Colorado Dawn (34 page)

Eldora’s eyes were huge. “I’m sure it will be nice. Maybe there will be some decorations, or even some toys.” She didn’t sound as if she believed what she was saying. And what kind of Christmas was it for a kid without toys?

The crowd parted a little, and he spied Buckford waiting by the door. Swinging his arm overhead, Sam flagged the friend and family butler.

Impeccably dressed in a wool topcoat and bowler, Buckford clasped Sam’s offered hand. “Hello, sir. Good to see you back again.”

“Hello, Buckford. Glad you got my message. You brought the big sleigh?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Buckford, this is Eldora Carter, and these are her charges: Phin, Celeste, and Tick. We’re driving them out to the orphanage.”

“Very good, sir.” Not so much as a lift of the eyebrow or a twitch of the lip. For as long as Sam had known Buckford—and that was most of his adult life—he had been unable to crack the butler’s shell of decorum. He looked each one over, a polite smile on his seemingly ageless face, and bowed to Eldora. “I’m pleased to meet you. It’s quite an endeavor, traveling across the country with children. I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

Eldora blinked and nodded. “Thank you. It was fine. Mr. Mackenzie was most helpful.”

“His mother will be pleased to hear it.” A twinkle lit Buckford’s eye, and he turned to the children.

Phin stuck out his hand—Sam watched closely, knowing Phin’s proclivities—and shook Buckford’s. Tick copied the older boy, pretending bravado, but his cheeks were pale.

When Buckford’s gaze landed on Celeste, he stopped, took a second look at her pretty eyes and roses-and-cream complexion, and bowed deeply. “Miss Celeste, it is my pleasure.”

The sound that came from the little girl could only be described as a giggle, the first Sam had heard her utter. Hmm. He blinked. How had Buckford managed that?

The butler chucked her under the chin and patted her head. And, of all things, when he held out his hand, Celeste took it, her nose wrinkling in a grin above her scarf.

Eldora seemed taken aback by this instant rapport as well, staring from one to the other, her lips parted.

Buckford led the way outside to the waiting sleigh, holding the little girl’s hand and leaving Phin and Sam to wrestle the luggage.

Sam piled kids and bags in and tucked buffalo robes around them. He handed Eldora in as if she were spun glass and received a whispered thank you, then vaulted himself up onto the front seat to ride beside Buckford. With a clash of bells, the horses took off.

They traveled several blocks before Sam couldn’t stand it anymore. “Aren’t you going to ask me about them?” He ducked his head deeper into his collar to shield him from the wind their quick passage created.

“Do you want to tell me, sir?”

“I’m watching out for them as a favor to Aunt Tabitha.” Buckford had worked for Tabitha Mackenzie before coming to Sam’s parents’ employ. Now he worked for Sam’s brother and his wife, mostly at their town house here in Denver. “I’m supposed to see they get to the orphanage here without trouble.”

“And have you had trouble? Your brother expected you several days ago. They’ve delayed traveling to Martin City, waiting for your arrival.”

“He got my message, didn’t he? About stopping over in Salina?”

“Yes.”

“How’s Karen feeling?”

“Doing well. Anxious for Christmas. She’s looking forward to seeing your parents again. As am I.” Buckford steered the horses around a corner and headed toward the south end of the city. “David hovers and fusses, and she pretends to like it. They’re both very excited about the little one.”

“Almost as excited as my parents, I bet. The first grandchild.” Sam grinned. “I bet Dad is hardly fit to live with.”

“Mr. Mackenzie even sent me a cigar, though neither of us smokes.”

“That sounds like him.”

They rode in silence, and Sam checked over his shoulder every few blocks. The kids were all eyes, watching the houses and buildings flash by. Eldora seemed not to see any of it. She kept her eyes straight ahead and appeared lost in thought—or worry, if the crease between her eyebrows was any indication.

The buildings and houses grew farther apart as they left the city center, and eventually the only thing on the horizon was a black, square-shaped edifice alone out on the east face of a foothill. “Is that the place?”

