“Excuse me, sir, but does this train stop in Cascade, Colorado? I don’t see that town on my ticket.” From her seat beside the picture window in the observation car, Tess smiled up at the uniformed conductor. After a lovely four-course dinner, she’d spent several minutes gazing at the distant sunset while snowflakes drifted around them, catching the day’s last light.
The agent smiled indulgently. “No, ma’am. The closest station to Cascade is Colorado Springs.”
Tess’s heart lurched. She studied her itinerary again. “And . . . is Colorado Springs near Denver, then?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. That’s a different line, requiring a transfer. Shall I look at your ticket?”
Her mouth went sour. Not even two hours from Memphis and her adventure was going awry. And isn’t that what you deserve for going off on your own tangent, Dixie Pixie? Had you followed Warren’s plan instead of answering that ad—
“Might I be of service, miss?” A mustachioed gentleman and the man beside him nodded cordially from across the aisle. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but my partner and I are quite familiar with the Springs. Cascade’s only a stagecoach ride away.”
“Unless the roads are snowed shut,” his friend added. His gold-rimmed spectacles twinkled when he grinned. “This time of year, that’s quite common, you see. Not many folks live in Cascade, and those who do spend a good bit of each winter holed up in their homes.”
This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. These two looked respectable enough in their vested suits, with their brandy snifters and cigars, but she’d been pondering the pitfalls of traveling as a woman alone. Her trusting nature could get her into trouble if she believed everything every nice-looking man told her.
Tess sat straighter, which subtly thrust out her breasts. Henry had always said attitude was everything: He’d believed himself the most competent cotton factor in the Memphis region—and had worked diligently to prove it—so everyone who dealt with him considered him the best as well. Never mind that she was dressed in mourning and obviously beyond familiar boundaries. She would not whimper and board the next train home. She would prevail!
“I have it on good authority that Santa himself lives in Cascade,” Tess asserted demurely. “And if Saint Nick delivers toys around the globe in a single night, in a sleigh pulled by reindeer, his magic will direct me to his door!”
The conductor coughed: He figured her for a real twit now. That line about Santa probably wasn’t a sound strategy for a woman alone. Or maybe it’s the best thing you could’ve said. If these fellows think you’re stupid, they won’t go sniffing after your business in Colorado.
The railway agent returned her ticket, smiling kindly. “I’ll telegraph ahead to see what I can do about rerouting you, Mrs. Bennett. Shouldn’t take but an hour or so to secure you a seat on—”
“If the lady will allow us, we shall accompany her,” the man across the aisle said. “We’re bound for Colorado Springs, anyway, and I know a trustworthy coachman who will see her safely to her destination in Cascade.”
Tess smiled radiantly. As often happened, she had situated herself in just the right place at the right time: that same sort of magic alluded to in the advertisement! “How lucky can I get?” she exclaimed graciously. “Not one but three gentlemen lighting my way. I can’t thank you enough—because I don’t yet know your names.”
“Spencer Penrose, known to my friends as Spec,” the first gentleman said as he rose from his seat. “And this is my partner, Charley Tutt. So pleased to make your acquaintance—Mrs. Bennett, is it?”
“Yes, but please call me Tess. ‘Mrs. Bennett’ reminds me of my mother-in-law.”
Mr. Penrose’s hearty laughter filled the observation car and made people smile when they turned their heads. As he bowed debonairly over her hand, his face radiated a boyish sense of fun. Mr. Tutt, too, gripped her hand; he seemed to think she was witty rather than critical of Henry’s mother.
And the conductor, whose eyes had widened, seemed much more interested in her now. “Francis Turley at your service, ma’am,” he said crisply. “I shall return with your new ticket in minutes.”
“Thank you so much, sir.” Tess watched him walk quickly through the door, toward the front of the train. Who might these two other gentlemen be, that Mr. Turley had snapped to attention at the mention of their names? Maybe she should behave like a proper lady before she put her foot in something she couldn’t shake off.
“Won’t you join me?” she asked, gesturing to the seats directly across from her. “It was awfully kind of you to offer me an escort, after the way I spouted off about Santa and his magic. You probably think I’m behaving childishly.”
Spencer Penrose smiled like a cat who’d swallowed the proverbial canary, while Mr. Tutt took a long sip of his brandy to cover a knowing grin. What had she gotten herself into now?
“Santa does live in Cascade, Tess,” the man in the stylish tweed suit assured her. “Charley and I are his close personal friends.”
“Well, if indeed Ed—er, Santa—has any close friends,” the other fellow chimed in as the two men took their seats. “What with all his charity events and spending time in his workshop with his, um, elves . . .”
“At the very least we’re on his list, Charley,” Spec insisted with a purposeful look at his partner. “Very near the top of the good boys and girls. So at our first opportunity, we’ll send him a telegram to say you’ll arrive safely and soon, Tess.”
“Regardless of those snowy roads I mentioned earlier,” Charley added with a nod.
Tess followed their patter, trying to read between the lines. What was this about, really? Had she unwittingly spoken in some sort of code when she’d mentioned Santa living in Cascade?
And why were they insinuating that this Santa had no close friends? Was it because of the sparse population of Cascade? Or did the man who’d written that advertisement pose a threat she should know about before she continued her adventure?
Tess blinked, wondering if Warren had assured Margaret and George of her safety . . . wondering how Mr. Coates had appeased his boss as well. Her stomach tightened around the rich dinner she’d eaten. Perhaps she should’ve stayed home to face Reed Mahaffey rather than running off on such a whim....
“You seem perplexed, my dear. Have I said something that alarms you?”
