Chapter Fourteen
Nick was standing with Priscilla, at the mausoleum where Joseph and Hester were buried, when he'd heard shots. He had been busy scanning the surrounding area, for any reporters who might be lurking around Hester's grave. Several had tried to accost the couple the other day, but the doorman at the hotel had taken care of the problem.
There was also the fact that he had no interest in paying his respects to the woman who tried to kill his beloved Sissi. She was laying a floral arrangement on her sister's grave; Nick thought a bouquet of bindweed would have been more appropriate for the woman. The sound of the shots caused a knee-jerk reaction in him as he drew his gun and sprinted toward the sound – Logan's grave where he'd left Heath.
He tore through the hedges that separated the grounds, not caring about the damage he was causing. The scene that greeted his eyes caused the breath to catch in his throat. His brother was lying on the ground, his left leg at an odd angle; even worse was the blood that was rapidly soaking the black wool covering his hip. Nick was also taken aback to see the older detective from the other morning, crouching in front of Heath, his pistol cocked and ready to shoot.
"It's clear; not sure where the shooter went, but we need to get this man to a doctor." Just then the younger man, who Nick recalled that his name was Jack, came from the copse of trees. "Mr. Barkley, stay with your brother, and Dale will flag a hansom down so we can get this man to Dr. Cliveden."
Part of Nick wanted to stay with Heath, but another wanted part wanted revenge on the man who'd tried to kill his brother. He was wise enough to admit that the police would know the best doctor for gunshot wounds. However, Nick also knew that he was quick and fast with a gun, and had dealt with his share of bad guys. Even as he was torn between what to do, Priscilla came into the clearing, and ran over to Heath, kneeling down next to him.
"I'm going after the shooter! Sissi, stay with Heath!" He barked, as he rose up and reached for his gun. Nick trusted that she would take care of Heath, and saw that he was right. She reached up her black ruffled skirt to gain access to her white lawn and lace petticoat. Priscilla started to tear strips of the delicate fabric off, making neat piles of bandages. She then tied one strip above the wound in Heath's thigh, and proceeded to use the rest to pack the wound. Nick remembered her saying that she'd spent time in one of the hospitals in Los Angeles, as well as having some medical training at the teaching college.
"I'm coming with you." Nick, sure that Heath was in capable hands, strode to where the younger detective was, pulling out his city gun that had been discretely tucked into the waist band of his pants. The policeman started to protest, but Nick gave him the hard look he'd learned well and the other man acquiesced, albeit with bad grace.
The next half hour was spent covering the area, but all they found was where the shooter had been standing. Several spent rounds – from a common model of Remington revolver – along with an indistinct boot prints was the dismal result. Nick and the two detectives met back at Logan's grave, with nothing to show for their efforts. He took that opportunity to take the men to task, remembering their suspicions about Heath.
"Look, I hope this proves my brother's story, which someone has been trying to kill him since we arrived in Denver." Nick balled his fists to keep from throttling the policemen, as he fumed that the men couldn't see what was really going on. "Why anyone would be shooting in the cemetery, unless they were after my brother!" In truth Nick was frustrated at how the policemen were acting towards Heath.
"Mr. Barkley, for all we know this was a poacher hoping to bag a rabbit for his dinner; wildlife is very common along this part of the Platte River." Jack Regan didn't care for the tone of superiority that Nick Barkley's voice carried. He'd heard once too often, rich men try to dismiss wrongdoings among their family, by assigning blame to some unknown person.
From his point of view, there was something sketchy in Heath Barkley's relationship with Logan Dawes; that was clear because the man couldn't tell the true story to the police. There was his behavior the morning of the murder, which the man's wife and oh so devoted brother knew nothing about. The shooting at the grave could be a hunting accident gone awry; many unemployed men lived along the river.
Nick by now was more worried about Heath, as he recalled the amount of blood that had been coming from his brother's groin. He also saw that trying to argue with the unrelenting policemen would get him nowhere. If only Jarrod was here, Nick thought to himself, he would deal with the police and make them see sense.
"We can discuss this later; right now I need to be with my brother and my wife!" Nick almost snarled, his frustration coming to the top even as he tried to contain the emotion. He noted that Dale stepped up to take charge, hailing a cab to take them to the doctor's office. Dale rode with him on the trip, commenting that Dr. Cliveden was a gifted surgeon, and that Heath would be in good hands.
