The Confidential Life of Eugenia Cooper Part 19

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 you're going." 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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 antic.i.p.ating 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 fas.h.i.+on, 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 spa.r.s.ely 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.

Gennie ran her hand over the cold iron filigree of the bedpost and worked up her most penitent expression. "Again, I do apologize."

The woman stood her ground. "Perhaps you should check those vermin-infested beds before you offer your apologies." She paused. "Go on there, child. Do be sure there won't be anything in your bed tonight but you."

Remorse bit hard, but Charlotte happily removed the quilt, then the sheets below. "Nothing here that I can see," Charlotte said.

Both child and maid stared at Gennie. "Well, then," Gennie said, "I do think this matter is settled." To emphasize the point, she perched on the edge of the empty bed, careful not to topple the linens and towels.

The woman seemed to consider further discussing the room for a moment, then bustled toward the door. At the door frame, she stopped and gave Gennie a firm look over her shoulder. "As I said, I run a clean establishment." Her brown eyes narrowed. "A place where none but those with high moral standards are allowed."

"And we are most grateful for that, aren't we, Charlotte?"

"You should be." She pointed at Gennie. "Mr. Beck being a single, eligible man and all, I don't like the idea of him having the room next door to such a pretty thing, even if she is his daughter's caretaker. It's lucky for you my husband, Ira, knows Mr. Beck from their a.s.sociation with the Greater Leadville Beautification and Improvement Society and can vouch for his sterling character." She laughed. "Sterling character. Silver. Get it?"

Taken aback by the stern woman's laughter, it took Gennie a moment to reply. "Yes, that's quite funny. I must remember to tell Mr. Beck. As for the other subject, I a.s.sure you there's nothing but a professional relations.h.i.+p between Charlotte's father and myself."

Charlotte's feet landed with a thump on the rug. "Don't believe her. My daddy kissed her, and I know it was her fault."

Gennie rose, heat flooding her cheeks. "Don't mind Charlotte. She does go on."

"Does she?" The woman held her basket to her chest as if trying to determine the truth.

"Ladies, do the accommodations meet your approval?" Daniel appeared in the door. "Well, how nice to see you again, Mrs. Stegman. Do tell Ira the new place is all he promised and more."

Mrs. Stegman's expression softened. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Mr. Beck." Before she made her exit, she turned to give Gennie one last direct look. "And do let me know if any difficulties occur during your stay. I'll be happy to handle them personally."

As soon as the woman left, Charlotte launched herself into her father's arms. "Papa, don't make me share a room with her. her."

Mr. Beck gently but firmly set his daughter down, then bent to meet her on eye level. "We had this discussion yesterday. Would you care to have it again in front of Miss Cooper?"

The girl's "no" was barely audible.

"Then what do you say to Miss Cooper regarding your impertinent behavior?"

"I'm sorry," she said, though her gaze never left the lovely kid boots that matched her yellow summer frock.

"Apology accepted," Gennie said as a porter arrived, bearing their trunks.

"Now, b.u.t.tercup, Mr. Stegman has sent two baskets of fruit to my room by mistake. Why don't you fetch one back here for you and Miss Cooper to enjoy later?"

When the girl showed little enthusiasm for the activity, Mr. Beck turned and pointed her out the door. She disappeared into the hall, her footsteps echoing as she stomped her way next door.

Mr. Beck pulled a key from his pocket and handed it to Gennie. "I took the liberty of locking your truck." His gaze met hers. "This isn't Denver, Miss Cooper. You'll find a pistol suitable for a lady packed inside. You do do know how to use a pistol, don't you?" know how to use a pistol, don't you?"

She did. For all his insistence that ladies must act like ladies, Papa required both Gennie and Mama to know how to escape should they be faced with an intruder while he was away. So fearful was Gennie of awaking to some horrible criminal standing over her that she bought a pistol and paid the gunsmith handsomely to teach her how to use it. Unfortunately, Papa got wind of her escapade and confiscated the weapon. He did, however, begin a longstanding habit of taking her with him to practice shooting on their Long Island and Newport properties.