“Yes.” Buckford slapped the lines.

“Why is it so far out of town?”

“Cheap land, most likely. That and there’s room to expand.”

“More like they want to keep the whole thing out of sight.”

The closer they got, the uglier the building grew. In a complete revolt against graceful architecture, the solid stone walls and blank rectangular windows looked more like those of a prison than a home for children. Cold seeped into Sam’s bones that had nothing to do with the outside temperature. Well, maybe it was more cheerful on the inside. At least those thick walls would keep the wind out.

Buckford pulled the sleigh onto the horseshoe drive, passing between the gateposts and beneath the iron sign declaring this indeed to be the Denver Orphanage.

Since when did doing exactly what he was supposed to do fill Sam with such dread?

Eldora’s throat closed, and her hands ached from clenching them beneath the heavy buffalo robe. The orphanage looked much worse than it had in her mind. Cold, imposing, unfriendly. Home to the children now and home for her if she could get them to hire her on. She’d decided, after sobbing her heart out on the train, that she couldn’t leave the children here alone and go back to St. Louis as if she didn’t care. Mr. Korbin would be as relieved to be rid of her as he was the children. She could clean or do laundry or sew or even care for the babies in the nursery. Surely somewhere in this hulking building they could find room for her.

The sleigh pulled to a stop with a final clash of bells. Eldora clambered down without waiting for Sam’s help, determined to take charge of the situation and stand on her own two feet. The past two days, being with him in the close confines of the railcar and knowing their time together was getting small, had been torture. She knew she had been distant and unkind, but it was the only way she knew to deal with the pain. His puzzled glances and halting efforts to draw her out of her shell only made her retreat faster.

Weights pulled at her legs with every step across the snow-packed drive. They mounted the stairs, Celeste clinging to Buckford’s hand in a thoroughly uncharacteristic way and Phin and Tick dragging their feet. Sam held the door. Once in the foyer, the children lined up along the wall in a formation all too familiar to Eldora for having performed it so often herself. Their faces lost all the animation and life they had displayed on the journey.

From the end of the long hallway, the sounds of cutlery and plates clattered. The smell of cooked cabbage, as familiar to her as the lining up of children, assaulted her nose. Dinner in full swing.

She tugged off her gloves and smoothed her hair as best she could. At least, thanks to Sam’s generosity, they all looked respectable in new clothes. “You children wait right here. I’m going to see the matron or the superintendent or whoever is about at this hour. Phin, keep an eye on the younger kids and don’t stray.”

Bracing herself, she turned to Sam and held out her hand. “Thank you for all your help in getting us here. We are most appreciative. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your assistance.” She kept her tone and her words as formal as possible, in spite of the overwhelming feeling of despair and abandonment that threatened to swamp her. “I’m sure you want to be on your way to your relatives’ house, so we won’t keep you.”

Sam shoved his hat back, a puzzled expression on his face. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll talk to the superintendent. I’d like to satisfy myself that the kids will be taken care of.” He reached out his long arm past her and rapped on the office door.

On the staircase above them, someone cleared her throat. “Excuse me? May I help you?”

Eldora stepped out so she could see better. A thin-faced woman with pale yellow hair shot through with gray leaned over the banister. The light from the lamp she carried cast a golden glow over her features.

“I’m looking for the superintendent or the matron.” Eldora unbuttoned her coat to get at the papers Mr. Korbin had sent.

“Mr. Korbin and Mrs. Phillips are at dinner.”

“Mr. Korbin?” Eldora stopped.

The woman came down the stairs. “Yes, Mr. Finlo Korbin. He’s the super here.”

Sam stepped closer and whispered to Eldora, “Maybe he’s a relative?” Then he turned to the woman, smiling and charming. “Miss, would you please tell the superintendent we want to see him? These kids have come a long way, and they’re tired and hungry.”

