Lorraine Read online

  Lorraine noticed his face was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. Her annoyance with him dissolved. She wondered if he’d had any sleep the previous night. “I’ll follow your instructions carefully, I promise.”

  “I don’t doubt you, Miss Stuart.” He returned the placards and advertising information to the shelf under the counter. “I’ll walk you back to Lydia’s. Nice day for a stroll.”

  “Thank you.” She followed him out of the office and waited while he locked the door before she laid her hand on his arm.

  “You don’t keep cash there, do you? I mean, nothing someone could steal?”

  “There’s a box of change under the counter in the event someone wants to place a single advertisement and pay in cash. Only about five dollars, but enough to tempt a certain kind of person. Excluding the robbers waiting in jail, we haven’t had that problem in Tarnation.”

  “That’s a relief.” She wouldn’t want to contend with thievery or be blamed for missing funds.

  “The merchants in town have accounts and I bill them monthly. My main concern is that someone might break in and destroy the press.”

  “Why on earth would anyone want to do that?”

  “It’s happened in other towns. Someone takes offense to an article in the paper or has a grudge against newspapermen in general. Doesn’t make sense, but I can’t take a chance.”

  She stopped and stared in disbelief. “That’s horrid. Replacing your press would be expensive, wouldn’t it?”

  He nodded and guided her ahead. “In addition to the expense, which would drain my savings, hauling this one from Fort Worth had Zane and his guards cursing my existence.”

  She chuckled at the thought of his good friend being annoyed over the freight. “I imagine it’s very heavy and cumbersome.”

  “That it is, even unassembled. Took all their mules to pull it up the hills and all Zane’s and Ken’s skill coming down.”

  He stopped and gently turned her to face him. “If any mischief-makers come in, don’t risk your life or well-being to protest. Slip out the back door and run for the sheriff.”

  “But, you said haven’t had trouble here in Tarnation, didn’t you?”

  He chuckled. “Only once about an article I wrote when Aldridge boy was arrested for being drunk and disorderly. Apparently new to alcohol, he became belligerent and launched a brawl. His father was irate that I’d published the story in the paper for everyone to see. He insisted I write a retraction, but I refused. After all, I only reported facts.”

  “I haven’t met the Aldridge family yet. Perhaps I don’t want to.”

  His laughter surprised her. “Right you are, but eventually you will. Say, you can bring sewing or books or embroidery with you to pass the time. I’m sure you’ll be bored most of the day.”

  “I’m never bored, Mr. Pettigrew.”

  He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “That’s incredible. You’re the only other person besides myself I’ve heard express that sentiment.”

  She smiled, secretly pleased at his reaction. “Then I suppose we have another thing in common, don’t we?”

  Chapter Five

  When she returned to Lydia’s, Prudence and Rachel were waiting for her.

  Rachel linked her arm with Lorraine’s. “Tell us what he said. Don’t leave out anything.”

  Laughter bubbled up from Lorraine’s throat as the three took seats in the parlor. “He hired me to keep the newspaper office open while he covers the trial at the fort. The soldiers are leaving in the morning to transport the robbers and Mr. Pettigrew’s going with them.”

  Prudence’s eyes widened. “You’re hired? Are you going to write stories for him?”

  Lorraine rolled her eyes. “I wish, but no. I’m to be there in case someone wants to place an advertisement and only while he’s gone. He suggested I bring sewing, books, and embroidery to pass my time.”

  Rachel’s eye’s danced with mischief. “Like I’m doing for Zane Evans. I predict Mr. Pettigrew is in for a surprise when he returns.” Rachel rose. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, this working girl has to get her clothes ready for work tomorrow.”

  When Rachel had gone upstairs, Prudence leaned forward and spoke low, “That gives you plenty of private time to write your stories. Isn’t that funny? You’ll be paid a salary for writing stories to sell.”

  “The salary is hardly enough to speak of and we can’t be certain the stories will sell. However, I’m going to write that series on women of the West and include the wives of gunmen if they’ll let me.”

