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“It doesn’t matter who I am. What are you doing in my hotel?”
His humor subsided, just a bit. “Your hotel?”
“You’re squatting on my property and I demand you leave immediately before I contact the local authority.”
He did laugh this time. “I’d like to see you try to get the sheriff to do something useful around here.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Didn’t you hear me? You’re trespassing and I want you to leave.”
He leaned forward, his hands on the counter, all trace of laughter gone from his deep voice. “I don’t know if you’re trying to be funny or just annoying. If you’re here for a room, I’m sorry, but we’re full because of the ball.” He tilted his head to a set of double doors leading into a ballroom where dozens of people spun about the room.
She put her hands on the counter, too. “I don’t want a room—I want my hotel.”
He leaned even closer, his voice lowered. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but this is my hotel. Has been for two years.”
Elizabeth’s lips straightened into a tight line. “This was my father’s hotel, and he left it to me and my sisters. I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but this is my hotel.”
“That’s impossible. I don’t even know who your father is.”
“Clarence Bell, the owner of the Northern Hotel.”
His face became still and he slowly stood straight, disbelief lining his handsome features. “Clarence had a daughter?”
She planted her feet. “Three daughters and we’re here to claim our inheritance.”
They had come so far she wouldn’t let this man stand in her way now.
* * *
Jude couldn’t take his eyes off the beauty before him—the woman who was making such a ludicrous claim. Her sparking blue eyes were filled with determination and certainty. Her gown looked outdated and almost worn through, with frayed cuffs and carefully placed patches. Was she Clarence’s daughter or a desperate woman looking for a free ride?
“It’s impossible,” Jude said. “Clarence never mentioned being married, let alone fathering children.” He had never said much at all, which made their partnership ideal.
The door opened and another woman entered the lobby, her chocolate-brown curls and stunning blue eyes indicating she was related to the woman standing on the other side of the counter. She held a sleeping child in her arms and she looked just as exhausted and threadbare as the first.
“I don’t know why Papa failed to mention us,” the first woman said—though her tight lips and stilted voice suggested she wasn’t surprised. “But, regardless, we are his daughters and heirs to his hotel.”
The conversation in the lobby stilled as several people stopped to listen to their exchange. Jude was highly respected as one of the first business owners in Little Falls. He’d built the American Hotel in 1855, but it had been nothing compared to the impressive Northern. When the Northern had come up for sale just a few months later, Jude sold his smaller hotel to Mr. Batters. He didn’t have enough money to buy the Northern, so he’d taken on a business partner, Clarence Bell. The man was moody and taciturn—though he was a good businessman. He’d taken over the bookwork and behind-the-scenes operations, while Jude worked at the front of the hotel with the customers and staff. It had been a good partnership—until Clarence fell ill and died a month ago.
Jude had assumed he was the sole owner of the Northern after Clarence’s passing...apparently he’d been wrong. But how could he be sure? “Do you have proof? Did Clarence have a will I’m not aware of?”
“I have a letter.”
“A letter? That’s all you have to prove you’re his heir?”
“What else do I need?”
“A legal document, at the very least. A birth certificate, a will—something substantial.”
She anchored her gloved hands on the counter, her voice level, her jaw firm. “My father abandoned us four years ago. The only thing I have from him is a letter.”
How could Clarence have abandoned his own children? “Where is the letter?”
She opened the reticule dangling from her wrist and pulled out an envelope as the other lady approached.
The second woman stood behind her sister and surveyed the room with disdain wrinkling her brow. It was hard to imagine these beautiful women were Clarence’s daughters. They looked nothing like him. The man had been unkempt and disheveled, to say the least. Why had he never mentioned a family?
The first lady handed the letter over to Jude. It was addressed to Elizabeth and Grace.
“I’m Elizabeth,” she said. “This is Grace.” She indicated the other woman. “And the child is our youngest sister, Rose.”
Jude lifted his eyes from the letter and looked at each of the women, his gaze stopping on the sleeping child.
