The Confidential Life of Eugenia Cooper (25 page)

“I’ve got you over there,” she said, gesturing to a place barely big enough for a lad in knee britches. “Anna, do help Daniel with his plate.”

Before he could protest, half the winter’s larder sat on the ridiculous china plates Elias had packed. He wedged himself into his assigned seat and stabbed at cold chicken with a gold fork. If he couldn’t manage to enjoy the picnic, at least he could enjoy the food. While he chewed, he watched the ladies pick their portions as if the food was priced by the ounce.

Mrs. Finch gave up on her hat and flipped the feathered creation backward, where it fell onto the grass. Something about the awful thing reminded him of the priceless piece of art the governess required banished.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Anna said. “You appear to be enjoying them.”

Daniel slid his gaze past Anna to rest on Blue Eyes. “I am,” he said.

And he was, preferring to entertain himself in the quiet enjoyment of the food while the ladies chatted.

“You must attend,” he heard Mrs. Finch say to Gennie.

“Perhaps,” was her coy response.

“I’m sure our Mr. Beck will accompany you.”

He popped a slice of apple in his mouth and chewed slowly while the ladies stared at him.

“I’m afraid he’ll be away that evening,” Miss Cooper said after a moment. “Leadville, isn’t it?”

“Leadville?” he managed as he swallowed. Then he realized the governess was saving his hide. “Oh, Leadville. Yes.” He shrugged. “A pity, but I fear she’s correct. Leadville. Yes, that’s where I’ll be.”

And thus Miss Cooper went in one moment from the bane of his existence to the reason he wore a smile. Perhaps he should keep her around, if only to deflect the advances of the Finch women. An entertaining thought.

“Dear,” Mrs. Finch said later as he helped her into the buggy, “your Miss Cooper is a delight.”

He looked past the older woman to where Gennie and Anna stood together. Heads bent toward each other, the pair appeared thick as thieves.

“She is, isn’t she?” he said. “Though I confess she vexes me at times.”

The elder Finch adjusted her feathered hat, then placed her hand atop Daniel’s. “Of course she does, dear. Though I wager she might not cause such turmoil should you elect to stop kissing her on your front lawn.”

“Why, Mrs. Finch,” he said with as wicked a grin as he could manage. “Are you jealous?”

To her credit, Mrs. Finch winked. “Dear, if I weren’t old as the hills and happily married, I just might show you a thing or two about the art of wooing. However, as you’ve missed me by a generation, I’ll leave you with this thought.”

Anna and Gennie broke off their powwow and headed toward the carriage. “Please do.”

She tapped his arm with her fan. “Sometimes what the Lord meant for you is right under your nose, and you’re so close you miss it altogether.”

“Didn’t expect me, did you?” the ruffian asked.

“Actually, I did, Edward,” Mae said as if she’d been planning a party and he’d shown up right on time. “Bad pennies, you know. They always turn up.”

“That’s not funny, Mae.” He cocked the weapon. “Take it back.” She was about to when behind him she spied what might be her solution. Or, as things generally went with the horse named Lucky, her doom.

Charlotte was none too pleased when she returned home to find her governess still on the payroll. Isak broke the news to her on the way home, then had to chase the child half a block before putting her back in the buggy. This Gennie learned from Tova, who seemed to have changed her opinion of Gennie since that morning.

Gennie sat across the table from Charlotte, who glared at her. Elias and Tova observed from the other side of the kitchen. They gave the appearance they were busy, but neither seemed to accomplish anything other than taking turns looking over their shoulders at the silent war going on at the table.

“Aren’t you excited your father is taking you to Leadville tomorrow?” Gennie finally asked.

Charlotte gave Gennie a sullen look. “Not if
you’re
going.”

Gennie decided to ignore the impertinence. “When you’re finished, we’ll go and pack your things.”

The child never looked up as she said, “Tova can do that.”

Looking past Charlotte to Tova, Gennie nodded. “Yes, unless Tova objects, I suppose she could.”

“Of course,” Tova said. “I’ll have the new clothes washed and packed well before you leave.”

“New clothes?” Charlotte jerked her head up. “What new clothes?”

“After your bath, I might be persuaded to show you what you’ll be wearing on the train,” Gennie said. “The rest are still being laundered.”

“But I just took a bath yesterday.”

“And you shall likely have another tomorrow.” Gennie rose. “I’ll prepare your bath. Do come up before the water gets cold.”

The bath went much smoother than the fiasco of the night before, but when Charlotte got a glimpse of the dress she’d be wearing on the train the next morning, she was furious.

“Don’t blame Miss Cooper,” Elias said as he came to stand behind Gennie in the nursery door. “Your papa had a fancy dress shop drop a load of them by this afternoon, then picked through them himself.”

Gennie smiled behind her hand as she recalled poor Mr. Beck summoning her to help him sort through the multiple hampers of clothing delivered to his library.

Charlotte stomped her feet like a child half her age. “Papa did not do any such thing. I’m going to ask him myself, and when he hears you’ve been lying to me to make me wear that awful dress, he’s going to be mighty upset.”

Elias allowed Charlotte a wide berth as she stormed out of the nursery. “Likely she won’t be happy once Daniel gives her what for.”

Gennie looked up, suddenly very tired. “Does he actually do that? Discipline her, I mean.”

“In a fashion, I suppose he does,” Elias said. “Though not nearly enough to my way of thinking.” He paused. “Not that I judge him for
it, mind you. Daniel’s a good man who loves his own to a fault. Sometimes that can make a man a bit shortsighted.”

