Indigo Sky (5 page)

“Of course. What route are you taking? And who, exactly, are you traveling with?”

“St. Louis by train, stops to pick up supplies and the train to St. Joseph. There we’re taking a ferry to Atchison to catch the Overland Mail Coach to San Francisco. Satisfied?” He turned down the bedcovers and blew out a heavy breath. “We’ll discuss the specifics later. I’m going to sleep.”

Leila straightened her back and swallowed hard. “What if I told you not to go?” She stared at him.

He lifted the covers, one knee on the bed. He stopped and turned slowly to face her. Light reflected in his eyes, giving them a fiendish aspect.

Leila focused on each breath she drew, her fingers clenching and unclenching.
I can’t force his fidelity, but I can make it difficult for him
.

“I am sorry, Leila, did you just say I couldn’t go?”

Her stomach churned, and her words leaked out in a squeak. “No, I asked what you would do if I said don’t go?”

“What you did do is fan my temper. And, as you well know, my temper is short. Cut the damn inquisition. I am going to sleep.”

Leila stared at her husband. He settled among plush pillows and pulled a duvet over himself. She knew better than to push him, especially after a night of carousing. But she couldn’t shake the ominous stab in her gut. If he were set on going, she would accompany him. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Wrestling with her conflicted emotions, she sat beside him on the bed and held his angry gaze, hoping his heart would soften. She ran her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I forgive you this time.” He pulled the top of her gown off her shoulders and gave her his hungry look.

She shuddered, and he let her go.

“Now, let me get some shuteye.”

“Perhaps I could assist with your writing.”

He yawned and turned his back to her. “Tomorrow, darlin.’”

Pricilla Ashburn paced the floor, ranting. She looked ominous. Leila felt an automatic tightening in her stomach. “Is something wrong, Mother?”

“Have you taken complete leave of your senses, Leila?” She spun, glaring at her daughter. “How can you demand to go on this bachelor trip with your husband? For heaven’s sake, what do you think people will say? The railway doesn’t even run to California. You’ll have to travel the vast distance by wagon, hardly suitable transport for a lady. Not to mention the threat of Indian attacks and robbers.”

“Why should I tolerate my husband taking Sissy Lanweihr with him?”

Pricilla waved her hand. “That is what men do. Our job is to maintain the moral high ground. Ignore the woman. Acting like this is undignified.”

Leila almost choked. “
I
am undignified?”

She backed away and held up her hand to stop her mother’s protest. “What do you mean, Mother? I am undignified? That’s degrading, why . . . why am I undignified?”

“Yes, my dear,” she said, sounding somewhat dictatorially. “You must rise above the situation and keep your poise.” She straightened her already ramrod back and pinned Leila down with her look of reprimand. “At least his mistress saves you the onerous duty of, ah, submitting to your husband’s baser demands.”

Leila almost laughed.
If Mother only knew Hank couldn’t carry out his “base demands
.” She rose from the bed and rang for Biddy. “Well, like it or not, I am going.”

“I despair of trying to save your reputation. I shan’t be able to hold up my head in society again.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage, Mother.” She expelled a sharp breath as her mother stormed from the bedchamber.

Biddy walked in to Leila’s bedchamber. “So, yer goin’ to chase after yer husband?”

“Hardly chasing.”

“I need to tell ya something, child.”

Leila cast her eyes down and rearranged her jewelry in a velvet box. “It sounds serious.”

“I want to go back to Ireland for a bit. My youngest daughter is havin’ her first babe.”

Leila dropped a pearl necklace and hugged her. “Of course you must go. I’ll miss you, though.”

“Aye, I’ll miss ya, too, colleen. But I’ll return one day.”

Leila held her at arm’s length. “Retire, my dearest, and enjoy your life.”

Biddy blinked as tears welled. “Ya mean that?”

Tears slid down Leila’s cheeks. “I do. I’d hoped you’d be nursemaid to my babies one day, but I’ll probably never know the joy of holding a baby of my own.”

“Ya will, colleen. Ya will.”

Chapter 6

Thick smoke billowed from the steam engine. Rork’s lungs filled with the soot-laden smog.

People milled about on the platform, sidestepping porters stowing luggage.

