Walks Alone Read online

  “Friends?” Anna’s stomach flip-flopped. She still couldn’t believe her ears and all this woman shared.

  “Yes, indeed. The wife of his closest friend was Cheyenne.”

  Anna froze. “It was a group of Cheyenne that kidnapped me.”

  Mrs. Peterson blinked. “Oh, forgive me, dear. Perhaps we should change the subject?”

  “That’s not necessary.” Anna moved to the edge of her seat. “I’m curious how your husband came to befriend the Cheyenne.” A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she took hold of the nearby table to hold herself steady.

  “My heavens, are you well?”

  Anna put her hand to her head. “I’m afraid I’m just hungry, is all. I better be going.” She stood to leave, showing the sewn sleeve to Mrs. Peterson.

  “Well, here. Have some fruit.” Mrs. Peterson handed her an apple then studied the sleeve.

  Anna took it gratefully, her mouth watering. She liked Mrs. Peterson. Thank goodness she hadn’t been hateful like that last woman. In fact, it turned out to be more than what she’d dared hope for. If only she could start work right away. She wanted to know more about Mr. Peterson and his relationship with the Cheyenne, but there would be time for that later.

  “This is fine work. Very fine.” Mrs. Peterson looked up from the sleeve. “You’re an answer to prayers. You’re hired.”

  Anna smiled, thrilled beyond belief.

  “You’re welcome to come by again before you have to start working. Barbara isn’t around much after hours with all her wedding plans. Right now she’s having lunch with her fiancé.”

  “Thank you, I’d like that.” Both ladies stepped out the door. “I’m looking forward to working for you.” Anna meant it. She wanted to stay and chat, but she had to get back to the hotel before Jack started worrying.

  “The pleasure is all mine, dear. You probably won’t last long as my employee. I’m sure some gentleman will snatch you up in no time.”

  Anna giggled from embarrassment. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.” The only man she wanted, or didn’t want, was a thief. She waved good-bye, and biting into her juicy apple, she headed down the street.

  Lord? Did you do that? Did you find me this wonderful job? Maybe He hadn’t deserted her after all.

  As she neared the hotel she came upon a wig store. An idea struck.

  ~*~

  With hair now down to the middle of her back and money in her hand, Anna remembered the ready-made dresses she saw in the shop windows when she’d first arrived and headed in that direction.

  She had sold her hair.

  It used to fall to her knees and now came to the middle of her back. It’d been quite startling to see all those long strands being cut away. But at least now she could buy herself some dresses.

  Her hat sat comfortably perched atop her head where the sides of her hair had been pulled up into a ribbon. The rest hung over her shoulders and down her back, making her feel like a schoolgirl. As soon as she got to the hotel, she would pin it back up. At this length, her natural curls had taken more form.

  The fancy shop bore a sign that read Mode de Paris. When she entered, two women glanced over at her, their lips pinched in unison and their noses went up a notch higher. Strong perfume hung on the air.

  Ignoring them, Anna admired the beautiful silk and crinoline gowns. All of them had elegant bustles, larger than any she had ever worn before, with lovely ribbons, ruffles, and embroidered edging on them. They were very much like the dresses she would have found in New York City—much like the dresses her father used to buy for her.

  “Are you lost?” one of the women asked, frowning.

  “As you can see, I’m in need of a dress.” Anna smiled, hoping to win the woman’s good affections, but the lady continued to scowl.

  “Are you sure you can afford the gowns in this store? We usually only sell to—well, to upper-class citizens.”

  Anna glanced at one of the price tags and nearly lost her breath. She forced a smile as if nothing was wrong.

  “If you’re looking for dresses that are ready-made, perhaps you should try the shop on Blake Street. It’s much more to your liking,” the woman said as her scrutinizing gaze raked Anna from head to foot.

  Despite the fact that Anna couldn’t afford the clothes, she faced the woman and held her chin high. “Do you want customers or not? Obviously, with this kind of attitude, you’re not interested in selling anything.” She glared down her nose at their smug grins. “Do you happen to know Mr. Jean-Marc Charvet?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “He is the owner of the Grand Palace Hotel. Yes, the one just down the street from here.” She marched toward the door then turned back to face them. “He just happens to be my husband.”

