Hannah's Dream (19 page)

"A gift!  Are you sure, Margaret?"

"Quite sure, my boy.  Take him with my blessings."

He looked shocked.  It made her feel good.  He hadn't expected generosity from her. 

He waved as the carriage drove away.  He thought she would give him the horse, and he hoped he'd looked surprised when she did.

Pierre walked to the stable and up the stairs to his room.  He had already packed a small bag of things he would take with him to Colorado.  He was going to find Hannah.  He had found a letter to Louise on the breakfast table one morning and read it before the girl returned for it.  It was postmarked Denver and he had bought a map of Colorado. 

He regretted leaving so many items behind, but a man had to travel light.  He'd taken much of it to the pawn shop in Red Bank and what little was left George could either use or dispose of, it didn't matter to Pierre.  His only concern, the focus of his life, was Hannah.

He looked out the window.  It was eleven-thirty.  He knew the women would leave earlier than noon because Margaret was away.  He suddenly felt nostalgic for the old days when Margaret cared what he thought or what he did.  Her recent coolness pained him, but he quickly brushed those sentimental thoughts aside.  Now, her indifference had given him the impetus to do what he had wanted to do since Hannah left New Beach, and he was grateful.  He needed this push out of the nest and he welcomed it.  There was just one more thing he had to do.  As he watched Jenny and Ginny leave through the back door of the house, he turned and went down the stairs to the stable.  He stayed away from the door, went to the small window near it, and saw the women pass by.  They glanced at the stable.

"Good riddance, I say," Ginny said.

"Oh, I'll miss him," Jenny said.  "He's a good-looking man."

"But a cold fish," Ginny said.

They giggled and continued until they reached the street.  Pierre stepped to the edge of the door and watched them walk down the road.  Only then did he leave the stable and head to the house.  The view of Margaret's house from the road was obstructed by a high hedge.  He would get to the house undetected and be in and out before anyone knew he was there.

He ran to the back door and entered the kitchen.  He went up the back stairs to the second floor and went directly to Margaret's room.  He knew she kept her jewelry in the upper drawer of her dresser.  A jeweled handbag she used for special occasions in New York or Philadelphia along with some earrings and one necklace rested on the top of two trays.  She would miss those, so he lifted the top tray to see what was underneath.  The second tray contained more earrings, a ruby ring, a diamond ring, and more necklaces with matching bracelets, and three brooches.

My God, Margaret, if these aren't your best, what do you keep in the safe?

He weighed the value of each piece and tried to remember which he had seen her wearing in the last seven years.  One of the brooches was unfamiliar to him.  He had never seen her wearing the round, gold piece encrusted with a variety of precious stones.  It was a garish, ugly thing, but it was valuable.  He picked it up and put it in his pocket.  He would have to wait until he was out of town before pawning it, however, for the jewelers in Monmouth County knew Margaret and might recognize the brooch.

He focused next on the earrings.  Margaret wore the same set every day and only changed them for social occasions.  He had seen her in several of them, but he found one small pair in a box shoved behind the trays.  They were drop earrings, each with a small diamond dangling from a short gold chain and a pearl at the clasp.  Margaret didn't care for pearls.  She refused to wear them.  Pierre had always wondered at her dislike for it seemed irrational, but women were that way and he'd just accepted it as one of Margaret's quirks.  He decided she would never miss them and he pocketed them.

He put everything back in place and closed the drawer.  He then went to Margaret's bed.  He dropped to his knees, bent over, and looked under the bed.  He pulled out a small wooden box and opened it.  It contained a woman's derringer.  He hesitated.  If she ever looked inside the box, she would know he had taken it.  But it could be months or even years before that happened.  Margaret didn't like the gun.  Her husband had bought it for her protection.  He had even taught her how to use it, but she was concerned she might shoot someone accidentally, which is why she kept it out of reach.  He put the gun and the spare bullets in his other pocket.  He shoved the box back under the bed and stood up.