  “I’m excited to read that. Are you going to include Lydia in the series?”

  “If she’ll allow me to do so. In her case, I’d want to use her name and that of her husband. She might not like the attention that would bring.”

  “Have you contacted your publisher about the series?”

  “Yes, and Frank Leslie himself is interested.”

  Prudence grabbed Lorraine’s hands. “What are you waiting for? Get started.”

  “I have. I’ve written up the story of why I came west. I can’t finish it until I find out what happens, though. I wanted to write one on each of us—maybe not Angeline because I wouldn’t want to embarrass her or Reverend McIntyre.”

  “You should ask her, especially if you’re not using real names.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She stood and straightened her skirt. “Well, I’d better get my clothes and papers ready for tomorrow now that I have a job.”

  “Don’t forget to tell Lydia.”

  “Thank you for reminding me. I’ll do that right now.”

  Lorraine found her hostess in the kitchen talking menus with Mrs. Murphy.

  “I came to tell you I’ll be working for Mr. Pettigrew while he covers the trial at the fort.”

  Lydia clasped Lorraine’s shoulders. “That’s wonderful news. Will you be writing stories for the paper?”

  Lorraine grimaced. “Unfortunately, he hasn’t changed his stubborn mind about women writers. I’m to keep the office open in the event anyone wants to advertise or buy a paper. Eventually I intend to show him I’m a good writer, though.”

  Lydia’s eyebrows rose. “Nothing like eating crow to humble a man, is there?”

  “I hope I can prove myself. Doing so would also show my father I’m capable in spite of being a woman. Two birds with one stone.”

  “Good luck, I’m sure you’ll succeed.”

  Lydia’s kind words made Lorraine teary-eyed.

  “Thank you for the chance you’ve provided me, Lydia. I can never thank you enough for saving me from marriage to that odious Mr. Weston. By now, I’d probably have banged him on the head with a skillet and be sitting in jail.”

  Lydia broke out in laughter. “The skillet worked well for Mrs. Horowitz, but I’m not sure it would have for you. Don’t let anyone take advantage of you. I’m sure yours will be a happy ending.”

  “Your confidence is reassuring. You’ve given the seven of us a chance to live a productive and happy life, escaping the various troubles we left behind.”

  “It’s been my pleasure. Getting to know you and the others has brightened my life. You’re all a credit to Tarnation and our community. I look forward to having you each wed and with several children.”

  “And you? We want you wed, too.”

  Lydia’s smile disappeared and sadness shone from her eyes. “That may be a lost cause.”

  Lorraine thought a skillet to the sheriff’s head might knock some sense into him but she kept that sentiment to herself. “You’re a brave and intelligent woman. Surely you can show the sheriff what he’s missing and convince him to commit to marriage.”

  “So far, I’ve had no success. My childbearing years are decreasing. When all you girls are married, I may adopt some of the children from the home Elias Kendrick founded.”

  “Ophelia said he’s done an impressive job of setting up a wholesome atmosphere with good teachers.”

  “He has a
nd most of the children are happy to be safe and well fed. Riley Gaston makes sure they’re healthy. Elias provides the material things they need. A few have difficulty adjusting, but that’s to be expected.”

  “I can’t help thinking about them since Ophelia told me she’d been there. Some people should never have children.”

  “But you’re not one of those who shouldn’t. Good luck with Grant and with the job.”

  Lorraine climbed the stairs to the room she shared with Prudence. Talking with Lydia and mention of skillets reminded her of the conversation she and her mother had shared. How she wished Mother were here with her. She prayed they’d be together again in the near future.

  ***

  Everyone in Lydia’s household rose early to watch the soldiers load the robbers and set out for the fort. Grant waved at Lorraine before he kneed his mount to join the soldiers. He presented a fine figure on his horse. She was surprised he rode as if he did so every day instead of being a former easterner who spent most of his time in a newspaper office.

  The women turned and walked back to the Harrison home.

  Lydia sighed. “I’m glad those murderers are gone. I feared they would break free and Adam would be injured or killed. Of course the two from the attempt to rob the freight wagons are still there.”

