The Confidential Life of Eugenia Cooper Part 29

Charlotte had only just left for school when Gennie found herself alone in the big house. Elias and Tova were at the market, their trip together necessitated by a good-natured argument over the ingredients to some recipe.

With nothing to do but think on what happened-and what might have happened last night-Gennie went to the library to find something to read. A book on etiquette beckoned, and she pulled down the slim volume. This would make for good reading when Charlotte returned from school. With her departure looming, Gennie wanted to be sure she'd done as well as she could her job teaching Charlotte how to be a lady. She still marveled that the girl had taken to wearing dresses and enduring baths without screaming. Elias swore Gennie was a miracle worker, while Tova merely gave her silent approval.

A knock at the front door caused Gennie to set the book aside. She opened the latch and instantly regretted it.

The man who stood outside gave her a look that made her want to slam the door. "Is your mister about?"

She'd not say no. "He's unavailable. Perhaps you would like to come back another time."

"I'll wait," he said.

"Very well." She opened the door a bit wider, then cursed herself for a fool when he took the gesture as an invitation and came in.

He walked with a slight limp, favoring the leg with a fraying patch on the knee. When he worried with his rolled-up s.h.i.+rt sleeve, she noted a jagged pink scar that ran nearly from elbow to wrist.

Gennie put him in the parlor, then excused herself to go into the kitchen. She'd seen where Tova had hidden her pistol, and she retrieved it now from behind the potato bin. Placing the weapon in her skirt, Gennie returned to the parlor to make small talk.

"I didn't get your name," she said to the man, lowering herself on the settee.

"I didn't give it to you."

His response startled her. "I'm Gennie," she said.

"Yes," he responded.

They sat for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the fellow made his excuses, then left without telling her his name. "Just tell him I'm an old friend."

She found it odd and mentioned the incident to Tova when she returned.

"I'll tell Elias and Isak to watch for him," the housekeeper said. "And you will no longer open the door when left alone, yes?"

"Yes," Gennie echoed. She gathered her volume on etiquette and climbed the stairs. If only the library carried books on the life of a woman torn between two worlds.

Then she realized she had that very book in her room-the latest episode of Mae Winslow, Woman of the West. Mae Winslow, Woman of the West.

She might have happily finished the dime novel, then perhaps done some mending on Charlotte's wardrobe, a new skill she'd learned from Tova since returning from Leadville. The fact she could place thread in the eye of a needle, tie a knot, and accomplish something so rare as to let out a hem or take in a seam still made her smile. Perhaps Mama would cease her despair at the fact her daughter was hopeless at st.i.tching. Embroidery could not be difficult to learn now that she'd mastered such skills.

Instead, while Charlotte practiced the pianoforte with her instructor, Gennie took pen and paper and prepared the text of a telegram to Hester Vanowen regarding the funds that must have gone missing. Someone in the Vanowen household was surely a thief, or perhaps it was that fellow down at the Western Union office. In either case, the monies were no longer needed as her visit neared its end.

As Charlotte continued her practicing, Gennie made her excuses to Tova and slipped out to take the streetcar downtown. Inside the Western Union office, she handed over the last of her funds, then watched the s.h.i.+fty-eyed fellow with care until the telegram was sent.

As she turned to leave, she almost ran over Elias Howe.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said as if he were greeting her at some social function instead of the telegraph office. "You on your way home?" When she nodded, he smiled. "Good, then we can ride together. Give me just a minute to send this to that Hiram fellow over in Leadville."

The ride back was brief and quiet. Elias did not ask the nature of her visit, nor did Gennie offer an explanation.

"Tova tells me you had a visitor earlier today," he said when they were almost home.

"A visitor?" She shook her head. "Oh, that strange man. Yes, he said he was a friend of Daniel's."

"Did he now?" Elias shrugged. "And he didn't leave a name?"

"No. Do you find that odd?"

"It is," Elias said. "Probably some fellow Daniel's done business with or, more likely, one who's been on the receiving end of his charity. In his line of work, it could be either." He paused and seemed to consider it a moment. "Likely the latter," he said as the buggy rolled up the drive. "That Daniel, he's got a soft heart."

"Yes," Gennie said, "he does."

