Her Safe Harbor: Prairie Romance (Crawford Family Book 4) (15 page)

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jane said as Mildred opened the door
and ushered in young men and women carrying a tub and buckets of water. “You
will ride with me in the Crawford carriage. There is no reason to demean
yourself by arriving with
those
people.”

“But Mother.” Jennifer shook her head. “You do not
understand . . . you do not know . . . I have promised—”

“Promised whom?” Jane interjected. “You would disregard the
needs of your own mother to humiliate me this way? I am ill, as you constantly
remind me. Can’t you have some pity on your mother?”

“But . . . I—”

“Out with you now. I want to take my bath in privacy and
comfort. Stoke that fire up, boy,” Jane directed one of the young men now
dumping steaming buckets of water into the copper tub. “Strangers come in and
use our bathing room. I will no longer bathe there.”

“Strangers?” Jennifer asked and looked at Mildred, who would
not meet her eye.

“Out!” Jane said and pointed to the door. “Out with all of
you. Mildred will stay and assist me.”

Jennifer thought about her promise to Zeb to attend with the
Billingses. But surely he would understand that her mother would need
assistance, and hadn’t she just told Luther that the danger had passed? She
would ride in the family carriage with her mother to the Hospital Soiree and
have Luther ride up front with the driver. Jennifer hurried to her room to
write a note to Jolene’s sister-in-law Eugenia to tell her she would meet her
at the soiree and that she would be riding with her mother and father in the
family carriage. Jennifer thought briefly about the small lie that her father
would be with her, but she dreaded the possibility that Calvin would play hero
and insist that they see her to the Parker House Hotel. He would be mollified
if he thought Father would attend her and Mother and she could forego the
inevitable scene if the Billingses arrived at Willow Tree. She would have
Luther with her in any case, and who would bother her when in his company?

* * *

Jolene and Melinda Shelby were
safely deposited with Max, who hugged the two of them as if he had not seen
them for years instead of the three weeks they were away. Melinda went running
to find her puppy, and Zeb watched as Jolene and Max stared into each other’s
eyes, holding their hands between them, as they whispered. It made him think of
Jennifer, and the soft kiss she’d given him just yesterday.

Jolene kissed Max on the mouth and swept away up the
staircase, servants hauling luggage behind her. “Thank you, Zebidiah, for
getting us home safely and honoring your promise to Maximillian. Now please
return to Boston to guard my sister.”

“Guard her sister?” Max asked after he’d ushered Zeb into
his library.

“I’m tendering my resignation, Max. It’s been an honor
serving you and working for you, but I’ve made a promise that I have to keep.
There’s one train from Washington to Boston tomorrow and I’ll be on it. I’m
more sorry than I can say that I’ll be unable to stay and help you pick a new
chief of staff but I haven’t any choice.”

“Sit down,” Max said as he poured them each a glass of
bourbon. “You are not resigning. If you have to keep a promise, then take
whatever time you need, but you’re not resigning. A young man from that Jesuit
school, Georgetown College, showed up at the office looking for work. I liked
the look of him and hired him on the spot. He’s bright and will manage until
you return and teach him how to wrangle a calf or a senator. Do what you have
to do now.”

Zeb stared at him, willing himself not to do violence with
the retelling and hoping that Jennifer forgave him when she found out he’d told
Max her story. He could no longer keep it bottled up inside. He was sick to the
stomach with worry and he needed a man’s opinion and advice.

“He’s beating her, Max,” he said finally. “Rothchild is
hitting Jennifer.”

Max leaned forward across the desk. “He’s beating her?” he
repeated. “Tell me.”

Zeb told him about seeing her in the bunkhouse at the
Hacienda and in the music room at Willow Tree, and touching her side as they
danced on the night of Max’s election celebration. He told him Rothchild’s
reaction to his interference and about O’Brien’s injuries, and the message
she’d carried.

“Jennifer has not come out and told me but I believe
Rothchild is stealing from the bank somehow and she has uncovered his methods.
Her father doesn’t believe her. Her mother is sick in both mind and body, and
Jennifer is terrified. I told her I would guard her safety while she
straightens out the bank’s issues, which she must do secretly as she has told
me that any rumor of this nature could shutter the bank.”

“She is knowledgeable about the workings of the bank?”

Zeb nodded. “Very. She doesn’t give herself credit, but she
is. They are all at the mercy of the mother, who makes a shrew appealing.”

“I feel personally responsible for Jennifer as she’s my
wife’s unmarried sister and the father lets the mother treat them with an
unnatural cruelty. I am in your debt for handling this for me,” Max said. “Does
Calvin know?”

