Younger & Wylder, page 11
She jerked her chin from his grasp and plunged her hands back in the water. She violently swished the dress then fed it through the ringer. “Go meet your friend. I won’t talk about this now.” She picked up the dress and walked over to the clothesline to pin it up.
Race sighed. “Tonight then. We also need to discuss alternative long-term sleeping arrangements if Winnie is going to be staying.”
Millie ignored him, so he went back inside to let Winnie know he’d be out.
Race caught up to Preacher Jameson at the livery where he was saying good-bye to his horse.
“I’ll walk you to meet the stage.” Race clapped his old friend on the back.
“Come back to the rectory with me and I’ll let you carry one of my bags.” The man smiled at him. “Have you been able to work through your marital problems?”
“No. They’re getting worse.” Race frowned.
“I’ve always believed most answers can be found in a pew on Sunday morning.” Rocky glanced at Race out of the corner of his eye.
“It’s been too long. It wouldn’t feel right. After all this time, I don’t feel like my faith is there for me.”
“Spoken like someone who didn’t get what he asked for. The Father won’t grant you what you want if it’s not what you need. He only wants the best for his children.” They were almost to the rectory.
It sounded like Rocky compared notes with Father Donohue. “Spoken like someone who…” Race didn’t know what to say. Spoken like someone in tune with God? That was hardly a compelling argument on his own behalf. Instead, he said, “I wish you were going to be around longer. I miss our philosophical discussions.”
“As do I, my friend. I have a feeling they would be far more entertaining to me now.”
Rocky said good-bye to the Smithers and handed Race a leather satchel. He hefted a second bag up on one broad shoulder and pick up a smaller case. As they neared the livery a sorrowful whinny rang out.
The big man turned to Race. “That’s my Magdalene. You’ll come visit her for me, won’t you? I trust Chet, of course, but make sure she’d faring well.”
“Of course.”
They turned onto Cheyenne Road and saw a rider approaching from the east. He struggled to control the horse who appeared to be quite done with its inept rider.
“You, there!” he called.
Race and Rocky turned around to see who the man addressed but found they were quite alone.
“This is Wylder, isn’t it?” He attempted to dismount. His left foot caught in the stirrup and the horse took the opportunity to sidestep, dragging the man with her. His youth was probably the only thing keeping him from losing his balance. It surely wasn’t any sort of skill.
“This is Wylder. Are you looking for someone?” Race asked.
The man freed his foot and smoothed down his dusty coat. He removed his derby, also coated in dust and knocked it against his leg. A plume of dirt transferred itself from the hat to his pantleg, but the man didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m looking for Mildred Lowery. I must find her sister, Winnifred, who intended to travel this way.” He placed the hat on his head. “I’m John Miller. I should have started with that.”
Rocky chuckled.
Race turned to his friend. “Looks like this is for me to deal with. I hope things go well with your mother.” He helped Rocky rearrange his belongings so he could claim the bag Race carried. John Miller shuffled his feet impatiently.
“Good luck to you, too, my friend. I hope you get what you need.” Rocky continued walking to the stage stop. Dust billowed in the west harkening the coach’s arrival.
Race turned to Miller. “Come on, let’s go take care of your horse.”
“Do you know Mildred Lowery?” He trailed behind Race, who’d taken the reins.
“Yep. She’s my wife.”
****
“I can’t believe Father sent you to fetch me.” Winnie crossed her arms and huffed.
“He didn’t. I came on my own. When he discovered your note, he enlisted my help to search your room.” John Miller blushed like a schoolgirl. “He assumed there must be more than a desire to meet an estranged sister in the primitive west.”
“He never wanted Mother to talk to me about her past.”
Race watched Winnie soften at the memory.
Miller tugged at his tie. “I, ah, found your collection of dime novels. I feared you’d come here and fall in love with a cowboy before I even had the opportunity to make my case.”
Winnie frowned. “You don’t make a case when you’re courting, John. You take the time to get to know a girl.”
“That was my plan, but I wanted to give you time with your mother while she was alive, then give you a period of mourning. You haven’t done anything the normal way.” He ran a hand through his mussed hair.
“You gave me no indication of your feelings. You spent all your time talking to Father.” She huffed and turned from him.
He stepped toward her. “Because it’s easier. I can’t think of what to say when you’re near. You’re so beautiful and vibrant and full of life. You make me feel like a dull glass who can only shine in your presence.”
“I don’t mean to, make you feel dull, that is. I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”
Race could understand why Miller was a banker instead of a poet. Winnie’s dramatics didn’t put him off and she seemed to appreciate his awkward attempt at sentiment. They’d probably make a match if he could bring her around.
“From the moment I saw you walk into the bank with your father a year ago, I’ve thought of nothing but having the chance to make you my wife.”
“So, this isn’t about your position at the bank?” Winnie finally turned to face John.
“Never! If you want me to quit as soon as we get home, I will. If you want to live here to be near your sister, I’ll find a job here.” He got down on one knee. “This is not how I planned to do this at all, but I must prove to you the strength of my feelings.” John took her hand. “Winnifred Chambers, please say you’ll be my wife.”
