Western Kisses – Old West Christmas Romances (Boxed Set) (38 page)

On the way to the station, Rosalie asked the driver to make a stop and gave him the address of Winslow’s lodgings. She knew Winslow would not be home at this time of day and planned to leave her note with his housekeeper. She’d wrestled with what to say before deciding she needn’t spare Winslow’s feelings.

Dear Winslow —

The day I agreed to be your wife was one of the happiest days of my life. At the time and in the months since, I looked forward with excitement to spending my life by your side. My affection for you was strong and true.

I must tell you that your shameful behavior has broken my heart and I am unwilling to proceed with our marriage. Despite assurances that your situation is not at all unusual, I find myself unable to put it in the past and forget what I have learned regarding your character. You will think it is my humiliation that brings me to say that I cannot be your wife. I must tell you, however, that although your disgraceful conduct has caused me embarrassment, it is not the primary reason for my reaction. Rather, the thought of my husband sharing himself with other women and maintaining a second family is more than I can bear.

If you have any small measure of affection toward me, you will accept my decision with good grace and release me from my promise.

Rosalie

~*~

At the station, Rosalie secured assistance with her trunk and was soon ensconced on the train. Every person walking down the aisle caused her to jump. Part of her expected her father or Winslow to appear and drag her out of her seat.

The train whistle blew and they were off, rattling along the track. Rosalie sighed in relief and yet felt a twinge of regret. She didn’t care one whit for Winslow’s feelings—he didn’t deserve her regard. However, her parents would undoubtedly be disappointed.

The conductor passed through the car and Rosalie scrambled for her ticket, handing it to the conductor.

“Traveling a long way, are you, miss?” His uniform was clean and crisp.

His cheerful demeanor raised Rosalie’s spirits a bit. “Yes, I suppose I am.” She was traveling away from the security of her home and family and into the unknown.

He handed her ticket back. “Welp, you let me know if you have any questions.”

“I will, thank you.” Rosalie turned back to the window as the conductor continued on his way.

The window glass fogged up and Rosalie cleared a circle with her sleeve. The train was passing through an area of town she’d never seen. The buildings were in various states of disrepair and piles of garbage sat moldering in view, while unkempt children played in the cold dirt. Appalled, Rosalie pushed her face right up to the glass. She was aware of the less fortunate, but never had she seen the squalor up close. She turned away. She was blessed in her life, never wanting for anything. She always had new dresses and plenty of food. Her home was clean and warm. A pang of remorse pricked her. She was repaying her parents with worry and embarrassment. Her mother would be horrified when word of the broken engagement spread.

Rosalie turned back to the window, surprised to see the city left behind. Low snow-covered hills and white dusted trees dotted the landscape. In the distance, a large clapboard house stood alone, stark against the wintry countryside.

Rosalie’s stomach clenched. Though the consequences of her decision still troubled her, she knew she couldn’t marry Winslow. She felt confident in that choice. However, what did she know of the frontier? Her cousin made it sound beautiful, but Rosalie knew from the newspapers that lawlessness was rampant. Her heart thumped at the thought of attacks by wild Indians. In addition, she knew the Cantons did for themselves with no hired help. Rosalie was game but she’d been taught how to supervise a household, not to cook and clean for herself.

What if her reception was less friendly than she hoped?
Arriving unannounced in winter was very ill bred of her. She’d need to purchase provisions so as not to be a burden.

The train slowed. They were arriving at the next station already. People bustled back and forth on the platform in a blur of color and movement. Big, fluffy snowflakes began to fall, hastening the rush. It seemed only moments and the train was underway again. The train employees took their deadlines seriously. Soon, the rocking of the train, combined with a sleepless night, had Rosalie drooping in her seat napping.

~*~

The days crawled by. The train progressed toward Denver one tiny whistlestop after another. Rosalie felt grubby and longed for a bath. It was one of the first things she planned to do when she arrived at her destination. She was tired as well. She’d slept but hadn’t found the jerking and bumping of the train restful.

“Miss, is this seat taken?”