“Of course. I’m Miss Templeton.” Her smile changed her face from plain to pretty in an instant, responding to Sam’s friendliness. She set the lamp on the hall table and hurried away, eager to do his bidding.

Eldora clamped her lips shut. So much for taking charge and freeing Sam from his self-assumed responsibilities.

A lean man in a dark suit strode down the hallway, dabbing his lips with a napkin. One glance told her he must be related to Conrad Korbin.

“You wanted to see me? I’m Finlo Korbin, superintendent of this orphanage.” He ignored Eldora and offered his hand to Sam. “What can I do for you?”

“Can we step into your office?”

“Of course.” The super studied each of the lined-up children for a few seconds and then turned and opened the office door. “Miss Templeton, light the lamps.”

Wanting to exert the little authority she had, to show her competence before the super so that he might look favorably on hiring her, Eldora put her hand on Sam’s arm. “I will take care of things. You don’t need to stay.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Please, Sam. I need to do this myself. At least wait here with the children while I speak to Mr. Korbin.”

With a frown, he backed up and let her enter the office alone.

Miss Templeton put matches to lamps and brought a very utilitarian room to light. Immense desk, straight-backed chairs, rank of filing cabinets. No pictures, no adornments of any kind. Eldora gathered her courage, stepped forward, and laid out the paperwork on his desk. “My name is Miss Carter, and I’ve come from the St. Louis Children’s Home. Mr. Conrad Korbin sends his greetings.”

“My brother?” He reached for the papers and unfolded them.

So that was the relation. Eldora laced her fingers at her waist and waited for him to finish reading the letter explaining the arrival of the children and her.

Finlo tipped the pages toward the light, and as he read, his face hardened. Slowly, he lowered the pages. “Is this some kind of joke?”

A sinking feeling trickled through her. “No sir.” She swallowed.

“Impossible. There is no room here for these children. We’re at capacity now. Over capacity.” He tossed the letter on the desk, his lip twisted in contempt. “I will not allow my brother to foist his problems off on me. You can go right back to St. Louis and tell him I said so. How dare he? Without so much as a telegram.” He sprang up and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Conrad’s a sneaky one.”

“Please, sir, we don’t have the funds to return. Mr. Korbin—your brother—didn’t pay for return tickets. He never thought we’d need them.”

“That isn’t my problem. These children were perfectly fine where they were, and knowing my brother, it was more than random overcrowding that made him pick these three.” He glanced sharply at her. “Ah, I see by your guilty start that I’m on to something. Tell me, what’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing, really. They’re wonderful children. It isn’t their fault. A few physical ailments—”

“Aha!” He pounced before she could continue. “I knew it. What is it? Consumption? The state is overrun with lungers now trying to take the altitude cure. We can’t have them mixing with the healthy children in this orphanage. You’ll have to take them to one of the asylums.”

“No sir. They’re not consumptive. The little one has a bit of a heart ailment, but with medication—”

Again he interrupted her. “Medication? Conrad must think we’re made of gold. There’s no money for medicaments beyond the occasional dose of castor or cod liver oil. If the child is ill, he should be in a hospital, not an orphanage. What about the other two?”

A hard lump formed in Eldora’s throat. “A doctor has written up some case notes. You have them before you there. The little girl, Celeste, is in need of an operation to correct a facial deformity. She’s got a harelip, but the doctor seemed to think surgery would put things right.”

“Ha!” His bark of laughter made her flinch. “Surgery. Who are you trying to kid? What about the other one, the older boy? What’s he got? Pneumonia? Typhoid?”

“No, he’s perfectly healthy.” The superintendent’s derision put some steel into her spine. “There’s nothing wrong with Phin that a little love, attention, and kindly discipline wouldn’t cure.”

“Well, he’s not going to get it here. As I said, we’re overcrowded and not taking anyone in.”

“Please, sir, they’ve nowhere else to go. Even if you can’t afford the medicines or surgery, you can’t turn them away.” She gripped her hands until they shook.