Waiting For Spring Part 4

Keeping his expression impa.s.sive, Barrett slowed the wagon. "Merchants, newspaper owners, bankers, your brother." He stopped in front of his home and nodded at it.

"This is yours?" Astonishment colored Harrison's voice, and for the first time Barrett could recall, he seemed at a loss for words.

Barrett climbed out of the wagon. Mr. Bradley would have seen him arrive and would send one of the boys to put the horse and wagon in the stable and bring Harrison's trunk inside. "I told you I built a house."

"You said a house, not a mansion." Harrison stared at the red brick building. Though less elaborate than some of its neighbors, the three-story house was far larger and more elaborate than any in Northwick. Harrison shook his head as if trying to clear his brain, then shrugged. "All I can say, little brother, is that you've done well for yourself." There was both approval and amazement in Harrison's voice, and it filled an empty s.p.a.ce inside Barrett. This was what he'd wanted, his brother's approval, and at last he had it.

When they entered the front door and Mr. Bradley appeared to take their coats, Harrison pursed his lips. It was only when they were alone again, inside Barrett's office, that he spoke. "Camden won't believe this. When you said you owned cattle and were building a house, we figured it would be a farmhouse. Instead, you've got a mansion with a butler and who knows how many other servants."

"Six."

Harrison's eyes widened. "You have six servants?"

"Seven, counting Mr. Bradley."

Harrison shook his head. "I still can't believe it. And that's another thing. Why do you call him Mr. Bradley? I thought servants were addressed by only one name."

"That's what he told me, but I thought it made me seem too highfalutin, so I made it what my attorney calls a condition of employment. If the staff insist on calling me Mr. Landry-and they do-I'll address them similarly."

Harrison shook his head again. "My brother, the cattle baron. I still can't believe it."

"There are times when I can't either." It had taken a lot of work, a lot of hard work, but the profits from his first year of raising cattle had exceeded his dreams. Barrett had had more money than he'd imagined possible, and-even better-he'd gained respect. No longer the runt of the litter, he'd been invited to join the Cheyenne Club. Soon after, he'd started building this house.

"This sure isn't a farmhouse." Harrison gestured toward the velvet draperies, the flocked wallpaper, and the Persian carpet. "Even the mayor of Northwick doesn't have anything like this."

Harrison would probably feel more comfortable when he saw the ranch house where Barrett stayed while checking on the cattle. It had begun as a dugout and had few amenities other than the one window in the room Barrett had grafted onto the front when he'd realized he could not live without sunshine.

"I have a ranch house," he admitted, "but I don't spend much time there."

Harrison crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. "I don't suppose I would, either, if I had a house like this. The truth is, from the beginning, I couldn't picture you being happy raising cows. I thought you liked people too much." He slid his hands over the leather chair arms. "Of the three of us, you were the best with the customers. You could sell them anything."

"If they'd listen to me." That had been part of the problem. If Harrison or Camden was in the store, customers would ignore Barrett.

"Why do you think I left you alone so often?" The skin crinkled around Harrison's eyes as he grinned. "I'm not as dumb as you think. I may not have realized it while we were growing up, but once we all started working in the store, I saw what was going on. I also saw that customers bought more from you than they ever did from Camden or me."

Barrett stared at his brother. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"And let you get a swelled head? Besides, you needed to figure out what you wanted to do."

He had. "I knew there was no future for me in Northwick. Even if I enjoyed working in the store-and I'm not sure I did, the mercantile didn't need three people.'

Furrows reappeared between Harrison's brows, and he stared at the floor as if fascinated by the carpet pattern. "Right now it doesn't need two. Business hasn't been good recently." The furrows deepened. "Camden claims it's because I won't try new ideas. He calls me hidebound. Don't laugh, Barrett. You've probably said the same thing yourself."

"I prefer stick-in-the-mud."

As his lips twisted in a smile, Harrison nodded. "Sounds like you. But back to Camden. I got tired of arguing with him, so I decided I'd give him some time to run things the way he wants. Besides, with him being newly wed, I figured he and Susan deserved some time without an interfering older brother around."