Rosalie jumped in surprise. She turned to see a young gentleman gesturing toward the seat beside her. “Errr …” She was at a loss. There were many empty seats in the car. It made no sense for him to sit next to her.

The man sat down quickly before she could protest. He extended his hand. “I’m Henry Cramer. I’m traveling to Omaha. Yourself?”

Rosalie did not take his hand. Her introductions to others had generally been formal and she was unsure how to respond. His surface friendliness did not reassure her, but she reminded herself that social conventions were a bit more relaxed in the west. It was something to which she would have to become accustomed. “I’m traveling farther than Omaha.” People on the train had not been unfriendly, but Rosalie was inclined to keep to herself.

“That’s a right pretty dress you have there.” His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Rosalie looked down at her dusty, wrinkled dress in confusion. She was certainly not looking her best.

The door slid open and the conductor entered the car. His eyes searched the car and settled on Rosalie. “You there…” He pointed his finger at the man sitting beside Rosalie. “Miss, do you know this man?”

“Why no, I don’t know him.” Rosalie clasped her hands together tightly, flustered by the situation.

“You move to the next car,” the conductor said forcefully. “Don’t be bothering anyone in there, either.”

The young man stood without glancing at Rosalie and made his way out of the car.

“I’m sorry about that. There are always a few who think a lady traveling alone is looking for company,” he said meaningfully.

Rosalie’s face flamed. “Thank you for your assistance.”
What would have happened if the conductor hadn’t come along?
She needed to think about standing up for herself. Her days of acquiescing to others were over.

“It’s no trouble at all.” The conductor continued on his way.

When the train passed into the Wyoming Territory, Rosalie almost cried. In less than an hour, she’d be changing trains in Cheyenne and on her way into the Colorado Territory. Denver was less than a day away.

Rosalie arrived in Denver fit to fall over—she’d barely slept and the jarring train had stolen her appetite by shaking her stomach like a jumping bean. She felt confident there would be stagecoach service to Cascade Creek, but she feared that trip might be even more uncomfortable than the train.

She approached the ticket window at the stagecoach office. “I’d like to travel to Cascade Creek.”

The clerk looked up. “That’s no trouble, miss. Stage leaves early tomorrow morning.”

“Is there nothing today?” Rosalie longed for the trip to be over.

“No, ma’am. There’s just one ticket left for tomorrow. Do you want it?”

“I do.” Rosalie paid for her ticket and had her trunk conveyed to a nearby hotel. She made her way the few short blocks on foot. Wagons, horses, and people clogged the street. A prosperous looking bank sat on one corner and a large mercantile looked to be doing a brisk business.

Suddenly a man burst out a swinging door and fell on his rump onto the sidewalk in front of her. He laughed uproariously and Rosalie jumped back.

“Pardon me, ma’am. Some of the boys just got to jostling inside.” He grinned.

“Hey now, Garrett, you come back in and visit with us!” a woman called.

Rosalie looked up and saw a scantily clad woman hanging out the second story window and her jaw dropped in shock. The woman had to be a strumpet.

The man got to his feet and dusted himself off. “Miss Tessa, you need to come back with me on the stage tomorrow,” he shouted back.

“You know I can’t do that. Come back in and have another drink.” The harlot whirled away from the window.

Rosalie gathered her skirts and stepped quickly away. Such things had to be expected in the wild west, she thought. She hurried down the street, keeping the hotel in sight. She wanted to take a meal in the dining room, but fatigue and no small amount of fear had her asking the proprietor for a tray in her room.

Rosalie picked at the food a while before giving up and slipping between the sheets.

~*~

Compared to the stagecoach, traveling by train was positively luxurious. The stagecoach packed nine people into cramped, airless quarters. The only saving grace was that Rosalie’s seat was in a corner and the person on her right was female. The passengers seated on the middle bench could barely sit up as the wheels bounced over the rock and rut filled road. The frigid air had Rosalie hugging herself for warmth. Unpleasant smells emanating from the other passengers wafted her way and she surreptitiously tried to keep the end of her scarf over her nose and mouth. Her head ached and her stomach rolled. Her toes were frozen. The thick curtains at the window did a poor job of blocking the drafts.

