Two Brides Too Many (9 page)

“’Cause I’m betting you had no idea what you were in for when you decided to move out here to the wild and woolly West.”

No idea at all
.

T
EN

N
ell lifted Rosita off the bed she and Kat shared, and carried her across the small room. Kat looked up from the dressing table, but Nell shook her head to let her sister know she had it under control. After the child’s belly was full and Hattie had given her a bath, Rosita had climbed under the quilt and fallen fast asleep. Now the little one’s breath warmed Nell’s face, stirring her deep longing to mother children. That’s all she’d ever wanted—to have a family of her own.

Until she began receiving Judson Archer’s letters nearly four months ago, Nell didn’t have a name or a face to attach to the prince of her dreams…her one true love. But now that she did, her heart ached for him all the more.

Judson, where are you?

She’d studied every man’s face in town this morning, and while she was helping during the fire. According to the man at the telegraph office, Judson had received her telegram. Why hadn’t he come looking for her?

Had she been a fool to fall for Judson Archer?

Shaking her head, Nell bent over to lay the little girl on the makeshift pallet set out for her in the corner. She settled Rosita on the mat, and the child groaned and rolled to her side, curling into a ball. A twinge of guilt niggled at Nell. Only four years old, this little girl was motherless and homeless, and here Nell was feeling sorry for herself.

Nell pulled the quilt over the little one and tucked her in, just like she would her own someday, and kissed her soft cheek.

Bless this poor child, Father
.

That’s what she needed to be doing, praying for all the hurting people she’d seen and heard tonight. Especially those in the room with her. Her own sister had suffered much in the past two days.

“I’m at twenty strokes.” Kat sat on the bed, holding her tortoise-shell hairbrush in her right hand. “I’m not going to make it to one hundred tonight.”

Nell crossed over to the bed. Taking the brush from Kat, she knelt behind her on the bed and started brushing her sister’s pretty auburn curls. When she lifted the layer of hair, Nell could see the bulky bandage through her sister’s dressing gown. “Does your shoulder hurt much?”

“Not too bad unless I try to lift a stack of plates, or a child.” Kat twisted and grinned, her brown eyes shining like polished tiger’s-eye gems.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at the hospital with you.” Nell gently combed the bristles through Kat’s hair. “You must have been frightened.”

“I especially missed you in the birthing room.” Kat laughed.

“The doctor really thought you were a midwife?”

“That’s what he said. ‘You have no mind for being a midwife.’”

“Didn’t you tell him you were a patient?” Nell laid the brush down on the dressing table.

“In a hundred varied and witty ways. Once I left the hospital.”

They both giggled, then fell silent.

“What a strange day.” Nell glanced over at the pallet.

“Not at all what we expected to find in Cripple Creek, is it?”

Nell bit her lip. No, it was not at all what they expected to find here. “I’m so proud of you for saving Rosita,” she said, fighting back the tears that welled up. “What will you do about her?”

“I plan to find her family tomorrow.”

“But her mother is gone, and you told us the doctor didn’t know anything about her father.”

“She and her mother didn’t live alone, Nell.” Kat worried a thread at a seam in her nightgown. “It may not be a family like we knew growing up, but—”

“You said you found her calling for her mama on Myers Avenue.” Nell stood up. She moved to the glass window, pulled back the lace curtain, and peered into the darkness. “You can’t mean to give her to those other women.”

“That’s precisely what I mean. She knows them. She’s comfortable with them.”

“You mean they’re comfortable with her.”

“I can’t just—”

“Mama!” Rosita’s mournful cry silenced them both. The little girl sat up, crying and blinking. Nell thought to turn out the light, but the darkness would probably only frighten her more. Rosita shuddered, her sobs wrenching Nell’s heart. “I want Mama!”

“We’re here, little one. We can’t bring your mama back.” Sitting on the pallet, Kat cupped the child’s wet face in her hands. “You’re not alone, Rosita, and…I know someone very special that I think you’ll like.” Kat tiptoed theatrically to her trunk and knelt down in front of it.

Nell walked over to Rosita and sat down beside her. They watched Kat open the lid of her trunk and slide her hand inside. The little girl’s whimpers began to subside, and she tipped her face up to Nell, her eyes wide.

Nell shrugged and returned her attention to Kat. They both watched as an embroidered face with whiskers and button eyes peered out over the edge of the trunk. Two long cloth ears flopped over the hand that held it. In a falsetto voice, Kat said, “Greetings, Rosita. I’m HopHop, and I want to be your friend.”

Rosita giggled, and Nell couldn’t help but join her.

Her eyebrows raised and her eyes wide open, Kat waddled toward Rosita, bouncing the white cotton bunny in the air. The little girl scrambled to her feet and reached for HopHop.

“Rosita, my mother made this bunny for me when she was sick. After she died, whenever I was feeling sad, I’d hold HopHop tight.”

“I remember that.” Nell nodded, blinking back her tears.

“I almost didn’t bring HopHop across the country, thinking it was a childish thing to carry into a new life. Now I know why I brought him.”

Nell gave Kat a big smile, and then a gentle hug.

Less than ten minutes later, Rosita snuggled HopHop under her quilt. Kat rotated the switch on the wall, shutting off the bare light
bulb hanging from the ceiling above them. Nell crawled into bed, letting her weary body sink into the soft cradle of the mattress.

Please, God, comfort Rosita. Please be with my Judson, and bring him to me. And, God, please bring a man to Kat who will cherish her as she so deserves
.

