, but she was too late to catch his words.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t attending,” she said. “Could you repeat that?”

  Edward’s indulgent smile belied the words. “I’m leaving soon. The porter is preparing my railcar for the trip north even as we speak.”

  “Ah, the infamous railcar. You’ve never shown it to me. What’s it like?”

  “It’s more ornate than the dining room at the McCulloch Hotel.” His eyes twinkled. “But I love it anyway.”

  “I can’t imagine traveling across the country in luxury. I rode from Luling to Austin once, and I was so sore I couldn’t walk down Congress Avenue without hobbling. And the places you must see, how sophisticated compared to Caldwell County.”

  Molly slid her hands into her new mink muff and pulled it tight against her stomach while she imagined herself on a velvet sofa watching the world fly by her picture window. It was fortunate that her parents didn’t know about the railcar. They’d be furious enough when they learned that Edward Pierrepont had slipped the net. Molly frowned. It was of no consequence what her parents thought. She would miss Edward. The winter sun looked a bit brighter every time he called, and he never called empty-handed. If Edward left, would she be forced to choose the comfortably rich Fenton over the richly uncomfortable Bailey?

  “I’m not leaving today, pet, but I appreciate that woebegone expression.”

  “When must you go?”

  “We have to prepare first, but it shouldn’t take long.”

  Molly’s back straightened. We? Surely he didn’t mean it, but Edward’s face carried the same imperturbable expression as always.

  Her parents would be thrilled, but what about Bailey? Had he heard about Edward? Part of her wanted Bailey to realize she didn’t have to wait on him, but she wouldn’t seriously consider leaving him.

  “Molly, I’m not ready for our relationship to end. While this may have begun as a ruse, I find it’s grown into much more.” His moustache twitched once before settling over determined lips. “I can’t bear to leave you here under your father’s thumb forever. It’s not my place to judge your family, but I don’t think they appreciate the intelligent woman you are. With me, you’ll have the freedom to express yourself, to be the woman you want to be.”

  “I’ve spent a fair amount of time imagining my future, but never did it take place outside of Caldwell County.”

  “But you’ll consider it? I could certainly use your help investing my legacy. My family has been after me for years to take more interest in the family finances, and I think I could learn to enjoy the dreadful task with your help.” Before she was ready, Edward stood. “But now for a treat. I want to make another purchase on your behalf.”

  Molly stroked the mink. “I must refuse. It’s unseemly.” Good thing she wasn’t under oath. The chilly wind had pinked her cheeks and made her blue eyes sparkle. At least that’s what she’d been counting on when she’d let him purchase the powder blue frock coat. Present such a pretty picture that Bailey would find her irresistible.

  “Unseemly?” He laughed. “The taxpayers will question county salaries if you don’t admit the source of your new duds.”

  “Maybe it’s acceptable in New York, but this is Texas. A man doesn’t buy clothing for a woman unless . . .” She lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to encourage him further.

  Edward took Molly’s elbow and assisted her to her feet. “Isn’t there a cobbler on Market Street? Let’s get you measured for climbing boots. Shoes should be exempt from your warped sense of propriety.”

  “Climbing boots? There aren’t any mountains around here.”

  “You never know when they might come in handy. Go on, unless walking unescorted will soil your reputation. I must send a wire, but I’ll be there directly.”

  Molly pushed a curl behind her ear. She could only imagine the nature of his wire. Was he notifying his family? Was he sending for more money? She felt his eyes follow her as she made her way across the dried yellow lawn and the busy street.

  Her thoughts raced ahead. Why did she need climbing boots? She generally disliked all manner of physical exertion, but his secretive mien intrigued her. She walked past the barber shop and the mercantile, her breath quick and shallow. Was he going to propose? Already? They hadn’t known each other long, but he seemed to be an impatient man. He’d probably never been refused anything in his life. Would she be the first?

  And was he truly besotted with her? Edward’s eyes didn’t burn with the same intensity as Bailey’s. She couldn’t imagine him getting sulky when she tarried with another man. For her part, Molly didn’t miss the possessiveness she felt whenever Bailey spoke to an eligible lady, the fear and uncertainty she suffered, wishing they could be together, wondering if they ever would.

  Edward was warmth while Bailey was fire. Edward was pleasant, civilized. Bailey’s excitement often threatened to sweep her along in the current, dragging her away from her family’s carefully structured plans, but maybe that had changed. For all she knew, Bailey burned for Prue now. From Carrie’s reports, they’d been seen around town enjoying each other’s company.

  The bell jangled as she en
tered Mr. Hernandez’s shop.

  “Have a seat,” the shoemaker’s lilting voice called out. “Someone will be with you in a minute.”

  Molly chose a high-backed chair and turned to watch the shoppers passing by the window. She breathed deeply of the leather scent. Did the seats in the Pierrepont private railcar smell this good?

  Marrying Edward could give her father the financial stability he desired. No longer would their fortunes depend on the amount of water in the rain gauge. As far as her mother was concerned, Edward’s social connections placed him far ahead of anyone in their acquaintance. Of course, Molly wouldn’t live in Caldwell County any longer, but think of the places she’d go and the people she’d meet. Her parents would pass around her letters describing her adventures from family to family, everyone awed at how far in society their little Molly had risen. Climbing boots might be the perfect accessory after all.

  The stool before her creaked. Molly straightened in her chair to face the attendant.

  Like a prairie dog, this man popped up everywhere.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked Bailey.

  She gripped the arms of her chair. He never left her thoughts. Not a moment passed that she wasn’t wondering where he was, what he was doing, but little had she expected him to appear at her feet.

  Bailey smiled, as if he expected her pleasure to match his own. “Miss Lovelace, how nice to see you.” Without pausing for permission he reached under her hem and pulled her foot out to hook her heel on the edge of his stool, his leather apron hanging between his knees spread akimbo on either side of her. “I’m new to shoemaking, but I think these boots need to come off to measure you.”

  “Is there someone else who could help me?” She swallowed as his fingers brushed where they shouldn’t. Explaining Edward was going to take finesse. She didn’t have time to spare.

  “I’m doing what Mr. Hernandez pays me to do. Besides, you’re the one who keeps showing up at my place of employment.” He untied the lace that crisscrossed halfway up her shin. With sure movements he ripped the strap through the eyelets at the top and worked his way down to her ankle.