She didn't mention any of this to Mr. Beck, who waited for an answer. "Might I see the weapon to determine whether it's something I can operate?"

She handed the key back to him and watched while he retrieved a small pistol that looked very much like the one Papa had taken away from her. "Yes," she said as she held it, then handed it back, "I can use this if I must, but surely I won't need to."

Mr. Beck placed the weapon atop the other items in the trunk, then locked it and handed the key back to Gennie. "I hope not," he said, "but I will admit that though the town has grown, we still have a certain bad element. I'd prefer to know that my daughter-and you, of course-will be protected when I cannot do it myself."

Gennie nodded as Mr. Beck set the key atop the trunk. Charlotte raced in with a basket of fruit, nearly toppling the table in the process.

"Slow down, b.u.t.tercup," he said.

"I want to go back in your room." Charlotte stepped into the hallway.

"All right, but only until I have to leave for the office. Then you'll have to come back here to your own room. Understand?"

With Charlotte's reluctant nod, the Becks headed down the hall to the Governor's Suite, and Gennie began what, until now, had always been done for her: unpacking. While some of the things looked lovely pulled directly from the trunk, others would need wrinkles removed. For that, she would have to rely on Mrs. Stegman for advice on a suitable laundress.

When she was done with her things, Gennie placed the pistol in the tray and closed her trunk, locking it before placing the key on top of the trunk and moving on to tackle Charlotte's trunk. The work went faster than she expected, and to her surprise, Gennie didn't mind that the menial labor had been left to her. She was, after all, the governess.

And she was in Leadville-the Wild West. It was all too exciting.

Gennie went to the window to try to open the sash. She succeeded on the third attempt and only coughed for a moment when the breeze blew in.

Three floors down, Gennie spied Mr. Beck and Hiram deep in conversation at the back of the wagon. Charlotte had wandered a few feet away and appeared to be watching a group of schoolchildren with some measure of interest.

Turning her attention away from those she knew, Gennie began to study those she did not. Across the way, a gentleman in a stained ap.r.o.n swept the street beneath a sign advertising a meat market. Next door, two men in broad-brimmed hats stepped out of what appeared to be the marshal's office, then paused to slap each other on the back. When they parted, one crossed the street to join Mr. Beck and Hiram, while the other headed north to disappear into the Lucky Lad and Lady Saloon.

Gennie leaned farther out the window to allow the cool breeze to play over the back of her neck. For a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined Mae Winslow bolting over the sill and sliding down the drainpipe to a waiting buckboard complete with her true love, Henry, holding the reins.

When she opened them again, she saw instead the empty wagon where only a moment ago Mr. Beck and his a.s.sociates had been conversing. Gone too was Charlotte. Likely they'd gone somewhere for a leisurely lunch and forgotten all about her. Not a terribly disappointing situation considering that in her sleep-deprived state, the lumpy mattress had begun to look appealing.

She elected to take the one nearest the door and leave the rumpled bed for Charlotte. She slipped out of her shoes and padded to the window to pull the curtains shut against the noonday sun.

That's when she spied Charlotte squatting behind the wagon along with two other children. Curious, Gennie watched while the trio huddled together. As Gennie was about to turn away, a squeal went up, and she saw Charlotte racing toward the hotel with something bouncing behind her, attached to a rope. The other two children disappeared in different directions.

"You there! Come back, you rascals!" a man called as he darted from behind the wagon and appeared to be trying to decide in which of the three directions to give chase.

"What in the world?" Gennie slipped back into her shoes and donned her hat, intending to head downstairs, confront the child, and get to the bottom of whatever had happened. She stormed past her trunk, then stopped and turned to stare at the key atop it. Perhaps a bit of caution should be exercised in this situation.

Gennie opened the trunk and quickly retrieved the pistol. Hiding it in her skirts was easily accomplished, as was leaving the room undetected. By the time she reached the lobby, however, a crowd had gathered, with Charlotte Beck at its center.