His chest lifted on a deep breath and slowly went down. “I know you will,” was all he said.
It was a small step—a beginning.
14
Dodge City bustled with activity. The hooting whistles of trains clanking over iron rails wavered through the stockyards with its pens of cattle. Cowpunchers prodded cattle up wooden chutes to load them into railroad cars bound for the Eastern marketplaces.
The unpaved streets in the main section of town were churned by horses’ hooves, raising clouds of dust to spread over everything. There was the constant sound of footsteps on the wooden sidewalks as cowboys swaggered from saloon house to gambling hall. Sometimes they gathered in boisterous knots on street corners and shouted obscene greetings to acquaintances riding past.
It was into this babble of confusion that Lorna rode, perched on the wagon seat while Benteen drove the team. A pair of barking dogs charged the horses, nipping at their heels and darting out of reach of a kicking hoof. The loudness of it all was vaguely alarming after weeks of the prairie’s relative quiet.
“It’s so noisy.” She glanced at Benteen as two riders dashed past their wagon in an impromptu horse race. Last night had eased the tension between them, although nothing was back to normal. They were both treading warily.
“It’s rowdy,” Benteen agreed with a half-glance at her. “We’ll stop at the Dodge House. I thought you might welcome a real bath and a couple of nights spent in a regular bed.”
“It would be nice, yes.” Lorna knew it was an attempt to make up for the creature comforts she’d been missing.
The lobby was crowded with elegantly dressed meat packers from the North, feeders, and an assortment of cattle buyers. They rubbed elbows with dusty, dirty cowboys fresh off the trail. The presence of a female in their midst was quickly noted, making Lorna selfconscious about her appearance. She kept her head lowered so they wouldn’t see how her once flawless complexion had been weathered by the elements, and her rough hands were carefully hidden from view as well.
She stayed close to Benteen while he signed the register, and tried to be inconspicuous. “We are pleased to have you back with us, Mr. Calder,” the desk clerk welcomed him without glancing at the register. “I believe we have your usual room available—”
“I’d like something bigger this time,” Benteen interrupted. “Something with a dressing room for my wife.”
The clerk glanced at Lorna, then at the register. “Very good, sir. We have just the room.” He handed the key to the porter with a murmur of instructions. “I’m sure it will be satisfactory.”
“Also arrange to have some water sent up for a bath,” Benteen requested, and handed the valise containing Lorna’s personal articles from the wagon to the porter. “Will you show my wife to the room?”
“Aren’t you coming?” Lorna glanced at him in vague confusion, hesitant whether she should ask why he wasn’t.
“No. I’m going to take the wagon to the livery and see to the team.” He was reserved in his explanation. “I’ll be back in a while.”
“If you’d come this way, ma’am?” The porter prompted her to follow him.
Lorna didn’t want to ask Benteen to accompany her to the room, although she would have liked the protection of his company when she crossed the lobby full of men. It didn’t matter that the cowboys on the trail had seen her looking worse. These were gentlemen, and she didn’t want them wondering about an unescorted lady in their midst.
She kept her gaze modestly lowered as she followed the porter, conscious that Benteen’s gaze traveled after her. As Lorna climbed the stairs, she heard the rustle of silk. She looked up, half-expecting to see a “lady of the evening,” since the trail town would obviously abound in them.
By no stretch of the imagination was the woman at the top of the stairs a member of that old profession. Her long dress of blue silk had a low neck and short sleeves, styled in the latest fashion. Her pale blond hair was swept atop her head in an elegant style, not a lock out of place. The fine jewelry and the regal carriage of her slim form in
formed Lorna that this was a real lady.
As Lorna approached the woman standing near the top of the stairs talking to some equally well-dressed man, she noticed the woman wasn’t as young as she had first appeared. Her skin was so smooth and her beauty so flawless that it was difficult to judge her true age. If it wasn’t for the faint lines showing on her powdered neck, Lorna would have thought the woman was in her twenties.
It was rude to stare, and she tried very hard not to as she followed the porter past them. Her curiosity got the better of her when she heard the woman’s voice. It had a foreign accent that quite intrigued Lorna. She slowed her steps to listen, not paying attention to the porter striding ahead of her.
“Your invitation is most gracious, sir, but I was given to understand by the earl that he has accepted the mayor’s offer to sit in his private box,” the woman was saying.
Earl. The mayor. A private box. The lady was obviously someone very important as well as wealthy. Lorna cast a backward glance for another look at the elegant woman. There was something oddly familiar about her.
“Mrs. Calder?” the porter called to her.
When the woman glanced sharply down the hallway, Lorna quickly averted her head. She didn’t want to disgrace herself by being caught rudely staring. She hurried to the door where the porter was waiting.
“Is something wrong, ma’am?” he inquired politely.
“No.” She thought about asking him who the lady was, but that would be too forward.
After setting her valise inside the room, he handed her the key. Reluctantly she took it, hoping the porter didn’t notice the roughness of her hands. Before she entered the room, she darted another glance at the stairs. The well-dressed man was bowing over the woman’s hand, taking his leave of her.