Lone Star 90/cripple

Chapter 1

Wake up, Jessie!

When Jessie’s eyes remained closed, Ki took hold of her shoulder and shook her gently. Jessie!

Her eyes opened, blinked, and then closed again.

I know you didn’t get much sleep on this trip, Ki said to her. But if you don’t wake up—and get up—and do both now, we’re going to miss our Denver stop.

Oh! Jessie exclaimed and sat up straight in her seat as the whistle of the train on which she and Ki were riding sent a piercing blast of sound into the late afternoon air. I’m sorry, Ki. Are we here, then?

Almost. I woke you a few minutes before we’re due to pull into the station. I thought you might want to freshen up before we left the train.

Such euphemisms we all use, Jessie murmured to herself and then stifled a yawn. Freshen up’ indeed.

Should I have asked you if you wanted to use the convenience room?

Another euphemism, Jessie said as she stood up. I’m going to use the toilet, she announced in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the Pullman car.

Her words caused a woman across the aisle from her to blush.

Jessie gave her a brilliant smile and then strode down the aisle, holding on to the seats as she went to keep her balance on the swaying train. A moment later she undid the buttons on the curtains enclosing the so-called convenience room and went inside.

Later, when she emerged from the small enclosure, she almost collided with the conductor, who was marching down the aisle and calling out, Next stop, Denver! Denver is the next stop!

She rejoined Ki, who was lifting their bags down from an overhead rack. Then both of them, carrying their luggage, made their way to the platform between the cars. They braced themselves as the train slowed, wheels grinding on the rails, sparks and soot flying from its smokestack to darken the June day, cinders flying up from the roadbed below.

Jessie patted her hair into place beneath the ostrich-plumed green hat she wore. The hat matched the color of her eyes and contrasted nicely with the paleness of her smooth skin. She stood there between the cars, an almost regal woman. Tall but not at all ungainly. Slender but not gaunt. Her figure was exquisitely feminine. Firm breasts which were provocatively evident even now beneath the long linen duster she wore to keep her clothes free of the dirt that was one of the less pleasant aspects of train travel. Flared hips below a narrow waist. Copper-colored hair which reached her shoulders and caught the light like a lovely net.

Ki, standing next to Jessie, was taller than most Eurasians, part of the legacy he had inherited from his American father. His body was compact and muscular. There was about him an aura of quiet strength kept under firm control, but readily available when needed. His hair, straight and black, was worn longer than was the current fashion among American men. His eyes had an Oriental cast. They bore clear witness to the Japanese blood that flowed in his veins.

He, too, wore a linen duster over his three-piece sack suit. It nearly hid the highly polished black shoes he wore. On his head was a black bowler.

As the train screeched to a sudden stop, the conductor reappeared. Excuse me, please. He stepped down from the train, carrying a small step stool in his hand which he placed on the platform. He reached up, but Jessie declined his help. She stepped down onto the stool and from there to the platform.

She stood on the platform in the warm sun and looked about her. There were people hurrying in all directions, making her think of sheep when a wolf threatens the fold. She put down her luggage, and standing on the tips of her toes and using her hand to block the sun from her eyes, she continued searching the faces of the people around her.

There, Ki said, and pointed.

Jessie looked at her left and saw Lavinia Carter, who was doing the same thing she had been doing, searching the faces of the people on the platform.

Lavinia! Jessie called out.

Lavinia turned, and when she saw Jessie waving to her, her eyes seemed to catch fire and a broad smile appeared on her face. She came running toward Jessie, and in an instant the two women were happily embracing.

You look marvelous, my dear! Lavinia cried, holding Jessie out at arm’s length. Then, turning to Ki, she exclaimed, And so do you, Ki, so do you. She gave him her cheek to kiss, and then she clasped her hands together and said, Oh, I am ever so glad to see you both. I cannot tell you how happy you’ve made me by coming to Laura’s wedding.

We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Jessie assured Lavinia.

I told John that maybe we were taking you away from far more important matters by asking you to come all the way to Denver for the wedding.

Not at all, Lavinia. Even if I had had other commitments when I received your invitation, I would have postponed them. But, as it happened, Ki and I were planning to make a trip to Cripple Creek next month. When we received your invitation, we simply moved our planned trip up by a few weeks. We’ll be going to Cripple Creek when we leave here.

You have, as I recall, mining interests there. Am I correct?

