Kitabı oku: «Bluebonnet Belle», sayfa 4

It was a crime the way doctors routinely removed healthy ovaries, as they had done to her mother. Far too many women were dying from the process.

Rolling over, April buried her face in the pillow, recalling how her mother had died an untimely, unnecessary death.

Delane Truitt had been in the prime of her life when she was beset by female problems. A heavy menstrual flow put her to bed two out of four weeks a month. She’d gotten to the point where she couldn’t appear in public for fear an “accident” would leave her red-faced with shame. In desperation, she’d finally consented to let the doctor remove her ovaries and uterus. The procedure had taken her life.

April was glad her father had not been around to witness the tragedy. He had died three years before Delane’s death in a train derailment as he was returning from New York. “Dignity doesn’t have anything good enough for my wife and daughter,” he’d say, so off he’d go every December in search of the perfect gifts.

That December, he never came back.

April was obsessed by the thought that Mrs. Pinkham’s compound might, just might, have saved her mother’s life.

That hope was what fired her crusade.

If she could spare one woman her mother’s fate, then her cause was justified, no matter what Grandpa thought.

Lydia Pinkham, far from being the quack Dr. Fuller called her, was truly a pioneer. She hadn’t come by her trade easily. She’d been one of twelve children, her father a cordwainer and farmer. Twice married, he’d been a Quaker, but left the Friends because of a conflict over the slavery issue.

Lydia had graduated from Lynn Academy, then served as secretary of the Freeman’s Institute. She was a schoolteacher when she married Isaac Pinkham, who had a daughter by a previous marriage. Their union produced five more children—Charles, Dan, Will, Aroline, and a baby who died.

Lydia confided that Isaac was a dreamer. Though he’d tried various real estate promotions and other business ventures, nothing had worked out. That’s when the money problems began.

Unable to stand idly by and watch everything they had be taken from them, Lydia had decided to market her elixir. She chose botanical bases for the compound because she had so little faith in orthodox practitioners. She considered their medical treatment to be far too harsh.

And over and over again her skepticism proved to be sound.

Rolling onto her back once more, April stared at the ceiling, blinking back hot tears.

Grandpa had forbidden her to sell the compound. All because of Dr. Fuller.

April beat the sun up the next morning, anxious to tell Beulah about the doctor’s betrayal.

Adjusting her hat as she entered the kitchen, she smiled at Datha, who was turning hotcakes at the stove.

“April girl! What are you doing up so early?”

After helping herself to a piece of sausage, April licked her fingers. “I wanted to get an early start.”

“Well, breakfast is ready.” Datha dished up three steaming hotcakes on a plate. “Sit down. I’ll pour the milk.”

It was just past seven when April left the house. On her way to Ludwig’s Pharmacy she smiled at Fred Loyal, who was busily sweeping the sidewalk in front of his store, and called a greeting to Miss Thompson, the dressmaker and milliner.

Neldene Anderson was just unlocking the schoolhouse as Reverend Brown meandered slowly down the sidewalk, obviously rehearsing his Sunday sermon.

Crossing the street, April spotted Gray Fuller’s office, and started a slow burn.

Dr. Grayson Fuller, General Practitioner, the script on the window read.

It should have read Dr. Busybody.

A pulled shade prevented curious passersby from looking in to see who might be seeking the doctor’s advice.

April hurried past, determined to avoid a confrontation with him. It was early, and chances were he wasn’t up yet.

Righteous indignation caused her cheeks to heat when she thought of what he’d done. The nerve of the man going straight to Grandpa, as if what she did was any of his concern!

Walking faster, she told herself to settle down. If his actions at the women’s meeting were any indication, he’d want her to confront him, so he could tell her how foolish and misguided she was for working with the Pinkhams.

Well, just let him try to tell her anything. She walked faster. She’d give him a well-deserved piece of her mind!

Prompted by a sudden urge to throttle him, she stopped dead in her tracks, whirled around and started back. She could not let him get away with this. Other women might overlook his antagonistic attitude, but not April.

To her surprise, the door of his office opened easily, and she stepped inside.

The interior was freshly painted, but the furnishings were deplorable. A wooden coat rack stood in a corner. Hanging on it was the strangest hat she’d ever seen.

A medicinal scent and some other substance she couldn’t identify were strong in the air.

