One Heart to Win (3 page)

“It was simply two people who couldn’t live compatibly in the same house anymore. I cared enough about him to leave, so he could find someone else.”

Nearly in the same breath alluding to fighting then just the opposite, that Rose cared too much? What was so horrible about the truth that Rose was making up so many excuses, none of them with the ring of truth to them?

And then Tiffany threw out another guess, “Or you found someone else and it just didn’t work out?”

“Tiffany, stop it. There was no other man. There was no other woman. It was a tragedy, it still is. Why are you making me relive it?”

That was the one question her mother knew would make her back off. And Tiffany did just that. She loved her mother so much. But she’d lived too long with the hurt of her father abandoning both of them. And now that she was finally going to meet him, she was afraid that all that hurt would spill out in recriminations when she got there, because while her mother might not hate Frank Warren, Tiffany was sure that what she felt for him had to be hate. It was too strong to be anything else.

Oh, God, she’d managed to put ice around her heart and pretend to be indifferent to her father’s rejection. Now all that pain was suddenly back, welling in her chest, and she felt like
the little girl standing at the door again, staring at an empty coach.

“I’m sorry,” she said to her mother. “I was actually hoping you could give me a reason not to hate my father and you haven’t done that. I’ll go to Montana to honor the commitment you made, but I don’t want to see him any more than you do.”

She wasn’t shouting it this time, which warned her mother it wasn’t just an emotional statement, she actually meant it. And she added, “Callahan can court me from town, can’t he? I don’t actually have to stay at Papa’s ranch, do I?”

“And how will it look to the Callahans if you’re at war with your father? Not exactly reassuring that the feud will come to an end, is it?”

“Fine,” Tiffany grumbled ungraciously. “I’ll tolerate him.”

Rose actually burst out laughing. “Baby, you’ll be gracious and polite. You’ve been raised to be a lady. Now we’re changing the damn subject,” she added, quite unladylike herself. “Eat your fish. It’s probably the last you’ll be having for a while. Cattlemen eat beef and nothing else.”

Tiffany nodded, but she wasn’t used to feeling so frustrated. Despite everything her mother had just said, she
still
didn’t know why her parents had separated. But if her mother wouldn’t tell her, maybe her father would. . . .

Chapter Three

“A
ND I WAS SO
sure I could get used to traveling,” Anna huffed indignantly on Tiffany’s behalf. “Your mama should have warned us that fancy Pullman car she rented wouldn’t be coming with us on the last leg of the trip.”

Tiffany grinned at her maid across the table in the dining car. “Mama spoiled us with the Pullman car. This is how most people travel across the country.”

Anna Weston had been Tiffany’s maid for four years now. Blond, brown-eyed, she was only five years older than Tiffany, though her cherubic looks made people think she was much younger. Despite being only twenty-three, Anna had more accomplishments under her belt than most women who had to work for a living. In addition to her being well read and having beautiful penmanship, one of her brothers had taught her how to lay wallpaper seamlessly, her father had taught her how to build and repair furniture, and her mother had taught her to play four different musical instruments. The agency that had placed Anna with the Warrens had gotten her two other job offers:
one as a governess and another as a teacher. So Anna had her choice of employment.

Tiffany didn’t know that until after Anna had come to work for them. She didn’t know either that Anna had almost turned down the job because Tiffany had made her laugh during the interview. It wasn’t that Anna didn’t have a sense of humor, only that she did not think it appropriate to reveal it to her employer. But Anna was practical, too. In the end, she accepted the job in the Warren household because it paid much more than the other two choices she’d had at the time. But the maid prided herself on being strictly professional at all times, even to the point that she refused to call Tiffany anything other than Miss Tiffany. But that didn’t stop Tiffany from trying to break down Anna’s stiff formality. She saw no reason why she and Anna couldn’t be friends as well as employer and employee. Only on rare occasions did Tiffany think her efforts might be working.

But while Anna wouldn’t call herself Tiffany’s friend and probably never would, she was fiercely loyal to Tiffany. And protective, which made her a fine chaperone. If a man even looked sideways at Tiffany, Anna gave him her hell-hath-no-fury look. And thankfully she was adventurous—well, until they left Chicago she had been. She’d agreed to travel to the “Wild West” because she’d admitted that she’d always wanted to see more of the world. Tiffany wanted to travel, too. She wanted to go on a grand tour of Europe like other young ladies her age, or even up to her friend Margery’s cottage in Newport, where she’d spent a good deal of time last summer. But she certainly didn’t want to go to uncivilized Montana Territory.

“The seats on this train aren’t that uncomfortable, just not as lushly padded as those in the Pullman. At least this train has a dining car,” Tiffany pointed out.

Anna’s expression turned even more sour, telling Tiffany the seats weren’t the problem. Of course they weren’t. Anna’s real complaint was how crowded the train was, and the heat and the stench that came with such overcrowding. The long seats in the passenger cars were designed for two to three people, but they were now occupied by four or even five, including children and screaming infants. Tiffany would have been complaining if Anna hadn’t beaten her to it, which made it quite difficult for her to see the bright side of their situation. This was such a far cry from having that fancy private Pullman all to themselves, which had been like riding in a small parlor!

Rose certainly wouldn’t have let them get on this train if she’d known they’d be traveling in such deplorable conditions. But then the long line of farmers hadn’t boarded in Chicago but after they’d crossed the border into Wisconsin. The conductor had apologized to Tiffany and Anna, explaining that the high number of passengers was quite out of the ordinary, but nonetheless, they were now operating as an immigrant express train. It was just their rotten luck that a new tract of farmland had opened up in Montana and had been advertised in the East, causing hundreds if not thousands of immigrants to pour into the territory to start new lives. While the influx of farmers was good for Montana’s growing population, which needed more food crops, it made the train ride into the territory uncomfortable.

