Marblestone Mansion, Book 3 Read online

  “If she does not want to take Millie and Prescot with us.”

  “That would be a problem. All you can do is ask.” The judge seemed calmer now and Glenn was relieved. He thought about that pretty little woman he married and smiled. Susanna had her ways, some of them a bit odd, but he loved her more fiercely every day. Still smiling, he put his spectacles on, took the cap off his fountain pen and went back to work.

  *

  The mild winter weather often allowed Claymore and Abigail Whitfield to share an evening meal with Hannish and Leesil MacGreagor. The MacGreagors were much younger, but it didn’t seem to be a deterrent for either couple. On this occasion, dinner, drinks and cards were at the Whitfield Mansion. In the flamboyant Whitfield dining room with its lavish chandelier, busy blue flowered wallpaper and curtains to match, two footmen served an Italian pasta dinner complete with seasoned bread.

  Abigail was dressed in yellow, which always looked good on a woman with red hair. The men were accustomed to wearing casual clothes when it was just the four of them and Claymore was particularly fond of knee length breeches, leggings and a white shirt with no jacket.

  Seated across the dining room table from Leesil, Abigail lowered her voice as though she was telling a secret no one else knew, “Mr. Bob Ford lives in Walsenburg.”

  Dressed in a green summer frock, Leesil wrinkled her brow. “Who is he?”

  “My dear, he’s the one who killed Jesse James,” Abigail answered.

  “The bank robber?” Hannish asked.

  “The very same,” Abigail answered. “Bob Ford and his brother were arrested, and sentenced to be hung by the neck until they were dead. But certain circumstances prevented it.”

  “What sort of circumstances?” Leesil asked. She pushed a lock of auburn hair away from her face and took another bite of pasta.

  “Governor Crittenden gave both men a full pardon. He had to, you see. It was he who hired the brothers to do just that…kill Jesse James…in any way possible.”

  “When was that?” Hannish asked. “Before I came to Colorado, surely.”

  “A little before my time here, too.” Seated at the head of the table, Clayton thought for a moment before he continued. “Let me see, it was just a year or so before gold was found at Cripple Creek and I’ve owned my mines for about twenty years.”

  Abigail ignored both husbands. “Jesse James was shot right in the back, poor man.”

  Claymore rolled his eyes, “Poor man? My dear, Mrs. Whitfield, you would not call him that, if he robbed Mr. Goodwin’s bank and took all our money.”

  “Don’t be silly, Claymore,” Abigail scoffed, “no one would dare rob Mr. Goodwin’s bank. You said it yourself, and not so very long ago. Every precaution has been taken to deter any bank robber who sets foot in Colorado Springs. Mr. Goodwin’s bank is in the center of town with stores adjacent to it on both sides. The front and back walls are doubled, and blasting through either would be heard all over town.”

  Claymore frowned. “True, but during banking hours, Goodwin leaves the safe wide open for all the world to see. I say he makes our money far too tempting.”

  “Are you suggesting we take our money out of the bank?” Hannish asked.

  Claymore emphatically nodded while he swallowed his bite of bread. “I am. So long as we have a place to hide it, we are better off until this bank robbery business is behind us. I suggested Goodwin hire Pinkerton guards, but he claims he would have to raise his fees to pay for them.”

  “Does he not lock the safe at night?” Leesil asked.

  “Of course, he does, my love,” Hannish answered. “Our bank is as safe as any other.”

  “Even so, a little less temptation is in order,” said Claymore. “Better we secure our money ourselves, than to let the robbers hide it once they get their hands on it. There are gulches and caves enough in Colorado to hide the wealth of the world. I’d not be surprised if half the thieves in America are camped out in these mountains.”

  Abigail added, “Opal says she knows of a canyon where a gang keeps their stolen livestock well hidden.”

  Claymore wrinkled his brow. “And how does she know that?”

  Abigail stared into her husband’s eyes for a moment. “I neglected to ask.”

  Claymore smiled and put his hand over hers. “My love, never have I known you to forget to ask. We are getting a bit old, you and I.”

