Bicycle Built for Two (38 page)

“My goodness,” breathed Alex’s sister. “What
a terrible thing.”

“Sure was,” agreed Kate. She hadn’t removed
her hand from Alex’s arm, bless her, and Alex realized he’d started
to feel about ten feet tall. “I don’t remember much about it,
although I can remember some, mainly being really afraid.”

When she turned to stare at
Kate, Mary Jo’s eyes had gone huge again. Alex realized that his
sister might be a pretty woman one day—if she managed to grow up
before somebody killed her in a fit of pique fostered as a reaction
to her irritable qualities before then. “You mean, you
lived
through
it?”

Kate grinned at Mary Jo. “Well, sure. I
guess so. I’m here, aren’t I? I guess that means I lived through
it.”

Mary Jo blinked, realizing her question had
been thoughtless. “Well . . . I mean, I didn’t know you lived here
then.”

“Sure. I’ve lived in Chicago my whole
life.”

“Oh.”

Alex pinched his sister’s cheek. “You’re a
goose, Mary Jo. You know that, don’t you?”

She flushed, her attention having shifted
back to the photographic display. Even Alex had to admit the
photographs depicted a terrible event in the life of Chicago and
its citizens. The fire had killed hundreds and leveled square
blocks of buildings. It had been a ghastly tragedy and was
certainly nothing to laugh about. Nevertheless, Kate laughed. He
wondered if she laughed because otherwise she’d be crying.

“Don’t pay any attention to your brother,”
she advised. “And consider yourself lucky that you live on that
beautiful, peaceful farm. This city’s a terrible place to live,
even when it’s not on fire.”

“Really?”

Alex wondered if Mary Jo’s eyebrows would
stick in an upraised position. Ever since they’d set out this
evening, she seemed to be in a perpetual state of awe.

“Really.” Kate’s brow furrowed as she
thought for a second, then she said, “Well, I guess if you have
lots of money, it’s not so bad. There are some grand houses by the
lake that must be nice to live in. Or even work in,” she added
judiciously. “Heck, if a house servant could make as much money as
a dancer, I’d rather be doing that.”

“Really?” Mary Jo said again.

“Really.” Kate turned a wry glance upon
Alex’s sister. “Being poor isn’t much fun, Mary Jo. Even if you’ve
got a regular job, nobody pays women as much as they pay men.”

“They would if the women were doing the same
job, wouldn’t they?” Mary Jo thought she had a point.

Kate immediately set her straight. “Don’t
kid yourself. I know lots of women who do the same jobs men do—and
better, too—and they get paid less than half of what a man makes.”
She shot Alex a peek from the corner of her eye, daring him to
contradict her. Kate knew her ground here. She had experience.

“That’s not fair.”

With a grin, Kate said, “Your brother would
say you sound just like me.”

Alex held his arms up, as if he were
surrendering to superior forces. “Not I,” said he. “Never.”

Kate gave him a sharp frown, and he said
sheepishly, “Well, hardly ever.”

“Huh.” Turning back to Mary Jo, Kate said,
“You ought to consider yourself lucky that you have a good family,
Mary Jo. Having to fend for yourself can be a mighty tricky
business.”

“I guess so.”

For approximately ten seconds, Alex’s sister
seemed subdued. Such was her delight at finally being brought to
the World’s Columbian Exposition, however, that her reserved
demeanor didn’t last long. By the time they’d left the Whsatever
building and were aiming at the Esgyptian Pavilion—Mary Jo had
bullied Kate and Alex into allowing her to see Little Egypt
dance—her mood was bright again.

“I can’t wait to see Little Egypt,” she
babbled. “It must be so exciting to dance like she does.”

Eyeing Mary Jo skeptically, Kate muttered,
“Uh-huh. Wait’ll you hear what these guys call music.”

She congratulated herself for having warned
her audience. As soon as the Egyptian bagpipes began squealing,
Mary Jo would have clapped her hands over her ears, except that her
brother, anticipating her, grabbed her hands and stopped her. Kate
heard him whisper harshly, “Stop that this instant, Mary Jo. It’s
rude and impolite.” With a smirk, he added, “Besides, you’re the
one who wanted to see this.”

Kate heard Mary Jo whisper back, “I didn’t
know it would sound like this.”

“I warned you,” Kate reminded her.