  The woman’s mouth gaped open, while the other’s eyes widened in apologetic surprise.

  A silent sigh of relief escaped Anna. Thank goodness, they didn’t know him as a thief. Although, from the reactions she’d gotten already, maybe it wouldn’t even matter. With that, she opened the door and without looking back, she said in the most haughty tone she could muster, “Good day, ladies.”

  She strode down the walkway feeling mighty pleased. She had put them in their place, all right. Forget the fact that she wouldn’t have been able to buy one dress, let alone two or three. She headed back for the hotel to find out how to get to Blake Street.

  The following day, Anna, wearing her new dress, pranced into the hotel lobby. Her dress was pale blue and cut at the neckline with a splash of lace for modesty. Its bustle was larger than the one on her traveling dress, and its sleeves came just below her elbows with a fan of lacy fringe. For the first time since her wedding day, she felt pretty.

  She had managed to buy two more dresses, a cloak, and a nightgown. They weren’t as lovely as what she’d seen in the expensive shop, but they were serviceable. And best of all, they were ready-made—despite the fact that she stayed up half the night shortening the hems and sleeves.

  “Good morning, Mr. Dubois.”

  “Bonjour! You look lovely this morning, madame—Miss Anna.”

  “Why thank you,” she said. “I’m going for a walk, Mr. Dubois. It’s time I familiarized myself with this city.” She glanced around the lobby. “Is Jack around?”

  “He went to the marshal’s office to inquire about Jean-Marc.”

  “Oh. Well, I’ll go alone then. Jack would be bored anyway.”

  “Will you return for lunch?”

  “Will that be a problem?” She leaned toward the desk and lowered her voice. “I mean, the expenses—”

  “Most certainly not. It’s the least we can do. Don’t you forget that.”

  “Well, then yes,” she said, smiling. “I plan to take full advantage of White Eag—Jean-Marc’s pocketbook.” She winked, and Mr. Dubois chuckled.

  When she stepped out the door, she went the opposite direction of the Mode de Paris shop. She didn’t want them to see her in a dress from Blake Street.

  Despite the light snowfall from last night, it was a lovely, warm day. The sparse amount of trees bore few leaves, but the sky remained clear. The sun shone bright and shimmered off her light blue dress.

  She felt like dancing through the wide streets, and she might have skipped through them if there wasn’t so much mud from the recent snow. They weren’t anything like the cobblestone streets of Amsterdam. The buildings were also wider, more box shaped, and not as close together. With the blue sky opening above her, she had a feeling of wide open spaces, even though she was surrounded by buildings in such a large town.

  She wasn’t sure what she had expected when she’d arrived here, but an air of being far away from anything homey swept over her. Nothing was familiar in Denver City, except for the Mode de Paris shop. Those ladies were probably even from New York, considering the dresses they sold. And anything or anyone from New York didn’t sit well with her since it was the place she’d hoped to escape. As for companionship, she didn’t know anyone; there was no Beth, no
Laughs Like A River, and no Runs With Wind to laugh and talk with. No one to show her new dress to. However, she could stroll by Mrs. Peterson’s. If she wasn’t too busy, maybe she’d like to have tea together. She turned in that direction.

  Denver City would be her new home, and she would be happy to adjust herself to her new environment, assuming White Eagle wouldn’t come for her.

  What if she never saw him again? What would she do? Yes, she’d made plans to stay in Denver City, but the thought of being without White Eagle gave her stomach an unsettling start. She was his wife, after all. They should be together. After she rounded a corner, she stopped in front of a store and took a deep breath. This was silliness. Who would want to be married to a thief anyway? Let alone a perfect stranger.

  “It’s her, Mother.” A familiar voice came from down the walkway. “The woman I told you about.”