E
LEVEN

T
hursday after lunch, Kat watched the parade of boarders that filed into Hattie’s kitchen, carrying their soiled plates and cups. Fortunately, Lucille had helped steady the little ones who toddled through with their dishes and the salt and pepper shakers. Now, the mothers and their children, along with Hattie and Rosita, had all gone up to their rooms for an afternoon rest. Kat was ready to do the same, once she and Nell finished cleaning up the kitchen.

Lucille’s baby cousin had cried about every two hours last night, waking the whole house, and sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Rosita awakened with a bad dream. She, Nell, Kat, and the cloth bunny ended up sharing the bed, which was a tight fit to begin with.

While Nell pinned Kat’s hair up before breakfast, the landlady came to their room seeking their help. Extra mouths to feed meant more kitchen work, and as a result, Hattie offered the sisters discounted rent in exchange for their help in the kitchen. Nell had agreed on the condition that Kat do “light duty” until her shoulder healed. Consequently, she’d been relegated the job of washing dishes, and that’s
why she stood at the cupboard now, looking at the stacks of dirty dishes and wondering where to start. The sooner she finished her task, the sooner she could rest, so she reached to lift the stack of plates. Her shoulder rebelled, and Kat flinched, while her sister clucked her tongue.

“Oh, no you don’t. I’ll get those.” Nell wagged her finger, rushing to Kat’s side. “No lifting, remember?”

Nodding, Kat stepped out of Nell’s way. “Thank you.”

Nell set the stack of plates in the tub of hot water, and Kat watched pungent lye suds poof and rise, then fade.

Rise and fade.

That’s what had happened to her life as Mrs. Patrick Maloney.

That’s what had happened to Rosita’s mother.

Kat couldn’t let it happen to her. Her time here on earth…in Cripple Creek…had to count for something.

“I don’t think you should go out today.” Nell scooted the cups and flatware toward the wash basin. “You need to rest.”

“Instead of going to look for Rosita’s ‘family’?”

“Yes. Hattie said having her here isn’t a problem, and there are other children for her to play with. You saw her this morning with Thelma’s little girl. She seems to be warming up to her.”

Kat scrubbed a plate, rubbing her dishcloth across its face, even after it was clean. “We can’t keep her here indefinitely. We have other things to do.” She handed the dish to Nell. “Our room is crowded.”

“I know, but we can manage another day or two.”

The iron door knocker rapped on the front door, and Kat dried her hands on her apron. She hoped it wasn’t more people needing a place to stay.

Since Hattie was upstairs with Rosita, the sisters went to the door. Kat pulled it open to find the younger nun from the reservoir and a tall, lanky man on the porch. Both of them looked as though they’d been chewing on lemons.

“Sister Veronica?” Concern etched Nell’s brow. “Is everyone at St. Peter’s all right? Do you need my help?”

“They’re doing fine, thank you.” The sister looked at the man beside her. Clumps of gray hair ringed the sides of his otherwise bald head. “Nell, this is Wayne Snelling. He’s our sheriff, and he needs to speak to your sister.”

That’s when Kat noticed the badge at the collar of his canvas coat.

“Me?” What would he need to see her about? She’d heard a fight break out in the saloon as she’d walked out the other night, but he couldn’t blame her for that, could her?

Nodding a greeting, the man looked down at the hat he held, then glanced around. “Is there a place where we can sit down and talk?”

Nell laced her arm in Kat’s. Her blue eyes were suddenly cloudy, and Kat looked away. “Yes, the parlor,” Nell said, and led the way, then sat down on the sofa beside Kat.

“Sheriff,” she said, her voice thin. “Does this concern our father, or our sisters?”

“No ma’am, it doesn’t.” The sheriff reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a scorched flask. His face long and drawn, he handed it to Kat. “We found this inside a burned-out building, ma’am.”

Kat grasped it with two fingertips and held it away from her, then nodded, at a loss to know what else to do. Yes, she’d been inside a saloon, but she didn’t own a whiskey flask, and until now, she’d never even touched one. What could that nasty thing have to do with her?

“We don’t drink, Sheriff.” Nell tightened her grip on Kat’s arm.

“It was Paddy Maloney’s, ma’am.”

“Patrick’s?”

“Sister Veronica told me you were his intended.”

Kat held the flask out, but the sheriff didn’t take it back. “He’s not here, Sheriff.”

“I know, ma’am. I’m right sorry, but Paddy…” The man cleared his throat. “Patrick Maloney was killed in the fire.”

Sucking in a gasp of air, Kat jerked up stick-straight on the sofa and dropped the flask. It bounced off the area rug and clanged onto the hardwood floor. She saw Nell wipe tears from her face, but Kat didn’t shed any of her own.

Anytime a person died, a good Christian should feel the loss…should mourn the death. She should feel grief for the man, but it was guilt that knotted Kat’s stomach. She’d poured flowers down his front. Although she’d initially found the act satisfying, now it seemed like a childish and petty transgression against a pitiful man. Patrick Maloney had made counterfeit promises, and she’d believed him. She’d said good-bye to her family and journeyed long and hard to marry Patrick, to start a new life here with him. She had stitches in her shoulder because of him, and a motherless child in her charge, but regardless of the man’s dishonesty and decadence, he didn’t deserve to die.

Still, try as she might to grieve his death, Kat couldn’t feel anything but relief.

Forgive me, Lord
.

T
WELVE