"Mighty considerate of you. I probably shouldn't say this, lest you get a swelled head." Barrett tossed Harrison's words back at him. "But I'll take my chances and admit that I'm glad you're here, even though I imagine it's my life you're going to try to interfere in now. It's clear you disapprove of it."

"Aw, Barrett, you always were too sensitive. I don't disapprove. I'm just surprised." Harrison leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Tell me about those cows."

"Cattle," Barrett corrected, although he suspected his brother knew the correct term and was calling the animals cows simply to annoy him. "I'd rather tell you about something else." He might as well get everything out in the open right away. Besides, Harrison might have some good advice. "I have to warn you, though, old stick-in-the-mud, that it's a new idea."

"Not you too."

"Afraid so. It must be contagious." He took a deep breath, wondering how Harrison would react. "I'm considering marriage."

"It's about time." A grin split Harrison's face, setting his jowls to quivering. "You're not getting any younger, you know." As Barrett opened his mouth to retort, Harrison's grin widened. "No need to point out that I'm even older and still haven't married. Some men are meant to be bachelors, but you're not one of them."

"So, you approve?" Harrison's letters hadn't sounded as if he was happy about Camden's marriage.

"Sure do. I hope you're planning to introduce me to your bride-to-be." Harrison's smile faded. "Or is this just theoretical?"

"Nope." Barrett shook his head. "I have a lady in mind, and if you promise to be on your best behavior, I just might let you meet her."

"Afraid I might steal her away?"

"Hardly." Harrison was too honorable to court Miriam when he knew that Barrett was considering marrying her. "There's more, though."

"Another new idea?" Harrison feigned shock. "I'm not sure I can handle two in one day."

"Brace yourself." As his brother gripped the chair arms, Barrett chuckled. This was the Harrison he remembered, always ready to play. "I may run for political office."

There was a second of silence as Harrison digested the words, then he leaned forward and pounded his fists on Barrett's desk. "That's the best idea I've heard in months. You'll charm the voters the way you did customers." He rose and clapped Barrett on the shoulder. "Good move, little brother. Good move."

"The snow is getting heavier," Gwen said as she shook her cloak and hung it on one of the pegs near the door. "You might want to skip services today." She knelt on the floor and held out her arms, grinning when Rose raced into them. "Did you miss your mama?"

Rose nodded. "I play with David, but he cry."

Gwen looked up in alarm. "Did Rose hurt him?"

"It was a game." Gwen's daughter had been trying to teach David to stand, and when she'd let go of his hands, the inevitable had occurred: David had fallen and hit his head. A few minutes later, his tears gone, he'd attempted to rise without a.s.sistance and had fallen again, but this time Charlotte had seen a new determination on her son's face. Though he'd resisted her efforts to help him stand, somehow, Rose's encouragement had given him the impetus he needed to try. "Don't be surprised if he falls again," she told Gwen. "You know it's part of the process. I moved everything I could out of the way."

She reached for her cape. Cut with what the fashion books called dolman sleeves, it was far more practical for Cheyenne's wind than an ordinary cape, because she could draw it close to her body.

"It wouldn't hurt you to miss church today," Gwen repeated. "Look at the snow."

Charlotte shook her head. "It's less than a block away." That was an advantage of living where she did, close to what residents called Church Corner. Charlotte's church was located on one corner, Gwen's on another, a third across the street. It was a short walk, and, fortunately for the two women, each church's services were held at different times, allowing them both to worship without worrying about their children.

"I want to go," Charlotte said as she picked up the Bible that had been one of her first purchases when she'd reached Cheyenne. "I need to go." Until she had married and moved to Fort Laramie, the only times she had missed Sunday worship were when she had been ill. Services at the fort had been irregular, and as often as not, Charlotte had worshiped at home, but since she had become part of a community with established churches, she hadn't missed a Sunday. A snowfall, even if it was unusually heavy for October, was no reason to break her pattern.

"You're stubborn." Gwen's smile took the sting from her accusation.

