Cimarron Rose. Nicole Foster
the woman here at once,” he answered, his tone an abrupt contrast to his words. “Becky, I’ll have Sally see to the laundry for a time so you’ll be free to help Miss McLain and her companion.”
Becky practically burst with joy. “Yes, Mr. Durham!” The girl leaned close to Katlyn and said, “I’d be right proud to help you and your friend, ma’am.”
Smiling back at Becky in thanks, Katlyn breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She could watch over her mother day and night now. Having Penelope close would make the whole ruse livable.
The doctor would be discreet, she thought. He called her mother Mrs. McLain and neither Katlyn nor Penelope had corrected him. But Penelope had insisted no one else learn of her and Katlyn’s relationship. Lending Katlyn her title was one thing, playing the role of the St. Louis Songbird’s ailing mother was quite another. Katlyn was certain, once the doctor understood her mother’s delicate and volatile temperament, he would agree it was in Penelope’s best interest to keep their secret.
“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Durham,” she told Case. “I’ll see to having her moved here this evening.”
“I’ll send Bucky along to help.”
“Thank you,” Katlyn nodded, then turned back to climb the stairs to the landing.
“Miss McLain—”
Case didn’t know what impulse prompted him to call her back. Maybe it was the way she kept surprising him. He didn’t like surprises. Or mysteries. And Penelope Rose, Katlyn McLain, or whatever she chose to call herself, was both.
She looked back at him, clearly startled.
“If you’re not too tired, perhaps you’ll join me this evening in the saloon for a brandy,” Case said. “I’m sure you’d like to see the stage.”
Choking back the lump that rose in her throat at the mention of the word stage, Katlyn nodded down to him and hurried after Becky.
They turned the corner out of Case’s view at the top of the stairs and, away from his disturbing scrutiny, Katlyn’s tension ebbed a little.
A dimly lit landing separated one door from the rest of the rooms that lined the other hallway. As Becky motioned her to the landing, Katlyn caught sight of a little flash of white moving behind the railing.
She squinted and looked harder, making out the image of a child’s face pressed through the spindles of railing. The apparition looked like a little dark-haired girl, crouching down, who appeared for an instant then vanished behind a velvet curtain.
“Hello?” Katlyn ventured. When no one answered, she turned to Becky. “Who was that?”
“Oh, just Mr. Durham’s little girl.”
So he was married. Her mother hadn’t told her that. In a way, it was a relief to know he had a wife and child. There must be some trace of warmth in him after all.
“Could you ask her to come out so I can meet her?”
“I can try. But she don’t like strangers. She’s real shy. Don’t say much to no one.” Becky turned toward the curtain. “Emily, this pretty lady wants to meet you. She’s the new singer your daddy told you about.”
After several minutes of coaxing from Becky, at last the heavy drapes swayed and a pair of beautiful, wide-set eyes and pink cheeks peeked out from between the crimson folds.
In that quick glimpse, Katlyn saw the biggest evergreen eyes and the sweetest little peaches and cream face she had ever laid eyes on. She was struck at once by the child’s remarkable beauty—and by the joyless expression that marred it.
“Hello, Emily,” she said, speaking softly and bending to eye level with the little girl.
But in the next instant, the precious face vanished once more behind the curtain.
Bewildered, Katlyn looked to Becky. “Where did she go?”
“She ain’t supposed to talk to guests. Mr. Durham has a playroom fixed up for her in that nook behind the curtain. Only the real fancy guests stay in the suite here. Her room is away from the others, so it’s safer over here for Emily when her daddy’s busy.
“Doesn’t his wife watch over her?”
“Wife?” Becky shook her head. “Mr. Durham ain’t got a wife. Don’t know if he ever did. Never said a word about her if he did and I ain’t gonna be the one to ask. He don’t cotton to no questions about himself or his little girl. Guards her like gold. No one dares so much as talks to her without his sayin’ so. ’Cept me and Bucky, that is. We’re twins,” she added proudly. “Did you know that?”
“Why no, you with your blond curls and he with that brownish mop of hair, you two don’t look much alike. But—” Katlyn appraised Becky more closely “—there is something in your mouth that is similar to his.”
Becky nodded and smiled. “Mr. Durham hired us right away after our ma died and our pa sent us out to find work.”
Judging the girl to be only about thirteen, Katlyn frowned. “You seem a little young to be working in a hotel.”
Becky shrugged. “I’ll be fifteen next spring. And Pa needs the money fer his whiskey. Besides, me and Bucky, we’d sure rather be here with Mr. Durham than at home with Pa when he’s had a bottle or two. Mr. Durham might not be real friendly sometimes, but he’d never lay a hand to us. He treats us mighty fine.”
Katlyn thought of herself at fourteen. Although Penelope had hardly been an attentive mother, Katlyn never feared a beating or wanted for anything. Her image of Case Durham shifted slightly as she considered his willingness to take on Becky and her brother.
“So, Mr. Durham only lets you two talk to his daughter?”
“Mostly. ’Cause we’re like kids, too, I guess. He knows us real good. Knows we’d never lie to him or cheat him or hurt Emily.”
“I’m sure he can count on you both.” Katlyn looked away from Becky, her heart suddenly racing with guilt she feared would show in her eyes.
“Mr. Durham’s a real fine man. But he don’t abide no liars or cheats. And Lord help anyone who gets too close to his little girl! He loves Emily more than anythin’. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
Imagining the child’s angelic face behind the curtain, Katlyn’s eyes turned there, wondering if Emily were listening. Betting she was, she said clearly and with surety, “Well, I think Emily and I might become better acquainted.”
Katlyn anticipated Becky’s protest and waved it aside. “Don’t worry. I just think maybe Emily could use another friend.
“And I know what it is to be lonely,” she added softly, thinking of Emily’s sad eyes and another little girl who’d also grown up in hotels and on riverboats, a lonely little girl who’d also hidden in the shadows, waiting and listening, hoping for a place to belong.
“I won’t discuss it any further.” Penelope clenched her thin fingers together atop the quilt. “My mind is made up.”
“But, Mama, the suite is beautiful, wait until you see it! Much of the hotel still needs work, but Mr. Durham had the suite redone completely for you, and it’s lovely. I don’t know how he knew, but it’s all in pinks and greens. And roses. The colors and the flowers you love most. Bucky is waiting outside with the buggy to help move you there.”
“It sounds perfect,” Penelope said, a trace of regret in her voice. “Perfect for you.”
Sick or not, Katlyn decided it was time to be firm with her mother. “Mama, I will not live there without you.”
Penelope straightened in her bed. “Oh, yes, you will.”
Exasperated, Katlyn started to insist when a light tap sounded at the door and Mrs. Donaldson pushed into the room, her thin arms laden with a tray. “I was