The door to the examining room was closed, so she sat down on one of the half-dozen straight-back wooden chairs scattered throughout the room.

Tapping her fingers together, she waited.

She wasn’t at all certain what she was going to say to him, but she would give him a piece of her mind. Someone needed to put him in his place, so it might as well be her. If he thought his good looks and arrogant manner could intimidate her, he was wrong.

The moments stretched. There were no sounds coming from behind the closed door.

He’s probably in there asleep, she thought, and considered getting up and shutting the door again, with a loud slam.

Drumming her fingers, she shifted her gaze to the strange-looking hat on the coat rack.

Pfft, she thought. His, no doubt.

She studied the odd hat a moment or two, then curiosity drove her to get up and examine it more closely.

Silliest-looking hat she’d ever seen in her life. No brim. No shape to the crown. Just round and flat. What would possess a man to buy such a frivolous thing? She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. Why, it looked like a navy-blue, oversized pillbox!

Glancing up, she focused on the closed door of the examining room. Maybe it belonged to his patient.

No.

No self-respecting man in Dignity would be caught dead in this, nor anyone from Dallas, for that matter.

On impulse, April stepped in front of the small, gilt-framed mirror on the wall and removed her hat. Perching the foolish-looking thing on her head, she studied her reflection. The hat teetered atop her curls like a loose cap on a medicine bottle.

Utterly ridiculous.

Turning it first one way, then another, she laughed out loud at the picture she presented. Wouldn’t you know that he’d wear something this absurd? Why, if the local men saw him, he’d be run out of town on a rail—

“Can I help you?”

“Oh!” She jumped, sending the ludicrous hat flying.

Dr. Fuller stood in the doorway, staring at her as she scrambled to pick it up off the floor.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

His gaze slowly traveled the length of her sprigged cotton dress. For some insane reason, she was glad she had worn blue this morning. Henry said it was most becoming to her.

“It’s you—the woman who sells Pinkham’s compound?”

“You know very well who I am, Doctor.” How dare he play innocent with her! Did he think he could tell Grandpa about her activities and expect her to roll over and play dead?

His implacable expression showed no indication of betrayal. “Do you want something?”

She did, but his unexpected appearance drove all thoughts from her mind. There he stood, leaning against the door frame as if he’d been there all the while observing her. His jacket was off, his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders in a distracting fashion. His hair was mussed, as if he’d run his fingers through it.

Studying her with heavy-lidded eyes, he waited.

What was it about this man that made rational women lose their minds? It was infuriating, that’s what it was. Simply infuriating.

When she realized he was waiting for her to state her business, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Is this your hat?”

His gaze was unwavering. “Yes.”

A smug smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “I thought so.”

She hung the hat back on the rack, embarrassed that he’d caught her making fun of it. Now what she had to say to him wouldn’t carry the same impact.

“Is there something you wanted?” His eyes refused to leave her, bringing a rush of color to her cheeks. “Other than to make fun of my hat?”

“Actually, I’m here on a personal matter.” She adjusted her dress, repositioned her own hat on her head, then smoothed the sides of her hair, trying to bolster her courage. She hated confrontations, but this man inspired them. She could not, would not, allow him to think he could interfere in her life and get away with it.

Awareness dawned in his eyes, and he straightened. “Oh…I see. Step into the examining room, please.”

She didn’t have all day, and this wasn’t a social visit. She could state what she had come to say out here just as easily. And she was about to do so when he took her by the arm and ushered her into a small room lined with cabinets and reeking of rubbing alcohol.

Wrinkling her nose, April glanced around the place, uneasy with his close proximity. “Aren’t you with another patient?”

“No, just catching up on paperwork. Are you in pain?”

She met his gaze curiously. Do I look like I’m in pain? If I am, mister, you’re the cause of it!

Reaching for a chart, he cleared his throat. “I’ll step out while you disrobe.”

Her gaze darted around the room to see who he was talking to.

They were the only two people in the room.

“Disrobe?”

“Yes. Take off your clothes, cover yourself with that white sheet, and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Her eyes narrowed. Disrobe? Why, the knave!

“You’re not only a blabbermouth, you’re disgusting!”

Already halfway out the door, he stopped and turned. “I beg your pardon, miss?”

“Disrobe?”

Wait until Grandpa heard what his precious Dr. Fuller had just suggested! Why, he would have him thrown out of the community! Dignity didn’t hold with the likes of crude, ungodly men.

