Chapter Twenty
BY MID-AFTERNOON, TILLY’S impatience had gotten the best of her.
She’d spent the entire day locked in the room, twice tiptoeing to the dining room to eat and terrified she’d round the corner and find Dutch Rodgers ready to grab hold of her again.
What was the point of remaining in the hotel if he was here too? And she felt uneasy about the way the evening before had ended between her and Liam. He was blaming himself for what had happened, when he had no control at all over where Dutch Rodgers chose to travel or take up a room.
Besides, how could Liam look for a new place for them to live if he needed to be at work? She was certain he’d missed plenty of time at the office yesterday after having to search for Rodgers. The last thing he needed was to be out and about again today, especially when she could take up that responsibility.
So Tilly slipped into her coat and gloves and wound a woolen scarf around her neck. It had ceased snowing outside, but the ground was fully blanketed now, and the window was freezing to the touch. If she were going to be spending the remainder of the afternoon traipsing about town, she’d stay as warm as she could.
With a wave to Sarah downstairs, who was leaving the dining room as Tilly was crossing the lobby, she exited the doors into the bright sunlight glittering off the snow. She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and smiled at her surroundings. It had snowed plenty in Kansas, but it never looked like this, with mountains soaring above and the little town bustling below. Despite the situation they currently found themselves in, Tilly didn’t regret coming here. Not at all.
“Carriage, miss?” A man dressed in a long black coat held out his hand toward the sleek, modern carriage with horses already harnessed.
Tilly had been prepared to walk the short distance, but the ride sounded lovely, particularly given the depth of the snow on the hill that led to town. “Thank you, that would be nice.”
He helped her into the carriage and handed her a blanket. Tilly laid it across her lap and enjoyed the few minutes’ ride. The driver stopped at the depot and graciously helped her down. She reached into her reticule for a coin, but he held up a hand.
“No, thank you, miss. The hotel insists,” he said.
“All right.” Tilly closed her reticule. “I thank you for the ride, then.”
“Any time.” He doffed his hat.
She crossed the platform and stood looking out over the tracks. She ought to start by paying a visit to Liam, if only to ensure he hadn’t already found a place for them.
Stepping down gingerly from the platform to the dirty snow-covered road, she crossed the tracks to the other side of the street. The land office wasn’t very far at all, and just a moment later, Tilly entered the inviting warmth of the building.
“Mrs. Hannan, what a pleasure to see you again.” Mr. Gilbert smiled at her from behind the counter. He was holding a pen over a stack of papers, but he set it down as he stood to greet her.
“It’s lovely to see you again too, Mr. Gilbert,” she said. She glanced behind him, but no one else was there. “I’m looking for my husband. Is he here?”
Mr. Gilbert crinkled his forehead as if her question confused him. “No, not since this morning. He said he needed to make some arrangements, and he wasn’t certain how long it would take.”
“Oh . . .” Tilly trailed off. He must have gone looking for a new place for them to live.
“He headed to the depot first. I gave him some mail to take with him,” Mr. Gilbert said.
“The depot?” That caught Tilly by surprise. “Did he say what he was planning to do there?”
“He didn’t. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” Mr. Gilbert paused. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s just fine.” Tilly forced herself to smile. There was no need to worry Liam’s boss, not when he needed this position at the land office.
He smiled back at her. “I’ll tell my wife you stopped in. She enjoyed meeting you at the Gardiners’ the other evening.”
“As did I,” Tilly replied. Dora Gilbert had been one of the kindest people she’d ever met, and Tilly hoped to get to know her better.
Maybe after all of this mess with Dutch Rodgers came to an end. And to do that, she needed to find Liam.
Tilly hurried to the depot, but the stationmaster was gone for the day, and the place was manned by a boy who barely looked fifteen. He knew nothing at all of Liam coming by that morning.
Outside, on the platform, Tilly took a moment to think. Liam hadn’t anything to mail—except what Mr. Gilbert had given him after he learned Liam was planning to come by the depot. He could have gone to the depot to send a telegram, but to whom? Tilly wasn’t aware that Liam had any family or contacts outside of town.
The only other option was to purchase train fare.
She chewed on her lip as she looked out onto the road, where teams of horses and wagons had churned through the snow. Where would he want to go? And why wouldn’t he say anything to her? Perhaps he meant to tell her tonight. Maybe he planned for them to leave town in the morning. Or . . .
Maybe he planned to send her away.
That thought ate at Tilly, and she wrapped her arms around herself. He could purchase as many tickets as he wanted—she wasn’t going anywhere without him.
Or . . . perhaps he’d bought the ticket for himself and already left.
That hurt more than thinking about him wanting to send her away.
Tilly lifted her chin. She wouldn’t entertain that thought, at least not until she’d searched this entire town for him.
Mind made up, she stopped by a couple of shops. He wasn’t at any of them, of course. She didn’t know why he might visit the hardware store or the general store at this moment. Standing on the sidewalk, she turned around. A few people were out, hurrying as they made their way through the cold. She could hear music coming from the church, and it buoyed her hope.
