Wishing on Buttercups Read online

  One thing loomed in her mind—his request for money. Brent’s lips had tightened when she’d asked if he’d still love her if she were poor. Jeffery wouldn’t care if she were a beggar on the street. Then why did she keep pulling away whenever he tried to draw near? It was too much to sort out, and at the moment she wanted to get to the bottom of what Brent was after and why.

  God would lead her in the right direction. Relief swept through her that she hadn’t allowed Brent to pressure her into anything. Maybe she was growing up, at last.

  Wilma pushed her chair away from the breakfast table. “Thank you for the wonderful meal, Katherine. I’m so glad you’re feeling better, but be sure you let me know if there’s anything more Beth and I can do to help.”

  Beth nodded. “I’d be happy to do whatever you need.”

  Katherine braced one hand against the door lintel and tugged on Lucy’s braid. “I’ve got a good helper who promised to do the dishes this morning since it’s Saturday and there’s no school. Thanks for offering, but we’ll get along fine.”

  Mandy snuggled against her mother’s other side. “I’ll help too, Ma. I want you to rest so the baby doesn’t get too tired.”

  Lucy tweaked the little girl’s nose. “Silly. The baby is what’s making Ma tired, not the other way around.”

  Mandy scrunched her nose. “Nuh-uh. Babies can’t make a big person tired; they’re just little people.”

  Katherine rolled her eyes and sighed. “Come on, girls. If you start bickering, I’ll leave all the work to you and go climb into bed.”

  Frances put her arm around her granddaughter. “Come, Amanda. You and I will heat water on the stove while Lucy clears the table.” She turned toward Wilma. “Would you care to have tea later this morning and visit? It feels like a long time since we chatted.”

  Wilma glanced at Beth disappearing from the room and frowned. The girl had been slipping out of the house more frequently lately, and the last two times Jeffery had been home, so she couldn’t be meeting him. Her niece hadn’t been forthcoming, and now that she thought about it, she’d seemed somewhat evasive. Something felt off, and she needed to ferret out the trouble.

  She stepped closer to Frances and lowered her voice. “I’d love tea, but I have a bit of sleuthing to do first.”

  Frances’s eyes gleamed. “Can I be of assistance?”

  Wilma’s gaze traveled the length of her friend’s gown to her feet. “I wish you could, but I’m afraid it involves walking to town.”

  “My feet and ankles have been quite strong lately, and I would not mind taking a walk, if you care to include me.”

  Wilma gave a grim smile and nodded. “I’ll help Lucy clear the table while you get the water going. Between the two of us we can have the kitchen put back to rights in no time.”

  Jeffery stepped in front of Beth as she stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “I think we need to talk, Beth. About what happened the other day in the parlor.”

  She stepped around him. “I’m sorry, I don’t have time now. I’m headed to town.”

  He touched her arm, and she stilled. “Please. I want to apologize for my behavior.”

  Beth raised her eyes, then swung quickly away. “There’s no reason. Let it go, Jeffery.”

  “But I acted like a cad and took advantage of you. I must have frightened you, and I’m afraid I ruined our friendship. You’ve barely spoken to me since.”

  “No. You didn’t frighten me at all.” Her hand went to her throat, and she clutched the locket that always hung there. “I … I don’t care to discuss it now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Later, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps. Now, forgive me, but I have an appointment and must go.” Beth moved away, then turned. “I’d hate to lose your friendship, Jeffery, truly I would.” Color rose in her cheeks. “And, to be honest, you didn’t offend or upset me at all. In fact …” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. But there are things I haven’t told you.…”

  Relief surged through him. The kiss hadn’t made her angry. Maybe there was hope after all. Then he remembered those last words. There are things I haven’t told you. He tensed. “Is it that Wentworth man you’ve been meeting in town?”

  She blinked two or three times. “I beg your pardon?”

  Jeffery gripped her arm. “You were with him a week or so ago. I’ve seen you with him before. Is he your beau, or something more serious? I don’t trust him, and I think you need to stay away from him.”