  Anna turned and saw the clerk from the store that had the Indian scalps and horrid pictures of the Hungate family. The young woman stood with an older lady. They had just come out of the dry goods store, the same one she’d been to just the day before.

  “I’ll have you know—” the young woman marched up to Anna with the other woman in tow, “that my father fought at Sand Creek. It was a victory for Denver City and for all the civilized folk in the surrounding area. I’m proud of my father’s accomplishments, and I will continue to show off his trophies to any and all who come to our store.”

  Anna stepped back and tried to focus on the red-faced woman in front of her, aware that people had stopped to stare.

  “Indian lover!” The woman spat.

  Anna watched as spit trailed down the small, fake pearled buttons on the front of her bodice. Her new dress. In fact, her favorite dress. She clenched her fists and wanted to tear the woman’s foul-mouthed lips off.

  But she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

  From experience, Anna had learned that the best way to deal with someone so unreasonable was to remain calm. Forget the fact that for the first time in her life she really wanted to hurt someone—not counting White Eagle.

  “For a lady, you sure know how to spit.” Anna took a deep breath. “But you’re not a lady, are you?” She stepped back, turned, and walked away.

  “You’d better watch your back, hussy!” The woman shouted behind her. “We don’t take too kindly to Indian lovers in this town!”

  Anna kept on walking, her cheeks flaming with heat. She was curious if someone would really try to hurt her—more curious than afraid, surprisingly. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted onlookers stopping and staring at her as she strode by. Feigning dignity, she nodded and kept on walking.

  ~*~

  After several days of boredom, Mr. Dubois offered to take Anna to the theater. She was thrilled, since she’d never been to one before, so as he helped her out of the carriage, her stomach fluttered violently.

  With the suave and elegance that suited Mr. Dubois, he held the door of the theater open for her. As she went in, the beauty of the lobby took her breath away. Colorful dresses painted the floor, while bright chandeliers hung low from the high ceiling.

  A porter took their coats, and Mr. Dubois offered her his arm.

  They were the most underdressed couple present. Other men wore top hats, and women wore dresses with enormous bustles and large plumes sprouting from their heads—not to mention expensive jewelry dangling from their necks and wrists.

  “Do not fret,” Mr. Dubois said, smiling down at her. “You are the most beautiful one here, madame.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Dubois.” She returned a smile, knowing full well he wasn’t wearing his finest so she wouldn’t look out of place.

  He held his arm out to her. “Shall we?” He escorted her through the lobby to the stairs as she soaked up all the details of the moment.

  The production of MacBeth was marvelous. She smiled up at Mr. Dubois as they applauded the performers, delighted that he’d given her this experience. He reminded her of her father and how he would have done something like this for her when he was still alive.

  Later, he escorted her back down the stairs and through the crowded lobby. “I will fetch the carriage,” Mr. Dubois said as he nodded to Anna.

  She waited by the door, admiring the chandeliers as they reflected off the women’s beautiful gowns. It brought to mind the flames scorching her own lovely gowns when her uncle had thrown them in his fireplace. She hadn’t worn anything as beautiful since then.

  A woman caught her eye. The woman smiled and came up to her. “Why, Mrs. Charvet, how nice it is to see you.”

  Anna cringed. It was one of the women from that fancy dress shop. Of course, the woman’s dress and hat outdid Anna’s. The woman smiled as if they were good friends.

  “Is Mr. Charvet back in Denver? You know, it’s shameful he never announced his engagement, let alone his marriage.” She clucked. “He hasn’t been around in ages. Honestly, I’ve never even met him, though Franck Charvet was a good man. Before his death, few people even knew of his son’s existence.” She leaned in, a glint in her eyes. “I’ve heard him called more a phantom than a real person. He’s only known by name, and no one has ever seen his face. I suppose he doubts whether he can take on the hotel and run things as well as his father had. The son is a half-breed, you know.”

