Flora's Wish (5 page)

Lucas didn't flinch. “I don't recall asking.”

More silence stretched between them as the fellow appeared to consider his options. “I'll see what I can do. But without any grounds I won't be able to hold him much longer than it would take for you to come get him.”

“That's all I need, sir. Just long enough to come get him. I'll take it from there.”

“As long as I know I'm not turning him over to some kind of vigilante, I'll see that you get him.”

Lucas's eyes narrowed. “I'm not sure what you're saying, Sheriff. Are you worried I'm going to harm a prisoner?”

“Stranger things have happened.” He shrugged. “Just stating my feelings on the matter.”

“Duly noted.” Lucas rose and the older man did the same. A handshake later, Lucas pointed his boots back up the hill to the hotel. An official case file might not be open on Will Tucker yet, but there would be just as soon as Flora Brimm cooperated.

And if she didn't cooperate, the next arrest warrant he swore out would be for her. Lucas paused to think on that and then turned around. It wouldn't hurt to get the paperwork started on that warrant, just in case. And unlike with Tucker, he would have Flora Brimm on receipt of stolen property, if nothing else.

His grin broadened. That was a charge that would stick, for he could personally testify to her guilt as an eyewitness, and it wouldn't take much to confiscate the property in her possession, either.

S
it, Flora.” Grandmama gestured to the chair nearest where she'd settled. “And do not dawdle.” With a nod, Flora joined her grandmother, though her thoughts continued to be divided between the strange man and the plan she hoped would include Grandmama.

They were in a quiet alcove with a lovely view of the Crescent Hotel's grounds. Though other chairs were scattered down both sides of the long veranda, only a gray tabby dared come anywhere near Millicent Brimm without permission. And even the cat kept a respectable distance as she stretched lazily in the shade and peered through half-open eyes at the waiter who brought the tea tray.

“Lovely, isn't it?” Grandmama mused as she added sugar to her tea. “It reminds me a bit of home.”

“Mmm,” Flora said though she could see little to compare with Brimmfield and its indigo fields that rolled down toward the Mississippi River.

“Violet should be here.”

Flora gave her grandmother a sideways look. “We've been over this. She refuses.”

Grandmama reached to pat Flora's hand. “She refuses thus far. One must give prayer time to work. You know this, dear.”

“Yes, but I also know my sister. If we can't get her to move back into the main house, how will we get her back out in the world?” She looked away. “It's just been too long.”

“A pity Brimmfield is in jeopardy of leaving the family.” Grandmama's words were a surprising change of topic as well as a none-too-subtle jab.

“Is it Brimmfield you would miss or the fact that it would go to Cousin Winny?” Flora met her grandmother's level stare even as her thoughts raced. “After all, he is family.”

The teacup rattled against the saucer as Grandmama set it down with a force that was echoed in her expression. “Winthrop Brimm is merely a blood relative, Flora. First cousin and family are distinctly different.”

“And yet family all the same,” she dared.

Grandmama's expression sharpened. “Like his father before him, Winthrop has been known to associate with persons of unsavory character. Unlike his father, he has not yet married one of them.”

Sipping her tea, Flora let the comment pass without response. Bigger arguments were yet to be fought. Or perhaps Grandmama would fall into league with her without difficulty.

It was a good plan.

“Yes, I would miss Brimmfield. And for the record, no child of Clothilde is family of mine,” Grandmama continued as she leaned back in her chair and regarded Flora with an I-dare-you-to-argue look.

Whether it was Clothilde Brimm's questionably dusky hair and skin or her disdain for the restrictions of polite Southern society, Grandmama piled reason upon reason to dislike her daughter-in-law. For those same reasons, Flora had loved her aunt dearly.

But she loved her grandmother more, and thus she let the comment pass unanswered rather than allow Grandmama to continue to harp on a feud that should have been long ago resolved. Talking about her plan to marry would have to wait until Millicent Brimm was in a better mood, as would reminding her that feuding with a dead woman rarely left a person feeling they had won anything of value.

“Tell me about tonight's dinner plans. Will we be dining with the Culbersons again?”

“You cannot change the subject so easily, Flora Belle Brimm.”

“I can and I have,” she said gently but firmly. “Though if you would prefer not to discuss the Culbersons, perhaps you might regale me with another of your lovely stories of your travels. You know I wish to follow in your footsteps.”

And soon
was best left unspoken.

Grandmama's lips remained closed tight, her irritation etched into the lines of her forehead. Flora watched her grip the arms of her chair and then slowly lean forward as if to stand. Instantly, one of the hotel porters hurried to assist her.

“Leave me be,” she said as she shook off his assistance. When the young man had gone back to his post, Grandmama turned toward Flora. “Something else is on your mind.”

