Between Two Worlds by Stacey Coverstone Page B

didn’t know how we were to survive. Then I met
Charlotte, and she took pity on me and Fletch. She offered me a cleaning job
and a home for the two of us.” Georgia lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mrs.
Quinn seems rigid at first, but she’s really a wonderful soul. I hate to think how
I’d be earning a livin’ if it were not for that fine woman.”
    Delaney understood what Georgia was referring to. If it hadn’t
been for Charlotte, the pretty southern girl would probably be selling her body
above the saloon along with those other young girls who’d once had fresh faces
and maybe some big dreams.
    “Well, I guess I’d better get washed up.” Delaney glanced at her
watch again. Her chest gripped in anticipation at seeing Gabriel again.
“Breakfast will be in about twenty minutes, and I understand it’s important to
be on time. Unfortunately, I overslept last night and missed dinner.”
    Georgia smiled. “That’s one thing Charlotte’s a stickler for. She
likes her meals to be served promptly.”
    “Do you and Fletcher need to get in here?” Delaney asked, pointing
to the bathroom.
    “No. I’ve got a washbasin in my room. I’ll use it this morning.
You go ahead and take your time, and we’ll see you downstairs.”
    “I’m goin’ on down, Ma,” Fletch told his mother.
    “All right, but don’t get in Charlotte’s way.”
    “I won’t.” He took the stairs two at a time, whistling, as if he
didn’t have a care in the world.
    ~ * ~
    When Delaney entered the dining room, she was disappointed to see
Gabriel hadn’t arrived yet. She wondered if he would actually show up, or if
he’d simply been polite by saying he’d join them for breakfast.
    “Good morning, Delaney!” Lucinda called. She sat at the oak dining
table, which was large enough to comfortably seat ten people. Fletcher and a
dashing young gentleman were seated on one side of the table, while Lucinda and
another man Delaney suspected was her beau sat on the opposite side. Lucinda
waved her hand, beckoning Delaney to enter and find a place. “Have a seat
anywhere.”
    Delaney took the seat next to Fletcher, who beamed up at her.
    “Have you and Fletch become reacquainted?” Lucinda asked.
    “Yes, we have. What a coincidence to find out he lives here. I’ve
been experiencing a lot of coincidences lately.”
    Lucinda tugged on the sleeve of the man to the left of her.
“Delaney, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Mr. Ike Kingston. Ike, this is Miss
Marshall.”
    “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” The livery manager wore a plain work
shirt, but Delaney could tell it was clean.  No stains and no loose threads.
His thin hair was receding, his ears were as big as a baby elephant’s, and she
couldn’t help but notice he was missing a left arm, since his plaid shirt was pinned
up where his elbow should have been. Despite his obvious physical
characteristics, he undoubtedly had good hygiene because Lucinda looked happy
as a clam.
    “And that nice gentleman next to Fletcher is Mr. Owen Wister,”
Lucinda said. “He’s going to be a famous author someday. He’s here on holiday
from back east.”
    The well-dressed man cleared his throat, nodded at Delaney and
said, “The pleasure is mine, Miss Marshall.”
    “Same here. What do you write, Mr. Wister?” She looked him over
and guessed him to be in his late twenties, though he seemed to have the
presence of an older man. He wore a tweed jacket over a matching vest, a white
shirt and an ascot tie. His hair was clean, short, and parted down the middle,
and a thick brown moustache covered his upper lip like a wooly worm.
    “I write western fiction.”
    “You don’t say?” She leaned back in her chair. “How’d you get
interested in the west, if you’re from the east?”
    “The roundabout way,” he joked. “When I was younger, I aspired to
a career in music, so I spent two years studying at a Paris conservatory. After
that, I worked briefly in a bank in New York before studying