Under the Midnight Sun Page 3

  Holding out his hand, the man gave him another broad smile. “Name’s Joseph Carter.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Thomas shook his hand.

  Joseph put his hands back on his hips. “First thing, we probably ought to get you some food. Then some decent shoes.” He tilted his head toward the train. “Better get moving. There’s lots of daylight left in the day to get things done.”

  Thomas’s heart picked up in rhythm. “Yes, sir.” He climbed up behind Joseph and grinned. As the train began to move again, he watched the terrain as it floated by. Maybe he’d be okay after all.

  A bell clanging in the distance brought Thomas awake. Last night was the first night in years he’d slept through without being woken up by a growling stomach. Jumping up from his bedroll, he ran his hands through his shaggy hair and then put his cap back on. He straightened his bedroll and headed to the privy. No matter what, he wanted to make a really good impression on Joseph’s boss. No way he wanted to give the hardened man an excuse to dismiss him—especially not after everything Joseph had done for him. Looking down at the new boots on his feet, Thomas smiled. It was the first time he’d had a new pair of shoes. Ever.

  Breakfast passed in a flurry, but Thomas didn’t have any problem eating fast. Growing up in the orphanage, he learned he’d better eat as quick as he could, or he might not eat at all.

  Joseph took him to his designated job site and went over all the rules of the camp. After he’d explained his expectations, he clapped Thomas on the back and sent him running for water for the workers.

  It was an easy trek to the stream, but once he loaded the filled buckets up on the yoke, Thomas realized that they weighed almost as much as he did. The path back to the railroad camp was uphill, and the struggle to carry the load without spilling water was an intense challenge.

  Thomas bit his lip and kept trudging ahead. He could do this. Just needed to build up his strength. For the first time in his young life, he had a place to sleep, a job, and a full belly. There was no way he’d give that up.

  As he reached the edge of the camp, he stopped to catch his breath. The mountains before him were still covered in snow, the air clean and crisp. Alaska was home to him. He’d never been anywhere else and had no desire to be. Maybe he’d be able to work for the railroad for a long time. Wouldn’t that be grand? Especially if he drove one of the trains one day. He’d have a family with the railroad.

  A smile cracked his lips as he moved forward again. The men wouldn’t take to waiting too long for water.

  The clanging of sledges against the rails rang out in steady rhythm. The men slinging them had shoulders and arms that looked like they were carved out of steel themselves. Thomas glanced down at his skinny arms. Definitely needed some more meat on his bones. Just like Joseph said.

  He neared the break area and tripped over a rock. Before he could do anything about it, the momentum flung the buckets and the yoke smacked him in the back of the head. Tumbling to the rocky ground, Thomas put his hands out in front of him to brace his fall.

  All around him, several men laughed.

  Heat crept up his neck and face as pain seared through his palms and knees.

  One loud voice rose above the noise around Thomas. “Is that the orphan kid you picked up yesterday, Joe? Doesn’t look like he’s good for much. . . .”

  More laughter.

  Other voices competed for attention in Thomas’s hearing. Joseph was saying something back to the man, but Thomas couldn’t understand it. Picking himself up from the ground, he tried to brush himself off as the men continued to joke and talk around him. He picked up the buckets and the yoke and took off down the hill to the stream as embarrassment filled his entire frame.

  So much for finding a family here. He would always be known as an orphan.

  When he reached the stream, he slammed the buckets into the water. That word had never really bothered him before because all the kids he knew were orphans. But now, things were different. He wanted to be something else. Someone else.

  Determination built in his gut. He was gonna be somebody someday. He would. Orphan or not. He’d prove that he was worth something.

  1

  TEN YEARS LATER

  THURSDAY, APRIL 4, 1929—DENVER, COLORADO

  As twenty-three-year-old Tayler threw another brown split skirt into her suitcase, a light knock sounded on her bedroom door. “Come in,” she called out, and went to look for the matching neck scarves in her closet.

  “Miss, you’ve been called to the study.” Millie, her maid since she was twelve, stood in the doorway.

