Two Brides Too Many (3 page)

“Where’s your prince?” Her eyes wide, Lucille stood in front of her, several steps behind her mother and the woman Nell presumed was her aunt.

Kat was right—she’d said too much to the child. The girl was a stranger, and a young one at that, and now Nell felt obligated to address questions she couldn’t answer.

“They were probably delayed at work. After all, we did surprise them with our news of an early arrival.” Nell looked at Kat. Her sister’s raised eyebrows and closed lips gave no indication of a plan to jump in with help. “Or maybe it was just a missed communication.
It’s not all that surprising. So much can go wrong with sending a wire.”

“Come along, Lucille,” the girl’s mother called from the depot door. The girl turned away reluctantly, her shoulders sagging. Nell sighed. She’d learned her lesson—they wouldn’t tell anyone else why they had come.

Within minutes, their two trunks were the only baggage left on the platform. Everyone else had gone and they were alone. The late-morning sun glared in Nell’s eyes.

Nell plopped down on her trunk. “We wired them. They should be here.”

“We’ll wait fifteen more minutes.” Kat lowered herself down onto her trunk too.

Nobody came.

Half an hour later, Nell searched out a porter, who gave them directions to Hattie’s Boardinghouse. She tried to ignore the pity on his face as she made arrangements with him to have their trunks delivered.

The sisters shuffled to the stairs and stepped off the depot platform onto a layer of slushy snow. Icy water seeped into Nell’s boot. A stiff wind had them clutching the brims of their hats as they walked to the front of the depot and onto the snow-laced road, but the sun felt warm on her face. She linked arms with Kat for stability as much as for camaraderie.

Nell was happy to be off the train, even if their arrival wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined. Perhaps it was better this way anyway. When she did finally meet Judson in person, she would be clean and looking her best.

They walked up the street towards the boardinghouse, past several
burned-out businesses, dodging carts and burros and men. So many men. They were everywhere. On horses. Beside donkeys. Behind carts. All of them gawking at the sisters. Nell kept her eyes trained on the ground, but something caught her attention. A man, wearing a familiar hat. She stiffened, jerking Kat and nearly pulling her down.

“Are you all right?” Kat asked, steadying her. “Did you stumble?”

Nell shook her head and then pointed across the street. “That man there in front of the Cash and Carry.”

“That’s…Patrick’s hat,” Kat said quietly. The man had his arm around a tiny woman in a red satin bodice. Her long blond hair was pulled to one side, cascading down her shoulder. She whispered something in his ear, and he threw his head back and laughed.

“But it can’t be him.” Nell wanted to believe it couldn’t be Mr. Maloney—not with another woman on his arm. Not with a woman who wore a dress like that.

Kat pulled away from Nell and started to storm across the street.

Nell grabbed hold of Kat’s cape and yanked. She couldn’t let her sister make a fool of herself. “We need to find our lodging,” she said, pulling her sister back toward her. “Besides, you can’t be sure it’s Patrick. Men in bowler hats are probably a dime a dozen in these camps. You don’t want to start your new life here like this.”

Nell watched the man open the door to Ollie’s Saloon and hold it open for the woman, and they both disappeared inside.

Kat sighed and turned toward the boardinghouse. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough, either way.”

Nell nodded and started walking up the street, dodging slushy puddles. Kat would find out soon enough. That’s what worried Nell.

T
HERE

K
at sat on the sofa beside Nell in Widow Hattie’s parlor, bouncing her knee and fidgeting with the hem of her shirtwaist. Three teacups dotted the table in front of them, and music was playing on a new Edison phonograph in the corner.

Kat was thankful for a comfortable place to stay, especially after she’d seen all the burned-out buildings and makeshift construction in town—much of it didn’t look habitable, let alone comfortable. But she wasn’t in a frame of mind for idle conversation. She and Nell had arrived at the boardinghouse just ahead of their trunks, with only enough time for a bath before their supper of roasted chicken and wild rice.