Liam did not disappear. He had to be here somewhere. And if he wasn’t, well . . . she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
As she turned around, trying to figure out where to go next, her gaze landed on Fred Polson’s Boardinghouse. Despite the stories she’d heard, it didn’t look so intimidating with snow on the roof and the late afternoon sun making the wooden siding glow.
It was a place to stay, and if Liam had run out of all other options, he might have reluctantly decided upon it. Surely it wouldn’t hurt if she stepped inside for just a few minutes to speak with the proprietor.
Before she could change her mind, Tilly moved toward the door. It creaked when she opened it, and a darkened entryway greeted her. She closed the door quietly, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she spotted a woman in a dress that had seen much better days watching her from inside what appeared to be a parlor.
“Pardon me,” Tilly said, approaching the room. “Could you tell me where to find the owner of the boardinghouse? Or anyone who works here?”
The woman silently pointed toward the rear of the building. Tilly thanked her, picked up her skirts, and stepped silently into the hallway that led away from the entry. She’d made it two steps before a man blocked her way.
“May I help you?” he asked in a way that sounded as if he didn’t want to help her at all.
Tilly took in his appearance. Ill-fitting suit, smooth black hair, ink stains on his right hand. “Hello, I’m looking for someone who works here?”
“That would be me. Fred Polson.”
“Oh, wonderful!” She smiled at him, and he gave her an awkward smile in return, as if he didn’t make the expression very often. “I have a question for you.”
“I don’t answer any questions about wayward husbands,” he said quickly.
“Oh, no, that’s not—I mean, I am looking for my husband, but not because of . . . well . . . that.” A flush crept up her neck, and Tilly hoped it was far too dark in here for him to notice it. “My husband is Liam Hannan. I just wanted to know if you’d spoken with him today, or if he’d been seen coming in here. To rent a room for us,” she added quickly before he could presume anything else.
“Hannan.” Mr. Polson gave a quick nod as he leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Saw him several hours ago.”
Thank goodness . Relief drained through Tilly, and it took everything she had not to sag against the wall too. “Did he procure us a room here?”
The man scrunched up his considerable eyebrows. “No. We spoke on other matters.”
“Such as?” When Mr. Polson opened his mouth to protest, Tilly added. “Please, Mr. Polson. If it’s about Dutch Rodgers or the hotel, I need to know. I assist him with all of his business matters.” It was a tiny white lie, but Tilly doubted there wasn’t much Liam had kept from her. He wasn’t that sort of man.
Mr. Polson pulled a pocketwatch out and checked the time. “We didn’t talk long. He asked about Rodgers approaching me to partner with him in this boardinghouse, and I told him that I turned the man down. And I advised him to find himself a new investor in his hotel. That Rodgers fellow isn’t someone you want messing around in your affairs.”
Tilly blinked at him, then quickly composed herself. “Thank you, Mr. Polson. Did he say where he was going?”
“He didn’t,” the man said shortly. “I need to get to work.”
“Right. Thank you. I appreciate your time.” She scurried out of the boardinghouse as quickly as possible.
And then she headed directly to her brother’s office.
The town marshal’s office was colder than it ought to be, and she found Jamie with his head buried in a stack of paperwork, clearly oblivious to the fire that was burning much too low in his stove.
He looked up as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Tilly,” he said, a smile stretching across his tired face. “What brings you in here?” As he stood, his smile fell away, almost as if he was picturing the exact sort of things that might cause her to visit him at work.
“It’s Liam,” she said, the worry she’d carried with her from the boardinghouse leaching out through her words. She pulled off her gloves and clasped her hands together to warm them up.
“I’m not surprised.” Jamie leaned against the edge of his desk. “What happened?”
“I just paid a visit to Fred Polson’s—”
That made him stand up again. “You did what? Have you lost your mind?”
Tilly held up a hand. “I know. But it was daylight, and I only saw one other person while I was there. I needed to speak with Mr. Polson.”
She launched into what Mr. Polson had told her, and Jamie leaned back again and folded his arms.
“He’s not the only one. Polson, I mean. I’ve done some asking around, and Rodgers has been busy. He’s been trying to get his money into half the businesses in town, either personally or through some partner he’s brought with him.”
“Paul Morris,” Tilly supplied, remembering how congenial the man had been at supper when she’d met him. “Liam had no idea he was connected to Mr. Rodgers, or he never would have agreed to that investment.”
“I know.” Jamie clenched his jaw, and Tilly could tell he was thinking.
“I can’t find Liam,” she added softly. “I’m worried that either something has happened or that he left town.” It hurt to speak those words aloud, but Jamie wouldn’t be able to help if he didn’t know everything.
“We’ll figure it out,” Jamie said, pushing himself away from his desk to wrap his arms around Tilly. “And I might have an idea. It was something I thought of earlier when I was talking with some of the shopkeepers in town.”
Tilly nodded against his chest. She had to believe it would work, whatever Jamie had in mind.
And she had to believe that Liam was still here. That he hadn’t left, and he wasn’t hurt—or worse. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed.
Faith was all she had.