“I did not tell him any particulars, but yes. He’s escorting
Jennifer to a soiree tomorrow evening if I have not returned and he understands
the danger she may be in. Rothchild is not a man who will ever back down, and
he manipulates the mother and has played her the fool publically.”

“You will make sure to kill him?”

“I will not say anything to you on that subject. I will not
have the United States senator from Texas as a witness in a murder trial.
Anyway, you can’t have a chief of staff who has been charged with murder, and I
can’t let the particulars come out if it will damage Jennifer or her work.”

“You would go to jail before telling a judge he was beating
her or robbing her family’s bank, or his part in this O’Brien girl’s injuries?”

Zeb stared out the long window. He surely did not want to go
to jail but he would, he supposed, if it came to it. He would not have Jennifer
threatened any longer, whatever it took.

“Your silence is damning.”

“I’ll handle it, Max.”

“I’ll be happy to go with you back to Boston, you know.”

“I know you would, but I can’t allow it. I can’t let you
risk that you will be involved with something that is detrimental to your
career. In any case,” Zeb said, and met his eyes, “Jennifer Crawford is
my
concern. I will see to her safety and happiness.”

“Ahhh,” Max said and folded his hands in front of him,
taking a moment before finally looking Zeb in the eye. “She may need time. When
this is over, I mean. She may not be able to just slough it off. Jolene wasn’t,
and she is the strongest woman I’ve ever met. There’s an ugliness in that
family that can’t be dismissed quickly. You’ll need to be patient.”

“I will give her anything, including time. Anything she asks
for or wants.”

Chapter Thirteen

Zeb slept soundly after a meal of
his cook’s beef stew and bread, still hot and yeasty from the oven. He dressed
with care in a formal black suit, not the tuxedo with the satin collar, but
still fancy enough for a society dinner when he arrived in Boston. He had his
gun belt on under his jacket, something he’d not done since arriving in the
capital, and a knife in his boot. He’d shaved with care and looked around his
sleeping room as it might be the last he saw of it for quite some time, if
ever, if things didn’t fall his way. He arrived at the station early, bought
two newspapers and an orange, and boarded the train. He would arrive an hour
before the Hospital Soiree started, leaving him plenty of time to arrive at
Willow Tree and relieve Luther. The train’s rhythmic chug lulled him to nap,
his feet propped up on the empty seat across from him.

He sat up with a start when the sight of Jennifer’s face in
his dreams became a nightmare as she opened her mouth in a scream. But it was
just a child crying a few seats behind him. He shook his head and tried to
concentrate on his newspaper but was soon lost in thoughts of Jennifer
Crawford. She was reserved and introverted, and it must have been quite a
burden for her to put herself out in such a public way as she was doing, he
thought as he watched the passing scenery. He wondered if she was thinking of
him right now as he was thinking of her.

Suddenly, the train lurched. He grabbed his seat handles and
could hear the screech of wheels breaking on the track. Cases fell from the
luggage rack overhead, nearly missing the woman with the crying child. The car
swayed, and a man fell into the aisle, sliding along the floor past Zeb. The
train stopped with a high-pitched whine of metal against metal and clanging as
its cars banged against one another in succession.

Zeb helped the man on the floor to his feet and looked
around at his fellow passengers, mostly white-faced with fear and some of the
women visibly trembling. A conductor came through the door to the car at that
moment.

“There’s a herd of cows on the tracks ahead. Engineer done
killed a couple. We have to get the carcasses off the tracks now,” he called
out as he went down the aisle to the next car.

“Damnation,” Zeb said under his breath as the other
passengers shouted questions or spoke hurriedly to one another. He looked at
his pocket watch. This mess was going to make his arrival very close. He tried
to console himself that Luther was there and Calvin would be escorting her, but
he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. That Jennifer was in
danger.

* * *

“You must go back to bed,” Jennifer
said, holding her mother’s arm as she walked slowly down the stairs. “You are
in pain.”

“Hush!” Jane said through white, trembling lips. “I am going
and you will not stop me! I am not a child!”

Jennifer let out a held breath and loosened her grip on her
mother’s arm when they reached the white marble tiled floor of the foyer. Her
mother was holding on to the bannister and taking deep, slow breaths.

“Please,” Jennifer said. “I beg of you. Stop this
foolishness. You are in no condition to leave Willow Tree.”

“Oh, yes, I am,” Jane said and straightened her back. “I am
going to the Hospital Soiree!”

She followed her mother over to where Bellings stood with a
thick coat.

“Button it, Bellings,” Jane said with closed eyes.

