Marblestone Mansion, Book 10 Read online

  “What question was that?” Lillie Mae asked.

  “How old are you?”

  “Well, if you must know, I am a few months younger than Blair.”

  Brookton’s mouth dropped. “You are only fourteen?”

  “I am not only fourteen? I am fourteen, finally. Why are you surprised? I told you I left home when I was twelve.”

  “Yes, but I thought that was years ago.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  When it came to Lillie Mae, he was normally wrong. Brookton was quiet for several minutes, gazing at the sagebrush lined barbed wire fence, and the dry, barren land beyond. He needed to think of another way to distract her, but it wasn’t easy. “Did anyone tell you about Charlotte?”

  “Not that I recall. Who is she?”

  Brookton couldn’t help but smile. “Charlotte used to work at Marblestone. She was a housekeeper who had designs on Mr. Hannish after he sent the duchess away.”

  “Before he married Miss Leesil?”

  “That is right. Miss McKenna invited Charlotte to Mrs. Whitfield’s sewing circle and Charlotte spoke out of turn.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I am not familiar with all the details, but whatever it was, Mr. Hannish was furious and sent her away. To get even, Charlotte threw a blueberry pie at Miss Leesil at the town picnic.”

  “No,” Lillie Mae gasped.

  “Naturally, Charlotte got arrested.”

  “For throwing the pie?”

  “No, for not paying for it first.” When he looked, Lillie Mae was smiling. She said nothing more, so he took a moment to think of something else to tell her. Instead, he decided to ask about her family. “Tell me about your sisters. I do not believe you have ever mentioned them.”

  “I find that hard to believe, I think about them constantly. First, there is Emma. She is seven years younger than me, and will be in charge of things now, if Father is truly gone.”

  “Your mother will not be in charge?”

  In the overly warm passenger car, Lillie Mae removed the gloves Millie loaned her, and laid them in her lap. “Mother does what Father tells her to, even when he drinks most of the egg money away. She loves him, she says, and I do not think she can make a sound decision without him. I do not intend to love a man that much…if I ever love one at all.”

  “Not all men are bad,” Brookton argued.

  “As evidenced by the Mr. MacGreagors. You are a good man too…so far, but Mother says Father was when she married him. People change.”

  “You have three little sisters?”

  “Yes. Carol came next, and then came Mary.”

  “What did you do for food when he drank the egg money?” Brookton asked.

  “Well, Horace Colton helped us mostly. He talked all the people into saving the corncobs for us, after they ate the corn. Once a week, he would bring them to us so the chickens had something to eat. Sometimes he brought milk from his cow, and sometimes butter and cheese. Flour and yeast, he always said when he brought it, didn’t cost very much at the mercantile, but it was more than we could afford.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  “I liked it too, right up until he tried to marry me.”

  “No one else helped you?”

  “Oh, on church days, there was always meat and sometimes vegetables for me to take home. No one ever said where it came from. Mother hated it and refused to go to church just because of it. She said her prayers and read the good book, but taking charity was more than she could bear. She always went to her bedroom when Horace came too.”

  “Tell me about Peyton,” said Brookton. On the dirt road beside the railroad tracks, they passed a horse drawn buggy with large wheels that made dust billow up behind it.

  “Well, it is mighty small compared to Colorado Springs. The last I heard, only thirty seven people lived there.”

  “That is small.”

  “Especially when considering six of them was us.”

  “What do the people do there?”

  “Father said his father was a sodbuster. We live in one of the sod houses he built. It is cool in summer, but cold in winter. Grandfather was promised fine land suitable for farming, with plenty of water coming down off the Rocky Mountains. The water would irrigate the fields with little or no work on his part, they said. That was not quite true. There are rivers and springs, but the part about not much work was a fairy tale if ever I heard one. What he got was freezing winters, scarce rainfall, wildfires and droughts so severe, they made the sod crack and peel. Even the Indians were smart enough to head for the mountains in summer. Not my grandfather, no sir, not him.” Lillie Mae sighed.