“There is, actually.” She worried with the words she longed to say and the trim on her sleeve in equal measure.

“Then you'd best just get it over with and tell me. You never were much on keeping secrets. At least not from me.”

Flora smiled. “You were always willing to listen.”

“I still am.”

“All right.” She let out a long breath and seized her courage. “I have a plan that will save Brimmfield.”

One iron-gray eyebrow rose. “Go on.”

“It's a bit far-fetched, but I've decided to marry.” There. She said it.

“Of course you'll marry,” Grandmama said with a polite chuckle. “I'm sure some brave fellow will manage to make it all the way to the altar. We'll just have to give the Lord a bit more time to find him.” She leaned forward again to press her palms against her knees. “And to strengthen his health.”

Though her grandmother was far too proper to reference the reasons, time was certainly not something they had in abundance. Grandfather Brimm's will stated that Flora was heir to Brimmfield—but only if she produced an heir before Winny turned thirty. Her cousin had recently celebrated his twenty-eighth birthday. Given the fickle nature of timing the birth of a child, not much time remained for Flora to find a husband who could survive to the altar and give her the child she needed.

“Actually, I have a candidate,” Flora said with what she hoped would be the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. “He's well qualified and willing to accept the terms as I've outlined them.”

“A candidate? With terms?” Grandmama leaned back and shook her head. “Flora, you sound as if you're talking about a potential employee.”

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose I am.” Before Grandmama could protest, Flora hurried to continue. “You see, the fellow in question is most trustworthy. His character is above reproach, and he's indicated he will sign a contract outlining his duties as my husband.”

This time her grandmother's chuckle was accompanied by a sideways look. “Darling, I believe most men are well acquainted with the expectation of their duties as a husband without the likes of you outlining it in a contract.”

“Do be serious,” Flora snapped. “I'm not talking about
that
sort of marriage.”

“In order to beget the required heir within the allotted time, I'm afraid you must have
that
sort of marriage, my dear. I know of no other way.”

“He is of high esteem. He will see that an heir is…” She felt herself blush to her roots. “Is begat,” she finally managed. “The care and raising of that child, however, will be exclusively my domain.”

Grandmama appeared to take that assertion with unusual calmness. Perhaps she didn't believe the statement. Or, more likely, she was busy formulating a plan to counter it.

Finally, she let out a long breath. “I'd be hard-pressed to believe you could find a man of such high esteem who would be willing to be bound to such an agreement. I would certainly have no respect for him.”

“Well, the Frisco Railroad finds him worthy of respect. He's made quite a name for himself as one of their special railroad detectives.”

“Is that so?” Her grandmother appeared to consider the news with more than a little interest. “And this railroad man is willing to take on a loveless marriage for what I assume is a tidy sum? That isn't the sort of fellow I would call above reproach.”

This was not going as Flora had hoped. “You don't understand, Grandmama. He's seeing to the needs of his family as well.”

“Likely a wife and a half dozen children tucked somewhere back on the railroad line in Springfield or St. Louis, unless I miss my guess.” She let out a long breath. “Truly, Flora, you must rethink this plan. I'll not approve this sort of misbehavior.”

“Forgive me, but I'm not asking for your approval. Rather, I am informing you of—”

“Flora, please.” Grandmama's expression sobered as she held up a hand to cease the discussion. “Dear, I believe we've been followed.” She gestured to the row of chairs on the far end of the veranda. “That man on the end. I've seen him before.”

Flora followed the direction of her grandmother's gaze and found Will Tucker smiling in her direction. With a grin that even from this distance could charm a woman's heart, there was no mistaking the railroad detective.

Worse, the man looked as if he hadn't a care in the world as he tipped his hat.

“You've seen him before?” Flora managed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm certain of it. Perhaps on the train from St. Louis? Or was it at that dreadful reception for the governor last week?” She nodded. “Yes, that's where it was. He was skulking about as if he didn't want to be seen. I couldn't help notice he'd taken an interest in you, though.”

The taut string of nerves holding her in place threatened to snap as Flora watched Mr. Tucker rise to stroll inside. As the doors closed, she gripped the arms of the rocker, her thoughts reeling.

“Are you certain?” That came out sounding as though someone else had said it.

“Dear, I am old and I may have need of my hearing trumpet on occasion, but I'm neither dotty nor blind. Nor do you need to ask the same question more than once. Yes, I am absolutely certain.” Grandmama's eyes narrowed. “Only a careless fool would assume I don't take notice when any fellow has set his sites on my unmarried and quite wealthy granddaughter. And that is the man I saw.”

“Last week?”

“Now who needs this ear trumpet? Yes, that is the man.”

Irritation and relief rose in equal measure as Flora returned her attention to Grandmama. “Would you excuse me?”