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Crawford,” he said, as if he buttoned
his mistress’s wrap every day, and glanced at Jennifer.

Bellings placed Jennifer’s royal blue cape, trimmed with an
ermine collar, over her bare shoulders. She was feeling sick to her stomach,
thinking about her mother and the soiree and Rothchild and the note she’d sent
Calvin and Eugenia.

“Where is Luther?” she asked Bellings as she gave a last tug
on her white kid gloves. “He will be riding with the driver this evening.”

“I do not know, Miss Jennifer. Let me check on him for you,”
he said, and turned to a young man waiting attentively in the hallway.

“Who is this Luther person and why is he riding with us? Who
is driving the carriage this evening, Bellings?” Jane asked.

“Jasper, ma’am.”

A young servant walked up to Bellings and spoke softly into
his ear. Bellings looked at Jennifer. “Luther is . . . unavailable, miss. Is
there anyone else you’d like me to call?”

“Unavailable? That’s impossible. I spoke to him this
afternoon. He knew what time we were departing. Where is he?”

“He is indisposed,” Bellings began, but the young servant
interrupted.

“He’s drunk, miss. Can barely stand on two feet, and singing
songs at the top of his voice.”

“Drunk? Dismiss him immediately, Bellings. We do not
tolerate servants that are drunkards,” Jane said.

“Where is he?” Jennifer asked. “Take me to him.”

“You will not be in company with a drunken manservant,
Jennifer! I forbid it!”

“I must speak to him, Mother. Wait here. I’ll only be a
moment.” Jennifer followed the young servant to the kitchen entrance and heard
shouting from belowstairs. She hurried down the steps.

Mrs. Gutentide and Cook were leaning over Luther, who sat on
the floor, his back propped up against the wall. They were making him drink
from a ladle. “Come on, now, Luther, boy. Drink this. It will make you feel
better.”

“Mrs. Gutentide! What is the matter with him?” Jennifer
asked.

She straightened and hurried to Jennifer’s side. “He’s
drunk, miss, I’m sorry to say.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Cook said. “This boy never has
more than one or two pints, and with that new fancy job he’s getting, I don’t
see him risking everything on drink.”

“What do you think it is then?” Jennifer asked and knelt
down. “Luther? Can you hear me?”

An older man knelt on the other side. “Luther, boy! Wake
up!”

Luther opened his eyes.

The old man tapped the sides of his face. “What did you
drink, boy? Where was ya?”

Luther shook his head. “Stopped at The Tavern for some stew
and a pint. Don’t remember much after that.”

The old man looked at Mrs. Gutentide and Jennifer. “Somebody
put something in his drink, I be thinking. I saw him leave the kitchens no more
than an hour ago with the kettle that needed forged. It would have been a half
hour ’til he could even get to The Tavern from the metalworks.”

“And then ten minutes’ walk here,” Mrs. Gutentide said.
“There was no time for him to drink much at all!”

Jennifer’s stomach turned over. Luther was clearly unable to
ride with her and there was a suggestion that he had been drugged. Bellings appeared
and helped Jennifer to her feet.

“Mrs. Crawford is insisting that you come upstairs at once,
miss. She is most impatient to leave.”

“Of course,” Jennifer said and turned to the steps. “Please
call Dr. Roderdeck to attend Luther.”

Jennifer rushed across the foyer to where her mother stood
at the door. She was shouting.

“I will not stand for this disrespect! I will not stand for
it!”

“Calm yourself, Mother. You will exhaust yourself. Come. Let
me escort you up to Mildred. She will help you get into bed.”

“Absolutely not! I am going to the Hospital Soiree whether
you come with me or not. Call for the carriage, Bellings.”

“I am not sure this is a good idea,” she said, knowing that
her mother would not understand, or perhaps even care, what she meant.

Bellings opened the door, and Jennifer followed her mother
onto the portico and down the steps to the drive where the carriage was pulling
up. The old man who had tended Luther jumped down from the driver’s seat.
“Luther begged me to go with you. Are you in some danger, miss?” he asked.

She looked at her mother, climbing into the carriage with
Bellings’s assistance. She turned back to the old man. “You are Mr. Hadley,
correct?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Is that Jasper at the reins? It doesn’t look like him,”
Jennifer said.

“Jasper’s a bit under the weather, miss. This here’s Nelson.
He’s new.”

“Jennifer!” her mother called. “Get in this carriage. We
will be late if we do not leave immediately.”

“This seems to be a series of most unfortunate incidents,
and there could be some danger, Mr. Hadley,” Jennifer said and laid a hand on
his arm. “We are only going a short distance into town proper to the Parker
House Hotel, but be attentive.”