Most unpleasant of all, the man who’d almost knocked her down outside the brothel was a passenger as well. At first, she didn’t think he’d recognized her, but she was disabused of that notion when he caught her eye and gave a broad wink. She shrank back into her corner, hoping he’d leave her be. He would likely interpret any acknowledgment from her as encouragement for his attentions.

Some of the passengers chatted jovially and passed around a bottle of whiskey. Rosalie had no intention of partaking in spirits herself, but she found she couldn’t blame them. She’d heard that liquor warmed the insides. In addition, there was not much one could do in the swaying coach. Reading or needlework was quite out of the question. Closing her eyes made her dizzy so she tried to focus on one spot on the wall, which seemed to settle her stomach.

The stagecoach slowed for the next way station. It came to a stop with a jerk. Rosalie pushed the heavy window curtain to the side to look out. Condensation fogged the glass and she used her muff to clear her view, but she didn’t see the building she expected. Four men on horseback were speaking with the driver. Scarves hid their faces.

The man from the brothel edged toward the door. Rosalie jumped when she saw the gun in his hand.

“Everyone stay here. Keep seated and don’t move,” he said in a low voice.

The woman next to Rosalie stifled a scream with her hand.

The armed man opened the door slowly, taking care to be quiet. He slipped out onto the ground.

With mingled fear and curiosity, Rosalie turned back to the window. The riders were gesturing threateningly and one pulled out a gun. Rosalie gasped. These men were outlaws. They must mean to rob the passengers. Her fingers went to the cameo at her neck, which had been passed down to her from her grandmother. She had money as well in her valise and in her trunk. She couldn't afford to lose any of it. Her money was essential to her plan.

The voices of the other passengers rose in volume, some in fear and others in anger.

“This waiting is intolerable,” said one man, his bushy mustache bobbing up and down.

“Can anyone see what’s happening?” another man asked.

Two shots rang out. Rosalie flinched and ducked forward. The woman beside her screamed and several other passengers crouched on the floor.

Shouting and gunfire filled the air. The coach lurched ominously as the team protested. Rosalie breathed deeply and peeked out the window. The men galloped away on their horses and her eyes followed them off into the distance until they were out of sight.

The stagecoach door banged open and the armed passenger revealed himself. “It’s fine. They’ve run off. One of ‘em is wounded but I couldn’t get ‘em all.”

“Oh good Lord! Were they trying to rob the stagecoach?” Several passengers raised their voices, their individual questions lost in the confusing din.

“That they were, ma’am. Unfortunately, with just myself and the coachman, we weren’t able to overpower them, but we should be safe now.”

“Thank the good Lord you were with us on this trip,” one of the men said.

Everyone settled back into their seats. The stagecoach jolted and they were on their way again.

Rosalie stepped into the only mercantile in Cascade Creek. It was unexpectedly small but filled to the rafters with goods of every sort. Small tools and equipment packed the far wall and the aisle shelves were bursting with cans of food, clothing and personal items such as soap and brushes.

“Can I assist you, ma’am?” A short, rotund man stood behind the counter.

Rosalie set her valise on the counter. “Why yes, please. I’d like to purchase provisions, but I’d also like to inquire about hiring someone to transport myself and my purchases.”

“Where are you needing to go?”

“The Cantons’. Well, I guess the Blakes’ now. Audra Blake is my cousin and I’ve come for a visit.” Rosalie’s confidence had taken a serious beating thus far on the trip. The attempted stagecoach robbery had just topped it off. She wanted to get to Audra’s and quick before anything else went awry.

“Oh!” The proprietor smiled warmly. “I know your cousin well, I do. Their place is a fair piece, though.”

“I must admit I am not familiar with the distance, this being my first visit.” Rosalie struggled to maintain her poise. This man had to help her. He just had to.

“Could be the marshal might take you. He’s friends with Audra’s husband, Lucas, him being a former lawman and all.”

“I see. Where can I find the marshal?” Rosalie brightened. Perhaps completing her journey would not be as difficult as she’d feared. A lawman would want to assist a lady in need, wouldn’t he?