  A groan left Tayler’s lips as she peeked at her maid. Summoned to the study again? “Is it urgent, do you think? Or has Mother just found another way to word her displeasure? I’m really quite busy packing.” She turned back to the closet and found the brown scarves along with the olive-green ones. Just what she needed.

  “Miss, it’s your mother and Mr. Dunham this time. They said you need to come right away.”

  Tayler peeked around the doorjamb at her maid and then looked to the ceiling. Mother probably convinced the family’s lawyer to come by because she thought Tayler needed a stern talking-to. About why she shouldn’t go traipsing off to her job. As if she hadn’t heard the first four lectures by Mother already this morning. With a sigh, she resigned herself to yet another.

  Nothing had been the same since Dad died last September. She’d come home like a dutiful daughter to lend her mother support—not that she needed it after all. Thankfully Tayler’s job at Yellowstone National Park had been about to end for the winter. Even though her absence hadn’t put her boss in a tough situation, how she wished she were there now.

  The thought sounded horrible, but Tayler couldn’t help it. The past few months had been worse than she’d ever imagined. Mother had always been strong, but when Father died, she’d hardened herself in a way Tayler hadn’t expected. If ever Tayler doubted that her mother ran the household, she didn’t anymore. Mother had always been a part of the business ventures and decisions. When Father was alive she’d had the decency to downplay her role, but in the last seven months since his death she didn’t even attempt to pretend. Rather than spend time grieving, Mother simply got to work. She’d called in Mr. Dunham, demanded a full audit of the family holdings, and made everyone aware of her demands. Henrietta Hale was insistent that the Hale empire be known just like J.P. Morgan and Andrew Carnegie: as business magnates, investors in numerous companies and real estate, philanthropists—and most importantly—well-established in their social standing.

  Poor Joshua had been blindsided. He’d expected to take over for their father, but instead he found himself more of a pawn. Tayler could still see his stunned expression when Mother announced she had everything under control and he could return to New York City to manage his own businesses. Maybe when she was older and tired of running everything she would ask him to come take over.

  Joshua hadn’t been home since the funeral. He buried himself in his work, and even Tayler’s repeated pleas that he come home and help her reason with their mother went unanswered for the most part. He’d sent one letter after Tayler had sent him four lengthy diatribes as to their mother’s actions and attitude. Especially her insistence that Tayler give up working and remain at home. Joshua’s response had been given in one line:

  I am sorry, but I can’t change the way things are. Mother has made her decision.

  Tayler was still at a loss to understand. They’d always been so close, but whether it was the sadness of mourning their father or the harshness of their mother, Joshua had changed and left Tayler alone to deal with the aftermath.

  “Miss?” Millie interrupted her thoughts.

  Tayler shook her head. “I’m sorry.” With a sigh, she resigned herself to the fate before her. The sooner she left, the sooner she could get out of Mother’s grasp. “I’d better go down. Can you find the green split skirts for my uniforms as well? There should be three. Just place them on the bed, an
d I will get them packed when I return.” She ran to the mirror and checked her appearance before she went downstairs. No need to alarm her mother by looking disheveled. If Tayler planned to go into battle, she had to have the upper hand.

  “Yes, miss. I’ll wait for you here.”

  “Thanks, Millie. You’re a dear.” She headed out of her room at a brisk pace. Mother hated waiting. But Tayler wondered how many more times she would have to express her feelings and wishes. Goodness, it was almost 1930, for pity’s sake. Mother acted as if they still lived in the previous century.

  But as Tayler rounded the corner into the study, an unmistakable voice made her stiffen. She’d been ambushed.

  Standing in the middle of the study with Mother fawning all over him was none other than that lying, cheating, no-good Emerson Pruitt. Tayler crossed her arms over her chest and took a deep breath. This would not be pretty. Her temper started to boil, and she attempted to keep a lid on it. “I hear you needed to speak with me?” Lips tight, she glared at her mother. She knew her expression had turned into a scowl, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Darling, I’m so glad you joined us. Isn’t it lovely that Emerson has come to call?” Mother’s voice dripped with adoration.

