shook her head, looking at Lewis.
“I thought you liked him. Liked him for
me
. You have always stressed what a perfect gentleman he is.”
“So I have,” she said, but still sounded wary. “There’s just something
suspekt
about him, that’s all.”
“Define
suspekt.”
“It’s a word my husband used to use. Lewis says all the right things at all the right times. He’s kind to you—and me.” She smiled and touched Josephine’s hand. “I have to thank you for introducing me as a cousin, not a servant.”
Josephine had never considered the latter. “You are family. And my most trusted friend in the world.”
Frieda squeezed her hand. “You are a dear. But because we are so close, I bring up my doubts.”
Doubts? Now she had doubts about Lewis?
A waiter brought around a tray of teacakes, and all doubts were forgotten.
For now.
Chapter Eight
Hudson pulled the tent rope taut, tied it around a stake, then flexed his aching fingers. “That’s the last of them.”
“Finally,” Raleigh said. “I thought arranging for the excursionists was going to be easy work.”
“Different work.” Hudson looked out over the sea of tents they’d set up just past the station buildings. They covered several acres. A wonderful aroma wafted out of the large dining tent, igniting his hunger.
He took the last name tag from the pile and pinned it to the right of the tent opening:
Miss Cain & Mrs. Schultz
. “Cain. I wonder if she is a relation of the general’s.”
“At the moment I don’t care who she is. We’re done.”
And none too soon. A train’s whistle cut through the early evening, and they felt the ground rumble with its approach.
“I hope the Indians are ready,” Raleigh said, gathering their tools.
“Hiring Pawnee . . . only Durant would think of such a thing.”
“I just hope they cooperate.”
“And do only what they’ve been hired to do.”
“Amen to that,” Raleigh said. “Either way, it’s showtime.”
“Tents? We’re sleeping in tents?”
If Josephine heard that complaint one more time, she was going to scream. Yes, it was unconventional, and she had suffered her own apprehensions. But now, being out on the Nebraska plain, she surprised herself by feeling thrilled with the prospect. Ever since they’d left Omaha, she had been glued to the view of the Great Platte Valley. She was notalone, as many exclaimed in wonder and admiration. But just as many had complained about the miles and miles of nature, pining for their cities and the comforts of home.
Now in Columbus, they had been instructed to find their tents and gather at the dining tent for food to rival that of eastern hotels.
Lewis stepped to the ground and extended his hand to Josephine and Frieda. “Watch your step,” he said, his smile charming. As they followed the surge toward the tents, he said to Josephine, “You seem content with the accommodations.”
She lifted her skirt to keep it above the dusty ground. “Surprisingly, I am. I cannot imagine seeing this land without having the chance to truly be out in the middle of it.”
“In the middle of it,” he said with a laugh. “We are that.”
A few men stood with lists that directed the guests to their tents. Lewis approached them, and Josephine watched as he seemed to grow perturbed by something. When he walked back to Josephine and Frieda, his head was shaking, his scowl deep. “You two are over there, to the right.”
“And you?”
“Apparently, I’m off with the men, sharing a tent with a Mr. Rosewood. I think I met him briefly. He’s a tradesman of some sort.”
Josephine gave him a measured look. “Are you satisfied with your pairing?”
“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m hardly equal to a congressman or railroad executive.” There was a pull in his voice. But he shrugged it off and patted her hand. “It’s fine.”
It was not fine.
All of Lewis’s efforts to hobnob with the rich and famous were apparently moot. Whoever was in charge
“I thought you liked him. Liked him for
me
. You have always stressed what a perfect gentleman he is.”
“So I have,” she said, but still sounded wary. “There’s just something
suspekt
about him, that’s all.”
“Define
suspekt.”
“It’s a word my husband used to use. Lewis says all the right things at all the right times. He’s kind to you—and me.” She smiled and touched Josephine’s hand. “I have to thank you for introducing me as a cousin, not a servant.”
Josephine had never considered the latter. “You are family. And my most trusted friend in the world.”
Frieda squeezed her hand. “You are a dear. But because we are so close, I bring up my doubts.”
Doubts? Now she had doubts about Lewis?
A waiter brought around a tray of teacakes, and all doubts were forgotten.
For now.
Chapter Eight
Hudson pulled the tent rope taut, tied it around a stake, then flexed his aching fingers. “That’s the last of them.”
“Finally,” Raleigh said. “I thought arranging for the excursionists was going to be easy work.”
“Different work.” Hudson looked out over the sea of tents they’d set up just past the station buildings. They covered several acres. A wonderful aroma wafted out of the large dining tent, igniting his hunger.
He took the last name tag from the pile and pinned it to the right of the tent opening:
Miss Cain & Mrs. Schultz
. “Cain. I wonder if she is a relation of the general’s.”
“At the moment I don’t care who she is. We’re done.”
And none too soon. A train’s whistle cut through the early evening, and they felt the ground rumble with its approach.
“I hope the Indians are ready,” Raleigh said, gathering their tools.
“Hiring Pawnee . . . only Durant would think of such a thing.”
“I just hope they cooperate.”
“And do only what they’ve been hired to do.”
“Amen to that,” Raleigh said. “Either way, it’s showtime.”
“Tents? We’re sleeping in tents?”
If Josephine heard that complaint one more time, she was going to scream. Yes, it was unconventional, and she had suffered her own apprehensions. But now, being out on the Nebraska plain, she surprised herself by feeling thrilled with the prospect. Ever since they’d left Omaha, she had been glued to the view of the Great Platte Valley. She was notalone, as many exclaimed in wonder and admiration. But just as many had complained about the miles and miles of nature, pining for their cities and the comforts of home.
Now in Columbus, they had been instructed to find their tents and gather at the dining tent for food to rival that of eastern hotels.
Lewis stepped to the ground and extended his hand to Josephine and Frieda. “Watch your step,” he said, his smile charming. As they followed the surge toward the tents, he said to Josephine, “You seem content with the accommodations.”
She lifted her skirt to keep it above the dusty ground. “Surprisingly, I am. I cannot imagine seeing this land without having the chance to truly be out in the middle of it.”
“In the middle of it,” he said with a laugh. “We are that.”
A few men stood with lists that directed the guests to their tents. Lewis approached them, and Josephine watched as he seemed to grow perturbed by something. When he walked back to Josephine and Frieda, his head was shaking, his scowl deep. “You two are over there, to the right.”
“And you?”
“Apparently, I’m off with the men, sharing a tent with a Mr. Rosewood. I think I met him briefly. He’s a tradesman of some sort.”
Josephine gave him a measured look. “Are you satisfied with your pairing?”
“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m hardly equal to a congressman or railroad executive.” There was a pull in his voice. But he shrugged it off and patted her hand. “It’s fine.”
It was not fine.
All of Lewis’s efforts to hobnob with the rich and famous were apparently moot. Whoever was in charge
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