  Lorraine walked beside her hostess. “Adam’s managed to keep Tarnation safe so far.”

  “Usually, there’s no trouble. Cowboys might get in a fight on payday after they’ve had too much liquor but Elias keeps steady control there. They have to take their fight to the street and that gives them time to cool off. A few young men get into mischief. Nothing serious, though, so I don’t worry. Lately, there’s been too much going on.”

  Prudence walked on Lydia’s other side. “It’s these troublesome females you’ve brought to town.”

  “Have you been talking to Mrs. McGinnis?” Lydia stopped short and gasped while a horrified expression settled on her lovely face. “Oh, my goodness, I can’t believe I said that. Please forgive my rudeness.”

  The others laughed.

  Behind them, Rachel said, “Truth is truth, Lydia. No point denying facts.”

  After breakfast, Lorraine carried her writing paper, pen, and ink to the newspaper office. She’d been in charge at the library on a daily basis, but today she sensed a renewed purpose. This was her chance to shape her future. Whether Grant Pettigrew realized it or not, he was a major part of her plan.

  She let herself into the building and strolled back to set her supplies on his desk. Although she had no idea how long he’d be gone, she should be able to get a story completed this week. She had plenty of ideas and lacked only the writing time to devote to them.

  She’d written a fictionized story of the attempted bank robbery and murder of the soldiers. Frank Leslie had complimented her on her description. That was the one Prudence had praised over the weekend.

  Hearing praise for her writing thrilled Lorraine. If only she didn’t have to use a pseudonym to conceal her identity. Not that she sought fame, but she would appreciate recognition. She marveled that a woman could publish a book using her own name, but not a serious newspaper article.

  She set out her supplies then strode to the front and flipped the Closed sign to Open. After spreading two different weeks’ copies of the paper on the counter, she studied who had placed an advertisement and what size they’d chosen. Comparing the rate card to the newspaper, she memorized the fees.

  Adam entered and removed his hat. “Stopped by to see if you’re all settled.”

  She leaned her elbows on the counter. “I am and excited to be working here, such few as my duties are.”

  He used his hat to point at her. “You let me know if you have any trouble. I’ll stop by a couple of times a day and check on you.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff, but that’s not necessary. You’re a busy man.”

  “I always stop to chat with Grant, so it won’t vary my routine. I make it a point to keep up with the people in town.”

  “Then thanks for coming. Your knowing what’s going on in town and doing a great job is one of the reasons everyone respects and admires you. You’re good for Tarnation.”

  He reacted with a pleased expression. “Sure glad to get rid of those men who killed the soldiers. What a noise they kept up plus they were costing the county a fortune in food and extra deputies. Now if the judge would show up and try the two who attacked the freight wagons, I’d rest a lot easier.”

  He clapped his hat on his head. “Be seeing you.”

  She couldn’t leave the office until noon, so she planned to spend the morning writing. She’d outlined the article she intended to write if Didamia would share the information she needed. Rachel had promised to let Didamia know Lorraine wanted to talk to her.

  An hour later, the bell on the door rang. When Lorraine went to the front, Didamia waited at the counter.

  Lorraine smiled a welcome. “I’m so glad you came by.”

  The other woman scanned the interior. “I’ve never been inside a place where newspapers were printed.”

  “Come back and I’ll give you a tour.” She gestured to the typesetting plates. “This is where the articles are set with type. You see the different sizes of type in the trays. I’ve never been involved in that process.”

  Didamia leaned over the set up for the last paper printed. “Well, I’ll swan. Every word is backwards. My, I can smell the ink he used.”

  Lorraine rested her hand on the press handle. “Next is the actual press. The supplies are along the wall and at the back.”

  “I thought it might require a larger place.”

  “Actually, this is pretty large for a paper like the Gazette. People have used back rooms a third this size.” Lorraine led the way. “Let’s go to the office in back so we can sit down and chat.”

  Didamia took the chair Lorraine indicated. “Rachel said you wanted to talk to me.”