He went to Louise's room.  He saw Hannah's letter on her desk and grabbed it.  He made sure it was the same one he had read, the one with the Denver address, and put it in his breast pocket.  He saw a small portrait of Hannah on Louise's dresser.  He picked it up and looked at it.  His heart filled with longing as he recalled the scent of her hair.  He wanted to take the portrait with him, but he knew Louise would miss it.  But, she was gone.  She had left for Colorado and wouldn't be back for a month.  He took the picture out of its silver frame and put it, too, in his breast pocket.

He stopped in the dining room before leaving.  Margaret had two sets of silverware.  She used only one -- the set she'd received as a wedding present.  The other had been her mother-in-law's.  She didn't like her mother-in-law.  The chest was in the large breakfront on the bottom shelf.  It hadn't been removed from the shelf since Margaret moved into the house.  A layer of dust covered the chest.  Pierre carefully opened the lid.  He didn't want to disturb the dust.  He knew what he wanted -- the large serving spoons.  They contained the most silver, and this flatware wasn't plated -- it was pure silver.  He reached in and pulled out three spoons.  They were tarnished.  He would shine them up before he presented them to the pawnbroker.  

He took a last look around.  He didn't have time to dawdle and went through the kitchen door to the porch.  He suddenly remembered the key in his pocket and went back inside.  He ran to the foyer and placed it on the hook.  From the tiny side windows next to the front door, he could see George arriving in the carriage.  He was coming back from dropping Louise at the station.  Pierre ran to the kitchen.  He could hear the key turning in the front door and heard the door open.  He made it to the porch before George got to the kitchen, where he would make himself some lunch.

Pierre went to the side of the house and peeked in the French doors.  He didn't see George.  
He must be in the kitchen
.  Pierre breathed a sigh of relief and ran to the stable.  After putting his booty in a small traveling bag, he went to the dresser and took out his wallet.  He had six hundred dollars he had saved from his wages over seven years. It was more than enough for his train ticket.  Taking the horse would cost an extra fifty dollars.  He had decided on a Pullman so he could sleep lying down.  The train from Philadelphia would leave in two days.

He went to find George to tell him he was going to Long Branch.  He usually took a bag with him when he went there.  If George saw him with the bag, he wouldn't think anything of it.  It would be days before Margaret missed him and by then, he would be on the train heading west.  He had chosen a new name for himself in case the police came looking for him and suspected he'd taken a train out of town.  He would call himself Jean Duval.

He thought about going to town to have something to eat.  He would pass Hannah's house.  He could knock on the door and say hello.  When he saw Hannah, he could tell her about the new residents.  It would be a way to start a conversation.  

He hadn't developed a plan to explain his presence in Colorado yet, but he had no doubt something would come to him soon.  He felt excited as he thought of her eyes lighting up when she saw him and knew he would go straight to Philadelphia.  He had to get out of this town.  He pulled her photograph out of his breast pocket.

"Soon we will be together," he said as he gazed at her face.  "Soon."

Chapter 32

High Bend, Colorado

It was warm by the train tracks, but Hannah's excitement at seeing Louise gave her chills.  She was longing to see her old friend.  She had been so lonely for someone who shared her love of art, someone who shared her passion to paint.  She arrived at the station too early, and two trains had already passed.  Adam had brought her in the wagon so they would have room for Louise's trunks.  As Hannah paced the wooden platform, Adam watched her.

He thought about Hannah all the time.  He knew she didn't like him, for every time she was around him, they would argue.  He didn't understand her one bit.  He talked to James about it and the older man would simply shrug and say that's how women are.

Adam often asked James about women.  Adam had little experience with the opposite sex.  Living with his uncle and his wife had been rough.  His aunt didn't talk to Adam.  She believed he was a burden and even though they had no children of their own, she didn't want Adam.  As soon as he turned sixteen, he was put out.

The ladies of ill repute at the Half Moon Saloon were nice if you gave them two bits, but they didn't talk very much.  Adam didn't know what to do with a woman like Hannah.  She was smart and pretty, but she was also nice, like the girls he'd see at church.  Adam would try to talk to them and they would turn their noses up and walk away.  James said it was because he was a ranch hand and those girls were looking for a husband with prospects.  Adam didn't own any land.