When they arrived at the doctor's office Nick saw Priscilla right away and rushed over to her, and after pulling her into a tight embrace asked about Heath.
"Dr. Cliveden is just finishing removing the bullet, and things are going fine." Priscilla announced solemnly, reassuring Nick. "Luckily Heath turned just in time so the bullet missed his groin, grazing his hip." She went on to explain that the wound be sewn up, and Heath would be on bed rest for several days, followed by having to walk with a cane.
Nick was glad to hear that, but knew that his brother wasn't going to be happy about the limits on his mobility, especially with the trip to Georgetown. Clearly Heath wasn't going to be able to go examine all the mines he'd wanted to, which meant that Nick would have to take up the slack. That thought caused a cold chill to go up his spine, because he'd been careful to avoid mines since the eagle incident with the Irish revolutionary and the mine cave-in. The experience in the Eastern Canyon, where Hester had tried to kill Priscilla was also at the back of his mind. However, his depressing reverie was broken up by what his wife said next.
"We need to let Sarah know about Heath; where is she?" Priscilla looked at him, as if he was supposed to know the answer. It came to him what Heath had said, when Nick had asked about her whereabouts. Clenching his jaw, he sighed inwardly on how private his brother could be about his personal life.
"Heath only said she was spending the morning with friends." Nick offered, even as he noted that Priscilla saw the irritation in his response. He appreciated her offer to take care of sending a note to the hotel, so he could focus on his brother.
"Sargent Johnson?" Priscilla turned to the uniformed officer standing by the door; somehow Nick was not surprised that she knew the man's name. "Would you please dispatch this message to the Queen City Hotel, care of Mrs. Heath Barkley?" She used one of the doctor's correspondence cards and wrote a short missive. Nick was sure that Priscilla had been careful in the note, for her sister-in-law who was nervous in her reactions.
It was a relief when the doctor's wife, a comfortable middle-age woman with a kind smile brought a tea cart into the waiting room. In addition to a pot of tea, there were sandwiches and small cakes, as well as a bottle of brandy. Nick sighed heavily, realizing that all he could do at this point was wait for the surgery to finish and Sarah to show up. It was the thought of his brother's wife, and her reaction, that caused him to pour a very large glass of the dark amber brandy.
Earlier that day at The Riverpoint Department Store
Sarah looked across the table from Adam, while taking a delicate sip of the light, lemon liqueur that he'd offered after their meal. The lunch was lovely and very French inspired; sautéed duck in orange sauce over a bed of fresh arugula and red lettuce. It was accompanied by rolls, butter, and a fruity white wine from Germany. Sarah normally wasn't much of a wine person, but the way Adam explained how the flavors all worked together made her take several sips, which confirmed his comments.
The whole morning had been wonderful; her best one yet in Denver she could honestly admit. Sarah had been secretly relieved that Heath couldn't come along, as his presence would have changed the whole tone of the meeting. She had taken great care in choosing her outfit; an autumn ensemble of green heather tweed ornamented with olive green satin trim and velvet ribbon. At the back of her mind was the knowledge that she'd not – other than for the Tabor's grand ball – paid the kind of attention to her clothes that she did for visit to the store.
Adam and she talked about the retail business, marketing, and fashions in clothing. She couldn't believe that she'd finally met someone who was on her wavelength, and really understood her feelings along with her ambitions. The store was well lit, clean, and bustling; he took her around to the different departments. Sarah liked how he'd done the floor plan, so a man or woman could get all the pieces they needed, for an outfit or an entire wardrobe. He told her that women were busy, and really didn't want to go to four different places – the dressmaker, milliner, modieste, and shoemaker – to put together their wardrobe.
It was with a chuckle that he offered that men also appreciated the chance shop while showing off their sartorial choices to the women in the store. Sarah was impressed beyond words at his understanding of the clothing business, especially when he offered that his family had their own garment companies. Adam explained how it cut overhead and increased the profit margin; it helped that they were on the east coast and had quick access to the latest trends from Paris and London.