  “He’s part Cheyenne, to be exact.” Anna’s blood boiled hot. “Really, it’s quite rude of you to assume he is incapable of handling his father’s affairs. The hotel has run smoothly for this long, hasn’t it?” She tried to look down her nose, just like the woman did to her, but it was difficult when she was forced to arch her neck to meet the woman’s gaze. The room spun angrily as she tried to keep her focus on the sharp-tongued shrew. Anna really knew nothing about running hotels and even wondered how much White Eagle had to do with its success thus far, but it didn’t matter; as long as she put this woman in her place, she’d be satisfied.

  “Well, I wasn’t assuming he couldn’t run his father’s hotel. I’m sure he, even being a savage, is quite capable.”

  “Are you ready?” Mr. Dubois announced, coming up next to Anna and gazing sharply at the woman.

  Anna took his arm.

  “Oh my, I thought you had come with Mr. Charvet. I take it,” the woman raised a suggestive brow, “he isn’t in town.”

  “Mr. Dubois is a friend.” Anna turned with him to leave, but she couldn’t help but notice the woman’s knowing expression.

  Once outside, she glanced back to see if the woman was still watching them, and to her horror, the woman chattered to another and pointed in Anna and Mr. Dubois’ direction.

  How dreadful.

  They climbed into the carriage and headed back to her hotel. Funny. Inside the theater she’d felt like she was back in New York City, serving her uncle’s snippety clients, and had now just stepped out of the big modern city into a backwoods town.

  She missed the mountains. She glanced over at Mr. Dubois, wishing White Eagle was sitting next to her, thief or not.

  Back at the hotel Anna relayed all the sparkling details about the theater to Jack. He listened with a smile in his eyes. Of course, she left out the details about that wicked woman who accosted her in the lobby. Despite her glee, a cold sensation and dizziness swept over her.

  “Well, it’s getting late, and I think I better go to my room,” she finally said, thinking maybe she was tired and needed rest.

  When she stood, the room spun, and she braced herself on the table.

  “Miss Anna? You all right?” Jack leaped to his feet and came to her side.

  The dizziness subsided and she straightened. “Just tired is all,” she said. If White Eagle hadn’t robbed her, she could see a doctor. She’d spent everything she earned at the wig shop on new clothes.

  She turned to leave, but the room tilted.

  “Miss Anna, are you feeling well?” Mr. Dubois came up and took her by the elbow. “You look pale.”

  “I’m fine.” She immed
iately regretted her sharp reply. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Dubois, Jack.” She gave them both a reassuring smile. Mr. Dubois and Jack had been very kind to her ever since she’d arrived, always looking out for her from a distance. It wasn’t like they were the ones who had robbed her and left her stranded.

  They escorted her to her room, and once inside, she closed the door and went to the basin. She filled it with fresh water and washed her face. After combing her hair, she slipped into her nightgown then picked up the broken frames of her parents’ photos on the bureau.

  Loneliness engulfed her. She set the pictures down and plopped on the bed, glancing around the empty room. A sick wave of heat poured over her, and she broke out into a cold sweat. Her stomach turned. She leaped up from the bed and ran to the basin, just in time to empty her insides. When finished, she patted her mouth with a clean towel. The queasiness didn’t go away, and her body trembled.

  Perhaps it was something she ate? Yet hadn’t she been feeling this way ever since she’d been at Mountain Jack’s cabin? She had brushed off the other incidents of nausea as a sign of distress. Why now? Nothing terrible or shocking had happened. She grabbed the sides of the basin as another retch seized her.

  After cleaning up she peered out into the hall and caught a glimpse of Mr. Dubois walking through the lobby.

  She waved him down.

  Thankfully, he spotted her. When he came, she hid halfway behind the door.

  “Hello, Mr. Dubois,” her voice cracked. “I’m sorry to bother you, but could you send a maid to bring me a clean basin with some fresh water and towels?”

  “You’re not well, are you? Perhaps you should see a docteur?”

  “Well, truthfully—” Another turn of her stomach made her swing back to the basin, but nothing happened.

  “I will send for a chambermaid and fresh water.” He closed the door.

  Thankfully, nothing more came up. She slumped on the bed when a slight knock tapped at the door. She stood to open it, and the room swam.