  “Lovely.” The sarcastic word left her lips unchecked.

  Emerson—hands outstretched like she was a beloved family member—strode toward her with that charming smile she knew to be all too fake. “Tayler Grace, it is so enchanting to see you.” He came in for a kiss, but she turned away at the last second, and he missed.

  Walking over to Mr. Dunham, Tayler reached out to shake his hand. “Good morning, Mr. Dunham. How are you?”

  His slight groan under his breath told her more than she needed. “Fine. Just fine.” In Tayler’s opinion, the lawyer had spent entirely too much time at the Hale home since Mother went into a frenzy over managing everything. It wasn’t that Tayler disliked the man, but he was just . . . odd. And secretive. He was short and round, and nothing like her father, Martin Hale, who’d been a tall, strong man.

  The thought of Daddy brought a prick of tears to her eyes. If he were here, he wouldn’t allow for Mother’s nonsense. Goodness, he’d encouraged Tayler to go to college when she told them of her dreams and had cheered her on when she gained a prestigious position at Yellowstone National Park. And he’d been especially supportive when she’d learned the truth about Emerson and ended their engagement.

  Mr. Dunham cleared his throat and brought her thoughts back to the moment. In the study. Being ambushed. “How are you doing, Miss Hale?”

  “Well . . . considering this is the fifth time this morning that I’ve been called to the study—”

  “That’s quite enough, Tayler Grace.” Mother frowned. Everyone knew Tayler preferred going by just her first name, but Mother—and apparently Emerson—refused to acquiesce.

  She sighed.

  “Goodness, Tayler Grace, that is no way to greet your guest.” Mother scolded and pursed her lips, then motioned to Emerson. “Especially since he’s come that we might set the wedding date.”

  What?

  Tayler shook her head and blinked. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. “Emerson? He is not my guest, Mother. Nor will he ever be. And there’s not going to be a wedding. If you will remind yourself, I broke off our charade of an engagement three years ago.”

  Emerson looked wounded, and Mother put a hand on his arm. Which he accepted and patted and then appeared ready to cry. The big actor.

  Mother pursed her lips. “You were distraught at the time—”

  “No. Mother, I wasn’t distraught or delirious or dumbfounded or whatever other word you can come up with and have come up with over the past few years. I came to my senses. Father understood and supported my decision, and I would appreciate it if you would do the same.”

  “There’s no call for such an attitude, Tayler Grace. It’s time for you to settle down and stop gallivanting off on your ridiculous adventures.” Mother looked to Mr. Dunham. “I do apologize for bringing you into the middle of this. I’m afraid my daughter has been allowed a rather unruly upbringing. As you know, my husband spoiled her.”

  Tayler put her hands on her hips. “I’m standing right here, Mother.” She held in a groan. “While I mean you no disrespect, you know this has nothing to do with my being spoiled. And I don’t go gallivanting off. I’m a naturalist.” Trying to keep her voice calm, she felt the words gushing to the surface. “You also well know of Emerson’s exploits and, dare I say, love affairs—while we were engaged—that were all over the papers? And that Emerson freely admitted to? And then, he didn’t even bother to respond to the broken engagement, nor did he come to visit and apologize?” Her voice always rose in pitch when she was angry, and she fought against the squeaky childish sound. She was an adult and needed to be heard.

  “But, darling, you know that he needed to go away for a while to let the gossip die down.” Mother tsked at Tayler like she was a child.

  Shaking her head, she took another deep breath. “No, Mother. It wasn’t gossip. I’m done with all of this. I will not be marrying Emerson Pruitt. No matter what you say. I have a job to get to. A job I love.”

