The Risk and the Reward (Kansas Crossroads)

  The Risk and the Reward

  A Kansas Crossroads Novella

  by Amelia C. Adams

  With thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Erin, Jeene, Jennifer, Laurie, Lorena, Mary,

  and Meisje.

  Cover design by Steven Novak.

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author and Links

  Chapter One

  Atlantic Ocean

  1876

  Sybil James stood on the deck of the ship that had carried her across half the ocean, clutching the rail for all she was worth and wishing that the boat would stop swaying for just five blessed minutes. She’d heard about rough crossings, but none of the stories had prepared her for this. Her employer, the wealthy and titled Lady Douglas, had purchased nicer accommodations than most of the others on board, but no one on the ship, regardless of their ticket price, was safe from the constant motion of the sea.

  Sybil would be expected back in the cabin in a few minutes, but she had to take this opportunity to escape those stuffy confines and catch a glimpse of the fathomless depths of the ocean. She’d grown up near London and had rarely been to the coast, and she didn’t think she’d ever get over the wonder of so much water. And the color—a blue like she’d never seen before stretching out to a sky that was equally blue, but an entirely different shade.

  “Miss?”

  She tried not to sigh as she turned around and saw one of the porters. “Yes?”

  “Your mistress has been calling for you.”

  That was hardly a surprise. “Thank you. I’m on my way.”

  She turned back to the railing and took another look at the sea, then walked across the deck toward the sleeping quarters. Someday she would take another ocean voyage, and she would spend the entire trip on deck staring at the water and the sky. Perhaps she would even arrange for a cot to be brought out so she could watch the stars. She’d never seen them so bright anywhere before—it was as if she could reach out and touch them with the tips of her fingers, they were so close.

  Someday.

  That magical, elusive time when all her dreams would come true.

  She had to keep believing. She just had to.

  ***

  “This isn’t at all what we agreed.” Grant Douglas tossed the letter onto his desk, fighting to control his tone of voice. “This offer is less than fifty percent of what we discussed last week.”

  “That was never put in writing. You know as well as I that until something’s in writing, it isn’t binding.” Mr. Wells leaned back in the chair across from Grant’s face, his eyebrow raised.

  “I was brought up to believe in a gentleman’s agreement, sir. When I give my word, you can guarantee that I will keep it. This is a mockery.” Grant pointed at the sheet of paper. “You may take that and go elsewhere. I will not be doing business with you.”

  Mr. Wells leaned forward, his eyes suddenly like flint. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’ve broken faith with me, and so I’m clear to break faith with you. If there ever was any faith to begin with.” Grant motioned toward the door. “I trust you’ll have a pleasant afternoon.”

  Mr. Wells came to his feet. “This is preposterous. You won’t get a better offer from anyone else—just try it and you’ll see.”

  “I will take a lower offer if it is presented honestly and without these shenanigans.” Grant picked up the letter and shook it. “I would much rather deal with a genuine person than a puffed-up egoist who makes promises over brandy and retracts them when he’s sober.”

  Mr. Wells opened and closed his mouth a few times, then spun on his heel and strode from the room. Grant supposed that the door slamming at the end of his exit was supposed to be an impressive show of strength, but it wasn’t impressive at all.

  Grant walked over to his office window and looked out at the street below. He loved his chosen home of San Francisco, but he frequently missed the quiet gentility of the English home where he’d grown up, and today was a definite reminder of the difference in manners between the two countries. There was a roughness and a wildness to America that was sometimes refreshing and sometimes appalling. Thankfully, not every businessman he met was like Mr. Wells. He would find a buyer for the land he was selling, and he would be pleased with the outcome.

  A knock on his door startled him, and he turned. “Yes?”

  Margaret, his secretary, stuck her head into the room. “You asked me to remind you about the Glendales’ cocktail party tonight, sir. This is your reminder.”

  Grant shook his head. “Do I really have to go? I don’t suppose I can claim some sort of disease, can I?”

  “Not when you have an important meeting tomorrow and Mr. Glendale will be there. He’d wonder at your sudden recovery.”

  “You know how I feel about these ridiculous things—standing around, chatting about the weather, holding drinks I have no intention of drinking.”

  “I know, sir. We’ve had this conversation many times.” She leaned against the doorframe, her dark curls bobbing around her face.

  “And of course you realize what it’s all about—marrying off Miss Glendale to any eligible man who’s foolish enough to fall for it. Honestly, Margaret, I’d appreciate a party invitation that wasn’t in some way connected to an unmarried daughter or a sketchy scheme.”

  “I’ve told you before, Mr. Douglas. Just marry me, and all those invitations will stop. Well, the ones with unmarried daughters. I don’t know what to do about the sketchy schemes.”

  Grant smiled. Margaret was an attractive girl, no question about it, but he knew their temperaments would never suit. He was far too brusque for someone so sweet. “Your father would have my head, and your brothers would tear up the rest of me.”

  “Most likely, but they’d do that to any man I brought home. It’s just in their nature.”