Although the food was tasty, the mealtime was long on awkward exchanges with their landlady and the two couples who boarded here. Nell had redirected the conversation anytime Hattie or a fellow boarder broached the subject of the sisters’ reasons for coming to Cripple Creek. Everyone in the house knew Kat liked to write poetry and Nell liked to cook. They’d also heard all about Maine, and Ida and Vivian.

The other boarders had disappeared upstairs, and now Kat needed to think. She needed to decide what to do about Mr. Patrick Maloney. Despite Nell’s insistence to the contrary, the man outside the grocer’s had to have been Kat’s intended. Greased brown hair. A handlebar mustache. Irish men sporting handlebar mustaches were probably as plentiful in gold mining camps as flies were in a stable, but Kat doubted that more than one of them wore a bowler cocked to one side with a peacock feather tucked into the band.

Their landlady perched on the edge of a wing-back chair across from them, and Kat couldn’t help but expect the chair to topple over. Hattie lifted her cup and saucer from the table and peered at them over her cup. “Now why don’t you girls tell me why you’re here.”

Kat met Nell’s wide-eyed gaze.

“You’re unattached, am I right?” Hattie lowered her cup and sat back in her chair.

“Nell and I are not married, ma’am.” Kat sipped tea. It was hot, but too sweet.

“Well, most
not married
girls who come to Cripple Creek teach school.” The woman’s gray eyebrows arched in a sort of question mark.

Nell shifted in her chair. “Mrs. Adams—”

“Call me Hattie.”

“Hattie, then.” Nell glanced at Kat. “During supper you mentioned your husband, George. How did the two of you meet?”

Hattie looked up at the sisters, her eyes sparkling like polished silver. “You two sisters have to be the most tight-lipped folks on the face of the earth.”

“We heard how beautiful it was here.” Kat said quickly, glancing toward the window. “But the view from the train nearly took my
breath away. We have the ocean in Maine, but these mountains are spectacular.”

“I say this might be the most fun I’ve had since my George died,” Hattie said, rubbing her hands together. “I love guessing games. Let’s see. You’re not teachers. Very few
not married
girls come here for business, other than the shady kind conducted on Myers Avenue.” Kat felt herself blush, but Hattie didn’t even turn pink. “And if they come to do that, they certainly don’t stay with me. You girls aren’t that sort, so…”

Kat realized the woman wasn’t one to give up…ever. “Our father is in the locomotive business and has contacts here,” she said, hoping that would be enough to satisfy the woman.

“Your father is here in Cripple Creek?”

“No ma’am,” Kat admitted reluctantly. “He’s in Paris.”

“Paris, France? He must be a real hoity-toity, doing that kind of gadding about.”

Kat couldn’t help but smile that a woman who owned a house with electric lights, running water, carpeting, and mahogany furnishings was calling her father wealthy. She’d find out the truth soon enough.

Tapping her fleshy chin, Hattie pushed up from the chair and turned off the phonograph. “So, what we have here are two single sisters whose father moved to Paris and left them behind.”

Nell set her rattling teacup and saucer on the table and straightened. “Father didn’t exactly—”

Hattie wagged her finger at Nell. “Your wire said you only needed the room for a night or two. Is that all you’ll be in town?”

Kat couldn’t take this guessing game any longer. Never mind that
it meant giving up their privacy. “Ma’am, have you ever heard of a man named Patrick Maloney?”

Hattie nodded and sank into the wing-backed chair. Kat’s heart sank with her.

“Just about everybody in town has. That one’s taken to the drink. ‘Pickled Paddy,’ they call him. What business do you have with him?”

Kat’s eyes filled with tears, and she fought to keep them from spilling over. She’d chosen a drunk for a groom.

“My stars! You said you weren’t married, not that you weren’t attached…” Hattie cupped her face, her eyes the size of silver dollars. “Mail-order brides—you two girls are mail-order brides!”

Nell pursed her lips and cast a glance at Kat, then bobbed her head.

“Oh.” Staring at Kat, the woman shook her head. “Oh no. Not Paddy Maloney?”

