Brokken Promises Page 5

  “Yes, but perhaps he felt the cause he fought for justified his actions.” Her voice had also softened, again as light as a puff of wind and as caressing.

  Even so, he frowned at her words, failing to understand what she meant. “He was fighting to keep the South in line, to destroy state rights, hardly justification for what he did.”

  Her eyes widened, and her chin tilted upwards, as if his words surprised her. “Oh? You do not believe he fought to abolish slavery?”

  Her words silenced him. No one of Fritz’s acquaintance had owned slaves, and it was not why his family and others in Brokken fought against the Union... but, did her words have merit? He contemplating her words carefully. Had Chance wished to abolish slavery? One could scarcely fault him for that. Was that what had driven him?

  He snorted. Why was he making excuses for Chance Hale? He shook his head. “No, ma’am. That’s not why he killed.”

  Chapter Seven

  Camellia studied him for a moment, searching Mr. Brokken’s face as if it held answers to her dilemma, before she spoke again. “This Chance Hale, surely he does not plan to adopt Sally Jane alone. Does he not have a wife?”

  To her surprise, Mr. Brokken reddened, and he turned away. She thought for a moment she had angered him, and he would refuse to answer.

  The red continued to rise to his ears. He slowly shook his head, as if clearing away cobwebs, before speaking. “As a matter of fact, he does.”

  She spoke as gently as she was able, not wishing him further distress. “And you know this woman?”

  He studied the ground and spoke without raising his head. “He is married to my sister Deborah.”

  She bit her lip, hating to ask but knowing she must. “And Mrs. Hale is as unsuitable as her husband?”

  At her question, he raised his head and glared at her. “My sister is a fine woman.”

  She gave a nod in acknowledgment, and she reflected on her next words before speaking. “I trust then that they will be suitable parents for Sally Jane. I believe you misjudge your brother-in-law.”

  His brows drew together, and he stood, took a step away from the bench, and turned to face her, his spine rigid. “How you surmise that is beyond my capabilities to fathom.”

  “I will thus enlighten you, Mr. Brokken.” She smiled and waited until he softened his stance. “If your sister is anything like you, I am persuaded of her good character. Surely, you or others would have prevented her from making an unsuitable match. Furthermore, I am certain your parents would have advised her on such matters.” She dropped her gaze.

  Her hands remained folded in her lap, and she tilted her head to glance at him through her lashes. She was glad to see he was mollified.

  He flashed his own brief smile. “Deborah is a bit headstrong, but, yes, what you say is true.” He rubbed his chin, deep in thought, before looking at her again. “Unfortunately, our parents have passed.”

  She breathed out a soft sigh and inclined her head. “My condolences.”

  He waved a hand. “It was long ago. To return to the matter at hand, if you insist on allowing your daughter to be adopted, you will need to travel to Brokken to meet with Deborah and Chance and also their lawyer.”

  The mention of a lawyer worried her, and she nibbled her lip before answering. “My word is not enough?”

  His gaze was intent, searching hers. “What if you were to change your mind? My sister and her husband do not wish to live in fear that you will one day show up to take their daughter away.”

  Could she chance traveling to Brokken? Even if she did, she could not meet with their lawyer even if she could calm their fears. “I understand, but I assure you, that would never happen. Therefore, I do not see the need to travel to Brokken. I can meet with a lawyer here to draw up what is needed... if I have the money, that is.” Her lie brought forth more agitation.

  He snorted a laugh and his eyes darkened with an emotion, something akin to dissatisfaction. This man was not used to his plans being thwarted.

  He paced for a moment before he stopped to face her. “As I have explained, the Brokkens will pay all expenses. Furthermore, as I have said, my brother-in-law and sister wish to meet you and perhaps make arrangements for you to have regular visits with your daughter.”

  “That is not necessary.” She could not hold his gaze and looked beyond him.

  He stepped closer, into her field of vision. “I find it difficult to understand you, Mrs. Jenkins.”