  “Not that old…I hope.” Abigail removed her hand, patted the top of his and went back to eating.

  Hannish set his fork down and folded his arms. “You truly believe we should take our money out of the bank?”

  “Not all of it,” Claymore answered. “We’d not like setting Mr. Goodwin back a piece. He has been very good to us, but we might put a bit away just in case. Have you a hiding place in mind?”

  Hannish glanced at the two footmen who were busy serving dinner. “I suppose under any rock would do, dependin’ on how much we take out…perhaps more than one rock.”

  “Could he not set dogs loose in the bank at night?” Leesil asked.

  Claymore smiled. “That is not a bad idea. I shall suggest it to Mr. Goodwin.”

  Again ignoring the husbands, Abigail turned her attention back to Leesil. “Have you seen the chandelier Maude chose for the bank lobby? It is magnificent and…”

  “And expensive looking,” Claymore interrupted, “as is the marble floor and the brass and gold fittings Mr. Goodwin insisted upon. My love, while we might admire it, think how it tempts bank robbers. No, I am convinced – sooner or later we’ll have a robbery on our hands.”

  Leesil smiled at the footman when he came to pour more tea in her cup. “Claymore, you were tellin’ about Walsenburg.”

  “Indeed I was. I mention it because it is to that smelter my gold ore is shipped these days.”

  “Where is Walsenburg, exactly?” Leesil asked.

  “It is south of Pueblo. Except for the Spanish Peaks, the terrain is a bit bland, but they often see mule deer and an occasional buffalo or two.”

  “I have never seen a buffalo, you know,” said Abigail. “How far is it to Walsenburg?”

  “Not so very far, my love,” Claymore answered, “if by train. A bit too far by carriage, I imagine.”

  “Why did you choose those smelters?” Hannish asked, returning to his dinner.

  “I was using one in Pueblo until now. They built two smelters in Pueblo, but one closed down last year. Meyer Guggenheim bought the other one and gold is not their only ore. They extract copper, zinc and silver from the rocks. I hear the American Smelting Company is trying to buy up all the smelters in the country, but they won’t get Guggenheim's. He won’t sell and more power to him.”

  Hannish wrinkled his brow. “The American Smelting Company hopes to have a monopoly?”

  “Indeed they do, and the ability to set the prices wherever they will. Back in 1892, I believe it was, Colorado Fuel and Iron Company began buying steel plants and coal mines – another monopoly, you see. The miners are treated abominably and there is trouble brewing.”

  “What sort of trouble?” Hannish asked.

  “They are building company towns,” Claymore answered, “and a man named Walsen began the practice in Colorado. He set up a mercantile and then opened a coal mine. Miners need housing, schools, medicine and of course, food. Walsen found a way to own it all. Quite a tricky business, these company towns.”

  “Tricky in what way?” Leesil asked. She sipped her tea, took a bite of seasoned bread and savored the taste.

  “Instead of paying in cold hard cash, the coal miners are paid in script,” Claymore answered.

  “What is script?” Abigail asked.

  “It is little more than paper with an amount written on it. From that amount, rent, food and such are subtracted, and rarely is anything left over. More often than not, there is a minus amount, which is taken out of next month’s script…which in turn leaves the family with less to spend and so on and so forth.”

  “Why do the
miners stay, then?” Leesil asked.

  Claymore took a bite of pasta, chewed and swallowed before he answered. “My dear, no bank will honor a company script. If a man leaves, he leaves without his wages. If he complains, he is fired and loses it all – including the roof over the heads of his family.”

  “How awful,” Abigail moaned.

  “What sort of trouble are you expectin’?” Hannish asked.

  “Many of the men working in my gold mines have brothers, uncles, and cousins mining coal, and they’re getting angry. It pains me to say it, but the coal miners need a union.”

  “Then you are right, there will be trouble,” said Hannish, “a lad cannae watch his family suffer for very long without doin’ somethin’ about it.”

