Confused in Colorado Read online

  CONFUSED IN COLORADO

  Yours Truly: The Lovelorn, Book 5

  by Cat Cahill

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at:

  http://www.catcahill.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Cat Cahill

  Cover design by Black Widow Books

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About This Series

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Epilogue

  About this Series

  More Books by Cat Cahill

  About the Author, Cat Cahill

  About This Series

  YOURS TRULY: THE LOVELORN is a multi-author sweet historical romance series take on the modern-day Dear Abby newspaper articles. Each story features someone frustrated in love who writes to The Lovelorn. Then the complications set in. Every book stands alone and features its author's unique creative touch.

  Chapter One

  Near Cañon City, Colorado - June 1880

  “Are you all right, Miss Daniels?”

  Grace Daniels forced her eyes open. The kindly-looking older woman who sat opposite her was peering into her face. The woman, who had introduced herself earlier as Mrs. Satterfield, swayed with the rocking of the train—as did Grace’s stomach.

  “You haven’t looked well since we left Denver,” Mrs. Satterfield said, concern drawing deep wrinkles across her face.

  Grace was certain she hadn’t looked well since she left Louisville, several days prior. “Traveling by rail doesn’t agree with me,” she finally managed to say to the woman.

  “I thought as much.” Mrs. Satterfield pursed her lips as she looked Grace up and down. “You ought to take some ginger. My Edward could hardly stand carriage rides as a child, but ginger candies always relieved his stomach.”

  Grace nodded only slightly. She winced with the motion. Keeping her eyes open made it worse and aggravated the ache that had begun to bloom in her head.

  “You should carry them with you,” the woman went on. “Now try to sleep. Are you debarking the train soon?”

  “Cañon City,” Grace said, grateful for the permission to close her eyes again, rude as it might be.

  “Good.” Mrs. Satterfield sat back and turned her attention to the distant mountain scenery outside the window.

  Grace’s mind wandered to what awaited her in Cañon City. She’d been so ill, she hadn’t had much time to be nervous. Although there wasn’t much reason to be worried at all. She and Chester had exchanged letters for several months before he offered to send her train fare to come West and marry him. Grace could hardly believe her luck. After seeing her sister Lily find love with a man she’d corresponded with, Grace had feared she might not have the same luck. But Chester seemed the perfect man—young, handsome—she imagined from his description of himself, kind, and set up with his own butchering business.

  The train sped along, hardly fast enough for Grace. But finally Mrs. Satterfield offered the information that they had entered the town. The cars slowed and Grace opened her eyes to see buildings, dusty streets, and people. It was all a blur of browns, every shade from the lightness of a freckle to the dark of both of Grace’s sisters’ hair, with a bit of green here and there. For a moment, she forgot her stomach and imagined a sweeping set of skirts with a bodice in just those shades, perhaps with a touch of lace. Her fingers itched for a bit of pencil and some watercolors.

  When the train squealed to a stop, Grace sat for a moment, letting others collect their belongings and bidding goodbye to Mrs. Satterfield. Her stomach had settled, although the slight headache that had accompanied the upset persisted. She was here, in Cañon City, and soon to meet the man who would be her husband. She peered out the window, pressing a hand to her stomach to calm the nerves that had overtaken the motion sickness, but she couldn’t see past the passengers leaving the train to spot a man who might be Chester.

  Smoothing her hair and telling herself she had nothing at all to fear, Grace stood from her seat. At least she wouldn’t need to travel by rail anywhere again soon. Since Mama had passed, Grace had no family left in Louisville—only a few dear friends she’d miss. Her sister Lily was here in Colorado now, married and expecting her second child. And her eldest sister Emma had recently relocated to California with her husband and children. Grace supposed that after she married Chester and settled in to her new home, she might have a visit with Lily. Perhaps she could help with the baby, when it arrived.

  A porter carried her trunk across the platform to a bench that sat against the depot building. The place appeared to be newly built—the wood still a bit rough and the paint unmarred by dirt or smoke. Grace thanked the porter and offered him one of her few precious coins. The man grinned and tipped his hat to her.

  Now all she needed to do was find Chester. As she scanned the platform for a man who met his description, she wondered if they might be married right away, or if he’d prefer to wait until they knew each other better. From his letters, Grace felt as if she knew him fairly well already. He was tall, fair-haired just as she was, had grown up with no siblings in Wisconsin, and had taken in a dog he’d named Fortuno. He neither drank nor smoked, and he hoped to have children someday. He sounded altogether wonderful, although Grace often reminded herself that he must have some faults. She couldn’t go into a marriage expecting the man to be utterly perfect.

  As the platform cleared, Grace fought the urge to twist her hands together. She could almost hear Mama in her head, telling her not to fidget. So instead, she shifted the reticule under her arm, tilted her hat to a more fashionable angle, and stared hopefully down the platform.