Outnumbered and
unappreciated, Mary Jo sat back and crossed her arms over her
chest. Her posture remained defiant until Little Egypt danced out
on stage. Then she forgot her dudgeon in favor of watching,
fascinated, as Fahreda Mahzar, known to the fascinated public as
Little Egypt, did her famous “Egyptian Muscle Dance.” When the
number was almost over, Mary Jo leaned over to Kate and said in her
ear, “Do you
really
know how to do that, Kate?”

“Sure do.”

“My goodness. Will you teach me?”

Kate was so startled, she
turned to Alex, expecting to find him about to explode. She
couldn’t imagine the prim-and-proper Alex English allowing
his
sister to dance like
that. She was surprised when he only winked at her. Supposing
correctly that his wink settled the question of propriety, she
turned back to Mary Jo. “Er, sure. I guess so.”

But Mary Jo, hands clasped and held under
her chin in an attitude of rapture, was watching Little Egypt
again. Kate did likewise. It really was kind of a spectacular
dance, if she looked at it objectively. It certainly didn’t look
like anything a body could see at a regular dance hall. Kate didn’t
suppose even rustic folks living on those big ranches out west
danced like this. She wondered if the so-called hootchy-kootchy
dance would be all the rage soon. Probably. People loved new stuff.
Especially people like Mary Jo, who had lots of money and nothing
in particular to do with it or themselves.

She told herself to stop being snide. As
soon as Little Egypt writhed her way offstage and the music
shrieked to a stop, she said, “Would you like to meet Miss
Mahzar?”

Mary Jo blinked. “Miss Who?”

“Miss Mahzar. She’s the dancer you just
saw.”

“I thought her name was . . . Oh. I see.
People just call her Little Egypt. Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Let’s hurry it up, if you’re going to meet
her,” Alex said, hauling out his beautiful gold pocket watch. “We
still have a lot of things to see and do. I want to take you on the
Ferris wheel tonight. It’s great to see all the lights at night
from way up there.”

“I want to see Kate’s fortune-telling booth,
too.” Mary Jo’s round eyes were glittering with delight as Kate
shoved her way backstage.

“Good Gad,” her brother growled under his
breath.

Kate gave him a speaking look. “Of course.
Madame Esmeralda will be delighted to meet you, Mary Jo.”

“Can she tell my fortune?”

“Don’t know why not.”

Alex opened his mouth, Kate was sure to
protest, and she smacked him sharply on the arm. He jerked and
glowered down at her, then gave up. “Oh, very well. Madame asked me
to bring you, anyhow. I guess I’m surrounded by willful females
tonight and might as well not fight it.”

“Exactly,” said Kate.

Mary Jo only laughed. Kate got the feeling
she wasn’t used to getting the better of her brother and didn’t
want to press her luck.

When Kate introduced the brother and sister
to the Egyptian musicians, Mary Jo seemed to shrink. Alex was
gracious and polite. When she introduced them to Fahreda Mahzar,
Mary Jo was tongue-tied. Alex, as ever, was gracious and polite.
Kate marveled at his ability to meet people from all walks of life
and treat them all alike. When she’d first met him, she’d believed
him to be stuffy. Now she understood that Alex operated by some
sort of gentleman’s code, and that it fit any occasion.

In other words, he had manners. It had never
occurred to her how pleasant the world might be if everyone only
just had good manners.

If—and it was a big if, given the state of
her mind and heart—she ever had children, Kate was going to be
darned sure she taught them good manners. Good manners could see
you through pretty nearly anything. And if, as was almost
inevitable in life, you ran into a brutal beast like her father,
you could put the manners up, haul out your gun, and simply shoot
him.

Her thoughts were so out of the ordinary
that Kate burst into laughter. Amused by her spontaneous outburst,
Alex said, “What’s so funny?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just
thinking about my father.”

“Is he funny?” Mary Jo asked naively.”

Kate shook her head. “Not very.”

Alex watched her keenly. “I’ve never seen
you laugh about him before, Kate.”

“I guess not.” Which made her thoughts veer
onto an entirely different path. How wonderful it would be, thought
she, to have a dependable and lovable man in one’s life. Someone
like Alex, who could act as a buffer between one and the world.
Until she met Alex, Kate wouldn’t have dreamed anything even
remotely concerning her father would make her laugh.