  “Indeed he cannot,” Claymore agreed, “and I’ve half a mind to sell out before the trouble begins. I hoped to leave the mines to my children, but Charles simply does not have the wherewithal to be a businessman. Oh, he tries, but left to make a sound decision, he knows not what to do.”

  “He still hopes Alexandra will be found, you know,” Abigail breathed.

  Claymore didn’t mean to, but he raised his voice. “My love, let us not hear that name again! I have been daily drowned in Charles’ remembrances of that woman. Oh, I grieve the loss of his wife as do we all, but must I hear about her constantly? I beg of you, Abigail, do not mention her again.”

  “Very well.” Of course that was not the end of it…it never was for Abigail. She turned her attention back to Leesil. “He is gone, you know.”

  “Who is gone?” Leesil asked.

  “Charles. He has gone back to England to look for her. Claymore agreed, and so he happily boarded the train on Thursday.”

  “He no longer believes…” Hannish almost slipped and called her ‘the duchess, “…his wife was kidnapped?”

  “One cannot say what he believes these days,” Claymore answered, “but with no ransom demand, even he must admit it is suspicious. Just the same, I am forced to finance another of his wild adventures. Look what it got us the last time – a daughter-in-law, first in jail and then gone missing.”

  Abigail nodded. “At least he is not underfoot. When he is home, he mopes all day and then goes off at night to drink. I could bear no more of it. Still, I love him dearly and it will break his heart if Charles learns she simply abandoned him.” Abigail suddenly caught her breath. “What will they say of us in town if he finds her? They will think Charles is…”

  Once more, Claymore put his hand over his wife’s. “My love, we are not the first to have a preposterous son, nor will we be the last. Let them talk, let them get it over with, and let us get on with our lives the better for it.”

  Abigail rolled her eyes. “You say that now, but…”

  Hannish smiled at the woman he had grown to admire, despite her colorful personality. “The Kingdom is a very big place. If she does not wish to be found, there are ample places to hide.” His words seemed to quickly ease her mind…too quickly, and for a moment, he wondered if Abigail knew something she was not telling. She could not know much, he decided, and dismissed his concern.

  “I care not if he finds her. What I care about is the money he will spend doing it. The boy does not know temperance,” said Claymore.

  “Why not give him a particular sum in an account of his own, and once it is spent, he will receive no more?” Hannish suggested.

  Claymore considered the idea for several moments. “He might spend it all and not save back enough for his passage home. He’ll have to find employment.”

  Hannish nodded. “He’ll be a much better steward of his inheritance if he learns it now.”

  “By George, you are right. No time better than now to teach him. You are quite right, Hannish; he will never find her. She had no money when she ran off, and I bet my bottom dollar she is still somewhere in America.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The thought of the duchess still being in America made Hannish cringe, and he could tell the discussion was making his wife uneasy. Leesil had her hands in her lap, wasn’t eating and her head was bowed. She didn’t say so, but talk of his first wife always bothered her. He reached for her hand to reassure her, and smiled when she looked up. “Claymore, what will you do if you sell the mines? Surely, you do not intend to be idle.”

  “What do you do with your days?” Claymore asked.

  Hannish sighed. “Not as much as I would like. I know no other business save mining and I care not to do that again.”

  Leesil was grateful for the change of subject. “Aye, but building is your true love. Never have I seen you so happy as when you were building the cottages.”

  “She is right, I do love building,” Hannish agreed. He let go of her hand and returned to his meal. “Colorado Springs is growing. Perhaps we might build houses.”

  Claymore looked down at what little was left on his plate and motioned for the footmen to bring more pasta. “True, the mayor says we are nearing 20,000 these days.”

  “Houses like the ones on Millionaire’s Row?” Abigail asked.

  Claymore raised an eyebrow. “What have you heard? Is Colorado Springs to have another crop of gold and silver millionaires?”

  Abigail giggled. “Not that I know of.”

  “Then we need not build more mansions.” From the large porcelain bowl the footman held, Claymore spooned more pasta and sauce on his plate and then motioned for the footman to offer more to his guests.