"Guilty as charged." Charlotte gave David one last hug, then slid the Bible into the pocket she had sewn into the cape. The leather binding was still stiff, and the book did not fit into her hand as comfortably as the Bible she had had since childhood, but Charlotte could not risk using that one in public. With its record of not only her birth but also her marriage to Jeffrey, it contained too much information that she was trying to keep secret, and so she hid it beneath a spare petticoat in one of her bureau drawers.

Charlotte bent her head as she crossed the street, trying to keep the snow from pelting her face. Unlike the snow of her childhood, where fat, lazy flakes drifted to the ground, snow rarely fell in Cheyenne. Instead, the wind blew it with such force that it seemed as if shards of gla.s.s were being catapulted through the sky. The tiny flakes that were more like pellets could hurt delicate skin, especially when they were driven sideways by a fierce wind.

As she entered the church and brushed away the snow that had coated her eyelashes, Charlotte heard a familiar voice. She looked up. It hadn't been her imagination. Though she had never before seen him in the church, Barrett Landry was indeed here. Even more surprisingly, he was accompanied by a man whose resemblance said he was a relative.

"Good morning, Charlotte." Barrett smiled as he covered the distance between them in two long steps. "I'd like to introduce you to my brother Harrison. He came to Wyoming to see how cow farmers live." The mischievous tone to his voice told Charlotte that Harrison must have referred to cattle ranchers as cow farmers, a term no one in the territory would use.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Landry." Though normally the narthex was crowded, it appeared that the snow had discouraged many parishioners, for today there was no one other than Charlotte and the Landry brothers.

"Harrison, please." The man was an older, less refined version of Barrett. Though his suit was well-cut, as befitted someone who ran a store that sold men's clothing, his shoulders were not as broad, his muscles less defined, his face softer around the edges.

"It's nice to meet you, Harrison. Are you enjoying our snow?"

It was Barrett who answered, his lips twisting with irony. "Does anyone enjoy snow? I don't, especially when I consider what it means to the cattle. They're not used to having so much of the frozen white stuff so early in the season."

Charlotte looked at the sanctuary with its spa.r.s.ely filled pews. "Judging from the few people here, I'd say many of the parishioners aren't happy about it, either."

Barrett nodded. "I usually attend an earlier service, but Harrison slept too late."

Seemingly unchastened by his brother's comment, Harrison grinned. "The train was tiring. Barrett wouldn't know about that, since it's been so long since he traveled on one."

Though Charlotte was curious about the currents that seemed to flow between them, this was not the time to ask. "We'd better take our seats."

As she led the way into the sanctuary, Barrett asked if they could join her.

With the church only a quarter filled, there was no reason for them to share a pew with her, and yet there was also no reason for her to refuse. "Certainly."

As the congregation rose for the first hymn, Charlotte discovered two things about Barrett. He sang badly off-key, and it didn't seem to bother him. Barrett sang like a man who knew that G.o.d heard the words of praise and knew they were sincere. The fact that his voice was less melodic than many didn't matter. How different from Jeffrey. Charlotte's husband had attended church services only when she insisted, and though he sang the hymns and recited the prayers with the rest of the congregation, she knew he had been there in body but not in spirit. Barrett was not like that.

Her heart filled with warmth, Charlotte settled back in the pew and waited for the minister to begin his sermon.

"Today we will be considering Proverbs 12:19."

In an instant, the warmth fled, replaced by a cold that penetrated more deeply than the frigid outside air. This had been one of Papa's favorite verses, and he had used it as the basis for at least one sermon at each of the churches he'd served.

"*The lip of truth shall be established for ever: but a lying tongue is but for a moment.'" Though the minister was intoning the words, Charlotte heard her father's voice. "Do you believe, as some do, that this verse condones lying, by saying it lasts only a moment?" Papa had demanded one Sunday. "That is false reasoning. Our G.o.d loves truth. He abhors lies. As G.o.d's children, we must live our lives based on truth. Only truth."

Charlotte closed her eyes and tried not to shudder. Both Papa and Mama had taught her the importance of truth. What would they think if they knew what she had done? More importantly, what did G.o.d think? She knew the answer.

6.