  She tilted her chin a notch. “It is ‘Miss,’ Mr. Brokken.”

  “Oh? So, is that it? You are afraid your daughter will find she was born out of wedlock?” His eyes narrowed, watchful.

  Her cheeks burned. She had burned all her bridges. “Sally Jane was not... I mean, she will not find out.”

  He frowned at her again. “No, she will not, at least, not from us, not from the Brokkens.” The furrows in his forehead deepened. “Miss Jenkins, may I ask you a question that is troubling me? I hope you will not find it offensive.”

  Her back became rigid although she longed to slump forward. “You may ask.”

  “Do you have no attachment to your daughter? No motherly affection?” The concern on his face was evident.

  His voice had no malice but only a deep empathy that made her shift her position. “Of course, I have feelings for Sally Jane. As I told you a minute ago, I can offer little—I barely make enough money to keep body and soul together. How can I raise a child in this environment?”

  “With the money...”

  She was on the verge of tears and wished the questioning to cease. She strengthened her voice. “This we already discussed. I will not accept your money.”

  He sighed deeply. “If you consult a lawyer here, it would take months to settle the adoption. It can be done much more quickly in Brokken, and even so, it will take us weeks to travel there.”

  She studied the toes of her boots, peeking from beneath the hem of the brown silk dress and then raised her eyes to his, struggling to keep her composure. His disturbing gaze was upon her, and it was as if he physically touched her. She could not suppress a shiver.

  To her surprise, he chuckled. “Even the fall in San Francisco feels like winter.”

  She smiled at his words, relieved he did not know the true cause. “You are used to the warmth of the Texas sun.”

  “That is true.” His eyes darkened again with an emotion she could not fathom—or didn’t wish to.

  She leapt to her feet. “I must be getting back to work.”

  He touched her arm, the warmth of his hand burning through the thin material of her glove. “We have not settled this. Please, do not stress over the money. I will purchase your train ticket and pay all your expenses.”

  “And will you travel with me?” She held her breath, wanting him to say yes, but afraid he would. She could not imagine traveling so far with him.

  His eyes saddened—no that was what she wanted to see. It was only pity.

  He shook his head. “No, Miss Jenkins. I traveled here by horseback, and that is how I will return. I will meet you in Brokken.”

  She didn’t know which emotion was greatest—relief or regret. She nodded. “I must first talk to my employers.

  “I understand.” He reached into an inside coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here is the money you will need for your travels. I will return tomorrow at ten o’clock with your train ticket.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Brokken.”

  “No, thank you, Miss Jenkins.”

  And he held out his arm, and she took it, feeling almost like a lady as they walked back to the B & H Hotel in silence.

  He bid her good day and left. Her emotions were in turmoil, longing to do what she knew would be impossible although perhaps there was another way.

  CAMELLIA WISHED A WINDOW looked out over the porch so she could watch for Mr. Brokken. It was Mrs. Howe who, having caught on that Mr. Brokken avoided her, answered the knock. He’d arrived at the back door again, exactly at ten o
’clock, as he had promised.

  She coldly greeted him without letting him in and then gave her a dark look. “Ten minutes and not a second more.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she answered meekly. She had not dressed in finery today, although she removed her apron and smoothed her hair.

  She stepped out onto the back porch, and her heart fluttered at his smile. He took off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair as she began talking, not giving him time to speak.

  “Good morning, Mr. Brokken. I only have a few minutes so please allow me to speak. Mrs. Howe informed me in no uncertain terms that I must return quickly.”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but she plowed ahead. “She will not give me a letter of recommendation for future employment.” That was not a lie although she had not spoken to Mrs. Howe, knowing it would be futile. The sure knowledge of a future occurrence was certainly speaking the truth.

  This time, Mr. Brokken disobeyed her instructions and spoke. “That is not an issue—I can supply you with a letter of recommendation. You can go now and don’t be troubled about leaving them in the lurch—it does not take special skill to wash dishes.”