Yes, you are. Starbuck Enterprises owns the Empire Gold Mine in Cripple Creek.

You’re not experiencing any difficulties at the mine, I hope.

No, it’s really pretty much a routine trip. Although the last monthly report I received from Fred Bolan, who manages the mine, did mention the possibility of some labor trouble, but he wasn’t specific concerning it. He said we could discuss it when I got there. But let’s put aside all this talk about business. Tell me about Laura. She must be thrilled at the prospect of a brand-new life ahead of her.

Oh, she is, she most definitely is, Jessie. But let’s talk about that on our way to the house. The carriage is out in front of the station.

They made their way there, and Ki helped both women into the carriage, taking the seat facing them.

Laura must be in a state, Jessie said as the carriage driver pulled away from the station. Flustered, I mean.

Lavinia shook her head, her eyes twinkling. She’s not at all. One would think a girl got married every day of the week and twice on Sundays to watch Laura go about her business as cool as you please. It is I who have been in a state, Jessie, and that’s a fact. I get ready to go out, and I can’t find my gloves. I go calling of a Sunday afternoon and find I have left my cards at home. The last month has been a horror!

Jessie smiled.

So did Ki as he said, I’ve really been looking forward to seeing Laura again—and you and John, too, of course, Lavinia. It’s been years since I last saw her.

Well, she was away at school all those years when we visited one another. But now all that’s behind her. Tomorrow she will become Mrs. Mason Canfield and... Lavinia’s words trailed away. She rummaged about in her reticule and came up with a lace-trimmed handkerchief which she used to dab at her eyes.

When Jessie placed a consoling hand on her forearm, she seemed to recover. With her spine straight and her head held high, she declared, I can’t face losing my daughter who has been the apple of my eye since the very moment she was born.

Lavinia was undone again, this time by a sob that escaped her lips.

You know what they say, Jessie remarked, and Ki finished her statement by pointing out to Lavinia, You’re not losing a daughter, you’re gaining a son.

I know, Lavinia sniffed. Then, brightening, she added, It should be a splendid affair tomorrow. Actually, I’m so looking forward to it. We are having Appleton’s do the catering. We’re expecting nearly a hundred guests at the wedding and reception. We’ve redecorated the ballroom for the occasion—white satin draperies, white tulle trim for the serving tables. We’ve imported calla lilies from New York City, Reverend Fiskey is coming from St. Louis, where we were living when Laura was born to perform the service—he baptized her, you know—and...

Jessie sat back in her seat as the carriage rolled along and, with Ki, listened to Lavinia’s enthusiastic but somewhat disjointed account of all the plans that had been made for the wedding which would take place at eleven o’clock the next morning.

By the time they reached the Carter home, a three-story baroque structure with cupolas, gingerbread and latticework trim, and gables, Jessie and Ki had learned that the organist who would play at the wedding was named Percy Soames, that Lavinia was simply terrified that the calla lilies would begin to turn brown before the great day was over, that Laura’s husband-to-be was a stockbroker in the renowned Denver firm of Hoskins, Barton, and Beame and that Laura hadn’t the slightest doubt in her mind that her beloved Mason would be a partner in the firm within a year—two at the outside.

As the carriage came to a halt at the front door of the house, which was set back from the street on a vast property of smooth lawns dotted with mature boxwoods, Ki got out and helped the two women down from the carriage. Before any of them bad reached the front door, it flew open and a beaming John Carter was coming toward them, his arms outstretched to embrace Jessie.

Then, shaking hands with Ki, he declared, You look tiptop, the two of you, I must say. Jessie, if your father could see you now, he wouldn’t know what to think. I’m sure he never thought he could have sired such a lovely young woman, the old codger. But I always knew you’d turn out to be a beauty. I told him so often enough. I told him he didn’t know what he had done, unleashing a heart-breaker such as yourself on the unsuspecting men of the world.

Oh, John, hush, you mustn’t carry on so! a smiling Lavinia admonished her husband.

Do let him go on, Lavinia, Jessie said with a wink at Ki. I absolutely adore such outrageous flattery. It quite delights me.

Come inside, Carter said, ushering Jessie, Ki, and his wife into the house. Bridget! he called at the top of his voice.

When a round-faced maid wearing a black bombazine dress and a white apron appeared in the hall, he said, Send Willian to fetch our guests’ luggage.