“Before I can examine you, you’ll have to take off your clothes.”

She stiffened. “I did not come in here to take off my clothes.”

“If you have a female complaint, I’ll have to—”

“Female complaint?” She stopped. Oh, yes, a female complaint. She couldn’t have a simple ache or pain, no, it had to be a “female complaint.”

“Yes, I do have a complaint and I am female, but the last thing I would do is disrobe for you.”

Calmly closing the door, Gray returned to his desk and sat down. “Let’s start over. Exactly what is your ‘personal’ problem?”

Planting both hands on the edge of his desk, she leaned close, glaring at him as she clearly enunciated each word. “What I do with my life, or what I take up as a profession, is absolutely none of your business!”

Leaning back in his chair to keep space between them, Gray frowned.

“And I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Dr. Fuller.”

It was his turn to look over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t speaking to someone else.

There were still only two of them in the room.

“It’s bad enough,” April continued, “that I have to contend with your archaic views on the female population, but now you’ve really done it.” Her tone dropped menacingly. “You’ve dragged Grandpa into this, and I cannot emphasize strongly enough that it is not your place to be telling Grandpa what I do, just because we do not see eye to eye on certain subjects!”

Pulling herself up to her full height, she felt weak with relief. This hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected.

Readjusting her hat, she expelled a deep breath. “I believe I’ve made myself clear.”

That said, she headed for the door and slammed it soundly behind her.

Gray’s framed medical certificate fell to the floor, the glass shattering.

The doctor stared at the rubble, mystified. Getting slowly to his feet, he walked to the outer office in time to see the hem of her skirt whipping out the front door.

He opened the door and watched her flounce down the sidewalk and enter Ludwig’s Pharmacy, slamming that door, as well.

What was that all about?

Stepping onto the sidewalk Gray peered at the closed door of the pharmacy, muttering under his breath.

More to the point, who was her grandpa?

The woman was an infuriating mystery, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to unravel. She had a temper; the shattered glass of his medical certificate was proof. But she was angry because he’d told her grandpa what she was doing with Lydia. The question puzzled Gray. Who was her grandpa?

He narrowed it down to three possibilities, with Riley Ogden at the top of the list. Could she be the “April” his friend talked about? It was more than possible, since Riley described her as stubborn, but beautiful. And if she was April, Gray couldn’t argue with either description.

“A man, Beulah. That’s what he is! A pigheaded, obstinate man! Doesn’t that say it all?”

April was still fuming over Gray Fuller. The fact that she hadn’t let him get away with it didn’t help. The nerve of that man to expound about “modern medicine” at Lydia’s rallies, when so many doctors still inflicted their obsolete opinions on women! The fact galled her.

“A most good-looking man,” Beulah mused. “But not good enough for you to nearly break the glass out of Papa’s front door.”

“Handsome? I don’t think so.”

“Better have your eyes checked.”

“Not all women are blinded by meaningless appearances,” April reminded her. “There are some of us who judge a man for his character, which, if you recall, Dr. Fuller is sadly lacking.”

“Dr. Fuller really gets under your skin, doesn’t he?” Beulah carefully counted out fifteen pills before taking a knife and scooping them into a bottle. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. From what I can tell, the women in Dignity don’t take every word the doctor says as gospel. They seem open enough for alternative help to their problems. Mrs. Pinkham is garnering her share of their attention when it comes to health issues. Our laudanum sales have dropped off since she started selling her compound.”

“Mrs. Pinkham cares about women,” April said. “That’s why she’s so believable.”

“Believable? Well, I didn’t say that.” Beulah set aside a bottle. “I just hope she knows what she’s doing. I am, after all, taking my life into my own hands for you, you know. If Papa finds out I’m handing out Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound to customers, I’ll be lying in your grandpa’s parlor, surrounded by baskets of stinking gladioli.”

Turning around, April sobered. “How is your father feeling? I haven’t seen him in the pharmacy this week.”

“Papa has a frightful cold, and I made him stay home.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll have Datha bake him one of her chocolate cakes. That should have him feeling better in no time.”

“He’d love that,” Beulah agreed.

April’s eyes lit with interest as she edged closer to the counter. “Has anyone said how the compound is working?”