Tess focused on Spencer Penrose to quell her rising doubts. He looked very successful: well groomed yet comfortable in his vested suit. Comfortable about who he was and what made his world go around. All of the truly wealthy men in Memphis had this same air about them: an understated way of doing things for others, without touting their money.
She sighed. Better to confess than to suffer the consequences of a split-second decision. Tess pulled the folded newspaper page from her reticule. “At the risk of looking ridiculous . . . I came west on the spur of a desperate moment. I saw this ad, and again—not thinking things through—I sent a telegram saying I’d be arriving soon.”
Spec and Charley sat with their elbows on their knees, listening intently. “And?” Spencer’s thick mustache flickered.
“You seem to know this . . . this Santa, but how can I be sure I haven’t signed on for something . . . indecent? Or even dangerous?” she queried in a small voice. “I’m the widow of a successful cotton factor. I have no business running away from—”
“Sadness? Painful memories?” Charley asked quietly. “Unbearable holidays in an empty home?”
“Or perhaps the unwanted attentions of a man who’s after your husband’s money?” Spencer Penrose glanced at the ad, smiling kindly. “It’s your business why you left home, dear Tess, but I assure you there’s nothing indecent or dangerous about the man who posted this.”
“Well, he has his particular . . . tastes in employees,” Charley pointed out.
“But those employees love him so much they’d never leave him,” Penrose said as he studied her. “You’ll be the perfect addition to his staff, Tess. He’s already working his ingenious, childlike magic—casting it out like a net woven of cotton candy—to attract just the right helper for his Christmas charity events.”
Tess let out the breath she’d been holding. “So he’s legitimate?”
“Oh, more than that, he’s generous and sweet-natured—”
“Hardworking and admired. Loved by all who know him.”
“And whoever you’re running from won’t catch you, way out there in the Rockies,” Spencer concluded. “However, if I were pursuing you, dear Tess, I wouldn’t let deep snow or the treacherous, winding roads—”
“Or wind or sleet or dark of night.”
“—stand in my way of finding you,” Penrose concluded with an intense gaze.
Tess sat very still, fixed in Spec’s gaze, aware of a thrilling little undercurrent that made her insides tighten. Was he flirting with her? Attracted? Or did he carry on this way with every woman he met? “Matter of fact, there is a man vying for my attentions in Memphis,” she admitted quietly. “But he mostly wants to control all the shares of the partnership, now that Henry’s gone.”
Both men smiled endearingly. “I’m sorry for your loss, Tess,” Mr. Penrose said as he reached for her hand.
“But there’s not a man alive who wouldn’t want you, regardless of your financial standing,” Charley Tutt joined in. “Perhaps it’s the best thing that could’ve happened, your taking off for Cascade to work with . . . Santa. You’ll be safe and warm—”
“Well paid and befriended by all,” Spencer agreed.
“Protected from your husband’s partner well into spring. Yet, should you require assistance from your attorney back home, or need to send him directions concerning your accounts,” Charlie continued, “he’s but a telegram away. Colorado may be a far frontier, but—thanks to the development of the gold mines in nearby Cripple Creek—we have all the modern conveniences.”
“You’ll be fine, my dear,” Spec assured her as he gazed raptly into her eyes. “And should you need the least little thing, I shall be at your service!”
Tess blinked. Their rapid-fire conversation had left no time to read between their lines, yet their goodwill amazed her. She grinned as both fellows pulled vellum cards from their coat pockets. “I . . . I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Oh, we’ll find a way,” Charley teased as he rose to go.
“Every man takes his turn at being the giver and the receiver,” Spec chimed in. His head turned as the whoosh of the doors announced the conductor’s return. “Mr. Turley has found a way to reroute you, I’ll wager. We’ll wait at the station to secure your coach to Cascade, Tess. Enjoy your ride on the rails! Life’s a journey to be lived with joy and exuberance.”
Exuberance. When was the last time she’d known anything approaching that? As Mr. Penrose had predicted, the railway agent handed her a new ticket, grinning profusely. “Here you are, Mrs. Bennett! What an extraordinary stroke of luck that the movers and shakers of Colorado Springs were aboard in your hour of need!”
Tess glanced toward the door, but her two new friends had already gone. “Just two kindhearted souls helping a damsel in distress.”
“Those two souls are none other than the Penrose and Tutt who’ve made millions in the gold mines,” he replied in a conspiratorial whisper. “Spec’s Broadmoor Hotel and other undertakings have made Colorado Springs the place for the wealthy to flock.”
Tess accepted her ticket with a quiet smile. “Thank you for getting my ticket changed,” she murmured as she rose from her chair. “Where would we be without the grace of God and the kindness of strangers?”
Back in her private Pullman, Tess pondered her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror. Was she really a woman any man would want? Even if she had only the black clothing on her back? True enough, Reed Mahaffey sought her attentions, but today, two total strangers had reaffirmed her allure without knowing a thing about her or her bank accounts.
And they know Santa! And they think I’m perfect for the position he’s advertised.
Tess grinned, loving the roses in her cheeks, because she’d despaired of ever blooming again. She slipped the newspaper page from her dress pocket and reread the ad with more enlightened eyes: A sweet future indeed for an Applicant who’s both Naughty and Nice—and who believes in Magic!
She certainly believed in magic now. A childlike excitement made her glow all over. As Tess Carnegy Bennett, she’d been reared to be the epitome of nice, under the most pressing of circumstances. So . . . just how naughty was Naughty?
Her giggle filled the opulent private car. She couldn’t wait to find out!