  Beth gave a gentle tug, and her eyes saddened. “I must go, Jeffery. I’m sorry.” She spun away, the click of her heels fading as she hurried down the hall.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Beth wasn’t sure if she could make it all the way to town without breaking down. Had she done the right thing, leaving the house and not responding to Jeffery? She couldn’t respond to him, or what had happened in the parlor, until she settled things once and for all with Brent.

  She’d been confident in the trust that seemed to be growing between herself and Jeffery, as well as their mutual love for literature and art. But he didn’t have the right to demand answers about Brent. It wasn’t like Jeffery had openly declared his intentions, even if he had kissed her. Then why was it so hard to put Jeffery out of her mind?

  It didn’t matter; it would be over soon. She wouldn’t give Brent money, no matter how much he declared his devotion. She pulled her linen shawl closer around her as a wagon rolled past. Beth glanced at the sky. Blue, almost to the horizon, but clouds that looked like mounds of white confectioner’s candy peeked above the mountains.

  She loved the slower pace of Baker City and enjoyed her friends at the boardinghouse. Beth had never wanted to put down roots or make deep friendships in this town—until now. Was it because of Jeffery or her new success with her art?

  Dodging around pedestrians and horses, Beth lifted the hem of her burgundy gown and stepped onto the boardwalk, making her way to the restaurant.

  She peeked through the door and spied the table where she and Brent usually sat. Empty. He was late … again. It didn’t matter; he’d probably be along shortly. A waitress motioned her toward the table, and she breathed a short prayer. Protect me from any mistakes, Lord. Help me to follow Your perfect will.

  Wilma clutched Frances’s arm as they hurried down the main business street of Baker City, intent on keeping her friend from stumbling, should her ankles start giving her trouble. Bringing her along might not have been the best idea, but she couldn’t deny she appreciated the company, even if they’d barely drawn a breath to speak to one another.

  Without warning, Frances reared back on her heels, and Wilma slowed to a stop. “What’s wrong with you? Are your feet hurting?”

  Frances glared. “I am not taking one more step until you explain yourself, Wilma Roberts. What kind of shenanigans are you up to?” She stared pointedly at the parasol Wilma clutched in her other hand. “Are you intending on lighting into Mr. Lansing again because he brought suit against the house? Micah plans to consult the local judge as soon as he can, and I don’t think you’ll help his cause if you rush in, causing trouble.”

  Wilma planted her hands on her hips. “Me, causing trouble for Micah? That’s the furthest thing from my mind. Where in the world did you conjure that idea?”

  “It is not too far-fetched, considering the haste with which you are dragging me through town. Why, you have been perusing the inside of every establishment, including the saloons, and you are clutching that parasol like a sword. What else should I think, pray tell?” She plopped down on a bench outside the mercantile and pointed. “Sit. Talk. I am not moving until you explain why we are here.”

  Wilma grunted and slumped onto the hard surface. “We are wasting precious time.”

  “No. You are wasting it by arguing with me. Go on.” Frances leaned back and crossed her arms.

  The
re seemed no help for it. Frances appeared entrenched. “Fine. As you wish. I am hunting for Brent Wentworth.”

  Frances sat upright. “The man you told me Beth thought herself in love with?” She gaped. “What makes you think he might be in town? As I recall, you believed Mr. Lansing was Mr. Wentworth before you mashed him over the head and incapacitated him.”

  Wilma waved her fingers in the air. “That is neither here nor there. I was only guessing he might be in town at that time. Now I know.” She tried to keep the smug triumph out of her voice but didn’t quite succeed.

  “Oh? And what makes you think that?”

  “I saw him.”

  “When? Where? Are you certain it was him?”

  “Yes. I was in town yesterday as he strolled the boardwalk. Thankfully he didn’t see me. I tried to follow, but he was too far ahead. I lost him, or I would most assuredly have accosted him on the street and demanded to know what he is doing in town.”