  Nerves seized Lorraine as she pulled the other chair near Didamia’s. She valued this woman’s opinion and didn’t want to risk losing her as a friend. She’d rehearsed what she’d say, but now those imaginary speeches deserted her.

  “I’m a writer.” She handed Didamia a copy of the latest Frank Leslie’s Magazine. “Because I’m a woman, I can’t use my real name to have my stories published. The publisher thinks I’m a man.” She pointed to a line on the cover. “I’m L. S. Trueharte and that’s my latest story. Well, the latest that’s in print.”

  Didamia’s eyes rounded. “You wrote this? However did you manage? I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “If you wanted to, you would. You’re capable with growing things and that proves you can do what you set out to accomplish. But the reason I asked you here is because I want to do a series on women of the West. If you would agree, you could tell me your life story and I would fictionize it in a way that no one would be able to recognize you or Vic and then submit it to Frank Leslie’s Magazine.”

  The other woman shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. There are things in the past that might get Vic and me in trouble.”

  “I promise no one would know you and Vic were the people in the story. I’d describe each of you as different than you are and have you living in another part of Texas.”

  Frowning, Didamia stood and took a step away. “Is this why you acted friendly to me? Because you wanted something and you pretended to like me?”

  “Didamia, please don’t think that! “ Lorraine clasped the other woman’s hand and gently urged her back to the chair. “I’ve genuinely enjoyed knowing you. We share many interests. I only came up with this idea a few days ago when Grant Pettigrew insisted a woman can’t write well.”

  The other woman’s eyes widened. “He said that to you? And here you’re writing for this magazine.”

  “Well, I haven’t told him that yet. I intend to, but haven’t had the right chance so far.”

  The other woman regarded Lorraine as if looking at a stranger. “I
don’t know . . . I’ll have to talk it over with Vic.”

  “If you tell me your story, I’ll write it and show it to you and Vic before I submit it to the editor. If you don’t like it, I’ll burn it.”

  “You promise?” Didamia’s narrowed eyes proved her doubt.

  Lorraine placed her hand over her heart. “You have my word of honor.”

  Didamia folded her arms across her chest. “If you want to hear my story, first tell me yours.”

  “All right, but mine’s not the least bit exciting. I grew up in a town near Richmond, Virginia. My parents were not wealthy like Lydia, but not poor either. We kept close track of expenses yet we had a maid and a woman who did our laundry.”

  Didamia raised her eyebrows. “Pfft. Sounds wealthy to me. Keep talking.”

  “My father never forgave me for being a girl. After I was born, Mother couldn’t have more children, which only made me being a girl worse. But, my mother is wonderful and has always supported and loved me. As crusty as my dad is, she loves him, too.” She related the reason she had applied to Lydia.

  “No wonder you left home. But, I want you to tell me what kind of trouble you got into before you came here.”

  “Oh, Didamia, I was such a coward I never got into trouble. I always had my nose in a book or helping Mother in the house or garden. But, well, there was one thing that could have turned out badly.”

  The other woman made a come-on motion with her hand. “Let’s hear your story.”

  “I didn’t get caught for this, but it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.” Lorraine took a deep breath. “I hate bullies and there was this boy named Horace. He was tall and big—not well-proportioned like Vic—but so porcine his features were distorted. In spite of that, he was strong. He avoided those his age and picked on those smaller than him. When we were fourteen, he targeted my best friend, Katie.

  “Katie was cute as could be then and still is. Now I realize Horace was sweet on her and didn’t know how to show her. At the time, though, he made Katie’s school life miserable. We had to do something.”

  Didamia leaned forward. “What did you do to him?”

  Lorraine took out her handkerchief and wiped her forehead. “We planned carefully. For a week before we launched our attack, we sent anonymous notes we’d printed awkwardly on scraps paper so he wouldn’t know who wrote them. They said things like ‘You’ll be sorry you’ve been so mean’ and ‘Stop being a bully’ and ‘We’re going to make you pay’.”