“I haven’t had any complaints, but the women I’ve handed it to don’t know that’s what they’re taking. They think it’s a tonic. So…” her friend leaned closer “…are you going to stop?”

“Selling the compound?”

“Isn’t that what your grandfather told you to do? Stop working for Mrs. Pinkham immediately?”

April frowned, hating the thought. “Yes…that’s what he said.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“I guess.”

“April,” Beulah said warningly, “are you going to quit selling it or not?”

“Selling it, yes. Helping Mrs. Pinkham, no. I’m going to see if there isn’t something I can do to promote the compound without blatantly going against Grandpa’s wishes.” She couldn’t give up her cause. Grandpa might not believe in the tonic, but she did, and she had to help some way.

“Oh, brother,” Beulah groaned. “Knowing you, this means trouble.”

“I can’t stop helping her now, not when Lydia is on the brink of success. Dan and Henry are at this very moment in Austin, trying to expand the market.”

“When are they coming home?”

“In a couple of days,” April said with a sigh. “I miss him.”

“Dan?”

She swatted her friend playfully. “You have no reverence at all for love.”

“For love I do. It’s infatuation I have no patience for. And I, simple-minded cretin that I am, can clearly see that what you feel for Henry is nothing more than infatuation, pure and simple.”

“No, it isn’t. I care deeply for him. Besides, isn’t it ‘infatuation’ you have for Dr. Fuller?”

Beulah ignored the question. “You’ve clearly lost your mind. You know what kind of man Henry T. Long is? He’ll steal a woman’s heart, then run off like a rabbit. It escapes me why, all of a sudden, you think that you’re in love with him. You’ve known the knave since childhood, and until six months ago hadn’t given him a serious thought. What happened?”

“I’ve recognized how charming, how utterly caring, he really is.”

“He’ll break your heart, then wonder why you’re angry with him.”

“He’s wonderful, and I think he’s on the verge of asking me to marry him.”

“Deliver us all.” Beulah pulled her apron off. “First you were worried about your grandpa finding out about the Pinkham compound. Now he knows, and his heart withstood the shock. But wait until he hears that you’re actually entertaining the idea of marrying Henry Long—not that I think Henry will ever ask you to marry him, mind you. Henry isn’t husband material. Never has been and never will be.”

“Henry respects women,” April said defensively.

“I know Henry likes women. All women, April, my dense but lovable friend. Open your eyes and be healed!”

“Henry enjoys the fairer sex, yes, but I know he’s falling in love with me. Grandpa will just have to adjust to the fact, and he will, once he gets to know Henry, really know him.”

“April Truitt,” Beulah chided as she picked up her dust cloth. “If you believe that, and Lydia’s compound cures insanity, you, dearest, should drink a full bottle of the stuff.”

Chapter Five

The marketplace was bustling with activity this morning. April and Beulah got there early, filling their shopping baskets as they sorted through fruits and vegetables.

“Better take advantage of the eggplant, April and Porky. It’s the last of my garden,” Mr. Portland said, adding several more of the plump vegetables to the display on the wooden tables outside the market.

“What a shame,” April said, choosing one, sniffing, then holding it for her friend to smell. The aroma of warm sunshine and green vines still clung to the shiny purple skin. “I’ll take three, two of the peppers, four tomatoes and—”

The rumble of a heavy wagon interrupted her. Turning to investigate the racket, April saw an ox-drawn wagon lumbering into town. A hired wagon—coming from Houston, no doubt. The weary, dust-covered animals plodded down the street, heads low as they strained to pull the load. Leading the entourage was a shiny black carriage with fringe around the top, drawn by two beautiful black mares high-stepping prettily.

Beulah, holding a large melon in the palm of her right hand, paused to look at the strange cavalcade. “What is that?”

April studied the fashionably attired young woman sitting beside the carriage driver. A middle-aged woman, so completely overshadowed she almost went unnoticed, sat behind them. The first woman, more beautiful than any April had seen in a magazine, smiled and waved at a passerby, while twirling a black satin-and-lace parasol.

“Mercy,” Beulah breathed. “Whoever it is, I hope she doesn’t stay long.”

“Perhaps she’s a street vendor.” April’s gaze traveled the length of the bizarre entourage. “Or a circus performer.” The wagon creaked beneath the heavy cargo.

Squinting, Beulah shaded her eyes against the sun. “She doesn’t look like any merchandiser I’ve ever seen.”