Kat nodded, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

“Letters?”

“Yes.” Kat took a sip of tea to steady herself. “He failed to mention the drinking, or that he had another woman.”

“Another woman?”

“He didn’t show up at the train station today, but on the way here, we saw him out in front of the Cash and Carry. He wasn’t alone.” Whispering the accusation hadn’t made the words sting any less.

“You saw him at the grocery with another woman?” Hattie clucked her tongue. “Today is Tuesday.” Their landlady shook her head, as if that made everything clear.

“What’s wrong with Tuesdays at the grocery?” Kat wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but she had to know now.

“You girls are greener than grapes on a vine.”

Kat opened her mouth to protest, but the woman was right—Father had protected them from sordid details. She hadn’t even realized it before, but now it seemed a cruel curse to be so naive.

“One morning a week here, proper women stay away from town.” Hattie crossed her arms over her chest. “Tuesday mornings belong to the others for their shopping and such.”

The others?

“Oh.” A sudden heat climbed Kat’s neck and face. How was she to marry a man she’d seen with a…strumpet?

She didn’t want to admit the answer. She couldn’t. But if she didn’t marry Patrick, what was she going to do?

Two hours later, Kat lay in bed, holding her breath and listening for Nell’s soft snore. Their landlady had clicked her door shut and turned out the lights in her room early, but Kat thought her sister would never tire of chattering about their new surroundings and settle down, let alone drift off to sleep. Kat didn’t dare tell Nell about her plan. She wouldn’t approve, and when Kat didn’t back down, Nell would insist on going with her.

Satisfied that everyone in the house had settled in for the night, Kat slid out of bed. She carefully padded over to the chair where she’d laid her clothes. Once Kat was dressed, she pulled on her boots and quietly stepped into the hallway. The staircase creaked with each step, and she wondered why she’d even bothered to tiptoe. She slipped out the front door, pulling it closed softly behind her, and tugged her cape
tight against the chilling wind. A full moon lit the street, and she hurried down the hill to Bennett Avenue. Ignoring the calls of the men that she passed, she marched up the boardwalk toward Ollie’s Saloon. She’d just passed the Cash and Carry when a grizzled man staggered out of the saloon in front of her.

“Hey, doll, you got some sugar for me?” His words were slurred, and the odor of alcohol was so strong it made Kat’s eyes sting. Snickering, the bearded man lurched and grabbed at her bodice.

Kat gasped and slapped the drunk’s hand away. He teetered, and she stepped out around him. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed open the door to the saloon.

Smoke billowed from cigars and pipes, and raucous off-key piano music filled the room with noise. Revulsion churned her stomach, and her supper caught in her throat. She swallowed hard and pressed her gloved hand against her stomach. The sooner she left this place, the better, but first she needed to know if Patrick was here.

Kat blinked and willed her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Then she wove her way through tables filled with men engaged in games of chance. Ignoring their leering stares and catcalls, she looked at every face and every hat, but none of them belonged to Patrick.

“I said your tab’s full, and I meant it.” The male voice gained volume with each word. “Pay up or get out, Paddy.”

Paddy
.

The titters of females drew Kat to the left wall, where a stocky bartender stood face to face with a man hunched on a stool. Two women stood on either side of him. She recognized the one with the blond hair from the Cash and Carry. The other wore a bustle and leaned in close to the man, her hand resting on his arm. Kat didn’t
want to believe it was Patrick sitting between the women, but the hat with the peacock feather tucked into the band was undeniably his.

“Mr. Maloney?”

The man spun around and studied Kat from boot to bonnet. “Well, if I’m not the luckiest fellow alive. Pretty women are comin’ out of the woodwork lookin’ for me.” A smirk spreading across his whiskered face, he rubbed his chin just below the cleft.

She was looking at the man in the photo, but the one in front of her wasn’t the man she’d agreed to marry. Kat pressed her hand to her roiling stomach again. “I am Miss Kat Sinclair.”