Elias might have questioned her further, but Tova burst out of the back door, a dishtowel still in her hands. "Come and see who's here, Elias," she said. "You'll never guess."

Gennie followed the old soldier inside, then gasped at the familiar figure seated in the kitchen. "Sam?"

Sam Stegman rose to envelop Gennie in a bear hug, then shook Elias's hand. "Mr. Beck sent for me," he said to Gennie. "Said I'm to hire on permanently. Or at least until they catch the fellow who made the threats."

"I see we're all here," Daniel said from the doorway. "Sam, Elias, why don't you join me in the library? Tova, we'll need some strong coffee."

The others did as they were told, leaving Gennie alone in the kitchen with only the plinking sounds of Charlotte's pianoforte practice for company. Then Sam's words sunk in.

"Until they catch the fellow who made the threats."

Her heart sank. That awful miner from Leadville. What was his name? Bergman? No, Batson. She sucked in a shuddering breath as a thought occurred: the man she'd allowed in the house this morning might very well be one of them.

The conference in the library lasted over an hour, and when Daniel emerged, he seemed in no mood to speak to her.

"Please, Daniel," she said as he brushed past her on the stairs. "It's important."

He paused, one hand on the banister, and then turned to look down at her. "If it's about last night, don't bother. We both know that was a mistake neither of us will make again."

His flat, resigned words stunned her, as did his back as he climbed the stairs. A moment later, a door slammed.

Daniel stood behind the door he'd just slammed and cursed himself for a fool.

He'd begun his day with long-overdue morning prayers and a reading in Psalms, even though he'd had to thumb past Georgiana's obituary to do it. The Lord had met him there, and the result had been more disturbing than comforting.

There was much to think on, too much for one man to untangle in one day. The vows he'd pretended to make to a woman who belonged to another were foremost among the items that pierced his conscience. Then there was last night's near miss in the buggy. What was it about Gennie Cooper that made him feel like a young pup and an old worn-out dog at the same time?

It was a conundrum. No, she was a conundrum.

He paced the room, then returned to his spot at the door. It had occurred to him during the sleepless hours of last night that he only had to send one telegram and the wedding that had been engineered to deceive could become real.

They'd both signed doc.u.ments in front of the parson and the mayor of Leadville. Those doc.u.ments were now shredded and gone. Still, the smallest bit of doubt gave him pause to consider...

Consider what? Stealing a woman from the man she was supposed to marry? Daniel took up pacing again. That would make him no different than Edwin.

He stopped short, the situation suddenly clear. He and Eugenia Flora Cooper would be no more. There was nothing good to be had from considering anything but a swift end to a sordid situation.

This decided, he went to his writing table and began to draft a note to Hiram. While he'd entertained the idea that perhaps he'd turn over the Leadville operations to Hiram so Daniel could remain permanently in Denver, he now knew that would be folly.

Someone knocked on his door. "I must speak to you."

Daniel looked up. "Go away, Miss Cooper."

"I will not." She threw open the door and stepped inside. "If it is the last thing I do as your daughter's governess, I will make you listen to me. I know you're a hardheaded man, but I did not know until now that you would allow that stubborn streak of yours to put your daughter in danger."

He heard his pen clatter to the floor, unaware he'd still been holding it. "Do come in, Miss Cooper," he said, "though I warrant your reputation will be greatly compromised should you cross my threshold."

Daniel winced and looked away. Until now he'd been guilty of many things, but cruelty had not been among them. As a diversion, he retrieved his pen, hoping Miss Cooper would make the wise choice and flee.

He completed his mission to find she had not. She brought to his bedchamber a rose-scented presence that was impossible to ignore.

"All right," he said wearily, "what is it?"

"That Batson fellow? The one who chased Charlotte and made such a fuss?" When he nodded, she continued. "He was here."

"What?" Daniel rose so quickly that his chair toppled. "When?"

"No, wait," she said, touching her throat with her hand. "I misspoke. He was not actually here this morning, but I think one of his a.s.sociates was."