Winnie’s face lit up and she clasped John’s hands in hers. “You’d really live here?”
“In a heartbeat, as long as it’s with you.”
Winnie sighed. “Oh, John! Yes, I’ll marry you! But don’t worry, it’s far to dusty here. I’ll only make you take me west for visits.” The couple embraced.
Millie, who’d been standing next to Race watching the exchange, said to him, “I guess you’d better make the storage room apartment habitable.”
Race nodded, glad someone would be getting a happy ending.
Chapter 15
After getting John Miller situated with a makeshift bed and washstand in the future storage room apartment, Millie invited him upstairs to dinner. She and Race gave them privacy that afternoon, to get to know each other while remaining inside the bounds of propriety. By western standards, at least. Now, they made cow eyes at each other over fried chicken and beans.
As she began clearing the table, there was a knock at the door. Goodness knows she wasn’t in any mood for more surprise guests. Race answered the door, but he didn’t invite anyone in, and she couldn’t see past him in the darkness.
“Millie, it’s for you,” Race said quietly.
“Well, invite them in.” Her hands were already immersed in hot dishwater.
“I’d prefer not.”
This got her attention. Race was usually polite to a fault. She wiped her hands on a towel and joined Race at the door. Two figures in hooded capes stood on the landing. One raised her head and surprise didn’t begin to cover Millie’s shock at seeing Adelaide Willowby standing there.
“Perhaps we can talk downstairs in the shop?” Adelaide said.
“Of course.” Millie started down.
Race stopped her with a hand on her arm. “What’s this about?”
“It’s a private matter.” Adelaide led the other hooded figure toward the stairs.
“My wife does not have private conversations with the town madam; not without me.”
Adelaide smirked. “That you know of.”
Millie’s face heated.
“You may be present, but my business is with Mildred. We’ll wait downstairs.” The cloaks made the two figures appear to float down the stairs.
Race pulled Millie back to face him. “What did she mean? How do you even know Addie Willowby?”
Millie jerked her arm out of his loose grip. “How do you know her well enough to refer to her so familiarly?”
Race pulled the door shut so their proper guests wouldn’t overhear, ensconcing them in shadows. “That’s how most around town refer to her. I’ve never met the woman, but it looks like you have. When?” he growled.
“I went to show her fabrics and patterns. I thought the social club would be a good source of business since there are so few women in town. It was a good idea, too. Mrs. Willowby was happy to receive me.” The first time, at least, Millie thought wryly. “If you were around more, instead of off walking and hanging around the town’s churches, you’d know full well what I do with my time.” She jammed her hands on her hips.
“I’m mostly out at night. During the day I was working at Goldmount. I trust you didn’t go to that place at night. I think you didn’t want me to know of your little visit.”
Millie sighed, defeated. “Race, what does it even matter? You want to cut me loose. When that happens, I’ll be able to do whatever I damn well please anyway. I’m going to see what Addie wants. Join us or not; I don’t care.” Race followed at her heels as she descended.
He unlocked the shop’s back door and ushered everyone inside. Millie lit the lamp. The guests removed their hoods to reveal Addie with her white-blonde hair perfectly coifed in a series of twists and ringlets. Accompanying her was a pale, sickly girl with golden hair piled and pinned haphazardly on her head and enchanting hazel eyes.
Addie started right in. “In case you were unaware, you are one of only two female business owners in the town of Wylder. The other being Eulalia Culpepper.” Her nose pinched slightly has she stifled a sneer.
“Race and I own this business together,” Millie corrected.
“Not according to the deed on file. This property is in your name alone.”
She spun to Race who scowled at Addie. “What?”
He shifted his gaze to Millie. “We’ll talk about it later.” Then to Addie. “Make your point so we can get on with our evening.
Millie turned, too. “Yes, please. Apparently, my husband and I have a number of things to discuss.”
Addie smirked again. “This is Amber. She has found herself in a position not conducive to her current line of work. I heard you were looking for someone to help with laundry service and that you have an apartment to let.”
Millie frowned. “None of those things have happened yet. We’ve only talked about them. How could you know.”
Addie smiled. “The same way I knew about the deed. I have eyes and ears everywhere in this town. I have to in order to protect my girls and my own interests.”
“You want us to take in a pregnant—” Race started, but Addie held a single finger up to stop his tirade.
She turned to Millie. “I explained to you why I stay. If I leave, I will have nothing to support my daughter with. I didn’t tell you that I’ve had this discussion with Mr. Willowby as well. If I were to leave, he would make it known to my contacts in the east exactly what business I’m in here. Not only would I have no money and no prospects, but I would be considered a fallen woman and divorcee.” Millie flinched and Addie pinned her gaze briefly on Race before continuing. “That said, I decided as long as I must remain here, I will do what good I can. I protect these girls to the best of my ability. Amber is pregnant and Mr. Willowby has barred her from the Social Club. She has nowhere else to go. I am asking you, as a woman who knows what can happen to young girls who don’t have anyone looking after their interests, to help me help her.”
Millie looked at the bedraggled girl. She’d seen so many like her in Santa Fe. If not for Race, she could have easily ended up like this herself. “What would you have me do.”