  When hardly anyone remained, a younger man stepped onto the platform with an older woman on his arm. They came from the direction of what appeared to be the town. The woman smiled kindly at her, reminding Grace so much of her own mother that a pang of loneliness shot through her heart. Grace returned the smile, forcing her lips to curve upward despite the nervousness that had begun to overtake her again.

  The younger man on the woman’s arm seemed preoccupied with the train itself, not noticing Grace at all until they’d grown closer and his companion laid a hand on his arm. The moment his dark eyes landed on her, Grace felt as if she couldn’t catch her breath. He looked her up and down before seeming to realize he was acting quite ungentlemanly. He shifted his stance and drew his gaze to somewhere over Grace’s left shoulder as they both pause
d in front of her.

  “My dear,” his female companion said to Grace, “you look a bit lost. Were you to meet someone?”

  “I am,” she said breathlessly, pressing her hands into her skirts as if they would help her learn to breathe correctly again. “My fiancé should arrive shortly.” Fiancé. It felt strange to say aloud, as if it were something that belonged to someone else.

  The word seemed to catch the man by surprise. His eyes found her again, and he frowned briefly. Just as Grace wondered what about her words made him look so unhappy, his expression changed, but his smile didn’t reach those midnight eyes.

  “Congratulations,” the woman said, beaming at Grace like a proud mother.

  “Thank you.” Grace warmed from her head to her toes, ignoring the disapproving man who made her feel as if she were running out of air. She was really going to be married, and to a good man! She’d had a few prospects at home, but all were young men who could barely scrape together a living, and none of whom she found herself particularly attracted to. After seeing both her sisters originally settle with husbands here in Colorado, it seemed inevitable that Grace might too.

  And now it was finally happening. If Chester would hurry up and arrive, that is.

  The kind woman and her moody companion bid Grace good afternoon. They strolled to the edge of the platform as Grace settled on the bench next to her trunk. Out of the corner of her eye, Grace noticed the man look back at her. She fought the temptation to return his gaze before they crossed the tracks and disappeared into the trees that lined the river. She hated to admit it, but he made her nervous. He wasn’t threatening—not in the least—but there was no other explanation for why she felt so . . . so . . .

  She huffed, frustrated with her inability to put a name to the feeling. It was best she forget the man anyhow. Chester would be here soon. Perhaps he’d been held up at his butcher shop. She ought to think about what she might say when he arrived.

  By the time Grace had thought through everything from a simple greeting to how they might like to arrange their home, the sun was sinking behind the buildings across from the tracks. Her hopes dimmed with the sunlight, although she fought to keep her optimism alive. Chester wouldn’t leave her here . . . would he?

  She smoothed the pretty periwinkle striped skirt, carefully chosen for the way it set off her light blue eyes, and refused to give in to the darkness that was beginning to crowd her thoughts. She was alone on the platform—until two people picked their way across the tracks toward the depot.

  This must be Chester. She couldn’t tell for certain, given that the setting sun cast the figures in shadow, but who else would be coming to the depot long after the last train had left? Grace stood and put on her sweetest smile, despite the fact that she’d been waiting all afternoon and all evening for him to arrive, and despite the fact that her stomach had finally settled enough to feel downright ravenous.

  But as the figures drew closer, Grace’s heart fell faster than the sun.

  It wasn’t Chester.

  Chapter Two

  Grace dug her fingers into her reticule to keep the disappointment from welling up in her chest. It was the same two people who’d passed hours before—the kindly woman and the man with the eyes that took Grace’s breath away.

  “Oh, my goodness,” the older woman said, pressing a hand to her heart. “You’re still here.”

  “I’m certain he’ll arrive soon.” But all of the confidence had drained out of Grace’s voice. She wasn’t certain, not at all. How could Chester have left her here, alone, and without sending word? Where was he? Tears pricked at Grace’s eyes but she bit her lip until the urge to fall into sobs in front of these strangers receded.

  “He isn’t coming,” the man said, those eyes fixed on Grace.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked. She should look away, turn back to the woman who had gray-streaked dark hair just like Grace’s own mother, and ask for help in finding Chester, but she couldn’t. Something about this man compelled all of her attention.

  He pulled off his hat, far too late to be truly polite, and held it loosely at his side. Dark hair framed his face and a strong jaw locked into place as he looked at her. “A man who would leave you waiting isn’t one you want to marry.”

  “Hush, Jasper.” The woman swatted him in a way that made Grace instantly understand she was the man’s mother.

  He was at least gentlemanly enough not to argue. Instead, he replaced his hat and began to stride toward her.

  Grace took a step back, the backs of her knees running into the seat of the bench. “What— What are you doing?”

  Up this close, he was so much taller and broader than she was. With barely a glance at her, he leaned over and picked up her trunk by its handles. He set it onto the bench and rested his hands on the lid.

