Page 32 of Love and Order
CHAPTER 2
How rude! Andie clamped her jaw tight and averted her gaze.
Good riddance.
The line moved, and Andie glanced toward the platform where the young woman with the medium-brown hair stood beside a tall, handsome fellow. That had to be Calliope and her beau, Joe Trenamen. Calliope had said that she’d wear a blue dress and that Joe would be in a brown shirt. While the woman wore a decidedly western skirt and vest, the outfit was blue, and the man wore brown.
People began to disembark. She shuffled forward, heart pounding as she fought to keep sight of Calliope and Joe. When it was her turn, a porter took her bag, then helped her descend. Before she’d turned to receive her bag, the couple she’d spotted headed her way, hope in the young woman’s eyes.
She hurried toward them. “Calliope?”
“Andromeda!” Tears filled her sister’s eyes as they threw their arms around each other.
“Oh, Lord Jesus, thank You.” She held tight to her sister.
“I can’t believe I finally found you.” Calliope clung to her, weeping, and Andie’s own eyes were far from dry.
“Miss, would you like me to hold your bag?” At the man’s question, Calliope pulled back.
“Joe. She’s here.” She looked at the handsome fellow as her tears flooded again.
He looked plenty pleased as he nodded. “Welcome, Miss McGovern. Glad you could make it. I’m Joe Trenamen, Callie’s partner.”
“And beau,” Calliope whispered.
She nodded. “Please, call me Andromeda—or Andie.”
“All right … Andie. May I take your bag?”
“Thank you.” Andie handed it off, then turned to her baby sister.
She was a baby no more. Gone was the six-year-old child. A grown woman stood before her—with braided, medium-brown hair, and dressed in that long blue skirt, white blouse, and matching blue vest, with a hat not unlike the one Mr. Littrick had slept under.
“Look at you. You’re beautiful.”
“So are you.” Calliope looked her up and down. “I’ve dreamed of this day for so long.” Once more, she launched into Andie’s arms and, laughing, hugged her tight.
Around them, folks looked on as they giggled and cried.
Finally, Calliope dabbed away the dampness under her eyes. “The only thing that could make this better is if Rion was here.”
Andie sobered. “Have you found him yet?”
Joe pressed nearer. “They’re getting the baggage unloaded.” He waved down the platform. “Do you have anything more to collect?”
Several cars beyond where they unloaded crates, trunks, and mailbags, someone led a beautiful paint horse down a ramp from one of the boxcars. Mr. Littrick—now clad in that brown duster—waited with a saddle slung over one shoulder and saddlebags dangling from the other.
Yes, he was very much that saddle tramp—though not an unhandsome one.
She shook off the thought. Good looks couldn’t overcome a sharp tongue and black heart.
“One trunk.”
They headed down the platform, and she led Joe and Calliope to her piece. Joe handed her carpetbag back and went to secure a porter’s help getting her luggage moved to their wagon.
Within minutes, the trunk was settled in Joe and Calliope’s wagon, and they climbed onto the wagon bench to head to the mountain town of Cambria Springs.
“Was the trip uneventful?” Callie asked.
“Yes, until the final few hours.” She related the story of encouraging her cousin to depart the train before seeing her all the way to Denver, then changing seats and winding up beside the disagreeable cowboy. “I’ll admit I was far more anxious about traveling after my cousin Freddy and I separated than I anticipated. So perhaps I was too quick to assume he had ill intentions. But he wasn’t helping matters.”
“Sorry for the uncomfortable situation.” Joe flicked the reins over the horses’ rumps. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Only my pride. The only time he touched me was when I first encountered him.” Her cheeks warmed. “I woke him suddenly, and he reached for his gun, which—honestly—scared me. I backed up a step and he took my elbow, probably to keep me from running away.”
Calliope giggled. “Welcome to the West.”
“As I understood from our correspondence, you’ve not been here long yourself.”
“I was here in Denver for a few months before going to Cambria Springs a month ago.”
“And how did you became a Pinkerton?” She asked the question in a hushed tone, as if to keep anyone else on the Denver street from hearing.
A coy smile overtook Calliope’s features. “The day I was adopted, I was so distraught at being separated from you and Rion that I jumped from our moving wagon into the middle of the busy, muddy Chicago street. I was determined to get back to the train station to find you both. Horses and wagons veered all around me. It was mayhem.”
Andie’s breath caught. “You could’ve been killed.”
“Yes. A man galloped up on a horse, plucked me from the mud, and ushered me safely out of the street. It was Allan Pinkerton. He saved my life. As I grew, he kept some small connection with my adoptive parents, and I was quite taken with him and his agency. So when I learned that he hired Kate Warne and other women as detectives, I determined I’d be one.”
“That’s so brave! I think courage must’ve skipped me.”
