The Bride Wore Blue Page 2

  Carter choked down his frustration. “Miss—”

  “Sinclair.”

  He met her defiant gaze. “Miss Sinclair, I am the professional here, and I’ll be the judge of what very much includes.” He had outlaws to track down. He didn’t have time to bicker with a petulant female.

  Jon stepped into the train car, and Carter rested a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Folks, this is Deputy Jon Ondersma. He’ll accompany those of you going on to Victor to hear your statements concerning the matter. The conductor will get the names and contact information from those of you planning to depart the train here.” Carter looked at the young woman sitting in the aisle seat five rows back. “And I’ll speak to any of you who may have critical information. Miss Sinclair, if Cripple Creek is your destination, I’ll begin with you.”

  “It is.”

  Shifting his attention to the others, Carter walked toward the door. “Deputy Ondersma and the conductor will direct the rest of you. Please meet me inside the depot, ladies. Directly.”

  His mother had taught him to get the most unpleasant tasks out of the way first, and he’d learned his lesson well.

  Young lady!

  Were all lawmen in the West this cocky and sarcastic, or was this just her unlucky day and Deputy Alwyn happened to be part of its ill will? Vivian retrieved her satchel from the floorboard and followed the snappish deputy down the narrow aisle.

  They made their way to the back of the car, and the deputy stepped out onto the platform and offered his hand to Aunt Alma. “Ma’am.”

  Once her aunt had both feet on the platform, he held out his hand to Vivian. She didn’t need the man’s help but accepted it anyway. His firm grip matched the stern expression on his face.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” He let go of her hand and tugged his leather vest straight. Taking their satchels from them, Deputy Alwyn glanced toward a small brick building about two train-car lengths ahead of them. “We need to be quick about this. I’ll only detain you a few minutes.”

  The promise had no sooner left his mouth when the crowd began closing in on them, her three sisters in the lead. Vivian waved.

  “You’re Reverend Raines’s sister-in-law?” Placing far too much emphasis on the first word, the deputy quirked a dark eyebrow.

  “Yes, one of three.”

  Nell reached them first. “Are you all right?” She wrapped Vivian in a tight embrace, transporting her to a time and place that was familiar and freeing.

  “They’re well, Mrs. Archer.”

  The deputy was apparently acquainted with at least two of her sisters. It made sense that a lawman would know the preachers and mining officials in town. Probably the doctors too.

  He brushed a midnight black curl under his hat and looked at her sisters. “I just have a few questions, and I’ll be quick about it. I have outlaws to track.” The deputy met Vivian’s gaze and motioned for them to make haste to the depot.

  She hurried to keep up with him. Yet another instance in which a height greater than five feet two inches would prove useful.

  The crowd around the depot hummed like a beehive. Inside, a man with deeply hooded eyes waved them toward an open door behind the ticket counter. “You can use my office, deputy.”

  “Thank you, Wilbert.”

  The office felt more like an oversized wardrobe. A small desk, one file cabinet, and two spindle-back chairs in front of the desk.

  “Please have a seat, ladies.” Deputy Alwyn set their satchels on the floor between the chairs and pulled a notepad and pencil from his shirt pocket. Settling into the desk chair, he looked at Vivian. “Miss Sinclair, did you notice anything else about the two men, besides the bandannas?”

  “They both wore soiled dusters. The taller man wore a flat-top straw hat and waved a pistol. I didn’t hear him say anything. The shorter man came through first, carrying a large metal box.”

  Aunt Alma squared her shoulders. “Which narrowly missed hitting a man in the head when my niece tripped the thief.”

  The deputy smoothed his mustache as if he were trying to hide a smile and met Vivian’s gaze. “Unintentionally, if I remember correctly.”

  Her cheeks grew warm. “That’s correct.” Sitting a little straighter, Vivian forced herself to remember as many details as she could. “The surly one carrying the box was thick in the middle, spoke as if he had something in his mouth, and smelled of licorice root.”

  The deputy flipped a page in his notepad and wrote feverishly before looking up at her. “Good details. Was he wearing a hat?”

  Aunt Alma straightened. “A dusty derby.”

  “I apologize, ma’am. I didn’t get your name.”