  “We’re taking you to a boardinghouse, of course,” his mother said. “Unless you’d prefer a hotel? We can’t very well leave you here.”

  Chester would never find her if she left the depot. “But—”

  “What’s his name?” the man asked. His words were clipped.

  “Perhaps we can help you find him tomorrow,” the woman added with a soft smile.

  Grace wanted to run to her and let this woman wrap her arms around her. She needed a mother more than anything right now. “Chester Burcham. Perhaps you’re acquainted with him?”

  “The butcher?” The dark-eyed man raised a single eyebrow.

  “Yes,” Grace said hesitantly. Butchering was an admirable sort of work. There was nothing shameful in it—at least, there hadn’t been at home. Perhaps it was different here. How many more things didn’t she know?

  The man glanced at his mother. She pursed her lips and sighed, then held out a hand. Grace paused before stepping toward her and taking her hand. The woman clasped Grace’s hand between hers. “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier. I’m Mrs. Amelia Hill, and this is my son, Jasper Hill.”

  “I’m Grace Daniels,” Grace said. “Please, do you know Mr. Burcham? If you’re familiar with his shop, perhaps you might give me directions? I could leave my trunk here and walk.”

  “Grace—I hope you don’t mind me being so familiar,” Mrs. Hill said. “Your name is lovely. I’m afraid there’s no easy way to tell you this. You see, your—” She paused for a moment, just long enough for Mr. Hill to jump in.

  “The butcher has married Miss Calhoun, just two days ago.” The sharp edges of his words dug into Grace’s heart as she tried to make sense of them.

  Mrs. Hill’s hands clasped Grace’s more tightly. It was a good thing, too, considering Grace felt as if she were no longer standing in her own shoes. The words pinched at her until she felt as if she were watching the entire scene from some distance away, like a grand tragedy unfolding on the stage.

  “Jasper, help her sit. I fear she may faint.” Mrs. Hill seemed to speak from far away, even though she stood right next to Grace.

  Grace blinked a few times, trying to process what Mr. Hill had just told her. He took her arm, and she jolted back into the present at his touch.

  Misinterpreting her reaction, he grasped her other arm with his hand and held her steady.

  Grace stared at his hands, big enough to wrap entirely around her forearms, as she tried to make sense of it all. Surely he meant another butcher. It couldn’t be Chester, not after the letters he’d sent her. And who was Miss Calhoun? He’d never mentioned her. “I’m sorry, you must have misunderstood. I was speaking of Chester Burcham. We are engaged to be married.”

  Mr. Hill slowly let go of her arms. Grace stood firmly, wondering why she’d allowed him to hold her up for so long.

  “No, dear, Jasper is correct. Your Mr. Burcham was married two days ago.” Mrs. Hill’s brows were drawn together in sympathy.

  “But he sent me train fare.” Of all the protestations she could make, this was the one that was foremost in her mind. Who in his right mind would spare the money for a bride he didn’t want?
<
br />   “It did seem awfully sudden, didn’t it?” Mrs. Hill was speaking to her son, who shrugged and went to lift Grace’s trunk again.

  “We’ll escort you to Mrs. Geary’s boardinghouse,” he said as he muscled her trunk onto his shoulder.

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to—I hate to be a burden.” It seemed best to keep her mind on what was happening right this moment. If she thought too far ahead, a panic rose inside, threatening to choke her.

  Mrs. Hill took Grace’s arm and guided her into step behind Mr. Hill. “It’s quite all right. We’re hardly about to leave you stranded in a strange town. Now, Mrs. Geary’s isn’t the most opulent place in town, but it’s clean and she only allows reputable ladies in her establishment. I hope you don’t mind the walk. Jasper and I were out for a stroll by the river, and I’m afraid we didn’t bring the buggy.”

  Grace nodded as a new worry tumbled through her mind. She had some money, but hardly enough to afford more than a few nights at a boardinghouse. And if she spent that, she wouldn’t be able to pay for train fare to . . . where, exactly? Where could she go? Her dear friend Trudy would welcome her back with her family in Louisville, or she could write to Lily in Crest Stone.

  Of course, she’d have to confess that the man she’d pinned all her hopes on had decided he didn’t want her without even seeing her first. Her face flamed at the thought. Lily certainly hadn’t had this problem when she’d answered a mail-order bride advertisement. And Trudy had questioned her more than once about her decision. The shame burned the back of Grace’s neck. She couldn’t write to them, not now.

  Mrs. Geary’s wasn’t too far of a walk from the depot, thankfully, because Grace thought she could hardly hold in the tears much longer. She refused to shed them in front of kind Mrs. Hill—she hated to make the poor woman feel worse for her. And she certainly wouldn’t let Mr. Hill see her cry, not after the way he’d so bluntly told her what he thought about Chester.