Tempest by Beverly Jenkins
“But there has to be proof.”
“We’ll find it.”
She nodded and continued to hold his gaze as if waiting for him to say more. And he had more but no idea how to express it. He remembered how irritated and disappointed she’d been that morning when he hadn’t returned her smile. After what they’d shared last night, greeting her kindly had been warranted, but he hadn’t. He’d never been one to express his feelings, and even though what he felt for her seemed to be growing and expanding, he was more comfortable remaining the man he’d always been. It was a poor excuse, which left him no happier with himself than she apparently was. She was changing him and he wasn’t sure where to stand. “I’ve some journals to look over.”
She replied softly, “Enjoy your reading.”
Chapter Nine
In the days that followed, Colt’s quiet well-ordered life was obliterated by the comings and goings of Porter James and his crew of carpenters with their accompanying racket of sawing and hammering as they worked on his mother’s old bedroom. True to her word, Regan pitched in to help by sanding the floors, applying plaster, and offering to assist with anything else Porter needed doing. The old carpenter was skeptical at first but was soon impressed by her skills, and Colt was glad he wasn’t the only one dazzled by all that she was. She even got Anna involved. He came home late one afternoon to find his denim-clad daughter on her knees in the washroom applying a new coat of white paint to the claw feet of the now sparkling clean tub. “Anna?” he said, voice filled with surprise.
She looked up and smiled. “Miss Regan is letting me help.”
“I see.” There were spots of paint on her nose and left cheek. “Are you having fun?”
“I am. She said we’re going to make my room pretty next.” She paused and asked hopefully, “Is that all right?”
“Of course. I can’t wait to see it.”
Another smile lit up her small face.
“Where’s Miss Regan?”
“She’s outside cutting screens to put on the windows until the glass comes.”
“Ah. How was school?”
“Wallace Denby tripped me when I walked by his desk.”
Wallace was Moss Denby’s seven-year-old grandson and a known terror. “Did you fall and hurt yourself?”
She shook her head.
“Did you tell Mr. Adams?” Adams was the teacher.
“I did. He said he’s going to tell Wallace’s mama if it happens again.”
“Good.” Denby’s daughter-in-law, Dovie, was the boy’s mother and the town’s seamstress. Last spring her husband, also named Wallace, abandoned her and their son to take up with a young woman he met in Casper. Dovie had been devastated. “Are you sure you didn’t get hurt?”
“I am.”
“Okay. I’m going to go see Miss Regan.”
She nodded and went back to work.
Just as Anna said, Regan was on the back porch using a pair of tin snips on a large roll of window screening. She looked up as he stepped out of the door.
“Welcome home,” she said.
It was difficult to explain how coming home to her made him feel but it warmed the places gone cold since Adele’s passing. “I see you put Anna to work.”
“I did. I thought I’d find little things for her to help with after school. She’ll graduate to tools next.”
He didn’t know if she was pulling his leg or not. “She asked if it was okay if her room is made pretty next.”
“And you replied?”
“I couldn’t wait to see it.”
She nodded approvingly. With her hands protected by gloves she concentrated on cutting through the wire.
“Do you need help?”
“No, this is the last one, but you can nail them up for me if you’d like.”
“I can do that. When’s the glass arriving?”
“Mr. James said a few more days. The glazier is in Laramie. He’ll send it by wagon. I just hope none of it breaks on the way.”
“I saw Lacy in town. She said to remind you that the ladies’ meeting is this evening.”
She made a face. “I was hoping to fall off a ladder or something so I wouldn’t have to go.”
He hid his amusement. “Why?”
“They probably won’t like me. Lacy said Minnie’s a member, and that your sister isn’t because of her questionable morals. I like Spring.”
He understood their reasoning. The Spring of old had been an embarrassment to her family and to herself. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you imagine.”
An eye roll was her reply.
He asked, “How are you getting to town?”
“Colleen Enright was at the school when I picked up Anna. She’s a member, too, and offered me a ride. Our first meeting didn’t go well, but I took it as her offering an olive branch and agreed.”
“That’s a good way of looking at it, I suppose.” He hoped Colleen would keep her snottiness to herself.
“Did Lacy say anything about my stove?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“It would be nice if it arrived soon. I’m tired of wrestling with this one. I did a pot roast and potatoes for dinner but it took lots of prayer. We can eat whenever you’re ready.”
Even though she and the old stove fought daily, Colt had to admit her food was outstanding. Ben’s stew couldn’t hold a candle to what she’d been feeding him and Anna.
“Oh, and this is going to be the last day the carpenters are here until Mr. James returns from Cheyenne. His sister’s ill and he’s going to go see about her. I’m disappointed he can’t finish, but his family is more important.”
After dinner, Regan changed into a skirt and blouse ahead of the meeting. When Colleen arrived, Regan gave Anna and Colt her good-byes and walked out to Colleen’s wagon.
Colleen looked at the rifle Regan carried. “Why on earth do you need that?”
“In case someone tries to take a shot at me again.” She wondered about Spring’s claim that Colleen was in love with Colton, and if he was aware.
“I heard about that. Probably someone shooting at something else. Not you.”