Jostled by the chaos, Rork pulled out his pocket watch and checked it for the tenth time. He searched the crowd for Hank. There was still ample time before having to board the train. They’d agreed to meet at noon, but Rork was early. The clatter of footsteps on the wooden platform beat out a hypnotic rhythm. He looked over the heads of the swarming crowd.

After his first journey west four years ago, he’d yearned to return. The plains of this new land were rare portrayals. A smile tugged at his lips. This was a superb opportunity to further his artistic reputation, but he wasn’t sure if he could ever overcome the failure his teachers predicted. “Boy, you aren’t good enough, you’ll never be a painter.”

A beauty wearing vibrant yellow crossed the platform. Leila Dempsey.
Damn. Now there is no hope for peace of mind.

Servants trailed several paces behind, laden with her luggage. Leila’s eyes met Rork’s then flickered away.

She stopped in front of him and nodded, her eyes lowered. “Good day, Mr. Millburn.” Her voice held as much warmth as an icy mountain brook.

“Mrs. Dempsey, what a pleasant surprise.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips for a moment too long.

Her face reddened, and she yanked her hand away. The toe of one boot beat a tattoo on the wooden planks, drowning in the sounds of the crowd weaving around them.

Hank emerged from a nearby bar and walked to them, pinching his nose. “Why do women douse themselves with that smelly French stuff? Damn expensive too.”

Rork raised one eyebrow. Leila’s perfume invoked a longing in him. “You never mentioned your wife coming. What a wonderful surprise.”

Hank glared at Leila. “It sure as hell isn’t
wonderful
, and I wasn’t aware either—until now.”

Leila’s mouth tightened. “I told you I intended to come.” She stalked off, her back stiff.

“Must have slipped my mind, darlin’,” Hank called after her. “That damn woman can be irritatingly willful.”

Rork followed her retreat.
Lord, if she were mine I wouldn’t let her out of my sight
. He glanced at Hank. “Correct me if I am wrong, but I thought Miss Lanweihr was supposed to join us in Philadelphia.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Could make things a little awkward.”

“Damn awkward.” Hank’s mouth pulled down. “I’ve gotten myself into a hellish predicament. Thought I had the situation under control, but unfortunately, Leila got wind of our trip. You’re damn lucky you aren’t married.” He blew out his cheeks and released a long breath.

“Women can be a bloody curse. Leila thinks Sissy is tedious and flighty—pure jealousy.” He chortled. “And Sissy thinks Leila joyless and prissy.” Hank smothered a laugh. “Think I’m inclined to agree with Sissy.” He pulled a hipflask from his pocket.

“Now that Leila has taken it into her head to join me, my hopes of having a good time with Sissy are hampered. Trick will be keeping them away from each other.” He took a swig of whiskey from the flask. “I don’t suppose you’d consider keeping my wife entertained?”

Rork slid a glance at Leila mounting the step into a railway carriage. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises. Your wife doesn’t seem particularly partial to me. And don’t ask me to keep Sissy occupied.”

“Well, that would be counterproductive. Sissy is the one I want to roll.”

“That woman grates on my nerves. Don’t know what the hell you see in her. She seems useless.”

Hank chortled. He rocked forward on his toes slightly and raised the volume of his voice as though he wanted to drown out the noise of the rail station. “Useless, I wouldn’t say she is useless, rather quite the opposite.”

Rork hid his distaste. “If your wife is so unappealing, why stay married?”

“Told you, her money, dear boy. Her damn father holds the purse strings and doles out a certain sum every year—wish the old skinflint was dead.” Hank bent to pick up his valise. “Women, the scourge of my life. I expect this will be a long, taxing journey.”

“How did you get yourself into this dilemma?” Rork couldn’t help being amused by Hank’s woes.

“Sissy accepted my invitation to meet me later, but when she heard I was taking the train to St. Louis, the chit harped on about joining me at the start. I refused to accommodate her, but damned if she didn’t just turn up, luggage and all.” He rubbed his cheek. “Thank God, before Leila showed.”

Rork hoisted his valise. “I keep my life free of romantic entanglements to avoid complications. I’m sure one woman is enough to manage in the confines of a train, but two?”

“You’re a wise man. I married well. I don’t need the money, but my father-in-law provides my wife with an income that I am expected to manage.”

“I’m impressed.” Rork walked to the passenger coaches.