Addie didn’t smile, but Millie sensed she wanted to. “What were to be the terms of the washer woman position?”
Millie glanced at Race, but by putting the shop in her name alone, he’d given her every right to make this decision on her own. “We haven’t discussed it yet, nor the plan for the apartment. The only reason it’s nearly ready is we have a guest.”
Addie tapped a finger to her chin. “Ahh, yes. The beau. Why don’t you take Amber on as your washer woman and let her stay in the apartment? Subtract her rent out of whatever she earns doing laundry.”
This wasn’t a bad solution, though it chafed accepting suggestions from the woman. She looked at Race again. He stood by, fuming, allowing her to conduct business. “For how long?” she asked.
“I will post a letter in the morning to Amber’s distant relative. Barring that, she is open to the idea of being a mail order bride in another town, providing the groom is willing to take the child, too.”
“That doesn’t really answer the question.” Millie crossed her arms.
“No. It doesn’t. But it saves you having to find a washer woman and it keeps you from having to rent to a man.” Addie turned her eyes to Race. “Having a man on the premises might be helpful but could also add to your concerns.”
Race nodded and Millie couldn’t help but feel she missed something.
“It’s up to you, Mills. You could start the laundry service right away,” Race said.
Millie looked at Addie. “This does not make us friends. I still think you’re awful for abandoning your daughter.”
Addie narrowed her eyes. “Of course not. You’re too closed-minded to imagine yourself in my or your mother’s place. I have enough problems without adding your negativity to my life.” She turned and had a whispered conversation with Amber, undoubtedly offering reassurances.
Race had stepped into the apartment and emerged with John Miller’s small bag.
Addie directed Amber to the door Race held open for her. She hugged the woman and turned to Millie. “I’ll have her things sent over. You’ll have a dress ready for me early next week?”
Millie should be grateful the woman asked permission to keep the girl at the shop rather than show up with bags in tow. “Yes. Shall I send it, or will someone come pick it up?”
“I’ll send the girl who will be wearing it so she can try it on.” She walked to the door and flipped her hood over her hair. “Thank you. Women need to be able to count on one another, despite their differences. The west is too harsh a place not to.” She slipped out the door into the night.
Race came and stood next to her. “Now where are we going to put John Miller?”
****
Millie couldn’t sleep. If the sounds of John’s snoring were any indication, Race wasn’t faring any better. Winnie was a sprawler and she slept like the dead. If Millie’s poking and shoving didn’t wake her, it’s unlikely the snoring would either. Winnie and John would make a good match in the respect, at least.
She envied her sister. She would marry a man who loved her enough to chase her across the country. John had been able to follow so close on her heels by taking the stage or renting a horse when train schedules didn’t accommodate his haste. He’d arrived saddle-sore and filthy dirty, but no less in love with Winnie. Millie sighed. She couldn’t even get the man she’d been married to for six years to admit he loved her. She knew he did. There were many types of love in the world, but none where you lusted after someone you loved as a sister. Race’s feelings for her had changed over the years; he just didn’t want to acknowledge them.
When they decided that Millie would share a bed with Winnie, and Race and John would bunk together, disappointment flitted across Race’s face followed by relief. The previous night had been tortuous for both of them. Millie had intended to press her advantage tonight. She’d given him time to think, unfortunately, now, she’d have to wait to act.
****
As it turned out, their houseguests stayed until Sunday when they were able to catch the train back toward Savannah. Winnie refused to travel by stage and besides wanted to spend more time with her sister and exploring Wylder.
Millie and Race allowed John to escort Winnie around town with warnings about which areas to avoid. Millie wrangled them an invitation to see Rick and Sarah Holt’s horse ranch. It was enough for Winnie to realize her dime novel cowboys were much rougher and dirtier in real life, to John’s relief.
They received word from Winnie’s father, Philip Chambers, to which Winnie responded with the message, GET READY TO HOST WEDDING WITHIN MONTH. FULL STOP. This would surely send the man into a panic, so Race followed it up with an additional telegraph explaining as best he could in as few words as possible. Millie wrote a longer explanation including condolences on the loss of his wife and posted it in the mail.
They waited on the platform as the train appeared to grow larger. Millie held her ground, knowing the massive, smoking, rumbly beast wasn’t going to jump the track and run her down. At least not at its approach speed.
Winnie threw her arms around her sister one the last time. Despite what Winnie said about not having her mother’s whole heart, she didn’t seem to have any trouble trusting it to the older sister she could have resented.
“I’ll miss you. You must write me every week and come visit. For all your travels, you’ve never even seen the ocean. You’ll love Georgia. John and I will have a grand house and you can stay with us.” The train pulling up drowned out the rest of Winnie’s rambling good-bye .
It came to a stop with a loud hiss that made Millie jump. “Race and I will try to make it out that way sometime. I would love to see your ocean.” She smiled.
Race helped John see to Winnie’s trunks. She was leaving with much more luggage than the small satchel she’d arrived with. Millie worked through three straight nights to hastily sew a wedding dress for her sister. Unable to rest with thoughts of Race in the next room, sewing the dress made good use of her time. She intended to spend the rest of the day catching up on sleep.