  “It is a free country. I would assume Mr. Wentworth has the right to walk these streets the same as any other.”

  “No, he does not. I told that trickster to never come near Beth again, or I would turn him over to the law.”

  Frances cocked her head to the side. “And if he is not aware your niece is in town? You could be misjudging the man.”

  Wilma snorted. “Highly unlikely. But that is what you and I are doing. Checking up to be sure. I lost Wentworth in this section of town.” She gestured across the street. “If I were a wagering woman, I’d say he’s spending his time in one of those saloons.”

  “Drinking?”

  “And worse. He liked to frequent gambling halls in Topeka. After he left town, I did some digging and found out quite a bit of unpleasantness. Why, I could tell you stories—” She gasped. “Oh my. There he is, across the street.”

  Frances craned her head. “Where? Point him out, Wilma. There are too many men crowding the walkway.”

  Wilma jumped to her feet and grasped Frances’s wrist, hauling her off the bench. “Hurry, we need to duck inside. I cannot allow him to see me.” She tugged her protesting friend into the mercantile and slipped to the front window, peering outside.

  A clerk stepped up beside them. “May I help you ladies?”

  Wilma remained frozen where she stood, and Frances shook her head. “No. Go away and help someone else. We are not in need of your assistance, or we would ask for it.” She motioned with a flip of her fingers. “Shoo.”

  Wilma peered back in time to see the clerk cast them a dark look and depart.

  Frances scowled. “That man follows me around the store, nagging whenever I come here. He is quite the pest.” She moved closer to Wilma and whispered loudly, “What do you see?”

  Wilma broke into a wide smile. “He is heading down the street. Come on. Let’s follow. I do not intend to lose sight of him this time, and when I catch him, he is going to get an earful, let me tell you.”

  Beth smiled as Brent entered the restaurant and made his way toward her. “Hello.”

  He tugged at his collar. “Sorry I’m late. I was meeting with the miners who want me to invest.” He seemed to pull himself together and mustered a smile. “You look lovely today. Is that a new hat?”

  She touched the brim of the burgundy felt. “No, I’ve had it since …” She hated to bring up the subject of Topeka. “For two years.”

  He nodded absently. “How nice.”

  Beth tried to catch his eye. “You seem upset.”

  His brows drew together in a fierce frown. “I am. Someone on the street bumped into me and picked my pocket.” He patted the breast of his jacket. “I was going to stop at the bank to deposit my cash, then swing by the telegraph office to send a wire letting my mother’s creditors know I could make the final payment. Now the money is gone.” He put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “How horrible! You must go to the sheriff at once.” She started to rise.

  “No.” Brent’s head lifted. “Please sit down, Beth.”

  “But why not? You were robbed.” She eased herself back onto her chair.

  “I didn’t see what the person looked like; the streets were too crowded. What would I tell the sheriff? Someone jostled me, and I was careless enough to let them slip their hand into my pocket?” He rolled his head back and forth, then shrugged. “I don’t know which direction they took, as I discovered the loss when I reached this building.” Brent covered her hand with his. “But if I can make that investment, none of this will matter. I’ll make back everything I lost and more. We can live like royalty for the rest of our lives. I simply need a small nest egg to give us a start. Tell me you’ll marry me.”

  Beth tugged her hand away. She opened her mouth, then stopped at the sound of footsteps pausing beside Brent’s chair. She turned her head.

  Aunt Wilma drew herself to her full height. “She will do no such thing, you scoundrel. No niece of mine will ever carry your worthless last name if I have anything to say about it.”

  Beth stared at the two women. “Aunt Wilma! Mrs. Cooper. What are you doing here?”

  Brent’s face paled. He sat unmoving, not turning his head to look at the woman who towered above him.

  “I have come to save you from the biggest mistake of your life.” She jerked a thumb at Brent. “This … this …” She sputtered. “Words fail me. I am not a cursing woman, but nothing else would possibly do this person justice. He is trying to hoodwink you. I should have told you the truth months ago.”