  “Aye, but the common people need houses,” said Hannish. He was glad to see Leesil eating again.

  “It has been tried before,” Claymore mentioned. “After they built the college north of town, a man bought considerable land believing many would want to build homes near the college. It turned out badly for him, very badly.”

  Hannish decided against more food and waved the footman away. “Aye, but we need not build too many. We shall build one, wait until it sells and build another. Besides, we are wealthy lads who dinna depend on sellin’ houses for our income.”

  The idea was beginning to grow on Claymore. “It is not as though we do not know where to get the best materials. There is a man in town who could draw up the plans easily enough. Men are always in need of work, and…” He suddenly frowned. “I do not believe I’ve so much as held a hammer in the last ten years.”

  “You order the materials, keep the books and I’ll hire the lads and do the building,” Hannish said.

  “No union bosses?” Claymore asked.

  “None!”

  Claymore slowly began to grin. “I am inclined to say yes, but first…Abigail, would you be very upset if we sell the mines?”

  She leaned her head against his arm and looked up at her husband. “Of course not, I hate having you so far away during the week.”

  “Done then.” He quickly kissed Abigail’s lips, which seemed to embarrass her and made her sit up straight again. Not often did they display their affection in public.

  “Have you a buyer for your mines?” Hannish asked, relieving the slightly awkward moment.

  Claymore grinned. “My boy, there is one around every corner these days. They all look alike, dress alike and have gold dust in their eyes.”

  “I am not surprised, ‘twas the same when I sold my silver mine,” said Hannish.

  Claymore’s smile widened. “I must say, I am relieved to have made the decision finally. I’ve had more than my share of exasperation with union bosses. Let them be someone else’s headache.”

  Just then, Abigail’s lady’s maid entered. “Your son is hungry, Mrs. MacGreagor.”

  Both men stood up when Leesil got to her feet. “He is always hungry at dinner time.” She smiled and then followed the maid out of the dining room.

  *

  Not surprisingly, Mrs. Eleanor Nelson was not happy in her marriage and after only a few short months, she began to plan her escape. Early on, she suspected her sixth husband’s wealth was of a fleeting kind. Shipping supplies to Alaskan gold miners was viewed as a
lucrative endeavor, by more men than the need for them demanded. Furthermore, Mr. Nelson’s voyages up the coast often interfered with attending various parties and balls, a circumstance the duchess simply could not abide. What was wealth for, if no one ever saw her wearing it on her flawless, girlish figure?

  It was indeed a good time to make a swift departure. Her home was nice enough, she supposed, but the ground beneath San Francisco was not always stable. Occasionally, the earth rumbled and caused her hillside mansion to slightly sway, which kept Eleanor quite on edge.

  What she longed for was the sort of excitement she enjoyed in London society; the kind that gave her good cause to stay up most of the night and wake up late the next morning. The occasional game of “will she or won’t she” with men other than her current husband, thrilled her and made her feel powerful. It was a game Londoners played much better than Americans, and she desperately longed to go home to London, even if Scotland was her true home.

  Yet, one thing in America was left unfinished. She had a score to settle with her fourth husband, Hannish MacGreagor. Although he was not the first to lie to her, the falsehood Hannish MacGreagor told was the worst – he let her believe he had little money left, when in fact, he had millions. After the silliest of quarrels, he sent her back to Scotland, promised to join her and lied about that too. When she got to Scotland, she found the title and her glorious MacGreagor castle belonged instead to his brother, Cameron, whose wife had become the new duchess.

  Therefore, Eleanor was forced to live in a dilapidated cottage with only two servants and a tiny allowance – all because she hit one of Hannish MacGreagor’s precious servants with her hairbrush. Even now, she still couldn’t get over the audacity of the man.

  She saw nothing so very terrible in her propensity to be a bigamist, after all, a woman must have a living and surely. everyone understood that. Therefore, when she was shockingly arrested in Paris and dragged back to England, she was certain Hannish was behind it. Had it not been for her second husband, Mr. Sinclair, she might very well be rotting in an English prison.