With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel (10 page)

Though Elizabeth’s heart soared with the knowledge that Jason had not knowingly helped exonerate a killer, his lips twisted into a grimace. “I never thought I was gullible, but the evidence seems to say otherwise.”

She was the one who’d introduced the painful subject. There had to be a way she could provide at least a bit of comfort. Elizabeth led the way into her waiting room and took a seat on one of the benches, indicating that Jason should sit next to her. “You had no way of knowing Adam Bennett was a liar,” she said as firmly as she could.

Jason shrugged. “I keep thinking I should have.”

Elizabeth turned slightly so she was facing Jason. His eyes were solemn, and his chin looked more square than normal, as if he were clenching his jaw. “How could you know? My father used to say that only God sees inside our hearts.”

A short nod acknowledged her words. “He sounds like a wise man.” Jason appeared to relax. “Perhaps I’ll meet your parents someday. With both you and your sister settling here, I imagine they’re eager to see Cheyenne.”

Elizabeth had tried but failed to picture her parents in Wyoming. Neither one had been west of Lake Champlain, a fact
Papa had once announced with pride. They were both Vermonters to the core, and though they’d been nurturing parents, she doubted they would have approved their daughters’ move West.

Rather than try to explain all that to Jason, Elizabeth said, “Papa died half a dozen years ago. My mother never really recovered from that or from being forced to leave the parsonage. She died less than two years later.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine that it’s ever easy to lose a parent. I know it was difficult for me when my father died.” Jason shifted on the bench, seemingly searching for a comfortable position. When he looked back at Elizabeth, his expression reflected curiosity. “You mentioned a parsonage. Was your father a minister?”

She nodded. “You sound surprised.”

“I am. I didn’t realize that we had more in common than sharing this building. My father was a minister too.”

Though his tone was matter-of-fact, Elizabeth realized she’d been given a key to Jason. More than many, she now understood what his childhood had been like. It was no wonder Mrs. Moran had raised him. If Jason’s father had been like hers, he had been so busy with his parishioners that he had little time to spend with his son and had probably been unaware of how unkind the woman he trusted to care for Jason was. Elizabeth had been fortunate, for she’d had Mama and her sisters, but Jason had had no one other than the housekeeper. No wonder he had such strong opinions about how children should be raised.

The room was crowded, filled with large bodies, loud voices, and the smells of tobacco, Macassar oil, and per
fume. Young women, and some who were no longer so young, smiled at the men who lined the bar, standing closer than a society matron would feel proper. Phoebe Simcoe laughed at the thought of a society matron setting foot inside her front door. If one did, she’d probably swoon either from the sight of all the flesh bared for men’s ogling eyes or the glimpse of one of her neighbors—perhaps even her husband—doing the ogling. It would serve her right. Proper women weren’t supposed to know that places like Phoebe’s existed, and they most definitely were not supposed to visit. So far, none had.

Phoebe’s smile widened at the realization that the room was more crowded than usual for a Monday. Perhaps that was because Friday had been quieter than normal. The Taggert/Eberhardt party had kept a number of Phoebe’s regular patrons occupied. Tonight they were making up for lost time.

She walked slowly around the room, greeting the men, ensuring that each one had the girl he preferred. Though the sun had yet to set, the room was dark, thanks to the velvet draperies that were never opened after noon. The men who visited expected Phoebe to protect their privacy. That was why, although the building had a front door, the clientele normally entered through the side, where a large lilac bush blocked views from the street.

“It’s good to see you, Alfred,” Phoebe said as she approached a tall, thin cowboy who spent most of his pay here. “Sheila’s occupied right now, but I know she’ll be pleased that you came. Can I offer you another whiskey while you wait?”

One of the things that set Phoebe’s establishment apart from others was that she did not charge men for anything other than the girls’ favors. The whiskey and refreshments that she provided were free to anyone who visited, whether
or not they chose to go upstairs with one of the girls. Almost everyone did. Phoebe’s rates might be double that of other bordellos in Cheyenne, but the men did not complain. They claimed that the entertainment was worth the cost.

She greeted another patron, but though she kept her eyes fixed on him, her senses alerted her to the opening of the door. Casually, she looked up. It was as she had hoped. He was here, his brown eyes brightening when she gave a short nod. A second later, he was gone.