“Not a word about this foul-up. The consequences would be dire.” Hank held up his hand, mimicking a pistol to his head.

Rork chuckled. “You’re a rogue, but I won’t say a word.” He sighed.
So much for a bachelor trip
.

Hank grinned. “We could make it entertaining. You occupy my wife while I dally with Sissy.”

Rork’s belly lurched.
God, the man is serious
.

Chapter 7

A swirl of voices echoed in the dining car. Gaslights cast a sickly yellow glow on the passengers as if they had no life in them. Somewhere a child cried, followed by a sharp reprimand.

Leila sat alone on a plush red velvet bench and sipped some of her tea, grimacing as the brew scalded her mouth. She stared at the landscape draped in a warm afternoon sun. Muted conversations coiled around her as she nursed a bruised ego and tried to quell her unease. Hank had accepted the invitation to join her for tea, but she wondered if he would come.

“Hello, darlin.’”

She released a breath and wrinkled her nose as he bent and pecked her cheek. He reeked of whiskey.

“Must go. I’ll return shortly—need to attend to business.” He slipped into the adjacent bar.

She craned her neck to see him. Butterflies beset her belly. Hank sat on a stool next to Rork Millburn. He had a drink in hand and a cigar in his mouth. She couldn’t join them. And even if it were allowed, it wouldn’t do to incur Hank’s wrath further.

Leila leaned back and saw Sissy, smiling vacantly at Hank’s back as he conversed intently with Millburn. It was obvious neither man wanted to spend time with the woman. Leila kept a careful distance from Sissy, who was all but ignored.

Hank turned and smiled at her, and Millburn laughed at something Sissy said.

Leila chewed her lip. Clearly, Sissy was not ignored. A sudden explosion of anger erupted behind Leila’s eyes. It was absurd that she had to chase her husband across the continent to ensure his fidelity.

Certainly her mother had made it clear that Leila committed a serious breach of etiquette by joining her husband on a bachelor spree, and people would talk about her unladylike conduct.

I don’t care what my mother or anybody else says
. Leila pouted.
Anyway, what’s one more scandal?
Rumors surrounding Hank’s excesses and philandering had plagued her marriage from the outset.

She poured more tea and took a sip of the hot brew, casting a glance at Hank. Millburn’s shoulders were twice the width of her husband’s, and he was a head taller than Hank. They seemed well ensconced at the bar. She sighed and contemplated returning to her compartment.

“Leila?”

She looked up. A tall woman with blond curls pinned high on her head stood beside the booth. A smile touched the woman’s alabaster face. “Leila Dempsey? Is that really you?”

“Cornelia?” Leila gaped at her friend. She and Cornelia Hancock had attended boarding school together for eight years.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” she bubbled, taking Leila’s arm. “Oh, do give me a hug.”

Leila rose and was enveloped in perfumed arms. “How wonderful to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too, my friend.” Cornelia dropped into the opposite seat, smiling broadly. “Where are you going? What are you doing in Albany? Last I heard you were in Florida.”

“Yes, well, we’re back in New York, and now we’re on our way west for business with my husband and his partner,” Leila said, eyeing her warily. Cornelia was part of the social circle and would have heard the latest news. Leila suspected she still corresponded with everyone from their class.

“I’m stopping in New York City to meet a Doctor Brown, who works with orphans, then I’m going on to St. Louis to pursue a nursing career.”

“Cornelia, how wonderful!” Leila was happy to have companionship, and her melancholy dissipated with the news from her friend.

Rork left Hank pawing Sissy and stepped into the crowded dining car. His eyes sought Leila. Her laughter curled around his heart, and her smile enslaved him.
Lord, this is the first time I’ve seen her so radiant—and that yellow dress fits her to perfection
. Her being married nagged at him in the deepest recess of his mind. It was the sense of not having what he thought he wanted, but couldn’t because she belonged to another. Leila’s smile lit her face while she chatted.

She looked up, and their eyes met. Her smile faded.

“Is everyone ready for dinner?” He hoped no one noticed the slur that slid off his thick tongue.

Hank entered the dining car, clearly inebriated, and plopped down next to Cornelia. “Why, hello, darlin’. Didn’t realize you were on the train. What a delightful surprise.” He took her hand and kissed it, his eyes flirting with her. “Haven’t seen you since our wedding. You’re gorgeous.”