"Adam, thank you for a special experience; the tour of your store; but I've taken up enough of your time." Sarah announced, as she put down the fine etched Bohemian crystal liqueur glass. In truth she could have spent the rest of the day in Adam's company, but had belatedly realized how much of his time she'd taken up. It was now almost half past three, and she'd been at the store – in Adam's company – since ten o'clock that morning. The lunch had taken place in his private dining room, which was on the top floor of the building, next to his office. From the large windows she could see the Platte River and the Rocky Mountain Range.
"Nonsense, the pleasure has been all mine! Do you know how rare it is for me to talk to a fellow business associate?" Adam smiled with pleasure at her, his pale green eyes shining with admiration at her. "I enjoy being able to explore the different ways of meeting our customers' demands. You have a discerning eye and are good at seeing trends in women's clothing." He went on with several other fulsome compliments, which caused Sarah to both blush and preen. It had been a long time since she'd received praise for anything she'd done.
"I have a favor to ask of you Sarah; I hope you won't take it the wrong way." Adam had taken her hand, to help her up from the table. His manners were almost continental, but he performed them with a self-assurance that made it seem natural. "I am going to be in San Francisco after the first of the year. My family's firm is looking at expanding out in California. May I avail myself of your expertise of the market, especially San Francisco?" He went on to explain what he was interested in, offering that his department store could be boon to her dressmaking firm.
"Of course, I would be glad to correspond with you" Sarah paused to reach into her reticule to pull out her calling card. Her hand hesitated for a moment, as to which card she should offer. There were the elegantly engraved cards – black ink in fine script on cream colored vellum – that proclaimed her as Mrs. Heath Barkley, Barkley Ranch of Stockton, California.
She also carried another set of cards, that she'd had made up in San Francisco, for the dressmaking business. They were printed on soft pink vellum paper, the lettering being a French copperplate of dark brown ink, with a scroll work frame of gold foil. The cards had cost a great deal of money, but Sarah had liked the statement they made about the business; she'd taken pleasure in getting Heath to pay for them without him realizing it.
The cards had the benefit of having the address of the dressmaking shop printed on the other side. Sarah understood that as a married woman she should give Adam her personal calling card, so her husband was aware the letters; on the other hand Adam wanted to correspond with her about business. It was with that thought it mind that she proffered the pink vellum calling card.
Adam took it with a delighted smile, complimenting her on the design, even as he gave her his card. Sarah took it gingerly, feeling like she'd been given the best present ever; outwardly though she was careful that all he saw was her putting the card in her reticule before putting her gloves on. She noted that he escorted her out of the store, hailing a hansom for her, tipping the man generously as he did so.
When she arrived at her hotel Sarah entered the lavish lobby, wanting to get upstairs and lay down for a while. The whole morning had affected her on so many levels, and she wanted to be alone to think about the time with Adam. She was almost at the elevator – an elaborate brass cage – when the bell boy flagged her down. The young man, overly dressed in burgundy and gold livery, indicated that the concierge wanted to talk to her.
Sarah looked at the boy as she noticed the sealed envelope he held out for her. She took it, and out of character for her gave the boy a generous tip. Her day with Adam had put her in high spirts, and her world seemed bright and full of possibilities. She took the elevator up to the penthouse suite, wanting to get out of her heavy clothes and tightly laced corset.
She had not even looked at the envelope until she sat down in the suite; right away she recognized Priscilla's hand writing – a perfect script as befitted a teacher. Even as she could hardly catch her breath; she debated undressing before reading the missive and then decided it would be better to see what her sister-in-law was writing about. Opening the envelope she pulled out a note card that bore the name David Edward Cliveden, M.D. and an address on Sherman Street. Sarah quickly scanned the note, which indicated nothing more than Sarah should come to Dr. Cliveden's offices as soon as possible.
Sarah sighed with annoyance and tiredness, as she realized she wouldn't get her nap. A fissure of worry than overtook her, as she wondered why she was supposed to go to a doctor's office? Clearly either Nick or Heath was hurt, which was not good. Throwing off her tiredness and crossness, she left the suite to the elevator.
Luckily it was on the top floor and Sarah stepped in the brass cage, ignoring the attendant who was trying to make conversation with her. Arriving in the lobby she went straight over the bellman's post and requested a hansom to take her to Dr. Clivden's. Whatever was going on Sarah knew that she had to get to the doctor's office.