It took the better part of a quarter hour for Phoebe to finish making the rounds of the front room. Though she chafed at the delay, she knew he would not mind. The last time she’d been late, he’d insisted that he understood. And he did. She knew that. It was simply that she disliked the idea of his being alone. The man came here for companionship. He deserved it.

Phoebe left the front room, moving as casually as if she had nothing on her mind other than replenishing the supply of plates, but once she was in the hallway, she moved quickly to her private quarters. While the girls’ rooms were on the second story of the building, she’d turned half of the first floor into her own lodging. There were only two entrances to Phoebe’s boudoir, an interior one and one that opened onto the alley behind the building. Both were always locked.

Gripping the key in her left hand and sliding it into the lock, she opened the door and walked into her sitting room. He was there, lounging on the settee that he’d once told her was one of the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture ever invented.

“Good evening, Nelson.” For the first time all evening, her enthusiasm was genuine. Nelson Chadwick was one of the
few men she entertained and the only one she’d given a key to her rooms. Though she would never admit it to anyone, especially not him, Nelson was the only man she considered more than a customer. “This is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect you tonight.” Although she had hoped that, since he’d been occupied on Friday, he would find a way to visit her early this week, Phoebe was wise enough to know that it was not always easy for a man to leave his wife.

He rose, opening his arms to her. “I had to come. I couldn’t stay away another hour.”

Phoebe moved into his embrace, laying her cheek next to his for a moment. His ragged breathing and the rapid beating of his heart alarmed her, but she dared say nothing. Nelson would hate knowing he’d shown any sign of weakness. Slowly, as if nothing were amiss, Phoebe drew back and placed her hands on his shoulders, beginning to remove his coat. Nelson wasn’t normally this impatient, but there was no knowing what torture that wife of his had put him through.

Though Phoebe had never met Tabitha Chadwick, she’d seen her around town, making eyes at anything that wore pants and had a well-endowed wallet. And though Nelson had never complained, Phoebe had heard enough gossip to know that Tabitha was happy to take his money but refused to give him the one thing his money couldn’t buy: a child.

“Not tonight.” Nelson took her hands in his, removing them from his shoulders. “Tonight all I want is to talk. My life is a shambles, and I don’t know what to do.”

It was worse than she had feared. Phoebe wrapped her arms around his waist and drew him closer to her. “It’ll be all right, Nelson,” she crooned, more alarmed than she would ever admit. Nelson had always impressed her with his
strength, both physical and emotional. Something was very, very wrong if he was admitting to weakness. “You’ll fix it. I know you will.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he repeated.

Phoebe closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, lest her words escape. Now was not the time to tell him that the only way he’d get his life back on track was to mend his relationship with Tabitha and that it might take a miracle to do that. Nelson didn’t believe in miracles.

 7 

G
ood to see you, Harrison.” Jason extended his hand to the older man who had just entered his office. Though Harrison admitted to having celebrated thirty-six birthdays, a mere eight more than Jason, to Jason he seemed almost as old as Cyrus Taggert and Nelson Chadwick, men in their late forties. Jason wasn’t certain why Harrison appeared old unless it was the fact that his expression was normally solemn, almost dour. Though there was a physical resemblance between Harrison and Barrett Landry, Barrett had always struck Jason as the more optimistic of the two.

“I hope this is a social call. I’d hate to think you were having problems with the store.” It had surprised Jason that Barrett had not remained in Cheyenne while his dry goods store was being renovated and expanded into what had once been Charlotte’s dress shop, but Barrett had claimed there was no one he trusted more than Harrison. “He’ll do a better job than I could,” Barrett had confided when he’d hired
Jason to draft the documents that authorized Harrison to act on his behalf.

Harrison shook his head. “You’re wrong on both counts,” he said as he followed Jason across the hall into his office. “This is not a social call, and the expansion of the store is on schedule. When it’s finished, Landry’s Dry Goods will be the finest shop of its kind in the capital city. Of course, I don’t mind admitting that I still can’t believe Barrett wants to spend the rest of his life as a shopkeeper. When we were growing up, he claimed he hated the family store.”

Barrett had told Jason a similar story, relating how what might have seemed like a coincidence to others had been God’s way of offering him a new direction for his life. “Barrett’s an adult now.” Jason waited until Harrison was settled into a chair before he took the one behind his desk. “People change.”