A flush crept into Cornelia’s cheeks. She glanced apologetically at Leila.

Rork hesitated. He had no choice but to sit with Leila.
Hank did say to entertain her
.

Hank raised his chin and lifted his open hand toward Rork. “Cornelia, this is my traveling friend, Rork Millburn. Rork, this lovely lady is my wife’s friend, Miss Hancock. Watch out for him, darlin.’” Hank winked. “He’s an artist, and you know what they say about artists.”

Cornelia held out her hand. “Pleased, Mr. Millburn.”

Rork nodded and raised her hand to his lips. “Charmed, Miss Hancock.”

“Cornelia is headed for St. Louis to pursue a nursing career,” Leila said, her eyes alight with admiration.

Hank took a swig from his hip flask. “Seems a waste of a lovely woman.”

Rork’s eyebrows rose. “I admire your courage, Miss Hancock.”

“Thank you, Mr. Millburn.”

“St. Louis is a dangerous and divided city. I’m sure there will be scores of nursing opportunities. I hear casualties are increasing.”

Cornelia canted her head. “I take it you don’t feel inclined to join our brave soldiers in the fight.”

He shrugged. “I expect to portray the war on canvas. In a way, I will be in the heat of battle.” His eyes shifted to Leila. “I’m sure Mrs. Dempsey will enjoy having a friend on the trip.”

A flush worked its way up her cheeks. “Yes, I will.”

Hank waved his hand. “Sit, Rork. My wife won’t bite.”

Rork met Leila’s eyes. He found her reaction endearing. It was a wonder seeing her blush with just a look. He slid onto the narrow bench. He only had to shift his knee a fraction and they would touch. Shaking licentious thoughts from his head, Rork reminded himself she was married.
What kind of man fantasizes about his friend’s wife?
He cleared his throat. “I gather you and Miss Hancock are close friends?”

Leila nodded and took Cornelia’s hand. “Yes, we were school mates.”

“Ah, so before you met Hank. How
did
you and Hank meet?” Rork wasn’t sure he wanted to know the details of how Leila met her husband.

“Hank and I met in the mountains while on holiday. I’d seen him at social functions, but we weren’t introduced. The summer before I turned eighteen, my family went to the Catskills to take the waters. Hank was there.”

Rork studied her intently. Sadness washed over her lovely face, and his heart went out to her.

Leila plucked at her reticule. “They had these wonderful baths for anything that ailed you. Anyway, on a walk in the woods, I passed Hank while he was surrounded by children, telling them stories. I wanted to listen, but he said no grown-ups.” A smile crept across her face as she told the story of their meeting.

“Darlin’, Rork doesn’t want to hear that tired old tale.” Hank turned his attention back to Cornelia. “What have you been up to?”

Cornelia glanced at Leila. “Oh, not a great deal.”

“Actually, Hank, I’d like to hear your wife’s story.”

Leila blushed. “Well, the children hollered at him, so he relented and allowed me into his story group.”

Cornelia reached across the table and took Leila’s hand. “She returned to Philadelphia after that summer completely smitten. Within months she was married.”

Hank yawned. “Yes, we had a rather peculiar courtship. Her fastidious father procrastinated and withheld permission for weeks. The reason evades me still. I didn’t press him, but directly after he agreed to the betrothal, we were wed.” Hank brushed a speck of dust off his lapel. “Her father and I don’t really hide our dislike of each other.”

Leila’s mouth drew into a tight line. “Father can be a little mistrustful.” She looked at her husband. “Hank’s book,
The Hasheesh Ride
, was published three years before we married. I never read the book, but I did read the reviews. It got glowing reports in
Graham’s.
They said the descriptions sounded frightening. I have no doubt that gave my father cause for concern.”

Cornelia nodded and looked at Hank. “Yes, Leila did mention it to me. The book is about your experiences with hasheesh, a new type of substance at the time, is it not?”

Hank scowled. “It was simply about my experiments with the substance and the strange journeys I experienced from the effects.” Hank downed his whiskey. “Frankly, I was astonished that her father disapproved of me. I had numerous followers. My writing became syndicated, and I did rather well financially at the time. Isn’t that what every father wants for his daughter?” He flicked one hand. “Enough of that. I want to hear what Cornelia has been doing.”

