The Confidential Life of Eugenia Cooper (15 page)

Just then, the door opened and Isak stuck his head inside. “I’ve finished my errands, miss,” he called. “Just want to let you know I had to leave the wagon around the corner. Too much traffic out front. So turn left when you come out the door and go around the corner in the opposite direction from Mr. Beck’s office.”

“I don’t know where his office is,” she said, “but I’m sure I can find the wagon.”

The clerk never looked up. He wrapped her purchases, then without comment offered a slip of paper for her to sign. As she gathered the packages and made her way to the door, she heard the clerk make a
tsk
ing sound.

She froze, then glanced over her shoulder to see the man regarding her openly. “What?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “Can’t say as I blame him. ’Course, once Anna Finch hears tell of this, you can expect she’ll not like it one bit.”

Gennie opened her mouth to speak, but the words refused to come. “I am not that kind of woman,” she finally managed. “And anyone who takes issue with my employment is advised to lodge a complaint with Mr. Beck himself.”

“Oh, I doubt he’d put up with anyone telling him a pretty thing like you doesn’t belong under his roof.”

Gennie drew herself up to her full height, ire coursing through her veins. This man was insufferable, his insinuations intolerable. “I repeat,” she said, “I am not the type of woman to entertain the advances of a man with whom I am not betrothed.” And yet she’d just stood in broad daylight in full view of the front window of Fisher’s and flirted shamelessly with a total stranger. “And I demand an apology, sir,” she added with more bravado than she felt.

“Of course you’re not,” he said, though his tone and expression betrayed his words. “And I do beg your pardon.”

To stay and fight the clerk’s impression of her bore hard on Gennie, but she reminded herself this was a man with whom she would likely never have any further contact. She squared her shoulders and turned away, not sparing the awful man even the briefest of parting words. As she huffed around the corner to the wagon, Isak took her packages, then lifted her onto the seat.

“Something wrong, miss?”

“No,” she said as she tried to still her shaking limbs. “Everything is fine. Wonderful, in fact.”

But as Isak pulled the wagon around and turned in front of the store, she couldn’t resist giving the place one last look of disgust, even as her knees continued quaking. How dare that awful shopkeeper think
she might be carrying on with Daniel Beck. A man who couldn’t even stay home long enough to raise his child certainly held no appeal for her. That nice man with the lovely accent, on the other hand, that was another story altogether, one she might have pursued under different circumstances. Indeed, had she not had a perfectly wonderful man waiting for her back in Manhattan, she might have…might have what?

Gennie sighed and banished the thought. She did have a perfectly wonderful man waiting for her back in Manhattan, and in less than a month she’d be seeing him again. And perhaps she’d be brazen enough to ask for another of the banker’s wonderful kisses. Gennie touched her lips, then felt shame rise inside her.

When had she turned into such a brazen hussy? First she’d practically fallen at the feet of that gentleman in Fisher’s, and now she sat in a wagon on a public street, imagining a man’s kisses.

Mama would be shocked and disappointed, wondering what had happened to her well-heeled debutante daughter.

Gennie smiled behind her gloved hand. Perhaps some of the Wild West had already rubbed off on her, just enough to make life interesting.

Unfortunately, it got more interesting when Isak pulled the wagon to a stop near Charlotte’s school.

“I’ll wait while you fetch her,” he said nonchalantly.

“All right.” Gennie climbed from the wagon and strolled toward the schoolhouse. How difficult could this be?

“Miss?” Isak called. “There’s fresh mud in the street. I’d be careful if I were you.”

She was about to ask why when the first volley hit her squarely in the jaw. Swiping at the splattered mess of mud, Gennie looked up to see Charlotte Beck standing at the edge of the schoolyard, a wicked gleam on her face and several children egging her on.

Gennie took a deep breath and walked toward the Beck child. It would never do to allow the heathen to know she’d hit her mark not only with the mud, but also with her attempt to rile her governess.

Her hands thick with mud, Gennie reached Charlotte and grasped her firmly by the wrist, staring down the onlookers and daring them to comment. No one moved or spoke.

“Eww,” Charlotte said. “You’re getting me dirty.”

“Come along. I’m sure your friends have places to be as well.” Gennie gave the assembled crowd a pointed look that sent them scattering. “Or perhaps I should go in and have a visit with your teacher.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Gennie said, “though I don’t think it will be necessary today. After all, we’re headed home.”

Charlotte seemed surprised. “You said we were going to have an adventure.”

“That was before you chose to pelt me with mud.” She paused to consider her words. “Now the adventure shall be a bath, with soap and shampoo. Then we shall address your wardrobe and attempt to do something with that hair of yours. Into the wagon with you.”

The menacing look from breakfast returned. “I don’t want to. I want Tova to come and fetch me later.” She made a decent attempt to yank her arm from Gennie’s grip, but failed.

Gennie swiped the last of the mud from her jaw and shook it from her free hand, even as she tightened her grip on the girl. “You’ll come now, Charlotte Beck, or I’ll know the reason why.”

“The reason why is, I don’t like you, and I’m too old to have a governess.”

Charlotte paused to reach down, ostensibly for more mud. Gennie countered by picking up her pace even as the girl dug in her heels. By
the time the pair reached the wagon, Gennie’s skirts were sodden with mud, as were Charlotte’s overalls.