“If that’s a fault, then we should all be so afflicted.” Gennie stifled a yawn as she closed the lid on the first of two trunks filled with Charlotte’s things. “I wonder if I should wait up.”

“How about I let Daniel know you’re going to make an early night of it? I’m sure he won’t minding putting Charlotte to bed once she’s wound down enough to make the attempt.”

“Yes, please.”

Elias had only been gone a moment when he returned with word she could turn in for the night.

“Thank you,” she told the older man. “I’m not anticipating an easy morning.”

Elias chuckled. “I reckon if she’s tired enough, the morning’ll be fine. It’s when Charlotte’s got her sleep in that she’s in fine form.”

He was right. The next morning, Gennie dressed a nearly sleeping child without much complaint, and her father carried her down to the buggy. They boarded the train in near darkness, making Gennie wish she, like Charlotte, could doze with her head on a broad shoulder.

Their arrival in Leadville came just as Charlotte was rousing. While Daniel and his hired man picked out their luggage and supervised the loading of the wagon, Gennie played the dual roles of governess and tourist.

Charlotte ceased complaining when she noticed a man in buckskins and a tricorn hat leading a baby bear by a rope through the primitive train station. The girl gawked in a most unladylike fashion, but Gennie couldn’t blame her.

While Denver could be almost any city in America, Leadville was unmistakably set in the Wild West. And set high. From her vantage point, Gennie could see the clouds dipping beyond the mountains as if
they’d fallen behind them, and the air felt thinner, clearer. Gennie drew in a deep draft of it and marveled at how far she’d come from the train station in New York City.

“After you, ladies,” Mr. Beck called. “Our hotel awaits.”

The short ride from the station took them past numerous shops and dining establishments. It also brought them nearer to the mines and the various businesses related to the industry.

“What’s that smell?” Charlotte asked. “It stinks here.”

“That’s smelt.”

“Well, that’s the truth,” Charlotte said. “It definitely smells.”

“No,” her father said with a grin. “Smelt. It’s part of the mining process.”

She held her nose until the fellow Mr. Beck called Hiram announced their arrival at the Mountain Palace Hotel. Even then, the girl seemed more interested in complaining about the smell than noticing her surroundings.

Gennie, however, was fascinated with Leadville. From the crude shacks seemingly nailed together from whatever was found nearby, to the relatively modern downtown hotels and shops, Leadville appeared to come straight out of the pages of a dime novel. She expected some Mae Winslow look-alike to round the corner at every turn.

What she saw instead were dozens of women of seemingly high character, and three times that number who looked to be the opposite. It did not escape her attention that both types smiled and waved at the wagon when they rolled past.

Hiram handed the reins over to Daniel and jumped out. “I’ll let them know you’re here, Mr. Beck.” He returned a short while later with news they’d been given the Presidential Suite along with the neighboring Governor’s Suite.

“Wonderful,” Gennie said as Daniel Beck lowered her from the wagon. His hands remained on her waist only a moment, and when he released her, she nearly stumbled.

“Careful.” Hiram caught her hand and eased her onto the sidewalk while Daniel helped his daughter from the wagon. “This way to your rooms,” he said. “I’ll have the luggage brought up once you’ve approved the quarters.” He turned to Gennie. “Mr. Beck usually stays at the Clarendon, but given the protests from the miners awhile back, he thought it better to find a less-traveled—”

“Hiram,” Mr. Beck snapped. “Enough of that.”

“Yes sir.” Hiram moved forward, keys in hand, up two flights of stairs to the end of the third-floor hallway. “Ladies,” he said as he turned the key in the door marked PS and swung it open, “this will be your quarters while in Leadville.”

He moved on to the next door, Mr. Beck at his heels.

“Come on, now, Charlotte,” Gennie said when she noticed the child standing sullenly against the far wall of the corridor.

“I won’t share a room with you.”

“Take your complaints to your father, Charlotte. I’ve no say in the matter.”

Leaving the girl to pout alone, Gennie took three steps into the room and stopped short. If this was the Presidential Suite, then someone needed to call for a reelection.

What the chamber lacked in elegance, it made up for in size. That, unfortunately, was the room’s only positive feature. Two beds of a size befitting two persons each were wedged in either corner of the sparsely furnished chamber, a window of considerable width between them. A table and two chairs were placed near the door, and a decently comfortable parlor set held court in the center of the room.

Curtains in a somber gray strewn with scarlet rosebuds had been left half open to allow the afternoon sun to stream in, while the window beyond remained shut tight. A coating of what appeared to be some sort of dust encrusted the outside of the frame. Mine dust, or some other such thing, Mr. Beck had called it on their drive in. A byproduct of doing business in Leadville, and a hazard of daily life here, he’d explained, yet Gennie had not expected to see the city through a layer of it.

Charlotte paused to toss aside her summer hat before launching herself onto one of the two garishly covered beds.

“Careful,” Gennie cautioned. “There could be any number of vermin there.”

“I’ll have you know we run a clean establishment.”

Gennie turned to see a woman in what appeared to be a maid’s uniform standing in the doorway, her arms loaded with towels and extra pillows. Two narrowed brown eyes peered over the teetering pile.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Gennie said, “but it appears…that is, from the looks of things, I—”

“There’s your trouble.” The maid pressed past and dumped her bundles on the empty bed, then pivoted to stare at Gennie. “You never can tell from the looks of things what’s underneath.” She eyed Gennie as if the comment were about her and not the lumpy mattresses.