Harrison nodded. “You can say that again. I don’t suppose everyone changes, but it sure seems the Landry brothers do. That’s the reason I’m here. I’m hoping to buy a ranch, and I wanted to be certain you’d handle the details for me.”

Though Harrison had never struck Jason as a joking man, he wondered if he was pulling his leg. Surely he and Barrett weren’t planning to swap roles, with Harrison taking over the now-failing ranch and Barrett opening his own dry goods store.

“A ranch in Wyoming?”

“That’s right.”

“But Barrett claimed you didn’t like the territory.”

“People change. When I left, I discovered there were aspects of Wyoming I could not forget.” The gleam in Harrison’s eye puzzled Jason. Few men of his acquaintance were that enthusiastic about cattle.

“So you want me to help you purchase a ranch of your own. Are you certain that’s wise?”

“Hiring you?” When Harrison’s lips curved into a mocking smile, Jason realized he’d been wrong about Barrett Landry’s brother. The man had a humorous side. “I think so. Even though some folks are still upset about the Bennett case, I trust you.”

“Thank you.” For the confidence, not for reminding Jason of the worst day of his career. “That wasn’t what I meant.” And he suspected Harrison knew that. “I’ll be glad to help you with the legalities, but are you sure you want to go into cattle ranching? Barrett’s not the only one who lost his fortune this year. You’d be hard-pressed to find a cattle baron who’s happy.” The combination of overgrazing, a dry summer, and the worst winter in decades had destroyed many ranchers’ dreams, resulting in foreclosures and bankruptcies.

“I’m not that foolish.” Harrison’s grin told Jason he was enjoying his confusion. “Besides, I’m not especially fond of cows. And yes,” Harrison said, his grin widening, “Barrett informed me that the correct term is ‘cattle.’ I want no part of critters that moo. I’ll take horses any day. That’s what I want to raise. They’re beautiful creatures, and I believe there’s a market for them here.”

Horses. That would explain his excitement. It was easier to be enthusiastic about horses than cattle. “There’s definitely a market. Between Cheyenne’s growing population and the Army’s needs, you should have no trouble selling good horseflesh.” And Jason had no doubt that Harrison intended to raise first-rate horses. “It’s an excellent plan.”

The older man nodded, but his smile faded. “The ranch and the horses will be easy. It’s the third part of my plan that worries me.”

“What’s that?”

“A wife.” Harrison rose and walked to the window, leaving his back to Jason. “Two years ago the thought didn’t bother me in the slightest, but now I hate the idea of living alone.”

Jason tried to mask his surprise. “Have you told Barrett? He once claimed you were a confirmed bachelor.” Of course, Barrett also believed his brother disliked Wyoming.

“I never told Barrett about her.”

“Her?” That explained the gleam in Harrison’s eye. Good for Harrison. “It sounds as if you’ve settled on someone. Do I know her?”

Harrison nodded and returned to the chair he’d vacated only a minute before. “You’ve met her. It’s Mrs. Amos. Gwen.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the chair back as he let the words tumble out. “She caught my eye the last time I was out here. At the time, she was keeping company with another man. I’ve been accused of being a lot of things, but one thing I’m not is a poacher. When I saw the lay of the land, I did the only thing I could and went back to Pennsylvania. But when I heard the other fellow was gone, I jumped at the chance to come back. Problem is, now that I’m here, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea, even though I can’t get her out of my mind.”

Jason felt a moment of deep affinity with his client, for he suffered from the same problem. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking of Elizabeth. Thoughts of her intruded at the most inconvenient times, like when he was supposed to be counseling a client. Memories of her smile and her acerbic tongue lingered, making Jason eager to see her again and capture new memories. Like Harrison with Gwen Amos, Jason couldn’t get Elizabeth out of his mind. Unlike
Harrison, he had no intention—absolutely no intention—of marrying the woman.

“Why did you even try to forget her?” Jason had good reasons for not entertaining notions of marrying Elizabeth Harding but knew of no reason Harrison could not pursue Gwen.