He looked back at the letter and, sure enough, it was Clarence’s handwriting. He’d know it anywhere. And the letter seemed legitimate, written the day before Clarence had died. He apologized for leaving them four years ago upon the death of his wife and asked for their forgiveness. He’d planned to invite them to Little Falls once he had enough money to send for them, but he’d used it all to buy the hotel. As a way of recompense, he offered the hotel to his daughters.
Pain began to pulse in the back of Jude’s eyes as he lowered the letter. This couldn’t be happening. He had gone into the hotel business for one reason only: to rescue defenseless women from prostitution. The profits from the hotel allowed him to help them escape and then give them a job while his cook, Martha, taught them domestic skills. Over the past two years, they had rescued ten women, including his current maid, Violet. The other nine had either married or found jobs far from where they had been enslaved to their former profession.
Jude was driven to redeem the sins of his past, but no matter how many women he rescued, he could never bring back to life the one woman he wanted to save, but couldn’t.
His mother.
What would the Bell sisters think when they met Violet or found out what he did with the proceeds from the hotel? Clarence hadn’t liked it, but he’d allowed Jude to continue if it didn’t interfere with the business. There was no way the prim and proper Miss Bell would approve—and, as 50 percent owner, she would have a say...if she found out.
Jude handed the letter back to Elizabeth, resolve strengthening his voice. “I plan to speak to my attorney in the morning.”
She put it back in the envelope. “What’s there to discuss? We own half of this hotel.”
Jude cringed. It couldn’t be true. What did they know of running a business? “I don’t believe this letter will hold up in court. It’s not a legal document—just a piece of paper written when your father wasn’t in his right mind.”
“His right mind?” Elizabeth spoke the words in a sort of hushed anger. She looked over her shoulder at her sisters and then around at the room of men watching them. She lowered her voice. “Mr. Allen, I do not believe we are in a frame of mind to argue this further tonight. I propose we both visit the attorney tomorrow and sort this out.”
“Fine.”
She stared at him.
He stared back.
The 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.
Chapter Two (#u267fd098-7385-55ff-b608-619773937217)
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 picture.
“Mama?” Rose asked, tugging on the sleeve of Elizabeth’s dress. “Is that my mama?”
Elizabeth bent to show Rose the picture for the first time. The lantern light flickered over the image, making it appear lifelike.
“She looks like you.” Rose glanced up at Elizabeth. “She was pretty.”
“Grace and I look like Mama.” Elizabeth put her hand on Rose’s cheek. “You look more like Papa’s family.”
Martha had remained quiet as she watched them, but now she made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Poor dears. I’ll get this linen changed so you can go to sleep.”
Elizabeth helped her strip the bed and then put on the clean sheets. Andrew came into the sitting room with their luggage and soon they were all set for the night.
Martha looked around one more time and then said to Elizabeth, “If you need anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen at the back of the hotel until the ball is over.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth closed the door of the suite behind her, then she returned to the bedroom and found Grace helping Rose unbutton her dress to change into a nightgown.
It was just Elizabeth and her sisters, alone again. She looked at both of them, feeling, as always, that she had somehow failed. “I had no idea Papa had a partner. It changes all my plans.”
Grace glanced up at her but didn’t say anything.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and put on a smile for Rose’s benefit. “I’ll trust God that it will work out just fine. He didn’t forsake us in Rockford and He won’t forsake us here, either.”
“Speak for yourself.” Grace pulled Rose’s dress off over her head. “The way I look at it, He didn’t do us any favors before and He won’t do us any favors now. We’re no better off than when we were in Rockford—at least there we had friends.” She went to Rose’s trunk and took out a nightgown, her movements quick and awkward.
It didn’t pay to argue with Grace when she was in this frame of mind. The friends Grace had in Rockford had been leading her in a direction Elizabeth didn’t want her to go, but Grace did not agree.
Instead of fighting, Elizabeth untied the ribbon under her chin and removed her bonnet with deliberate care. Rose watched her older sisters closely, and though Elizabeth could not control how Grace acted, she could control her own behavior.
Grace slipped Rose’s nightgown on over her head and began to unlace her boots. “What will we do?” she asked Elizabeth. “Will we stay?”
“Of course we’ll stay.” Elizabeth squatted down to help remove Rose’s boots. “This is our hotel and I plan to operate it to the best of my ability.”