“Look on the bright side,” Tiffany said to Anna as their lunch was served. “We’re actually going to arrive a few days early because the train is no longer stopping at every depot to pick up more passengers, merely to refuel and resupply as needed. And Mama said the ranch house is big and finely furnished,
thanks to her. She’s sure we’ll feel right at home when we get there.”

After reading Frank’s last letter, Rose had also said, “They’ve already started building your house on the contested land—and come to blows. It was a mistake to think they could work together before the marriage takes place. But that’s your father for you, quite the optimist.”

Her mother had said that with such a fond expression on her face it sparked all sorts of new possibilities in Tiffany’s mind, including one she used to think about often when she was little, before she’d turned bitter—getting her parents back together.

Before the waiter finished setting their plates down, he leaned slightly toward Tiffany and whispered, “I’m sorry, miss, but due to the long line, we won’t be able to finish serving before the dinner hour is over if we don’t fill every seat at the tables now.”

It wasn’t the first time Tiffany and Anna would have to dine with strangers. If the train hadn’t turned into an express line to deal with the land giveaway, they could have taken advantage of restaurants at the station stops. As it was now, they were barely given twenty minutes to stretch their legs when the train stopped, sometimes not even that. But at least they still had the dining car, crowded though it was.

Tiffany nodded her understanding to the waiter. Anna sighed. A young woman named Jennifer, whom they had met the day before, sat down with a chuckle. Blond, rather pretty, she was dressed similarly to Tiffany, just without the high-fashioned bustle and in much less expensive material. Still, she was obviously a city girl, not one of the farmers’ wives dressed
in faded calico dresses. Jennifer also seemed to be traveling alone, which Tiffany thought was quite brave of her.

A moment later, a young farmer joined them, too, wearing overalls and a misshapen hat that he didn’t remove. The harried waiter set down two more plates for him and Jennifer before rushing back to the kitchen. The farmer didn’t say a word, just gave them the briefest of nods before he lowered his head bashfully and started eating. He was probably embarrassed to be seated with women he didn’t know, or afraid they might be offended if a strange man spoke to them. Anna probably would have been, so it was just as well he didn’t try.

Jennifer, on the other hand, was gregarious. “We meet again,” she said to Tiffany. “Now that we’re making a habit of this, I should probably introduce myself properly. Jennifer Fleming of Chicago. I’m a housekeeper by trade. My agency is sending me to Nashart for a year—or longer if I find I like it there.”

Tiffany’s eyes widened, recalling what her mother had told her while helping her pack for the trip. Tiffany had asked Rose, “Why the new clothes, Mama? I’ll have no use for them on a ranch.”

“You
will
use them. You will not change your routines just because you will be in Montana. I citified your father while I was there. He became used to a house full of servants, formal dinners, and the finer things in life. He may have regressed after I left, but you need only remind him of what you are accustomed to and I have no doubt he will adjust accordingly, if he hasn’t already. He wrote that he’s hiring a housekeeper from Chicago to make you feel more at home.”

Tiffany hadn’t read that in his last letter, so it must have been in an earlier one that Rose hadn’t let her read. Could this
young woman sitting next to her be that housekeeper? How many housekeepers from Chicago could be going to a small town like Nashart?

Tiffany laughed. “This could be quite a coincidence. I wonder if it is my father who has hired you. Franklin Warren?”

“Indeed!”

“I was under the impression you were already at the ranch,” Tiffany said.

“I should have been. I had to placate my family, and my fiancé, who wanted me to wait until he could come with me. It was his idea that we start our lives together on this side of the continent. Though he favors California, he’s willing to give Montana a try if I like it there. He’s still quite annoyed at me for not waiting for him, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity when my agency offered it to me because it pays so well. Your father must be quite rich.”

Tiffany had no idea if her father was rich, so she merely smiled in reply. Anna was giving Jennifer a disapproving look. Anna had met her fair share of housekeepers; so had Tiffany for that matter. Neither had met one who was such a chatterbox, or as young as Jennifer. But these were unusual circumstances, their traveling together on a hot, crowded train into a part of the country that was barely civilized. It could just be nervous chatter. Besides, Jennifer wasn’t working yet, so maybe she didn’t think she had to adopt a formal, professional manner with the daughter of her new employer until she reported for duty.

Jennifer continued to chatter about the trip. The farmer never said a word, didn’t even introduce himself, just kept his head down the whole while. It was highly inappropriate that he even be sitting at their table, but understandable considering
more men than women were on the train. Anna made her disapproval known though, at least to Tiffany, giving her all sorts of glances and nods directed at her plate. Tiffany almost laughed at the maid’s facial contortions, but she got the message: to finish eating quickly so they could leave. She did, and after they said good-bye to Jennifer, who said she’d walk up to their car for a visit later that afternoon, they returned to their seats, where they found Thomas Gibbons, their well-armed escort.

The retired US marshal was on the back end of middle-age and not very friendly. The little that Rose had said about him before he joined them in Chicago was that he’d been recommended by the Pinkerton Agency, which she’d contacted. He worked for them occasionally if a job led anywhere near the Rocky Mountains, where he used to be stationed. He ate only twice a day, breakfast and dinner, so he hadn’t joined them for lunch. While he took his job seriously, he let them walk around the train on their own. Anytime they left the train, though, at watering holes or depots, he was right beside them, his hand never far from the gun he wore on his hip.