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little girl roused in Grace’s arms and lifted her head to look around the room. She, unlike her sisters, had golden-blond hair and deep-brown eyes—the same color as Clarence’s. They blinked with sleep and came to rest on Jude. She studied his face and didn’t look away, even when she reached for Elizabeth.
Elizabeth took the child and then addressed Jude. “We are all tired. Will you please show us to our father’s room?”
Martha appeared from down the hall where she spent most of her time in the kitchen. She wiped her knotted hands on her apron, her concerned gaze hopping from one Bell sister to the other and finally landing on Jude. Her droopy bun hung loose at the back of her head and wisps of graying hair poked out around her face. She was one of the hardest workers Jude had ever met, which was one of the many reasons he trusted her explicitly. She watched all of them closely, but didn’t take a step forward to interfere.
“Your father’s rooms are occupied,” Jude said.
“Then we’d like whatever you have available. My sisters are tired.”
How could he refuse Clarence’s daughters a place to stay, especially the child? But where would he put them?
“Jude.” Martha finally approached, a frown of disapproval on her face. She had become his surrogate mother over the years and he felt her chastisement now. “Are these Clarence’s daughters?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “They’re tired and grieving and should have their papa’s rooms. You can sleep on one of the sofas in the parlor.”
Elizabeth looked at once relieved and irritated. She addressed Jude. “You’re the one occupying my father’s rooms?”
Jude had given the master’s suite to Clarence when they had purchased the establishment, but he’d moved in after Clarence passed. “I will give them to you and your sisters for now, but as soon as we clear up this mess, I’ll see you on the next stage out of town.”
“Hush, now,” Martha said in her no-nonsense way. “All that can be worked out later. I’ll show them to their rooms.” Martha turned to the Bell sisters. “Don’t mind Jude. He’s just surprised, is all. I’m Martha Dupree. I’m the cook around here, but I’m more like the mama hen.” She chuckled at her own joke as she pulled the women close around her. “I’ll show you to your rooms and Andrew can bring up your things.” She glanced at Andrew, the stagecoach driver.
He dipped the brim of his hat and headed out the door.
Martha ushered the ladies up the stairs, clucking all the way about how tired they looked and how hungry they must be.
At least two dozen men stood around the lobby, watching their ascent with keen interest, no doubt wondering who the pretty strangers were and when they’d get a chance to meet. The town was young, only a few years old, and like many frontier settlements the single-male population far outnumbered the eligible females. It was probably a good thing they were going up to his room. With a ball going on, they’d soon be bombarded with attention and they didn’t look energetic enough to deal with that sort of problem.
A thought struck Jude and he scrambled to get out from behind the counter. He raced up the stairs and ran down the hall, but he was too late. Martha had already showed them into his room.
He had to get his journal before they noticed it lying open on the secretary. It was full of details about his mission work, his contacts throughout the territory and notes about several women who were in need of help.
If they saw what he did, he was sure they would not think very highly of him or the women he rescued. Most proper young women didn’t.
He and Martha worked hard to keep their mission work a secret from the citizens of Little Falls. It would be much harder to keep it hidden from two women and a child living under his roof.
Elizabeth didn’t know what to expect, but she wasn’t prepared for the fine sitting room they entered.
Martha lit a tall lamp using a match from a box on the fireplace mantel and the room filled with a soft glow.
The walls were papered in tiny blue flowers and the trim was crafted of beautiful red oak. Two tall windows allowed the stars to be visible in the fading dusk, and a small fireplace sat empty on this warm night.
“The bedroom is over there.” Martha indicated a door on the right as she picked up a man’s shirt hanging over the edge of a wingback chair.
A cursory glance around the room indicated Mr. Allen was not tidy. A lone shoe peeked out from under a table, a pair of suspenders hung from a lamp and a journal lay open on a secretary with a few crumpled papers nearby.
“I’ll just grab Jude’s things and then you can get sett—”
“I’ll take care of my own things.” Jude walked through the open door and went to the secretary, where he snapped the book closed. With quick hands, he picked the discarded paper up off the desk and then went around the room gathering his personal items. Though he was tall, he moved about with surprising grace. His suit was pressed, his shoes shining and his hair combed into perfect submission. It was clear Mr. Allen liked his appearance in order—so why the disheveled room?
“I’ll get my things out of my bedchamber and be on my way,” he said as he entered the other room and closed the door.
“I’ll grab the clean linen while we wait for Jude. It’s just down the hall.” Martha bustled out of the sitting room, leaving Elizabeth alone with her sisters.
“I’m tired, Lizzie.” Rose laid her head against Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“We’ll be in bed in just a moment.” She swayed back and forth, holding her sister close while Grace went to the window and stared outside.
After a few minutes, Jude’s bedroom door opened and he held a small trunk on his shoulder. “Tell Martha I’ll sleep on one of the sofas in the ballroom parlor tonight.”
“I heard you well enough,” Martha said as she walked back in. “You go on now. I need to get that wee one in bed.”
Jude left the sitting room as Martha led the way into the bedroom. “How are you holding up, lovey?” she asked Elizabeth. “Clarence was a good man. Though he could be surly at times, to be sure, I’m still grieving our loss.”
Elizabeth allowed the first smile to warm her lips at Martha’s frank assessment. She remembered Papa in much the same way, though Mama had always tempered his bad moods with her gentle manner. “I’m doing much better now that I’m here.”
Martha nodded and patted Elizabeth’s hand as she guided her into the bedroom. “The three of you should fit comfortable-like in this room, though it might be a tight squeeze in that bed.” Martha set the clean linens on a bureau and clasped her hands together.
The room held a bed, a bureau, a rocking chair and a large green trunk that had belonged to Papa.
Martha noticed the trunk, too. “Jude was meaning to bring your pa’s things to the attic.” She went to the trunk and lifted the lid. “I think there will be a few things in here you’ll like to have.”
Elizabeth slowly followed her to the trunk, unsure if she could face more memories of her father. She had been angry and hurt when he left them, and then overwhelmed with the burden of her responsibilities. In her head, she wanted to believe she had forgiven him—but her heart wasn’t as certain.
Martha pulled out a daguerreotype and handed it to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth set Rose on her feet and ran her fingertip over the cool metal. “Mama.” It was the only picture they had of their mother, and Papa had brought it with him when he left. “I almost forgot what she looked like.”
Grace stood just inside the door, her detached gaze looking anywhere but at the