Refusing to argue, she climbed up and placed the Winchester within easy reach by her feet. “I’m ready now.”
Colleen drove off. “At least you aren’t wearing those horrid denims. We wouldn’t want the mayor’s wife to have to turn you away. She’s very influential here, you know.”
Regan supposed she’d been wrong about the olive branch and should’ve thrown herself off a ladder. “I know how to dress appropriately.” Back home, their hotel regularly hosted wealthy Americans and European royalty but she didn’t tell that to Colleen. She said instead, “Tell me about the other ladies in the group.”
“There’s the mayor’s wife, Glenda. She’s from Boston. Her family was at Plymouth Rock. Her husband also owns the bank.” She glanced over to see if she’d impressed Regan. She hadn’t.
“And the others?” Regan asked.
Colleen rattled off unkind descriptions of some of the other women, making Regan wonder how someone living in a territorial backwater could consider herself so superior. Regan decided to form her own opinions after meeting everyone.
“I hear you bought up half of Miller’s store,” Colleen said.
“Almost.”
“That’s very unconscionable of you. Dr. Lee doesn’t have that kind of money.”
“Then it’s a good thing I do.”
She stared. “Your family’s wealthy?”
“Where I was raised, it’s considered very gauche to quiz someone about their financial state.”
Colleen startled at her brusque reply. Regan guessed no one ever put her in her place. Regan didn’t plan on being one of them.
After that, Colleen had no more questions, gauche or otherwise, so Regan turned her attention to the beauty of the mountains.
The Cales lived in one of the large homes Regan had seen on her first day in Paradise. With its turrets and gingerbre
Glenda Cale with her red hair and green eyes was lovely. She met Regan warmly and took her hands. “Welcome to my home.”
Regan estimated them to be about the same age. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“So sorry I missed your wedding. My husband and I were in Denver on business. Come in. The ladies are all here.”
Colleen spoke up, “I thought I’d offer her a ride with me.”
Glenda’s bright smile faded to one that appeared pasted on. “Thank you, Colleen. What a good neighbor you are.”
That exchange gave Regan the impression that Glenda was not as impressed with the Widow Enright as the widow was with her.
Introductions were made, and Regan was glad she hadn’t taken Colleen’s views of the other women as gospel. Colleen had derided seamstress Dovie Denby, and talked rudely about the tall statuesque woman as being so unattractive she’d lost her husband to a younger woman. However, the blond-haired Dovie smiled upon making Regan’s acquaintance. “I apologize for my son’s behavior at school today. Mr. Adams said he tripped your Anna.”
“He did.”
“If it happens again, he’ll be sitting on a pillow for two weeks. His grandfather wasn’t happy hearing what happened either. Welcome to Paradise, Regan.”
“Thank you.” Regan eyed Dovie’s simple white blouse and dark skirt and wondered if she’d done the work herself because the quality of material and the fit on the blonde’s six-foot-plus frame was outstanding.
Lacy Miller gave her a grin. “Glad you could join us, Regan.”
Seated in one of the chairs, Minnie glared. Nonetheless, Regan acknowledged her. “Good evening, Minnie.”
Minnie curled her lip and looked away.
Glenda’s eyes flashed angrily at the ill-mannered response but the introductions moved on.
Next, came Lucretia Watson, who was middle-aged, plump, and the wife of a local rancher. Colleen had described her as empty-headed. “Pleased to meet you, Regan,” she said smiling. “I’m learning to pitch horseshoes because of you.”
“Maybe we can have a ladies’ tournament.”
Regan saw the horror on Colleen’s face in response to the idea, but ignored her.
Lucretia added, “Your Anna and my granddaughter, Olivia, are good friends. The two of you are welcome to visit anytime. I also sell eggs, hens, butter, and cream if you need them.”
“Best in the county,” Lacy added.
“Thanks for the invitation and I’m looking forward to being a customer.”
Glenda then introduced Maud Adams, mother of Anna’s teacher and owner of the town’s largest boardinghouse. She greeted Regan with an icy nod. Glenda didn’t appear pleased by that reaction either. Regan remembered Minnie saying there was no other place in town for a woman of color to rent a room and wondered if race was the reason for Maud’s response. Shrugging it off as best she could, Regan took a seat on the red velvet sofa beside seamstress Dovie, and waited to see what the group was about.
Over finger sandwiches and tea, she learned that they engaged in charity work but not regularly. “People are proud here,” Glenda said as way of explanation. “They don’t like admitting they need assistance.”
Maud, who was knitting, added, “It’s not our business to butt into people’s lives.” And she stared straight at Regan. Did the woman regard her as having butted into the lives of the Lee family? She also noted Colleen Enright nodding as if agreeing with Maud’s statement.
Lacy weighed in, “Colleen needed help after her husband’s death, especially that first winter. She and Felicity might not have survived had she turned her back on her neighbor’s charity. Now that she’s taking in laundry she’s needing less help.”
Colleen beeted up and shot fury Lacy’s way, as if in spite of agreeing with Maud, she didn’t want her plight discussed. The veiled mischief twinkling in Lacy’s smile suggested she’d used the example purposefully.