The sound of a door slamming caught their attention. They glanced across the street to see Gray Fuller hurrying down the outside staircase leading from the living quarters above his office.

“Ooh,” Beulah mused. “Must be someone he knows.” The two friends stood elbow to elbow to watch.

The woman spied the doctor and stood up to wave. “Oh, Gray! Yoo-hoo! Gray, darling!”

“Gray,” the girls mouthed to each other as the parade came to a halt in front of the doctor’s office.

Dr. Fuller paused on the bottom step, scrutinizing the wagons. “What is all this?” Stepping off the sidewalk, he approached the buggy.

April watched as the driver assisted the raven-haired beauty down from the carriage. Snapping her parasol closed, the woman rose on tiptoe and kissed Gray flush on the mouth.

April looked at Beulah again, and they both raised their eyebrows.

“Hello, darling.” Francesca brushed Gray’s lips with her fingertip. “Surprised?”

“Very. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Of course you weren’t, darling. It wouldn’t be a surprise otherwise.”

Walking around the overburdened rigs, he frowned. “Francesca—you should have wired. You shouldn’t be here at all…”

“If you insist on living here in this…this town, then I have no choice but to come to you.” She smiled up at him. “Don’t I deserve a more appropriate welcome? I am your fiancée. I am entitled to a kiss—”

“Was,” Gray corrected. “Was my fiancée. The engagement is over. Done. Ended.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be absurd, darling. You can’t break an engagement just like that.”

Gray opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. “I can’t?”

“Of course not,” Francesca said firmly. “It just isn’t done among people like us. Stop this foolishness and act like you’re glad to see me.”

He took her arm and steered her toward the door. “I’d like to speak to you inside.”

She glanced toward the wagon and the waiting men. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

Gray eyed the heavily loaded wagon. “What is all that?”

“My clothing and personal effects. I’ve come to stay for a few days.”

He stared, mesmerized, at the wagon. “Clothes? All those trunks?” He counted eight—enough for an army. A well-dressed army.

Francesca smiled. “But of course. Just because you’re so rural doesn’t mean I have to be.”

Louis must own his own private mint if he could afford to keep his daughter in such style. One thing Gray knew—she was beyond the reach of a country doctor. He’d have trouble paying for the contents of one of those trunks.

Francesca perused the steep outside stairway. She paused. “Do you live up there? I thought you had a house.”

“No, I told you that I live above my office. The living quarters are quite comfortable and convenient.”

“Well…” She waved a lace handkerchief dismissively. “No matter. I’ll return on the Saturday train and order new furnishings. I’ll have your office looking so lovely you’ll think it’s a mansion.”

Gray felt himself losing patience with her, something he did often lately. “I don’t want new furniture,” he said obstinately.

“Of course you do. Don’t be stubborn, darling.” Francesca smiled up at him. “Since when does a man know what will best suit an office? Besides, this will be my gift to you. Call it a wedding present.”

Gray felt walls closing around him. No, make that a chain and collar around his neck. Apparently she hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

She turned and walked toward his office door, and he followed. If she planned to change one thing, he wouldn’t be held accountable for his actions.

April eyed the wagonload of trunks and boxes. “What on earth does she have in there?”

“Clothes, I’d guess,” Beulah said. “She looks like the kind who’d travel with enough garments to outfit a mercantile.”

“If you’re right, she must have a small fortune tied up in them,” April surmised. What a waste, spending money like that on clothing when it could be used for God’s work among the needy.

“What do you think brought her to Dignity?” Beulah asked.

“A train.” April turned away, pretending to examine a pyramid of potatoes. “And I couldn’t care less.”

“Of course you care. We all do, because, unless I miss my guess, she’s after Dr. Gray Fuller, and no woman in this town can compete with her.”

“You don’t know that,” April chided. “Maybe they’re cousins.”

“You don’t kiss a cousin the way she kissed him. Or at least I don’t.” Her friend paused, a reflective look on her face. “But then I don’t have a cousin who looks like Gray Fuller.”

“Have you seen the McIntoshes today?” April asked. “They look wonderful.” The shiny red apples were far more tempting than the silly goings-on with Gray Fuller.

“And did you see that dress? Fifty dollars, if it cost a cent. And that hat.”

“Look at that,” April exclaimed. “String beans so late in the season!”