“Yes, miss,” he said and climbed up beside the driver.

“Whatever have you been doing, Jennifer? I am feeling quite
restored having gotten some fresh air. Tell him to drive, Bellings,” her mother
said through the open door.

Everything she had promised Zeb she would not do or would
not let happen had occurred, and she was at a loss as to what she could have
done differently, other than perhaps digging in her heels and not getting in
the carriage without Luther. But could she allow her mother to travel even this
short distance alone? Jennifer climbed into the carriage and settled her cloak around
herself, listening to her mother complain that if they arrived late it would be
her fault. She looked out the window and scanned the buildings they were
passing.

“This is not the way to the Parker House Hotel,” she said,
and began to give into the panic she had been barely able to contain. She
banged her fist on the ceiling of the carriage and shouted, “Where are we
going?”

“Settle yourself, Jennifer. What a spectacle you are
making!”

“Mother! We are not going to the Parker House Hotel!”

“Of course, we are not, Jennifer.”

“Where are we going, Mother? What have you done?” she
whispered, and felt the blood drain from her face. She heard shouting from the
driver’s seat and saw something tumble past her window. The carriage careened
and she hung on to the edge of the seat trying to see out her window. There was
a man in the gutter, just now up on all fours and shaking his head.
Hadley!

* * *

Zeb finally climbed down from the
steps and walked to the head of the engine of the train. He surveyed the mess
and watched as men pulled and pushed the remains of a cow’s carcass off of the
tracks. Two other men were using tools on the train’s wheels.

“Nearly done here,” one of the men working on the train
said. “Get the passengers back in the cars.”

“We’re not going to be able to move at full speed, I’m a
feared. We can only do so much until we get this engine back to the yard.”

Zeb turned and walked back to his car. He told a few of the
other men there waiting with their families what he’d heard. “So we’ll be
underway soon but we won’t be going very fast.”

The next two hours were spent staring out the window onto
the dark landscape, trying to shake the feeling that something was terribly
wrong. Something that felt like it could not be fixed.

* * *

“Tell me, Mother. What have you
done?”

“I did no more than what any mother would do. Someone must
control this family’s destiny. Your father certainly won’t! He never has!”

Jennifer swallowed, real fear creeping up her back and
around her gut, making her knees shake and her palms sweat. “It is not too
late, Mother. Tell me what you have planned.”

“I can hardly take credit, Jennifer,” Jane said with a
smile. “Your fiancé is really very clever and has orchestrated a lovely evening
for the two of you. An evening to reconcile your differences. You must do as he
says, dear. It will only hurt for a short while.” Her mother looked out the
window of the carriage, a wistful, faraway look on her face. “Rothchild is very
manly. I’m sure you’ll be well satisfied; however, you must take care not to
show it. Men do prefer a docile wife.”

Bile rose in Jennifer’s throat and she leaned back against
the cushions of the well-appointed Crawford carriage. Her mother had arranged
for her to be taken sexually by a violent man. How absolutely appalling, and
yet worst of all, she was not surprised when it was revealed. Did she really
believe her own excuse that there was no risk? No. Of course she had not. She
had known Rothchild was a dangerous man, and she was in his sights. But she had
not truly believed Jolene, had she? She had not wanted to believe Zeb, either.
She’d walked right into Rothchild’s dastardly plan, but that did not mean she
would go down without a fight. She would fight with her dying breath.

The carriage came to a stop and the door opened. “My
fiancée! How lovely you look this evening,” Rothchild said. “Get out of the
carriage.”

Jennifer pulled off her gloves, laying them on the seat
beside her. Without them, she would be able to scratch him. She could bite him
or kick him when it came to it. For now, if she made him reach in for her
inside the carriage there would be a scuffle and her mother could be hurt.
Fleetingly, it occurred to her that perhaps she should quit caring for her
mother but sense prevailed, if not love or like, and Jennifer got out of the
carriage on her own.

“What do you want, Jeffrey? There are people expecting me at
the Hospital Soiree,” she said with a shaking voice as the carriage pulled
away.

“Perhaps,” he replied, “but they will not know where to look
for you, now will they?”

She looked around then and realized she did not recognize
the street. They were not in the neighborhood that Jeffrey lived in or anywhere
she’d ever been before. “Where are we?”

“We are just a few doors away from privacy and a large bed.
Come dear. We’ll make this all painless. There is no need to be frightened.
Just do as you’re told.”

“No,” she said. “No. I won’t. I won’t do as I’m told.” She
turned then to run, but Jeffrey had her arm and pulled her sharply around.