  “Why didn’t he move on?”

  Lillie Mae shrugged. “He built a sod house and grew beans and potatoes. Then when he died, father took over the land. Only…”

  “Only what?”

  “Only Father got the spirit sickness. He is just not fit for hard work, Mother said. Growing potatoes and beans is hard, hard work.”

  “I suspect it is.”

  “We tried raising a calf once, but a pack of coyotes got to it.”

  Brookton pointed at something in the sky. “Is that a hawk?”

  “A big one too. I’m partial to the falcons, but I could never get close to one. We would have eaten it, if I could have caught it. We saw a mountain lion once, and when the mule deer get thirsty, they come right down to the creek.”

  “Why did you not shoot the deer?”

  “We never could afford a gun.”

  “I see. What do they do in Peyton for fun?”

  “About the only excitement in Peyton is when the train stops to fill its water tank. Trains cannot have steam without water, Mother says.”

  Brookton half rose out of his seat as the train caused a herd of wild horses to run alongside. “Look at that!” Their manes were mangy, their hooves were unshod, and their tails uncombed, but were a sight to behold. Most of them looked like they were related, with coats the color of a golden sunset. Others were a shade or two darker, and three of them were white with gold and brown spots.

  “We sure could have used a horse or two, but you cannot catch them unless you have a horse to chase them down with, which we never did after old Joe died.”

  Brookton couldn’t take his eyes off the thirty or so horses. At length, the herd turned and raced across the Colorado prairie. “I have not seen anything that beautiful in years.”

  “They are that,” Lillie Mae agreed.

  Brookton eased back in his seat. “What else should I know about Peyton?”

  “Well, we have a mercantile that claims to carry everything a man could ever need, even a casket.” Lillie Mae felt a slight twinge when she said it, but she let it pass.

  “It is mostly farms?”

  “There is a coal mine too. We have a blacksmith, a creamery, a hotel, a priest, a minster, and even a doctor. He doctors both people and animals, when he has to. They hold dances over in Mr. Wallace’s barn of a Saturday night, but we never had clothes good enough to go. This maid uniform is the best I ever had.”

  “Apparently, they have telephones.”

  “Yes, there were six in town last time I checked. Horace says they run on dry cell batteries. We do not have one at our house, of course, but if we did, Horace said they would run the wire right along the top of the barbed wire fence.”

  Brookton looked and sure enough, there were no telephone poles, just telephone wires strung on top of the fences.

  Lillie Mae said, “The settlers wanted to call it Mayfield, but the post office said no.”

  “Why?” Brookton asked.

  “Because there was already a Mayfield in California. I like Mayfield better than Peyton, but who can argue with the Postal service?”

  “Not many, I suppose.”

  “You do not care for Horace, do you.”

  “Not true. I like him, I just cannot figure out why. He would rather lie than tell the truth.”

  “Do you believe hi
m when he says he loves you?”

  “Oh, I know he loves me, but how am I supposed to believe anything else he says? How do you cure a man of lying?” Lillie Mae asked.

  “All children learn to lie if they think the truth will get them in trouble.”

  “True, but he is nearly all grown up. What can I do about it now?”

  “Well, it takes courage to tell the truth. Horace just needs a little courage.”

  “He needs a good kick in the backside,” she said.

  Brookton laughed. “I doubt that would do any good, but you might tell him you admire men who catch themselves in a lie and hurry to correct it. Once he learns to tell the truth, it will come natural to him.”

  “You truly believe that?”

  “I do. I have seen it work before.”

  “I know one man who would never lie to me. His name is Willis and I guess you could say he is my best friend in Peyton. There is nothing I cannot tell Willis. He took me to see where the Cheyenne Indians got their war paint.”

  “Where is that?” Brookton asked.