  His words made her cheeks burn. Certainly, it was only washing dishes, but she took pride in her work. Still, she gave a nod. “I agree. I can be packed tonight and ready to leave in the morning.”

  “I have your ticket. And who knows? Perhaps a bright future awaits you in Brokken.” His gaze searched hers as she took the ticket from his hand.

  His expression almost made her believe he hinted at a future with him. She admonished herself. She was on a flight of fantasy and knew it could never be. Folks were sure to discover the truth.

  She, in turn, searched his dark eyes with hidden depths. She shook her head. “No, Mr. Brokken. I cannot make my home in your town.”

  His eyes cleared as if he were awakening from a long sleep. He nodded. “Sally Jane would be my sister and brother-in-law’s daughter, and I understand it would be painful for you.” He cleared his throat. “Should I send a man for your luggage?”

  “I will manage. Thank you for bringing by the ticket. I must get back to work.”

  He replaced his hat and gave it a tip. “Good day, Miss Jenkins. I will see you in Brokken.”

  His departure left her feeling bereft, and she berated herself for pining for a man she barely knew. He was not going to sweep her away like Aladdin on his magic carpet. She went inside and to her place at the pan of water.

  “Girl!” Mrs. Howe cried.

  She jumped and turned to face her employer who frowned at her. “You have forgotten your apron again. Put it on immediately and fetch me some coffee, quick like.”

  Camellia scurried to obey. Blind obedience. That would always be her lot in life.

  Chapter Eight

  Fritz had told Miss Jenkins he would be heading out and would meet her in Brokken, but he delayed his departure, feeling uneasy. He believed her when she said she would be packed and on the train tomorrow, but he wanted to make sure she made it to the station safely—he did not trust Mrs. Howe nor Mr. Bolt. Why they wished to keep Miss Jenkins in their employ was beyond his understanding although sometimes people were evil for no discernible reason.

  Being secretive was perhaps not the best plan, but to tell Miss Jenkins did not seem right either. He lingered across the street from the H & B and waited for her to emerge. His wait was over two hours, and, more than once, he considered going in to see why. There was something odd that he could not quite figure out that kept him rooted to the spot. When he gave up hope that she would ever come out, she finally came through the front door.

  His fears that she might spot him were unfounded for she looked neither to her left or right but headed straight for the train station. It was strange. She had nothing with her, and he had seen no porter with her luggage. He followed but waited outside the station, intending to go through in a few minutes, but he did not have time before she re-emerged. Again, she did not look around but retraced her steps in the direction of the hotel.

  He did not follow her. Instead, he went inside to inquire of the ticket master, the same man he’d originally bought her ticket from.

  Fritz flashed his badge. “A young, dark-haired lady came in a minute ago and left. Did you see her?”

  The young man gave his pince-nez a push and studied him. “You’re the man who bought a ticket yesterday,” he observed after a moment.

  Fritz swept his arm through the air, irritated. “Yes, but I wish to know about the movements of the young lady.”

  “She had a ticket.” The man squinted at Fritz. “Was it the one you bought?”

  “That is of no consequence. What did she do?”

  “She asked for a refund which I gave her.” The man’s eyes widened as if with fear. “Did I do wrong?”

  “No, you did not. Thank you for your help,” Fritz said, as graciously as possible. He did not have to take his frustrations out on this man.

  He left the station and considered what to do next. Had she changed her mind about leaving that day and would buy another ticket later?

  Or had she changed her mind about going to Brokken? He headed toward the hotel, planning to find out.

  The musty, rancid scents assaulted him again as he entered the front door. When he approached Mr. Bolt, some scents grew in intensity, evidently emanating from the man. Fritz had never been a dandy, but he longed for a scented handkerchief to blot away the smells.

  Automatically, he removed his hat and raked back his hair. He spoke in his most authoritative voice. “Good morning, Mr. Bolt. I wish to speak to Miss Jenkins immediately.”