Men!" Miriam pretended to pout as she p.r.o.nounced the word. "They don't understand anything. They think just because they decide to do something, we'll be thrilled. They don't know what's involved in getting ready." She accepted the cup of coffee Charlotte offered after settling in one of the gilded chairs that Barrett had refused when he'd visited elan. Miriam's voice was little less than a wail as she continued. "I know there isn't enough time for you to make me a new gown, but Mama's adamant that I can't wear the green silk again. What am I going to do? I can't refuse Barrett's invitation."

Charlotte had antic.i.p.ated this conversation ever since she'd left church on Sunday. When the service had ended, Barrett and Harrison had insisted on accompanying her back to her house, and as they'd crossed Ferguson Street, Barrett had announced that he wanted to have a dinner to introduce Harrison to his friends. "I hope you and Mrs. Amos will be my guests." Charlotte, still reeling from the sermon and the knowledge that her deception had to stop, had nodded. It was only afterward that she had realized Miriam would also be invited, and she would want a new gown.

"I would tell you that Barrett won't remember what you wore to the symphony," Charlotte said as she poured herself a cup of coffee and took the other chair, "but that would be a lie. Most men don't notice much about women's clothing. Barrett's different."

As Miriam nodded, Charlotte said, "There's only one answer. We have to make your green gown look like a new one. Here's what I thought I'd do." She handed Miriam the sketch she'd made the previous night. "It's the same dress with a few changes. I'll use the fabric in the overskirt to make long sleeves and a fichu, and I'll add a new overskirt of lemon yellow. It won't be as elaborate as the original, which means it'll be more suited for dinner." Charlotte looked at her friend. "What do you think?"

A smile as broad as the prairie was her answer. "Oh, Charlotte, it'll be beautiful. You're a genius."

Charlotte shook her head. "Hardly a genius. While I was growing up, my family didn't have much money, so I learned how to make simple changes that would make an old dress look almost new."

"I still say you're a genius." Miriam flung her arms around Charlotte and hugged her. "I'm so glad you're my friend."

"I never thought I'd have another chance to wear this gown." Gwen settled back in the carriage, her smile radiant. Unlike Miriam, she felt no need for a new dress and was delighted to have another occasion to wear her blue silk. "I still can't believe we were invited."

"I don't think Barrett knows too many unmarried women," Charlotte had told Gwen when the official invitation arrived. "He probably wanted to balance the numbers." She was certain Messieurs Duncan and Eberhardt would be there, along with Harrison. That meant Barrett had needed to find at least three single women in addition to Miriam.

According to Miriam, there would be fifteen guests, including four married couples, one of which was her parents. "I won't tell Mama that you've been invited, but I'll make certain she has her smelling salts." Though both Charlotte and Miriam knew that Mrs. Taggert was unlikely to be pleased by the presence of someone she considered little more than a servant, Charlotte did not regret having accepted the invitation, for it brought Gwen great pleasure.

"I don't care what the reason was," Gwen said, her face rosy with happiness. "I'm just glad we're going. And in this beautiful carriage too." Ever the gentleman, Barrett had insisted on sending his carriage for Charlotte and Gwen. Though it was only six days since the October 24 snowstorm and most of the snow had melted, Barrett had declared that the women must not walk the two and a half blocks from their home to his. "Mr. Bradley would be horrified," he had told Charlotte. And though Charlotte suspected the butler's disapproval was a figment of Barrett's imagination, she had agreed. Even though she'd taken long walks both at home in Vermont and at Fort Laramie, it was one thing to stroll during the daylight, quite another to walk at night in an evening gown. That was why she had hired a carriage the night she and Gwen had gone to the opera house.

"Oh, my." Though she'd been silent as they covered the short distance from the carriage to the double front doors, Gwen let out a deep sigh as they entered Barrett's house. Charlotte understood the feeling. The imposing foyer with its parquet floor was as large as the room she and David shared, and yet it served as nothing more than an entry hall. To the right, she saw a s.p.a.cious parlor, to the left an elegant dining room. Finely woven carpets, intricately carved mahogany furniture, and crystal chandeliers left no doubt that this was the residence of a wealthy man. Charlotte had known that from the exterior, and yet seeing the inside of Barrett's home made her realize the width of the gulf that separated them.