  “On the other side of Peyton. It is practically in the middle of nowhere. The sand is streaked with beautiful colors. One color goes up the side of a deep gully and on the other side of the gully is another color. There are mounds that look like teepees and others that look like mushrooms.”

  “I would like seeing that. What color is the sand?”

  “There are streaks of gold, orange, green, purple and white. An artist came here once. He gathered sand of every color and said he was going to heat it up and make glass. I do not know if he truly did. He never came back.”

  As they neared the town of Peyton, the train started to slow down and then stopped, releasing steam from beneath the engine. “Peyton!” the conductor shouted.

  Brookton grabbed their bags, and followed Lillie Mae off the train and into a small building that served as the train station. Inside, they were met by a man behind a counter wearing a boater hat, and garters on the sleeves of his yellowing white shirt.

  “Lillie Mae, you have come home,” he said, as he came around the counter and threw his arms around her. “Sorry about your father.”

  “You mean Horace was not lying?” she asked.

  “Not this time.”

  “We are in need of a horse and buggy,” said Brookton.

  “You got any money?” the man asked.

  “I do.”

  “In that case, you can rent mine. It’s outside and all ready to go. How long you staying?”

  “As long as it takes,” Brookton answered. He carried their traveling cases out to the buggy, loaded them, and then helped Lillie Mae climb aboard.

  “That’ll be fifty cents a day,” said the man.

  “Sounds like a fair price to me.” Brookton handed him two dollars, and then climbed aboard. He drove the horse down the main avenue, and then as Lillie Mae instructed, turned west. Just like she said, it was a very small town dotted with small houses, tall cottonwood trees and green grass. It didn’t take long to reach the desolate and brown countryside. The full range of the Rocky Mountains lay before them and he marveled at how Pikes Peak was the tallest. Living in its shadow, he hadn’t realized how large it looked from afar.

  “How far?”

  “Not far. Our land is alongside Black Squirrel Creek. At least we usually have water, not always, but usually and we are always glad of it.”

  What Lillie Mae saw when they drove up to the front of the house was not what she expected. There were two other buggies outside and one of them belonged to Horace. She expected his to be there, but the other one belonged to the Baptist Preacher. “I guess it must be true,” she muttered.

  “You did not believe the man at the train station either?”

  “I was hoping he was wrong.”

  Brookton studied her face for a moment, but she still hadn’t shed a tear. He got down and helped her out of the buggy. Before she could get to the door, all three of her sisters raced out and threw their arms around her. They were so much younger than Lillie Mae, it surprised Brookton. He removed his hat and watched, as she lifted each in the air, kissed their cheeks, and lowered them. She set the last one on the ground, walked to the door, and then motioned for Brookton to come in.

  Brookton watched as the Preacher hugged Lillie Mae. “The misses sent a basket of food and others will do the same. Doc came to take the body away. There will be a casket to pay for, but we will settle that later. We will have the services at the church day after tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” Even as she watched the Preacher leave, Lillie Mae did not cry.

  Brookton removed his hat and stood just inside the door. The house was indeed built out of sod, and not built all that well. It appeared that Lillie Mae’s mother tried to keep it clean, but what could you do with a sod house? There were no pictures on the walls, the table and chairs were nearly worn out, and instead of a wall between them, the kitchen and parlor were one big room. Two beds lay against a wall, and Brookton supposed that is where the children slept as well. The three little girls sat together on a slightly slanted sofa, supported by three old books under a corner where the leg was missing.

  Horace nodded to her, and was not upset when Lillie Mae walked past him and knocked on the bedroom door. “Mother?” She waited, but there was no answer. “Mother, it is me, Lillie Mae. Please let me in.”

  It took a moment, but she heard her mother lift the bolt, so she could open the door. She quickly slipped inside and closed it behind her. Her mother looked twice as pale and worn-out as she had the last time Lillie Mae saw her, and it instantly made her furious. Apparently, very little of the money she sent was spent on food. “Mother, what happened?” She watched as her mother sat on the side of the bed.