The night before, he asked James again what he thought about Hannah.  He and Hannah had had another argument.  She was sitting on the porch of her house and he was standing by the barn.  He had brushed down Blue and had left him in his stall.  He saw her sitting alone and walked over to her.

"Evening," he said.

"Evening," she replied.

He thought she might ask him to sit with her, but she didn't.

"Nice night," he said.

"It is."

"Are you looking forward to your friend coming tomorrow?"

"Of course, I'm looking forward to it.  What a silly question."

"I didn't mean anything by it."

He stood there feeling foolish and then walked away.  Why did she always do that? 

He went to James' and knocked on the door.  James answered and saw Adam's frustration.

"Let's sit," he said.

They sat on James' rocking chairs; James pulled a cigar out of his pocket and handed it to Adam.  They puffed their cigars for a few minutes before Adam began to speak.

"What's wrong with Hannah?" he said.

"Son, a woman wants..."

Adam rolled his eyes.  "Don't tell me what a woman wants," he cried.  "You keep telling me what a woman wants, but I don't see many hanging around you."

James took a puff of his cigar.  He thought about Becky and wondered what she was doing.  The boy was right.  James didn't know what a woman wanted.  He just knew what they didn't want.

In his day, James was considered a catch.  He was young, handsome, and rich, and he knew how to dress well.  Once he got to Colorado, however, he abandoned his society ways for life on the range, and now he looked more like a well-worn rancher than a citified gentleman.  His hair was cut four times a year.  He trimmed his mustache with a pair of dull scissors he bought in Philadelphia twenty years ago.  He wore white or chambray shirts and plain blue jeans since he'd seen the pants in a store in Denver.  He was still handsome, but older, and the girls didn't pay him any mind anymore.

Hannah was a mystery to her uncle, too.  She was a nice girl who treated him with respect, but she was cool toward him and James didn't understand why.  He hadn't met Randall Dawes and didn't know how he had treated his sister.  They hadn't discussed her late husband and James felt that if Marian wanted to, she would.  Perhaps her relationship with Randall had affected Hannah by making her a little too cautious with men.  While some care is necessary, a woman had to show a little interest.  James had noticed she could be downright rude to Adam, and he didn't understand why.

"Maybe she likes you," he said.

Adam narrowed his eyes.  "How do you figure that?   That doesn't make any sense."

"Well, the thing about women is, they don't make any sense."

"That's the truth," Adam said.

"So, if they don't make sense, I think she probably likes you."

"And that's why she's so ornery?"

James nodded his head as he puffed his pipe.  "Yup.  That would explain it."

Another train was approaching the station and Hannah walked to the edge of the platform. Adam was sitting behind her on a bench.  He didn't like her being so close to the edge and got up.  She strained her neck to see the train and her foot was halfway over the edge of the platform.  Adam came up behind her and put out his hands.  As the train drew nearer, she went to back away and went right into his arms.  Instinctively, he wrapped them around her and pulled her away from the edge.

She pushed his arms away and turned around.  She glared at him and ran her hands over her skirt.

"Why did you do that?" she said.

"I thought you were gonna fall off the platform."

"Did I look like I was gonna fall off the platform?"

"Yes."

She looked at his face.  
Why do I keep doing this?  He looks so hurt.
 She remembered Louise was coming.  She began to feel kinder toward him.

"Well, thank you," she said.

Adam was stunned.  She didn't sound mean.

"You're welcome."

The train had stopped and people were getting off and going into the station.  Hannah kept looking for Louise and finally saw her at the other end of the train.  She ran toward Louise and wrapped her arms around her tightly.

"I've missed you so much," Hannah said with tears in her eyes.  "It's so good to see you."

"I've missed you, too," Louise said.  Now she was crying.

They separated and looked each other.

"Louise, you look beautiful."

Louise had lost weight and her hair was professionally styled.

"Mrs. Mason has been very kind.  She gave me these clothes."