Beulah absently dropped a couple of apples into her basket. “Did you see the way she took charge of him? Mark my words, she’s set her cap for our good doctor.”

“Our doctor? Really, what difference does it make what the doctor does or with whom?” April stuffed a melon into her receptacle.

But she did happen to glance across the street to where heavy trunks were now lining the sidewalk. A crowd was gathering to watch the activity.

“Do you suppose they’re betrothed?” Beulah mused. “Do you think…”

“It is really none of our concern.”

“You may not be interested,” her chum said, “but I, for one, am curious.”

“You and every other single woman in town,” April said dryly, then smiled as she turned to the waiting clerk. “I’ll take a head of lettuce, also.”

What Dr. Fuller and his fancy friend, who obviously had more money than common sense, did was of no interest to her.

She suddenly frowned.

But if that were true, why did she have a feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach?

Francesca paused in the doorway to his office. Gray stood behind her, turning to glance at the carriage and wagon parked in front of his office. He saw the look Mrs. Perkins gave him; it withered him in his tracks. Her expression plainly said that she didn’t know what was going on, but most God-fearing folks would disapprove.

“Darling, there is no need to discuss it further—”

“Dr. Fuller!” A breathless young boy nearly fell inside the door. “You’ve got to come quick! My Pa, he’s cut his foot real bad!”

Gray grabbed his medical bag and started after the youngster.

“Gray…darling?” Francesca frowned.

“We’ll discuss this later. Right now I have a patient.” He heard her murmur something in French.

When Gray returned from stitching up George Dalton’s foot, which the man had accidentally sliced open while cutting wood, he found the wagon and carriage parked in front of the hotel. He paused in midstep, not all that surprised that Francesca had shown up out of the blue. She hadn’t packed all those trunks on the spur of the moment he realized; this little trip had been in the works longer than overnight. She had understood when he’d told her the engagement was off; she’d just refused to accept it. He wondered how she could survive in Dignity with only one maid to dance attendance, the middle-aged woman she’d brought with her.

He made his way through the tangle of trunks and boxes and into the lobby. Francesca stood in front of the desk, badgering the bald-headed clerk cowering behind it.

“What is this you say? There is no room for my trunks? All my lovely dresses and hats? What do you suggest I do with them?”

The clerk looked as if he had a few suggestions if only he could bring himself to voice them. “Ma’am, I suggested…tried to suggest—”

Gray stepped over a hatbox to interrupt. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Oh, Dr. Fuller,” the man gasped. “This woman, er…this lady—”

“Has way too many trunks to fit in one of your rooms.”

“That’s it.” The man visibly wilted. “I tried to tell her, but…”

“She wouldn’t listen.”

He nodded. Sweat glistened on the shiny dome of his head. “Never heard a word.”

Francesca shot Gray a look from beneath lowered brows. “You’re the one who insisted on living in this horrible place. Now you must decide what to do.”

“Must?” Gray started to rebel, then realized it would do no good. He glowered at her, then turned to Clarence Coghill, the hotel clerk. “Any suggestions?”

Clarence nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing in agitation. “Yes, sir, Doc. There’s an empty room behind the millinery shop. She can store the trunks there.”

“Impossible,” Francesca protested. “I must have my clothes with me.”

“Then I suggest you load them in the wagon and take them back to Dallas,” Gray murmured.

She stiffened visibly. “I will do no such thing. I must have my personal belongings with me.”

“I’m sure Louis would prefer you return.”

Her mood changed in a twinkling, her eyes sparkling with malice. “You’re wrong, darling. My coming here was his idea. After all, he has invested in your career. He sent me to keep an eye on you.”

Gray bit back words of anger. “You’re here to keep an eye on me? Why?”

“To persuade you to give up this quixotic venture. I’ll stay until you accompany me back to Dallas.”

“Then you’re going to be here for a while.” He led the way outside, where the men from the wagon and the carriage driver lounged, oblivious to the stares of passersby. “All right, let’s get these trunks loaded in the wagon.”

“Loaded?” The burly man with the long black beard glared up at him. “We just got them unloaded.”

“They have to be moved.” Gray watched as a tall, amply built elderly woman threaded her way through the stacked trunks and boxes.

“Inconsiderate,” he heard her mutter as she passed. “Vanity of vanities.”