  “Alma Shindlebower.”

  His pencil snapped as he wrote her name.

  Vivian pulled a pencil from her satchel and handed it to him.

  “Thank you.” He busied himself writing the results of his questions and then regarded Vivian with a sideways glance. “Where will you be staying while you’re in town, ma’am?”

  “Miss Hattie’s Boardinghouse on Golden Avenue.”

  “I know the place.” Another notation. “Should I need anything further, I’ll contact you there.”

  Vivian nodded, hoping that wouldn’t be necessary. She’d just as soon toss the whole trip behind her, especially this last leg of it. Starting now. She stood and retrieved their valises from the floor. “Good day, deputy.”

  Standing, he pinched the brim of his hat. “Ladies.”

  As she and Aunt Alma stepped out of the office, a woman with a small child, the next person in a line of weary travelers from their train, brushed past them through the open doorway. Deputy Alwyn had a busy day ahead of him.

  Finally, the Sinclair sisters’ reunion. If only Father were here too. If only …

  Ida waved from where Vivian’s sisters waited near the depot door. Her baby niece bounced in Kat’s arms, and she couldn’t wait to get a good look at her. How was it possible that all three of her sisters were married and one had a baby? Where had the time gone?

  To Gregory.

  Her oldest sister wore the blue serge skirt and embroidered jacket Vivian had designed especially for Ida’s job interview with Mollie O’Bryan last year here in Cripple Creek. Nell swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks and offered Vivian a smile that would brighten the darkest night. The snood at Kat’s neck added to her motherly appearance, a role in which she seemed quite comfortable.

  All her sisters looked good. Healthy and happy. Cripple Creek and marriage seemed to agree with them. As Vivian closed the gap between them, she hoped Cripple Creek would be enough for her. At least until she’d earned enough money to be able to move on to somewhere she could truly make a name for herself.

  “Let me take those.” Ida took the bags from Vivian. “I made arrangements to have your trunk and Aunt Alma’s second valise delivered to the boardinghouse.”

  “Then we don’t have to go back to the platform to search out our bags. Thank you.” Vivian could always count on Ida to tend to any details. And, although she wanted to be able to take care of herself, the help felt mighty good right now.

  “My carriage is right out front, but first, Auntie Viv, I’d like to introduce you to your niece.” Kat held the baby out to her. “This is Miss Hope Joyce Cutshaw. Hope, this is your Aunt Vivian Dee Sinclair.”

  Vivian stared at the pink knit bundle. “It’s wonderful to meet you, little Miss Hope.”

  Kat raised an eyebrow and lifted baby Hope closer. “Take her.”

  A shiver scampered up Vivian’s spine. “I’ve never held a baby.”

  “Well, you’re not getting any younger.” With far too much ease, Kat placed Hope’s head in the crook of Vivian’s right arm.

  Vivian’s breath caught. Life felt especially fragile wrapped up in this little one, and she felt inadequate to tend it. The infant began to fuss and squirm.

  “Just hold her tight, and she’ll feel safe,” Kat said.


  Her insides quivering, Vivian pressed Hope to her bodice, then sealed the baby’s bootie-clad feet in her left hand. The infant instantly relaxed and began to peep like a baby chick.

  “Isn’t she delectable?” Nell’s blue eyes shone like sapphires as she trailed her fingers across Hope’s rounded cheeks.

  Vivian gazed at her niece. Wide brown eyes like her mama. Dark lashes. Auburn peach fuzz on her soft head. Vivian blinked back tears. “She’s adorable.” It came out a reverent whisper.

  “I cried too when I first held her,” Kat said. “I felt as if I’d just unwrapped a most precious gift.”

  Vivian felt her tears spill over. Tears of wonderment in response to the thrill of being an aunt. But that wasn’t all that caused her heart to cry. Her sisters’ babies were as close as Vivian would ever come to having one of her own to hold. Not so long ago she’d been lovable like this little one, but her imprudence had swept it away forever. And along with it, any hope of experiencing the joy she glimpsed in her sister’s eyes.

  Nell glanced toward the office that contained Deputy Alwyn, then leaned toward Vivian’s ear. “He isn’t married.”