  “As charming as your offer is, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. It’s in my nature to want to keep all my limbs firmly attached to my body.”

  She laughed. “All right, you’re off the hook. But you still have to attend that party.”

  Grant shook his head as he sat back in his chair. “Fine, I suppose I’ll go and keep my chin up. I’d much rather stay home with a book, though.”

  “If you’d like to know the truth, Miss Glendale would probably prefer that as well. This can’t be any fun for her.” Margaret flashed him a smile and then went back out to the reception area.

  Grant leaned forward with his elbows on the desk and pressed his palms to his eye sockets. A headache had been building for the last hour, and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. There were a great many differences between America and England, but one thing seemed the same—the desire for marriage and money. Making the right match was crucial to build up empires and protect inheritances and pass on the family name . . . and it was quite exhausting, especially now that Grant was nearly twenty-seven and hadn’t produced an heir. His mother was convinced that their line would end with him, and she was on her way to see him at that very moment to set him straight.

  He was just glad that she’d miss the cocktail party with Miss Glendale. Otherwise, he’d never be able to escape.


  Chapter Two

  Lady Douglas didn’t look at all pleased when Sybil entered the room. “You’ve kept me waiting quite a long time. I was beginning to wonder if I would have to dress myself for dinner.”

  Sybil had only been gone ten minutes, but she wasn’t about to argue with her employer. She was lucky to have this position and would do nothing to endanger it. “I’m sorry, milady. I was admiring the sea and the sky.”

  “I suppose I can’t blame you for that. The views certainly are beautiful.” Lady Douglas turned so Sybil could unfasten her day dress. “I think the blue gown tonight, don’t you?”

  “I do, milady. I noticed that Mrs. Abernathy wore blue last night, so she’ll likely choose another color tonight and you won’t match.”

  “Thank you for your thoughtfulness, my dear. You know how much I dread the thought of matching another lady at the table.”

  “I do. What do you think of the sapphire necklace, my lady?”

  Lady Douglas considered it. “I’m not sure I want the others on board to know that I’m traveling with jewels. Perhaps wearing the same pearl choker I wore last night would be the wisest choice.”

  “Very good, milady.”

  Sybil helped her employer step into her gown and fasten it, then clasped the pearls around her neck. “Are we doing something different with your hair tonight?”

  Lady Douglas considered. “Let’s leave it,” she said at last. “No reason going through the extra work when there’s nothing wrong with it.”

  Sybil nodded. “Very good, milady.” The woman was a little hard to make out. One minute, she was cross about something seemingly inconsequential, but the next, she was quite calm and reasonable. This had been going on for nearly a year—before that, she’d kept her composure quite nicely all the time. Something had changed, and Sybil had no idea what it was. She hoped that this trip to San Francisco would set everything to rights.

  ***

  By the time the ship docked in the New York port, Sybil was ready to be back on solid ground. She would miss the incredible views from deck, but she would not miss the cramped quarters, the smell of sickness, and the sometimes crass language of the sailors when they didn’t realize they could be overheard. Most of all, she was eager for the roiling beneath her feet to stop and the ever-present nausea to come to an end.

  “Careful now, miss,” one of the porters said as she neared the end of the gangplank. “It’ll take ye a minute to get yer land legs.”

  “Land legs?”

  “You’ll be a bit wobbly at first.”

  Nonsense. They hadn’t been at sea long enough for her to forget what dry land was like. But as she stepped off the gangplank and onto the dock, she found he was exactly right—her knees buckled, and she would have fallen right down if he hadn’t caught her.

  “Beg yer pardon, miss,” he said, standing her upright. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

  “Of course not,” she replied. “Thank you for your help.” She turned to see that another porter had Lady Douglas by the arm and was helping her descend. That was a relief—it would be devastating to the lady to experience the same kind of humiliation Sybil had just endured.

  It took a bit for all their trunks to be located and stacked. Lady Douglas had taken a seat on the first one to be brought, motioning for Sybil to take the second. “I certainly hope this trip is successful,” she said as they waited. “I never dreamed this would all be such a hassle.”

  “I’m sorry to say, milady, but I don’t think the hassle is anywhere near over,” Sybil replied. “We’ve still got the train ride ahead of us.”

  Lady Douglas sighed. “You’re right, of course. I dread that ride, but the alternatives are much worse. I was speaking to the captain this morning, and he told me that some people have chosen to sail down around Cape Horn rather than taking the train across the country. That voyage takes six months. Can you even imagine?”

  “I can’t. I really can’t.” What would be the benefit of such a thing—six months on a ship rather than a cross-country train ride? It would certainly be long and uncomfortable, but twelve days was nothing when compared to six months!

  Lady Douglas nodded. “We’ll make it work somehow. Would you like to wire your parents and let them know we’ve landed?”