He swallowed the words he wanted to say, then took a deep breath. "Sit," he said as he righted his chair, then pointed her toward it. When she complied, he bent to regard her at eye level, much as he would do with Charlotte. "Now, Miss Cooper-"

"Stop calling me that!" She rose and stabbed his shoulder with her index finger. "I have guarded your daughter with a pistol and my life, taken up sewing and mending, learned to wash dishes, and even gone through a marriage ceremony for you. And then there's last night and all those times before when I kissed you and you kissed me, and we could have-well, we didn't, and we shouldn't, because I still don't know what to do about Chandler, since I don't think I love him at all, but oh, how I did want to-"

"Miss Cooper!" He held his hands in front of him in case the vision in blue silk once again brandished her index finger in his direction. "Gennie."

Then he heard it. The very big thing she slipped in among all those other things.

"You don't think you love him?"

"I said that, didn't I?" She fell onto the chair with an inelegant flop, a stunned look on her face. "Oh my."

"Indeed." Much as he wanted to dwell on this fortuitous turn of events, Daniel shook his head. "You said something about an a.s.sociate of Batson coming here here? To Denver?"

Gennie shook her head. "Here. To our home. Your home," she corrected.

"Why do you think...?" He paused. "No, tell me what happened."

Gennie recounted her story of the man's early-morning visit and his refusal to identify himself.

"Did you notice anything unusual about him? Something for the authorities to go on?"

She told him about the limp and the scar on his arm, and Daniel strode to the hall. "Elias," he called. "Would you and Sam meet me in the library again? It appears our conversation regarding the threat to my family should be amended to add new information."

"Sure, boss," Elias said. "Should I have Isak fetch that Pinkerton fellow?"

"Yes, that would be a good idea."

Daniel went to Gennie and, against his better judgment, helped her to her feet. "Come tell Elias and Sam what you've told me."

She nodded, mute.

An overwhelming urge to protect her hit him. "It will be fine. I've taken every step to see to your safety and that of Charlotte."

"Oh, of course," she said blankly as she followed him downstairs to the library.

By the time she finished her story and answered Elias's questions, Isak had returned with Hank Thompson, the local Pinkerton agent. Gennie told her story yet again and answered the questions that followed.

The doorbell rang, and Elias disappeared down the hall, grumbling. He returned with a telegram for Gennie.

She looked at it and paled. "Might I be excused now?"

"I'm done with my questions, so there's no need for you to stay." Closing his notebook, Hank looked at Daniel. "You've got a man watching the ladies as we discussed?"

"Sam Stegman."

"The prizefighter?" The Pinkerton man grinned. "You rich folks sure do have connections."

Daniel saw Thompson out, then returned to the library to find Gennie gone. "Isak," he called as he stepped outside, "saddle up Blossom. I'm in the mood for a ride."

"Blossom?" Isak shook his head. "Can't do that, sir."

"You cannot saddle my horse for me? I'd best hear a good reason and fast." The sound of horse hoofs caught his attention. "Is that...?"

"Blossom? Yes sir. Miss Cooper asked for the sidesaddle but I didn't have it at the ready, so she said it wouldn't be too scandalous for her to ride like us menfolk, long as she kept to the side streets and avoided downtown."

Daniel tried to listen to the stable boy, but all he heard was the clip-clop of horse hoofs fading into the distance. "Is the buggy still ready?"

"Yes sir," Isak said. "I apologize, but I thought the Pinkerton man might need a ride back into town, so I-"

"Perfect!" Daniel headed to the other side of the carriage house and leaped into the buggy. He headed in the direction the obviously affected governess had gone.

He caught up to her easily, given the fact she was not only a novice horsewoman but also knew nothing about Denver. The street she'd taken dead-ended at the river, and having no way to cross, she'd been forced to double back.

"Get off that horse immediately," he shouted.

"Leave me alone," she called. "I'm having a Wild West adventure."

Circling back toward Deadwood proved futile, for the prairie was flat and visibility stretched for miles. Mae had two choices: either race for the hills or face whoever had the nerve to tail her, and fight it out.

She chose the latter, not because she was a woman with a death wish, but because she was a woman who never backed down. Loading her weapons in the open might prove disastrous should the stranger spur his mount and try to overtake her. The horse she rode was untried, and for the price she paid, likely not the best she could be riding.

Gennie ignored Daniel and spurred the horse on. She could thank Isak for the a.s.sistance in learning to ride what she discovered was quite a gentle animal. Indeed, the aptly named Blossom was a flower among horses. The thought made her laugh even as Daniel Beck made her frown.