Yes, sir, Bridget said, and pertly curtsied. She disappeared for several minutes and then reappeared to announce, William’s gone to see to the luggage, Mr. Carter.

Very good, Bridget. Now if you’ll show Miss Starbuck and the gentleman with her to their rooms, please.

Before you go, Lavinia said to her guests, we were planning on having dinner at eight. Is that satisfactory to both of you? Yes? Very well. Laura will have returned from the hairdresser’s by then, and Mason and his brother, Mitchell, will be joining us. Laura’s aunt, John’s sister from San Francisco, is staying here with us, as you both are, and she will be with us at dinner as well.

The clock on the fireplace mantel in Jessie’s room read twenty minutes of eight as she stood in front of a large gilded mirror above her dressing table wearing only a chemise, pantalettes, and corset. She turned this way and that, critically eyeing her figure in the light from the lamp on her night table. She sat down in front of the mirror and leaned toward it. She picked up her bottle of rosewater and applied a drop to each earlobe and two to her throat. Then, picking up her powder puff, she lightly dusted her face.

Rising, she slipped into her silk petticoat and then her yellow linen dress, which had a white lace collar and cuffs. She chose a simple mother-of-pearl brooch from among the items in her jewelry box and pinned it just below her collar. After pulling on her brown evening slippers, she again bent toward the mirror and bit both of her lips until they reddened. She was pinching her cheeks to bring a blush to them when there was a knock on her door.

She opened it to find Ki standing in the hall.

You look quite handsome, sir, she told him. I love the smell of the scent you’re wearing.

After-shave cologne, Ki corrected her.

It smells like lilacs.

It’s called Lilac Vegetal. I’m told by my supplier back home that Edouard Pinaud, parfumeur to the court of Napoleon the Third, produced it for the contingent of Hungarian cavalry then attached to His Majesty’s court.

How very dashing. Shall we go downstairs?

Jessie took Ki’s arm and they went downstairs, where they found several people gathered in the dining room, Laura Carter among them.

When Laura saw Jessie in the doorway of the dining room, she let out a little cry and ran across the room to hug her friend.

How very good of you to come, Jessie! she cried, cheeks flushing with excitement. Mother told me you had arrived. I want to thank you for coming. I want to thank you both for coming. How are you, Ki?

Fine, Laura. And you, I’m sure, must be nothing but wonderful.

Oh, I am, Ki, I truly truly am! I am absolutely the luckiest woman in the world and I’ll show you why. Come along, both of you!

Laura, taking both Ki and Jessie by the hands, led them around the table to where a woman was standing with a glass of white wine held in her diamond-studded hand and a tall darkly handsome man was intently watching Jessie as he had been doing since she entered the dining room.

Aunt Fancy, Laura said to the woman, I’d like you to meet two very dear friends of mine. Jessica Starbuck and her friend, Ki. Jessie and Ki, my Aunt Fancy and my husband-to-be, Mason Canfield.

At last I get to meet the renowned Jessica Starbuck in the flesh! cried Fancy, her eyelashes flickering, the diamonds on her fingers flashing. How do you do, my dear?

I’m quite well, Mrs.—Miss—

The name’s Bristol. That was my fourth—and last, let me tell you—husband’s name. But call me Fancy. That’s not really my name, but it’ll do.

Aunt Fancy’s real given name is Fanny, Laura volunteered.

But when my niece was a very young child, she started calling me Fancy for the Lord alone knows why, Fancy put in with a deep-throated laugh. Ki, you’re the righthand man of this beautiful creature, I’m told. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.

How do you do, Mrs.—

Fancy, Laura’s aunt interrupted.

Ki nodded. I’m pleased to meet you, Fancy.

Mr. Canfield, Jessie said, offering her hand to Laura’s fiancé.

Miss Starbuck, he said, not shaking her hand but instead taking it and bending low to kiss it. Please call me Mason.

I shall if you’ll call me Jessie.

Canfield gave Jessie a pleased smile before turning to shake hands with Ki.

I told mother she shouldn’t invite you to the wedding, Jessie, Laura suddenly stated.

Not invite me—why ever not?

I didn’t want Mason to see you.

You didn’t want—I’m afraid I don’t understand.

I was afraid that once he saw how beautiful you are, he’d never look at me again.

The others joined in Laura’s self-deprecating laughter.

May I know what the joke is?

Jessie turned to find a man as darkly handsome as Mason Canfield standing just behind her.

You must be Jessie, he said.