A faint smile graced Cornelia’s lips. “Where can I buy your book? What was the name again?” She glanced at Leila. “I know you mentioned it, but I don’t recall what you said.”

Hank always enjoyed being the center of attention. “
The Hasheesh Ride
. I’m sure it’s in the bookstores.”

“Does it still sell well?”

“Absolutely. Sales are brisk. It’s made it through to a fourth edition.” Hank sat back as a waiter set a plate of hors d’oeuvres on the table.

Cornelia helped herself to oysters. “I would love to hear about your experiences with this substance. What is it made from, and how did you find it?” She popped an oyster into her mouth. “What possessed you to ingest it?”

“It’s a long story.”

Cornelia dabbed her lips with a table napkin. “We have time, please.”

“If you insist.” Hank stretched his arm along the back of the chair. “I was a young man with the natural curiosity of most men my age. I worked at the shop and had opportunities to peruse the shelves. The druggist asked if I’d heard of a new remedy that recently arrived. He showed me this substance that was supposedly medicinal.”

As Rork piled caviar onto a slice of toast, he stopped and stared at him. “Don’t tell me you played the fool and tasted it?”

“I almost tried, but the druggist stopped me. He said it was dangerous and had to be carefully proportioned or it could kill me.”

Cornelia raised her eyebrows. “Obviously, you found a way to satisfy your curiosity.”

“It intrigued me, so I began to read about it and found that it helped a variety of ailments. It was actually quite in vogue.” Hank summoned the waiter and ordered whiskey. “I decided to give it a try and proceeded to sneak ten grains. Nothing happened. Cautiously, I waited several days more. This time I took fifteen grains. Still nothing. It seemed ineffective. I thought I would give it one more try and snitched thirty grains. I went to visit a friend, and after several hours of conversation and music, I was prepared to desert the experiment, when at last . . . pow!”

Cornelia gaped at him wide-eyed. “But here you are to tell all. Did it hurt your stomach?”

“Hurt my stomach? Hardly. Although it would have been wiser if I’d never swallowed the damn things. That did not stop me, though. I continued to enjoy my mind-altering rides that are in my book.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard this story. No wonder my father had reservations. He refused to let me read your book. I think I should read it.”

Hank’s eyes flickered. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t need the book. You have me to tell you everything you want to know.” He returned his attention to Cornelia. “I’ll see what I can do to get you a book when we return to New York.”

Cornelia cast a sympathetic look at her friend and glanced at Hank. “I look forward to reading about your experiences.”

Hank touched Cornelia’s golden curls. “Enough of my damn book. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell about my life. After school, I stayed with my family in Buffalo. My brother was passionate about fighting for the North, so he joined the war.” She pushed an empty oyster shell with her fork. “He was critically wounded not long after.” She took a breathy sigh. “After that, I decided to do my duty for the war effort and volunteered to nurse. It will be a challenge certainly worth working for. Florence Nightingale, the British woman who became a nurse, is my inspiration.”

Leila touched her friend’s hand gently. “You’re remarkable, my sweet friend. You are so accomplished. You are devoted. I know you’ll succeed. If I weren’t married, I’d join you. In fact—”

“You never married, Cornelia?” Hank ran a finger down her arm.

Leila took Cornelia’s hand. “I heard that you were betrothed.”

“I was.” The light in Cornelia’s eyes dimmed, and her voice dropped. “He-he died at Bull Run.”

Leila gasped, and tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, my dear, I’m sorry.”

“Did he die early in the battle?” Hank slurred. “I think it was after Bull Run they realized the war wouldn’t end in a hurry.”

Leila stared at her husband and compressed her lips.

Rork glowered, aghast at Hank’s lack of sensitivity. He had a strong urge to kick him under the table. The awkward silence was broken as a waiter stopped at their booth with a tray of food.

“Ah, food,” Hank drawled.

Rork’s eyes widened as Hank’s hand disappeared under the table. Cornelia scowled and shifted away from him. Hank’s hand reappeared, but Rork didn’t miss the gleam of challenge in his eyes. Again his hand disappeared as he made another attempt to grope Cornelia. Rork glanced at Leila. She stared at the table, her face crimson.