But his presence in her life gave her some
relief from the hardness of the world. Just knowing he was there,
and that she wasn’t entirely alone any longer, gave her a little
space in which to think absurd thoughts. And laugh.

Was she losing her edge? With a sigh, Kate
decided it didn’t matter. As soon as Alex left her life, she’d get
it back again. It was get the edge back or die, and she’d be damned
before she’d allow life to get the better of her.

It sure would be nice to have someone in it
with her, though. Too bad it couldn’t be Alex.

Kate’s brothers found Alex, Mary Jo, and
Kate as they left the Ferris wheel area, all three laughing and
exhilarated from their ride. “It was such fun!” Mary Jo cried
happily.

Alex said, “Glad you liked it,” in a
satisfied sort of voice.

Kate was about to agree with her two
companions when she spotted Walter and Bill. She stopped in her
tracks and felt as if her insides had been hit by a blast of arctic
air.

Mary Jo had no inkling a problem lurked
until Alex stopped walking, too, and by doing so jerked her
backward against his side. “What?” she demanded, plainly
annoyed.

Alex said nothing, although he nodded at
Billy, who nodded back and said, “Good evening, Mr. English.”

Kate rushed to her brothers. “What’s the
matter? Is it Ma?” She knew it was her mother. What else could it
be?

But Walter shook his head. “It’s Pa. They
let him out, and Bill and I don’t want you to go home.”

“He’s out of jail?” Kate’s heart took a
nose-dive that left her feeling sick.

“Yes. The damned—er—blasted police wouldn’t
keep him.”

“Damn,” said Alex. He didn’t bother to
correct himself or apologize.

Mary Jo’s eyes grew huge. “Your father? But,
what . . .?”

Since everyone was ignoring her, she stopped
speaking. Kate was grateful, not having anticipated cooperation
from Mary Jo in the keeping-quiet department. “Darn it, where can I
go? Either of you have room?”

“You can’t stay with us, because we live at
that boarding house on Fifty-First Street, and it’s only for men,”
Walter said. “But Bill and I have money for a hotel room for you,
and we’re both taking off work tomorrow. We’ll find you another
place and move you in.”

“You can’t do that,” Kate said, touched by
her brothers’ concern and loyalty. “I’ll bet I can stay in Madame’s
booth for a couple of days until I can find a place.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Alex said, breaking
into the conversation and stopping it dead.

Walter, who hadn’t even looked at Kate’s
companions until now, wheeled toward Alex now, frowning. “Who are
you?” His voice held an edge of challenge.

“Calm down, Walter,” Bill advised. “This is
Mr. English. He’s the one who gave me that advice on the Exposition
stocks. Be nice to him.” He grinned his impish grin, and Kate
decided it was past time for her brain to get busy and start
working.

With that in mind, and remembering how handy
manners could be when properly used, she hastened to say, “I’m
sorry, Alex and Mary Jo. These are my brothers. Mary Jo English and
Alex English, please allow me to introduce you to my brothers. This
is Walter Finney, and—well, you already know Billy, Alex. Mary Jo,
this is Billy.”

Mary Jo executed a pretty little curtsy,
even though she was obviously confused. Manners again. What a
blessing they were, to be sure.

Walter and Alex shook hands, and everyone
mumbled appropriate greetings. When that was done, Walter turned
back to the matter at hand. “I don’t want you paying for my sister,
Mr. English, if you’ll pardon my saying so. It’s not your
affair.”

An awkward pause followed Walter’s
unfortunate choice of nouns. Alex stepped into it. “Of course, not.
I do, however, feel a touch of obligation. After all, your sister
and I are—”

Fearing he was going to announce their
impending—and fictitious—nuptials, Kate said, “We’ve become very
good friends, and Ma is staying at his farm. I’m sure Alex will
have a good suggestion.”

Alex looked at her oddly, but said, “The
best. I think Kate and Mary Jo can stay in the Congress together.
They can share Mary Jo’s room. It’s big enough for an army, and
Kate doesn’t take up much room.” He winked at Kate.

He was awfully darned full of winks this
evening, Kate thought, wishing she’d been allowed to be happy for
an entire evening, but knowing she was being ungrateful.

“Oh, yes!” cried Mary Jo, obviously delighted
by the prospect of sharing her room with Kate.

“But . . .” Kate glanced from Mary Jo to
Alex, and then to her brothers. Truth to tell, she couldn’t think
of too many reasons not to accept the kind offer.