  Beth shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

  Brent winced, then managed a smile. “Hello, Mrs. Roberts. Beth is trying to explain that I was robbed on the way here.”

  Wilma emitted a cackling laugh, and several patrons in the restaurant turned toward her. “Robbed, were you? On the way here? Well now, that’s a mighty convenient story, since Frances and I followed you from the saloon, and no one touched you.”

  Warmth stole into Beth’s face. “Brent was in a business meeting at the bank. I’m not sure what you’re implying, and I do believe I am able to take care of my own affairs.”

  “Is that what he told you? More like a meeting with his gambling buddies, and he lost all of his money in a poker game. He is nothing but a two-bit gambler who preys on innocent women. Why do you think he left Topeka so suddenly without telling you good-bye?”

  Beth stared at her aunt. “Brent’s mother came down ill.… She wanted to see him before she died. He … he was too embarrassed to tell me, because of his mother’s …” A memory returned. God’s voice whispering, “Wait.” She’d wondered at the time, but her uneasiness had intensified the past couple of times they’d met. Had it all been a lie from the time he came to town?

  Beth stared at Brent, but he slumped deeper into his seat. “What’s going on, Brent?”

  Wilma grunted her disgust. “There is no honest reply.” She stepped closer to him. “He knows that I understand everything about his conniving schemes. When he left Topeka, I had him investigated. His mother passed almost ten years ago in the Cincinnati fire. Her name was listed as one of the many lost.”

  Beth stiffened. “What are you saying, Aunt Wilma?”

  “That I believed him to be a fine, upstanding man when I first met him as well. In fact”—she blasted him with a harsh glare—“I went so far as to fall for an investment scheme he proposed where he promised a large return in only a few months. I trusted him.”

  Brent cleared his throat. “You can’t believe that, Beth. It’s all a lie.”

  Beth focused on the ashen face of the man she’d once thought she loved, anger forming like a fireball in her stomach. She turned to her aunt, her voice choked. “Why did you keep it from me?”

  Mrs. Cooper moved up beside Wilma and placed her hand on her friend’s arm. “Tell her the full truth, Wilma. Your pride no longer m
atters. I think you owe her that, don’t you?”

  Wilma slowly nodded. “Yes,” she whispered the word, then raised her voice a notch. “That I do.” She nodded at Brent, then scanned the room. “I don’t care to cause a scene, but you deserve the truth, and I won’t keep it from you any longer.”

  She placed her hands on the table and leaned toward Beth. “I started having second thoughts and talked to a banker. He had never heard of Brent Wentworth, but several of his patrons mentioned someone offering the same claim to riches. I went back to this, this …” She gestured toward Brent. “I demanded my money back, but he had spent every penny. I informed him I was turning him over to the sheriff, but he reminded me that your name would be linked with his, and my good name would be dragged in the mud as well.” She gave a harsh laugh. “And believe me when I say there was no consideration for either of our feelings or reputation. No, it was purely self-preservation that prompted his request to let him go, nothing more.”

  Brent drew himself up. “My good woman, you exaggerate.”

  Beth glared at him. “So you let him walk away? You did nothing?” She couldn’t believe her aunt’s words. Anger at Brent’s betrayal bubbled, but bewilderment stirred the pot of her emotions into a kettle of confusion.

  “Yes, I regret to say I did, and this is what I get as a result.” Wilma drew herself up. “But I warned him that he was to leave town and never contact you again. I assured him that I would press charges for everything he stole from me and reveal him as the blackguard he is. I did not expect to see him again, although I admit I had twinges of doubt. I am guessing he believed you would be coming into an inheritance soon and was trying to cozy up to you again.” She cocked her head at Beth.

  Beth met her aunt’s gaze without flinching. “He asked me to marry him and needed money for a new investment. I planned to turn down his marriage proposal, as I realized I don’t love him, but I toyed with the idea of helping him.” She rose to her feet and faced Brent. “How dare you lie to me? I can’t believe I was so naive as to believe you.”