  All at once, a wave of emotion hit Sybil right in the center of her stomach more powerfully than the seasickness she had endured, and she swallowed a few times. She hadn’t told Lady Douglas the real truth about her family—that her father had thrown her out of the house when she was sixteen and told her never to return. She’d worked in a laundry for two months, then found a place as a maid in a large house, and eventually worked her way up to ladies’ maid and landed a good position with Lady Douglas. In all that time, she’d contacted her parents three times, and each time, her letter was returned unopened. A telegram would be a waste of money.

  “I’ll wait until we’ve reached San Francisco,” she said at last. She did think she should try to contact them from there—they should know that she’d come to America. She’d do it purely out of a sense of daughterly duty, not because she felt they’d be glad for the news.

  Lady Douglas raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on it. “I’ll let my son know we’re here and that we’ll be taking the next train we can arrange. For just this minute, though, I’m eager to find our hotel and freshen up. I don’t believe I’ve felt tidy since we got on that ship.”

  Sybil agreed—a true bath sounded wonderful.

  They found a hack and were carried off to a hotel not terribly far from the port. “My son dislikes it when I use my title to gain special favors, and he’s all but stopped using his, but I must say, it does have its advantages,” Lady Douglas said when they reached their suite. “Americans seem to be fascinated by nobility—we might as well indulge them a bit, and if we end up with the best rooms in the place, I certainly can’t complain.”

  “Did I tell the bellman the right cases?” Sybil asked. They’d left almost everything downstairs to make it easier to head off for the train station the next morning. Only the two cases Sybil had requested had been brought up to the room—that and her own small case, which was easy enough to pick out of a crowd.

  Lady Douglas nodded. “Yes, I believe those are correct. You packed them well yesterday, my dear.”

  Sybil blushed a little at the compliment. “Thank you, milady. Now let’s see about your bath.”

  The Douglas home in England had indoor plumbing, but Sybil had no idea what to expect here. She was quite relieved to step into the other room and see a bathtub and all the necessary pipes. Lady Douglas had done right to insist on good accommodations—Sybil had no idea why her son refused to use his title, but it seemed like a shame when it would make life so much easier.

  She prepared the tub, then left Lady Douglas soaking while she laid out fresh underthings and a new day dress. She herself would rather put on a nightgown and go straight to bed, but Lady Douglas insisted on propriety at all times, and if the sun hadn’t yet gone down, she would stay clothed appropriately for the time of day.

  After she helped the lady dry and arrange her hair, it was time for Sybil’s bath. She felt absolutely decadent as she refilled the tub and sprinkled some lavender into it at Lady Douglas’s insistence. She scrubbed and scrubbed until she felt like every bit of travel grime had been washed away and her hair felt soft, then she climbed out and toweled off.

  When she came into the room where Lady Douglas sat reading, she found her employer resting her hand over her eyes. “Milady? Are you all right?”

  The woman startled and looked up. “I’m just tired, my dear. Let’s find our supper and then retire for the night, shall we?”

  Sybil was glad to hear it, but she was concerned. Lady Douglas looked far more than tired—she looked ill. Sybil wouldn’t mention it until the lady did, though. It wouldn’t be seemly.

  Chapter Three

  Grant nodded as he read the telegram, then tucked it into his b
reast pocket. His mother had landed safely, and she would be taking a train the following day. That was one nice thing about New York—it was becoming easier to find trains almost anywhere one wanted to go. She was bringing a ladies’ maid with her, a new one since Grant had left home. No doubt this one would be just as sour-faced and unpleasant as the old one—that seemed to be the standard for ladies’ maids these days.

  He pulled the door to his flat closed behind him, making sure he had the key, then headed downstairs to the street. He’d debated taking a hired carriage to the Glendales’, but it was close enough to walk, and he’d spent so much time cooped up lately that a nice evening stroll would be just the thing. Plus, it gave him the freedom to escape whenever he liked, and chances were, he’d like it fairly soon.

  He was greeted as soon as he arrived by Mr. Glendale, who shook his hand vigorously and offered him a drink.

  “I don’t actually drink,” he said, but Mr. Glendale waved that off and pressed a glass of some amber-colored liquid on him. Grant set it on the tray of a passing waiter as soon as he could. He’d seen far too many men lose themselves to the power of alcohol, and he wasn’t about to give himself a muzzy head and endanger his business just because those around him thought he should be drinking.

  “Mr. Douglas! What a pleasant surprise.” Mrs. Glendale’s voice carried over the chatter of the crowd as she came toward him, both hands extended. “Marty wasn’t sure you’d be able to make it.”

  “How could I pass up such a generous invitation?”

  She simpered. “Oh, that accent. I could listen to you talk all day. I don’t suppose you’d do that, would you? Follow me around all day and talk to me?”

  “I’m quite sure I’d run out of interesting things to say in about an hour,” he replied. He was uncomfortable and wanted to tug at his collar, but he smiled and did his best to hide his real feelings.

  “Oh, you could never be dull. And here comes our precious Deborah now.” Mrs. Glendale turned and held out a hand much as if she was motioning toward a fine piece of statuary in a garden.