“Why? You’ve defied tradition to become an attorney. That’s daring.”
Andie shook her head. “My father humored me. From the day he and Mama adopted me, Papa was so gentle and supportive. I couldn’t spend enough time with him, so after school each day, I went to his office to file papers or take notes for him. Sometimes, I’d sit in the courtroom as he tried cases. I wanted to know everything he was doing, and he patiently answered every question. As I grew, the questions became more detailed, and he got the ridiculous notion to have me train for the law. So I did. He’s affirmed me as a full-fledged lawyer, and I’ve helped him prepare cases, but I’ve never taken the lead on anything. I doubt I’d even be allowed.”
Calliope and Joe glanced at one another, and Joe spoke. “Not only would you be allowed—it’s desired. We need a lawyer.”
Her stomach clenched. “For what?”
Calliope’s face shadowed. “Rion.”
“So you have found him?”
Nodding, Callie’s face paled. “I convinced him to come in and allow himself to be arrested.”
“For what?”
“Murder.”
Andie snapped her eyes shut. Oh, dear Jesus, no.
Happy to be back in the saddle—and especially away from haughty Miss McGovern—Daniel turned Briar toward home, though he had one short stop to make first. He rode through the busy streets, navigating to the cemetery at the edge of town. There, he turned in and rode across the wagon path toward Ma’s grave near the center of the sizable graveyard. Dismounting, he tied Briar to the nearest tree and strode to her plot.
“Hey there, Ma.” He swept his hat off and held it against his chest. “It’s been a while.” He cleared his throat. “Too long. Honestly, I’ve been avoiding coming here of late, and I shouldn’t have.”
It wasn’t harming Ma any—and holding on to hurt feelings when he was the only one affected made him feel all the more like a donkey’s backside.
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “You always did say I could be stubborn as a mule. Guess I’ve been letting my mulish parts show.” He clapped the hat back on his head and sat at the foot of the grave. “I just—I dunno, Ma. Reckon I figured at twenty-five my life would look different. I got the degree you begged me to get, but I can’t support myself with that alone. And Pa and I were supposed to be partners in a land surveying business, but Caleb, Wes, and Helen all settled down in Cheyenne. Grandbabies started coming, and Pa moved up that way too.”
He rubbed at his chest, as if to ease the ache he felt. “Again, maybe I’m being headstrong, but after spending years back east … after not being here when you made your exit … fighting to set up my practice and the surveying business and get both off the ground … I don’t want to pull up stakes and start over in Cheyenne.”
Across the cemetery, a woman on a fine mahogany bay trotted up and, before she’d even stopped the animal, slid from the saddle. The horse trotted past, and she whistled, causing the mount to return. The gal stroked the horse’s nose then retrieved a blanket from behind the saddle and spread it near a headstone.
“As I was sayin’…” He focused on his mother’s marker. “I’m not happy doing either job. Surveying is what Pa wanted. Lawyering is what you wanted.” He shook his head. “Guess I’ve been busy enough chasing everyone else’s dreams for my life that I don’t know what my own are.” Yet it was a shame and a waste to have paid for a college degree, not to use it.
“I feel stuck, Ma. Kind of wish you were around to talk to—but if you were, I couldn’t talk to you about this, because I’d probably hurt you when I said I don’t want to be a lawyer.” How brave of him to say it all now—years after her death. Why couldn’t he have said it before?
He shook his head. “In other news, I met a woman. Sat next to her on the train. She seemed smart. Pretty …” Real pretty. “But she was an absolute spitfire. Sharp-tongued, objectionable, ill-tempered. I know you always hoped to see your children married off, but if this is what the world has to offer, I doubt it’ll happen for me.”
Daniel rubbed his hands down his thighs. It was time he lived his own life, chased the things he wanted to pursue, without worrying if he pleased his parents.
It sounded easy, but it wasn’t. It would take money or skill to start over. He had little of either.
“Guess I’ve got some soul-searchin’ to do. Reading the scriptures.” After all, he ought to include God in his decisions.
A pang lodged in his chest.
No. He ought to seek God for answers, not consult Him for an opinion on his own plans.
Sorry, Lord. I’ve poured my thoughts out more to my deceased mother’s grave than seekin’ Your wisdom. Forgive me. That’s backward. And thank You for the conviction. What do You say I should do?
Minutes ticked by, and he listened. Yet all he heard were birds chirping, bees buzzing, and wagons rumbling as they passed outside the graveyard.
Across the cemetery, the woman rose from her blanket and peered toward the road. After an instant, she headed toward the property’s edge, waving and calling out. When the wagon didn’t even slow, she whistled for her horse and swung into the saddle. Spurring the horse, she rode after the three sitting shoulder to shoulder on the wagon bench.