  “It is all my fault. I said terrible things to him before he left the house…things I can never take back.”

  Feeling sorry for her, Lillie Mae sat beside her mother on the bed and took her hand. “Tell me what happened?”

  “Horace found him shot to death.”

  “Shot? Who shot him?”

  “He shot himself.”

  “With what gun?”

  “The shotgun he bought yesterday. I put it in the closet so the girls couldn’t get to it.”

  Lillie Mae drew in a sharp breath. “He bought a shotgun with the money I sent?”

  “That is what I said all those terrible things about.” Her mother lowered her voice. “I think he for sure killed himself.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I found this.” She pulled a sheet of paper out of her skirt pocket and handed it to her daughter.

  Carefully, Lillie Mae opened it up and began to read. “It is a life insurance policy?”

  “For ten thousand dollars. He shot himself so…”

  “Mother, you must not say that. I heard a man cannot shoot himself with a shotgun. It is not possible.”

  “It is if he uses his toes,” Horace said as he opened the door and stuck his head in.

  Lillie Mae jumped up and started for him. “Horace Colton, you get out of here right this minute!”

  “I’m just trying to help,” Horace said. He pulled his head back so she couldn’t hit him, but he held the door open enough to see her.

  “Your kind of help we do not need.”

  “All I’m saying is, your Father still had his shoes on. He was on the other side of the fence when I found him.”

  Lillie Mae wrinkled her forehead. “You do not think he killed himself?”

  “It looked like he tripped over the fence and the gun went off.”

  For a long moment, Lillie Mae stared at Horace. “Then why did you tell me he killed himself?”

  “That is what I thought, but then I thought differently.”

  “Are you sure he had his shoes on?”

  “I’m sure. Me and the preacher found him, and he says it looked like an accident to him too.”

  At length, Lillie Mae nodded and closed the door.
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br />   “It is not true,” her mother whispered. “I saw the look in his eye, he done it on purpose so we could get the insurance.”

  “Mother, please rest now. I shall see to the girls. Have they eaten yet today?” Her mother couldn’t seem to look her in the eye, but she did lie down. “Do not worry, I shall see to it.” She left the room, softly closed the door, and headed for the kitchen cupboards. Just as she suspected, they were empty. She was furious and had to sit down to calm her nerves.

  Instead of looking at him, the girls were staring at the basket of food on the table. Brookton set his hat on the long counter, went to see what was in the basket, and then looked around for a knife to slice the ham and cut the bread. He was a footman, after all, and it was his job to serve the family. He found three plates, began to make sandwiches, and smiled when he saw the oldest lick her lips.

  “You want a sandwich?” Brookton asked Lillie Mae.

  Lillie Mae shook her head. At least her sisters had something to eat, thanks to the preacher. It was not the first time he managed to keep them from starving, but she was determined it would be the last. “Before I left, I told Mr. Burns at the store not to let him spend my money on whiskey, but Father had a way of talking people into doing what he wanted. Good thing he was sober enough to buy that insurance policy. I can thank Mr. Burns for that too. He is the only insurance agent in Peyton. Father owes us that money and more.”

  It was clear she was not going to cry over a father that so horribly let his family down. “If the insurance company pays off,” Brookton muttered

  “What does that mean?” Horace asked.

  “Well, a lot of them nearly went broke after having to pay off after the San Francisco Earthquake.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Lillie Mae asked.

  “It was in the Denver paper.”

  “Oh.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “They have to pay, otherwise he died for nothing. I do not know what to do. Mother cannot survive without him, especially if the insurance does not pay off.”

  “You could marry me,” Horace said.

  Lillie Mae rolled her eyes. “Not until you learn the difference between the truth and a lie.” When she heard another buggy pull up outside, she went to the door and welcomed her neighbors. It was the first in a string of visitors bringing food, giving their condolences, and welcoming Lillie Mae home.