"This way, madam." The heavyset man who had taken their cloaks directed Charlotte and Gwen toward the parlor. They stood in the doorway for a moment before anyone noticed their presence. Charlotte wasn't surprised, for although there were little more than a dozen people, all of them seemed engrossed in their conversations.

Mr. Duncan spotted them first and, disengaging himself from Miriam's parents, hurried toward the doorway. "I'm glad you could come." The direction of his smile left no doubt that he was speaking to Gwen. "I asked Barrett to seat you next to me at dinner. I want to continue the conversation we began at the opera house."

For all the attention he paid to her, Charlotte might have been invisible. It wasn't the first time she had been ignored, but though it was undeniably rude, that wasn't what bothered her. She could slough off uncouth behavior. What bothered her was that she couldn't pinpoint the cause of her uneasiness. All she knew was that she felt uncomfortable around Warren Duncan. Perhaps it was foolish, for he seemed the personification of courtesy when he was with Gwen, but Charlotte could not dismiss her concerns.

She left Gwen and Mr. Duncan conversing in the doorway and moved toward a cl.u.s.ter of chairs, intending to sit there until dinner was served. But before she was halfway across the room, Barrett appeared at her side.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to greet you when you arrived." As he had been the night at the opera, he was dressed in formal clothing. It was not difficult to imagine this man walking the halls of Congress and helping to lead the nation.

Barrett wrinkled his nose and spoke softly. "This is my first dinner party, and I'm still learning." When Charlotte raised a questioning eyebrow, he explained. "Richard and Warren have told me it's time I started entertaining, and Harrison's visit seemed like a good excuse." Barrett nodded almost imperceptibly toward the man who had taken Charlotte's cape. "Mr. Bradley is in his element. You wouldn't know he started life as a gold miner, would you?"

Charlotte studied Barrett's butler. "I can picture him as a miner." He had the well-developed arms and shoulders of a man who had wielded a pick and ax for many years, though the somewhat haughty expression he had adopted would not have fared well in a mine shaft.

Barrett appeared startled. "What gave him away?"

"His shoulders. They're even more muscular than yours." Charlotte felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Mama would have been appalled if she'd heard Charlotte's remark. It was positively unseemly to have noticed Barrett's musculature, far worse to have admitted it.

Barrett must not have noticed her discomfort, for his voice was even as he said, "I hope you won't tell anyone about Mr. Bradley's past. I doubt he'd want that to become common knowledge."

Relieved that her faux pas had gone undetected, Charlotte nodded. "I'm good at keeping secrets, but I am curious. How did he learn to be a butler?"

"He claims he read a book." Barrett looked around the room, as if a.s.suring himself that his other guests were occupied. Miriam and a young woman Charlotte did not recognize were deep in conversation with Harrison Landry and Richard Eberhardt, while the elder Taggerts appeared to be entertaining one of the city's prominent bankers and his wife. Smiling, Barrett added, "It's amazing what you can find in books, isn't it?"

Though she read few books now other than those devoted to fashion, Charlotte nodded. "When I was a child, I was ill for a long time and had to spend my days in bed. Books were my best friends then. They helped me pa.s.s the time while Abigail and Elizabeth were at school. Unfortunately, since David was born, I haven't had much time to read."

"But surely you read to him. Or is he old enough to read to himself?"

Charlotte tried not to frown at the thoughts that Barrett's innocent question had provoked. "He's only one," she said, forcing herself to smile as Miriam and Richard Eberhardt approached. She would not tell Barrett that David would be unable to read, even if he were ten. She wouldn't burden him with her worries, for David was her responsibility, no one else's.

As Richard asked Charlotte her opinion of Barrett's political aspirations, Charlotte heard Barrett address Miriam. "Have I told you how attractive you are in that new gown?" From the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw Miriam smile. She smiled in return.

Charlotte was still smiling as dinner began. The food was delicious, and the guests congenial. Warren Duncan had indeed prevailed on Barrett for the seating arrangement, for Gwen was on his right, seemingly so entranced by whatever he was saying that she paid virtually no attention to the man on her right.