  That was bad news. “Ever the matchmaker, you are. But I’ll have you know that the man is incorrigible.” She turned toward the others before Nell could respond. She’d just gotten into town, and Nell was already at work on her. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  Kat opened the depot door. “Aunt Alma, you get to sit up front with me, and you can hold Hope all the way to the boardinghouse.”

  “Fair enough.” Aunt Alma led the way out the door. “As long as you drive real slow to give me more time with her.”

  In mere minutes, Aunt Alma was seated in the front of a white carriage and reaching for Hope. Vivian breathed in the powdery scent of her niece, then handed her off to Aunt Alma before climbing into the carriage. The train whistle blew, and the locomotive chugged up the hill away from town.

  Vivian planted her feet on the floorboard. Mule-drawn carts, horses carrying a rider or pulling a wagon, and men on foot created a maze outside the depot and up the street lined with brick buildings. Kat sat directly in front of her, guiding a mare full of brio around a corner and up a steep hill. In sharp contrast to Portland’s flat oceanfront property, this place sat nestled amongst hills and mountains of varying size and stature.

  As far as Vivian was concerned, they couldn’t arrive at the boardinghouse soon enough. She’d spent the better part of a week on one clickety-clacking train after another with far too many ups and downs. Aunt Alma’s callow warnings about men. Clumsy train robbers. A deputy as intense as a summer thunderstorm. So far, her introduction to Cripple Creek left much to be desired. She’d best work on lowering her expectations if she didn’t wish to be endlessly disappointed.

  Kat gave the reins a tug, and the mare smoothed out her cadence. Ida leaned forward to catch Vivian’s attention. “We planned a family welcome dinner at the parsonage for tonight, but you and Aunt Alma are probably all in but your shoestrings. If you need to rest this evening, we can have the big supper tomorrow night.”

  They had been delayed, and she did have some unpacking to do, but now that she was here, she was more anxious to catch up with her family. Many of them she hadn’t even met. “Aunt Alma?”

  Her aunt sat beside Kat, chattering to baby Hope. She twisted in the carriage seat. “Visiting with all of you and this precious baby is my idea of restful.” A smile warmed her hazel eyes.

  Vivian nodded. “I agree.”

  “Tonight it is then,” Nell said. “I’m bringing a big bowl of my peanut cabbage salad.”

  Vivian’s mouth watered. “Perhaps we should go straight to supper.”

  “We don’t dare.” Kat wagged a finger. “Your new landlady would chide us all something awful.”

  “The boardinghouse is right up there.” Ida waved toward the top of the hill. “Besides, Hattie loves to bake while she waits and is sure to serve a tasty morsel or two that will tide you over.”

  At the end of the next block, Kat made another turn. “This is Golden Avenue.” Flower beds in full bloom skirted the yards of bright, neat houses. She pulled the carriage up in front of a springtime-yellow house with a crisp white trimming. “Here we are.”

  Ida climbed down first and reached for Hope. “Come on, little one. Let’s go see Nannie Hattie.” She watched Vivian climb down. “Hattie Adams is practically family, you’ll see.”

  “Why, this boardinghouse has become a Sinclair sister tradition. Now we all will have stayed here.” Kat tapped Hope’s dainty nose and reached for her. “Viv, you’re going to love Miss Hattie.”

  Wanting to make a good first impression, Vivian smoothed her sleeves and skirt and took her satchel from Nell. Right now, she loved the idea of having her feet planted on solid ground again. Kat tied the mare to the hitching rail, and the five of them made their way up a brick walkway. Vivian surveyed the lush yard and colorful window boxes. Her eyes and her spirit feasted on the white and lavender flowers. By the time she arrived at the porch, lively music reached her ears, and she slowed her steps toward her new home.

  Nell raised a thin, blond eyebrow, her eyes a slightly darker shade of blue than the late afternoon sky. “We didn’t warn you about that?”

  “Warn me?” In their letters, her sisters had written of the woman’s kindnesses, but she’d not received any warnings. Vivian shook her head.

  “About Miss Hattie’s phonograph. Her music is one of her many endearing qualities.” Ida reached for an electric doorbell. “Just be thankful I bought her new cylinders this last Christmas. Now she has five songs in her repertoire.”