  The man frowned at him, grunted a reply, his words indecipherable.

  “Immediately,” Fritz repeated again, glaring at the man who had not moved.

  “I’ll fetch her. Wait here.” The man gave him a narrow glance, heaved his bulk from the stool, and lumbered toward the back.

  It was but a moment before Miss Jenkins came through the door, her head bowed, as if awaiting a chastisement. She peeked at Fritz through lowered lashes, a look that caused his heart to constrict. He cleared his throat, but she spoke before he had a chance.

  “I thought you had left.” Her words were softly spoken, with that breathy quality, but held an accusatory tone.

  He frowned and spoke as sternly as he could. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  She did not reply, her head still bowed, as if she were a school child waiting to be scolded.

  He cleared his throat just as Mr. Bolt shuffled back in, heading to his place behind the counter. The man wagged a finger toward Fritz. “She had one break this morning. This one will be docked from her pay.”

  Fritz took Miss Jenkins by the arm and led her farther from the desk, to an alcove. “You did not tell them you were quitting your job?” he hissed in her ear, his irritability surfacing again.

  She shrugged but kept her own voice to a whisper when she answered. “No, I did not. You do not understand, Mr. Brokken. I cannot leave.”

  “Why not?” He frowned at her, trying to puzzle this woman out.

  Her gaze held his for a moment before she spoke. “Do you think it appropriate for me to travel alone?”

  He smoothed the planes of his face, understanding. She was afraid to travel alone. And who could blame her? “I should have offered more assistance, but why did you not mention this yesterday?”

  Her face also smoothed, and she tilted her chin a notch. Fritz was suddenly aware of their extreme closeness and her attraction. She had no comeliness, certainly no vitality like Lydia. Most would say she paled in comparison. And yet, there was a tilt to her head, a line to her profile that he found lovely, and her mannerisms, even at such a time as this when she was obviously flustered, were calming, tranquil. His heart beat faster, and he realized he still held her arm. He let go and stepped back. He calmed his swirling emotions and waited for her to speak.

  She cleared her throat and spoke softly. “If you remember, you offe
red to help my... my mother’s family. I thought you would not mind if I took the money from the ticket for my own use.” Her gaze darted to Mr. Bolt and back to him. “I hope you understand. I must have money to escape this place.”

  “I begged you to come to Brokken, told you I would help you. Was that not an escape?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “As I have told you, I cannot live in Brokken.” She pressed her lips together as if she had nothing more to say.

  “I understand. However, Texas is full of towns, and we will get you employment in one of them. I am sure you are skilled at many things.”

  Her disposition changed as he watched, and her eyes twinkled. “I am good at washing dishes.”

  He laughed and then sobered. “Please remember there is still the adoption process that needs to come to completion.”

  “There is no need for a formal arrangement as I have told you. Mr. Hale and your sister have had her for this long. I have no intention of upsetting their family. They, and you, have my word.”

  Her face looked so hopeful, that he almost accepted her promise. After a moment’s reflection, he shook his head. He’d almost forgotten his own plan of taking the child from Chance in hopes his brother-in-law would be devastated enough to leave Brokken.

  She watched him through lowered lashes, and suddenly, his plan seemed very foolish and childish. Somehow, it was as if he’d spoken his thoughts aloud, and Miss Jenkins had somehow rebuked him. Heat crept up his neck.

  He struggled for composure before speaking. “I take you at your word, but we must do this correctly, so that Deborah... and Chance... will have peace of mind, and I am sorry I did not offer you an escort on your travels. Will you make the journey if I accompany you?”

  She gave a soft laugh, her gaze rising to meet his. “Perhaps.”

  “I insist. I will make arrangements right away. Our travels will take five weeks and part of the way will be by stagecoach.”

  “I had forgotten the trip was that long.” She searched his face, and he felt for a moment engulfed in the dark depths of her eyes.