  “I’ve had quite enough of this, Tayler Grace Hale. You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said all morning, have you? Besides, Emerson told us just now that none of it was true.” Mother turned to the slimy weasel. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

  Tayler narrowed her eyes. Should she tell her mother once and for all that she witnessed it firsthand? In their own home, no less? Images flitted back into her mind. Images that had broken her heart. Of Emerson kissing that Wainwright girl behind the grand staircase. Then at the Stewarts’ party the following month—a party he attended with her—she caught him in the gazebo with his arms around Mary Lou Stewart. Not to mention the dozen other episodes over that spring. The spring that Tayler had to grow up and face facts. While he’d been back in Denver and she’d been away at college, he’d apparently had plenty of friends to take her place.

  Not that they’d ever had much time together for her to have a place. After their little mountaintop promise, he’d gone back to prep school and then went off to Harvard. By the time he came home to Denver, she was off to college. The few weeks they’d seen each other over the years had been few and far between. And it only proved to her one thing:

  Men were liars and cheaters. At least Emerson proved to be.

  She put a hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. While Joshua had listened to her and comforted her before he went back to Harvard to continue his graduate studies in law, he’d also had to admit that his best friend of all these years hadn’t been faithful to his little sister. And everyone knew it. Tayler refused to be the laughingstock. She was a child of God. And He had something much better for her. She knew that. Felt assured in that. If the Lord had a special someone out there for her . . . somewhere . . . then she would rest in that and wait for God to reveal him. She only knew for sure that it wasn’t Emerson.

  Emerson moved toward her. “Tayler, let’s put all this behind us. I’m here now.”

  Tayler held up a hand to stop him. “No. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m going back to my job in Yellowstone. There’s nothing more to discuss.”

  Emerson had the gall to laugh. “Your job? As a tour guide?” He looked at her mother and simply shook his head.

  Rage bubbled up to the surface, but Tayler clenched her teeth to keep from exploding. Measuring her words, she spoke in a controlled tone. “I’m not a tour guide, Emerson Pruitt, and you know that. I’m a naturalist and interpreter with a degree in botany. A well-respected one at that.”

  “Honey, I’m sure you are very well respected, and I wasn’t trying to belittle you, I promise. But we both know that you are just doing this job until we marry. I’m sorry for my wayward behavior as a boy, although I assure you it was never as bad as the newspapers made out. I’ve come to my senses. You know me . . . I was ju
st a silly young man.” He stepped the rest of the way to her and put an arm around her shoulders.

  It made her cringe. “Silly young man? For all these years? You expect me to believe that? No. Do not call me ‘honey’ and again, no, I’m not just doing this job until we marry.” She lifted his hand from her shoulder and flung it back to his side with more force than was necessary, but she couldn’t help it. Marching over to the window, she stomped her feet. Then she turned back to face the liar. If flames could shoot from her eyes, she’d want to aim them at him right now. “I will never marry you, Emerson.”

  “Let’s not be hasty.” He held up his hands and pasted that oily smile back on. “You made a promise to me, and I know I’ve been a little careless, but my heart is true.”

  An unladylike snort escaped at his ludicrous response. “A promise when I was a child, you big oaf. Just as you made mistakes as a . . . what did you call it . . . silly young man? I made mistakes as a silly young girl. A girl who believed the best of everyone—until they betrayed me. I have no feelings for you whatsoever . . . you . . . you womanizer.”

  “Tayler Grace!” Mother grimaced. “I will not stand for you speaking to Emerson in that manner, and in front of poor Mr. Dunham no less.” She glided over the marble floor to stand in front of Tayler, but Tayler turned away. Her action did nothing to deter Mother.

  “You made a promise and our families have invested heavily in each other because of that promise. You and Emerson have been best friends since you were little.” Her voice turned calm and soothing. “Now, let’s put all the past behind us and move forward, shall we?”

  Tayler turned to look at her mother. “What has happened to you? Dad would never force me to marry this liar.” Tears streaked down her cheeks, her emotion threatening to choke her. “Don’t you care about me anymore?”

  “Of course I care about you, dear. I want what’s best for you. And this union between you and Emerson is just that. You’re simply upset. Losing your father has been a terrible blow to us all.”