  Kat giggled. “You don’t know how lucky you are, Viv. We only had three songs.”

  When Hope began to fuss, Kat pushed the doorbell again. This time the music shut off.

  “On my way, dears.” The words puffed out just before the door swept open. A wide smile filled the face of a woman of ample portions, top and bottom. Her friendly gaze locked on Vivian. “I’m Hattie, and you must be our Vivian.”

  Before Vivian could answer or even nod, the woman enveloped her in a robust hug. She smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. Welcoming. Comforting. So undeserved.

  Sighing, Miss Hattie stepped back as if she sensed Vivian’s unworthiness, then gripped her shoulders at arm’s length. “You’re a smaller version, for sure. But right adorable. And so fashionable in your travel dress. I love the straighter lines and full-length jacket.”

  Vivian nodded. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.” The woman had an eye for fashion. Vivian already liked her.

  Miss Hattie released Vivian’s shoulders. “The Sinclair sisters are at long last together again.”

  Together, but for how long? They’d only been apart for two years, but it was long enough for her to do something stupid, something that would place an immovable wedge between them. Vivian looked at her sisters. How long they would be together depended upon her ability to keep her sordid history a secret. Her sisters were good girls and now upstanding women, married to pillars in the community, revered by the deputy and her landlady. Why couldn’t she have been more like them?

  Aunt Alma stepped around them. “Miss Hattie, I’m Alma Shindlebower. And I’m most pleased to make—”

  “Aunt Alma!” After embracing their aunt, Miss Hattie waved them all inside. “Land sakes if I haven’t heard a boatload about you.”

  “And I about you. I understand you’ve taken real good care of our girls.”

  “I try.” Miss Hattie’s wink deepened the webbing at the corners of her blue-gray eyes.

  “And a fine job you’ve done. Even found first-rate husbands for them, from what I hear.”

  Vivian could abide hearing the same five songs again and again, but matchmaking was an entirely different matter. A complete waste of the woman’s time.

  “Can’t take much credit,” Miss Hattie said. “They have the good Lord to thank for those matches.”

  Vivian’s stomach clenche
d. She’d frustrated the Lord’s match for her.

  Miss Hattie offered Vivian a warm smile. “I say we rest and visit for a spell in the parlor while we wait for your trunk to arrive.”

  Vivian followed her new landlady into an inviting room with flocked wallpaper and a polished mantel. A hint of lemon oil tickled her nose. The Edison phonograph she’d heard about posed in the corner. A teacart stood at the end of the sofa, complete with a teapot puffing steam and a full platter of cookies. Ida poured tea for each of them while Kat handed everyone a plate.

  Miss Hattie set her teacup and cookies on a side table near the window and settled into the Queen Anne chair beside it. She pulled a footstool in line with her chair and propped up her feet, shoes and all. “Was your train late?”

  Breathing in the scent of peppermint tea, Vivian carried her dishes to the sofa table and joined Nell and Aunt Alma on the sofa. She expected her aunt to respond to the woman’s question, but apparently she was just as weary of the recounting as Vivian was. “I apologize for the delay, ma’am. We were late disembarking due to bandits.”

  “On the train?” Miss Hattie shoved the footstool away and planted her feet on the ground.

  “Yes ma’am.” Vivian reached for her plate. “Two men wearing bandannas.”

  “At Cripple Creek?” Her brow pinched, Miss Hattie glanced from Vivian to Aunt Alma. “And you two are all right?”

  “ ’Twas an ordeal, for sure.” Aunt Alma pressed her collar. “Our Vivian tripped one of the hoodlums.”

  The landlady’s eyes widened. “You don’t say. They were apprehended, then? ”

  “They jumped from the train before the conductor could catch them. They hit him on the head before fleeing to our car.” Vivian bit into a cookie. Perfectly warm. Chewy. Lemony. Her favorite.

  “That long ole ride from the East, and then bandits. Of all the things.” Miss Hattie shook her gray head. “Here I was baking sweets while you were facing down hoodlums.”

  And a snappish deputy.

  Kat held Hope against her shoulder and patted the baby’s back. “To think I considered mine and Nell’s introduction to Cripple Creek dramatic.”