To his credit, Isak only quirked a pale brow as they approached, then quickly recovered to hand first Charlotte then Gennie up into the wagon. “Home?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Gennie said. “Please.”

They rode in silence, Charlotte wedged between her and Isak. Gennie kept a close watch on the girl lest she bolt and run, something more likely than the possibility she might ride quietly home without further complaint.

And yet she did, much to Gennie’s surprise. As the wagon turned a corner and the Beck home came into view, Gennie had only one thought:
Thank You, Lord, that this is only temporary.

As soon as the wagon rolled to a stop, Charlotte scrambled over Isak and ran into the waiting arms of Tova.

While Isak slipped off into the stables, Gennie gathered her packages. With the same care she’d taken the first time she was introduced to Mama’s dear friend and the inspiration for her name, Empress Eugenia, Gennie straightened her spine and walked with her head held high.

“What is the meaning of this?” the housekeeper demanded as she held the girl at arm’s length.

“Ask Charlotte,” Gennie said. “And don’t have Isak bother with preparing the bath. I can see to it myself.” She paused to look down at the Beck girl. “Come with me.”

“No.” She tightened her grip around Tova, who looked none too pleased to be tarred with the same mud that covered the child. “Tova won’t make me. She’s not mean like you.”

“I must say the child is a bit upset.” The housekeeper gave Gennie a severe look. “Perhaps you’ve been too hard on her.”

“Tova,” Gennie said as firmly as she could manage without giving her rising temper free rein, “until I am replaced, I am the child’s care-giver. I do not tell you how to carry out your duties, and I would appreciate it greatly if you gave me the same consideration.”

While the housekeeper stood open-mouthed, Gennie grasped the wrist of her charge and led her inside.

Fat raindrops pelted the ground and spotted Mae’s best buckskin jacket, so she decided to see if Lucky could ride between them. It was a theory tried and tested back home when she was a barefoot girl and Papa knew more than all the books in the library. She’d asked him if it were possible to run fast enough to stay dry, and he’d told her there was one way to find out and that was to try. If it didn’t work today, maybe next time it would.

She was still trying, and it still wasn’t working. Same could be said for catching criminals. One day she’d figure out how to do that and stay where it was warm and dry.

Until then, however, she’d still be trying to outrun the wind and ride between the raindrops.

Having left Hiram behind in Leadville to manage things, the duty of purchasing Miss McTaggart’s train ticket and banishing her from Denver fell solely to Daniel. The irritation he worked up each time he read the brazen woman’s letter was enough to fuel the flames of outrage and ready him for the task.

As Daniel settled behind his desk, however, his thoughts refused to remain on the recalcitrant nanny or the apologies he must wire to the governor and to Lieutenant Governor Horace Tabor. He saw instead blue eyes, boots, and buckskin instead of train tickets and telegrams, and he preferred it that way.

Failing any success at redirecting his thoughts, Daniel packed up his work and shoved it into a desk drawer. Today he would take only his gift to Charlotte home with him.

And perhaps tonight, once the issue of the governess was handled, he might even initiate a game of charades with the imp. She did love the game, though he rarely took the time to play it with her. Maybe he’d even convince Tova to stay and team up with Elias. The old coot would likely not complain. The thought of Elias’s finding love this late in life made Daniel smile.

If only there was a woman who looked at him like Tova regarded Elias, one who cared for his heart more than his wallet or last name. The thought brought him full circle to Blue Eyes, which sent him out into the Denver afternoon with nothing to show for his time spent in the office.

The walk home would do him good, Daniel decided, though instead of turning toward home, he found his boots walking in the direction of the dry goods store. George greeted him with a concerned look.

“Something wrong with the order?” the clerk asked.

“Order?” Daniel asked as the door closed behind him with a clang.

George nodded. “Yes, the clothes your employee signed for.”

He shook his head. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he said as he headed for the back of the store, “but I’m sure Tova was acting within her purview.”

“Wasn’t Tova.” George skittered to catch up. “Though she was with Isak, so I figured it was all right.”

Daniel stopped short and the clerk nearly slammed into him. “Oh, you must mean Charlotte’s new governess.”

“Yes,” George said, “I suppose I do.”

Spying what he came for, Daniel turned on his heels. “Does this come in a smaller size?”

George lifted the buckskin jacket from its resting place and frowned. “I believe so, but it’d be real small. It’s been a popular item. I’ve only got boys’ sizes left, and a sparse few at that.”

“Would a boy’s size fit a woman?”

“Likely so.” The clerk gave Daniel a sideways look. “Depends on the size of the woman. Who’ve you got in mind?”

He almost answered, then decided to be discreet. “Oh, I don’t know. A woman of average size, I suppose.” Daniel pretended to think on the subject a moment. “What about that woman who was in here earlier? Would you have something that would fit a person of her size?”

To his credit, the clerk didn’t seem surprised. “I’ll check.”

While George scurried off to the back room, Daniel meandered through the aisles and ended up at the book rack. Bypassing a copy of the
New York Times
and several other venerable publications, he lifted a copy of the latest issue of
Mae Winslow, Woman of the West
and smiled. As an afterthought, he picked up one more for himself.

“Here it is,” George said as he emerged from the back. “Just one left. You’re a lucky man, Mr. Beck.”

“I’m hoping to be,” he said under his breath. “Say, do you have any notepaper, George?”