Glenda brought the conversation back. “Regan, were you affiliated with a club back home?”
“I was and we raised funds to purchase readers and supplies for our local school, contributed clothing to the Apaches on the reservation at San Carlos, and supported suffrage by attending rallies and distributing information.”
Lacy and a few others appeared impressed. Glenda asked, “How many were in the group?”
“We were small like you are.”
“Was it a mixed-race group?” Maud asked with what sounded like disdain.
Regan shook her head. “No. We were all Colored women.”
Lacy said, “I’d like for Paradise to have a lending library.”
Regan replied, “Is there money to build one?”
“No.”
“That might be a project to begin raising funds for.”
The women seemed to think that over.
Regan added, “Our group held bake sales, we sold cakes and pies at some of the local fairs, and held raffles.”
Glenda said, “When I was a young girl, my mother’s group held some of those same activities. I think we might want to discuss this subject further at future meetings. Having a lending library would help Paradise become more progressive.”
The others appeared to agree, but Regan noted the knitting Maud’s tight lips mirrored Minnie’s and guessed they weren’t as enthused.
“Do any of the other cities have a library?” Regan asked.
“Laramie County has had one on and off but they can’t manage to stay open. At one point, they had to mortgage the books in order to pay their bills.”
They went on to discuss other ways they might help their community, like getting the town council to pay Mr. Adams a salary that enabled him to teach more than three days a week. As it stood, parents helped with his pay, provided money for readers and supplies, and even the coal and wood needed to keep the children warm during the winter months. It was a lively discussion and Regan decided attending the meeting had been better than throwing herself off a ladder after all. “So, are women really allowed to vote here?”
Lacy said, “Oh yes. We can vote, sit on juries, and a few have even been appointed justices of the peace.”
Dovie added, “We also have the right to own and hold title to land.”
“Colored women, too?” Regan asked.
Lacy replied, “Yes. Colt’s mother, Isabelle, voted in Territorial elections until she passed away. Adele and Minnie voted as well.”
Regan was pleased to hear that but with Jim Crow spreading across the country there was no guarantee the right would continue to be honored.
When it came time to leave, a short stocky man wearing a too tight brown suit and vest entered the sitting room and marched over to Regan as if he were President Grover Cleveland himself. “I’m Arnold Cale, the mayor and owner of the bank. Welcome to Paradise, Mrs. Lee.”
A bit caught off guard, she replied, “Pleased to meet you.” He appeared to be much older than his young wife. Glenda’s face was unreadable.
His beady little eyes took her in. “I hear you have quite a nest egg. You should let my bank manage it. After all, we men know more about finances than you little ladies do.”
Regan overlooked the insult and replied calmly, “Thank you for that kind offer, but one of my uncles is an owner of the Bank of California. He helps advise me.”
He startled. “The Bank of California?”
She saw him trying to puzzle out how a Colored woman like herself could possibly be related to someone tied to the Bank of California.
“I see,” he said finally. “Maybe he could give me some advice.” But as if not believing her claim, he asked with a challenging tone, “What’s his name?”
“Mr. Andrew Fontaine. I was raised by his brother, Rhine Fontaine, and my Aunt Eddy. At one time, my Uncle Rhine owned much of Virginia City, Nevada.”
His eyes bugged out so far she thought they might jump from his face. “
“Uh, no. I’m afraid not.”
He continued to look her up and down as if she were a talking icebox.
She stuck out her hand the way she’d been taught by her Uncle Rhine. “Again, thank you for the offer. A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Cale.”
He stared down at her hand. Shaking it, he offered her another bewildered look and hastily left the room.
Glenda sidled up to her and whispered, “Bravo.”
Their eyes met, and Regan thought she’d just gained a new friend.
On the drive home, Colleen kept eyeing her with the same bewilderment banker Cale had shown but kept any questions she may have had to herself. While the silent Colleen drove, Regan thought about her husband. He seemed pleased with the way she and Anna were getting along and Regan was as well. She still had no answers to why he retreated behind a wall each time they were intimate. There was no question as to whether he desired her; she saw it in his eyes. She just wished he’d admit it so they could openly enjoy that aspect of being married.
Realizing she’d arrived home, Regan picked up her rifle. “Thanks for driving me.”
“You’re welcome,” she said curtly.
Regan walked to the door and Colleen rolled away.
The house’s interior was quiet when she entered. She poked her head in Colton’s study and found him seated at his desk. He looked up from the journal he was reading. “Is Colleen still alive?”
“Barely. She’s incredibly rude.”
“I know.”
“Anna in bed?”
“Yes. Did you really tell her you’re going to buy her a set of tools?”
“I did. Is that a problem?”
He shook his head and smiled.
“I like when you do that,” she said.
“What?”
“Smile. I don’t think you did it very much before I burst into your life.”
“Burst is a good word.”
She left the doorway and crossed to the desk. “What are you reading?”
“New England Journal of Medicine. Article on rabies. Dr. Pasteur has created a vaccine.”
“Sounds scintillating.” Regan thought him scintillating as well and the heat simmering in his dark eyes sparked her desire. “Shall I close the door?”