“Because of her daughter. I scare the child.” Harrison clenched his fist, and for a moment Jason thought he might pound it on the desk. Instead, he slowly straightened his fingers, frowning all the while. “Can you imagine any woman wanting to marry a man who frightens her child? I don’t mean to. It’s just that I don’t know how to act around a little girl.” He raised his head, his eyes locking with Jason’s. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Jason was silent for a moment, considering what had to be the most unusual request for advice he’d received. He shook his head slowly. “That’s not a subject they taught in law school. The only thing I can think of is to practice on some other little girls. There’d be less at stake with them.”

“That’s not a bad idea. Problem is, I don’t know any children other than Rose.”

“I don’t either.” Jason’s clients were grown men who did not bring their children to his office. While he saw small children at church, he had no dealings with them and, though he wouldn’t admit it to Harrison, he had always considered them an exotic species. Like the elephants he’d seen in a circus, they were something to be enjoyed at a distance.

“So you can’t help me.” It was a statement, not a question.

Jason started to nod, then stopped. “My father would tell you to pray.”

Harrison snorted. “I can hear God laughing when he hears
that prayer. ‘Dear Lord, please send a couple little children my way.’ Hah!”

“Try it. You might be surprised at the results.”

Harrison leaned forward, his blue eyes serious. “I hope you’re not planning to charge me for that advice.”

“I was not.”

“Good. Then I’ll give you some of mine. Don’t wait as long as I did to find yourself a wife.” Harrison’s wink said he was enjoying this. “You never know, the right girl might be waiting for you next door.”

Highly unlikely. Elizabeth wasn’t waiting for a husband, and if Jason were looking for a wife, it wouldn’t be a lady doctor. He wanted a woman who’d put his children and their happiness before everything else, not one whose patients would be her greatest concern. Elizabeth was a fine woman, an intriguing woman, but she was not the kind of woman Jason would marry.

The air had begun to warm, with each day a bit hotter than the previous. This morning as the three of them had walked toward Elizabeth’s office, Rose seemingly content to stay at her mother’s side, Gwen had explained that that’s the way it always was. By the end of July, Cheyenne would be experiencing the heat of summer. Today was pleasantly warm, the perfect weather for the Independence Day parade. When they arrived, Elizabeth brought a bench from the waiting room and installed it on the boardwalk in front of her office. In all likelihood, they would stand while the parade passed, but as they were waiting for it to begin, she and Gwen would have a comfortable seat. Rose had other ideas.

“Horses!” The little girl pointed toward the wagon decked with red, white, and blue bunting that made its way along 16th Street.

“Yes, sweetie,” Gwen said, trying to restrain her daughter’s exuberance, “you’ll see horses today. Now stay close to Mama.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Then we’ll go home.”

Though a stubborn expression settled on Rose’s face, she moved to the spot her mother had indicated, right in front of the bench.

“This was a good idea,” Harrison said as he joined them. “We’ll have a fine view from here.” Refusing the offer of a seat, he stood next to the bench. Perhaps it was Elizabeth’s imagination, but it appeared that the view Harrison enjoyed was of Gwen, not the parade route. Though Gwen kept a sharp eye on her daughter, her face flushed each time her gaze flitted to Harrison. Elizabeth bit back a smile at the sight of her friends’ obvious infatuation.

Like most of Cheyenne’s residents, Gwen had dressed for the occasion, donning a blue dress with white trim. A red sash completed the patriotic ensemble. Harrison followed tradition and had placed a red, white, and blue ribbon over his hatband, while Elizabeth turned her ordinary navy skirt and white blouse into holiday garb by carrying one of her sister’s white parasols that sported red and blue artificial flowers on its perimeter and patriotic ribbons twining around its handle. Only Rose had a new outfit, a bright blue skirt with a red gingham shirtwaist, and tricolored ribbons tying the ends of her braids.

“When Gwen described the parade route, I thought we
should come here so we get to see the marchers before they’re tired,” Elizabeth told Harrison. The marchers and floats would assemble near the train depot, then proceed up Central Avenue to City Park. After circling the park and passing by the site of the future capitol building, they would return south on Capitol Avenue, or what many residents still called Hill Street. In preparation for the cornerstone laying, the city fathers had decided to rename Hill to honor the capitol, but since it had been less than two months, the new name had yet to take hold.

As the crowds began to gather, Elizabeth looked around, wondering where Jason was. Like hers, his office was closed for the day, but he had told her that he always watched the parade.