An Unexpected Partnership

After arriving in Minnesota Territory with her sisters to claim their late father’s hotel, Elizabeth Bell is shocked to learn her inheritance comes with a handsome co-owner. After too long working for a domineering boss, Elizabeth yearns to be in control—of the hotel and her life. But Jude Allen won’t sell his share, and Elizabeth refuses to leave.

Rescuing soiled doves and giving them hotel jobs is Jude’s way of redeeming his past. He’s counting on rough frontier life driving his new business partner away before she learns the scandalous truth and demands he stop his mission. But he may have underestimated Elizabeth...and the power of love to turn a complication into a bright new beginning.

“I could make you leave right now, if I wanted.”

Elizabeth’s face grew still as she studied him.

“I won’t do that,” Jude said a bit quieter. “I wouldn’t turn any woman out on the street, especially Clarence’s daughters.”

“Thank you for that.”

“But I have no interest in having a business partner.” Especially a woman. “So my proposition still stands. You and your sisters may stay at the Northern, and if you make it until January I will put your name on the deed—and no more talk of buying my share. It’s not for sale and it won’t be for sale. Are you amenable to my proposition?”

“I agree. My sisters and I will live and work at the Northern until January, when you will add us to the deed. At that time, we will address the terms of our partnership.” She held out her hand to shake his.

He took her hand and was surprised at the strength in her grip. She was a confident woman, he’d give her that.

The only thing that worried him was keeping his rescue work hidden. He wasn’t ashamed of his work, but most people didn’t understand why he did what he did. If she learned the truth, he’d have to explain to her about his past, and that was something that he was ashamed of.

Dear Reader,

The Little Falls War was an important moment in the history of my hometown, yet few people are familiar with the story. Since this is a work of fiction, some of the information was condensed or combined, and some of the people involved are a work of my imagination, but many of the people and events I wrote about are true. For more about the real history behind this story (and the others in the Little Falls Legacy miniseries), please visit my website at www.gabriellemeyer.com.

As always, thank you for spending time with me in Little Falls. It is my prayer that this story has entertained, educated and inspired you to dig deeper into the history of your own hometown.

In His name,

Gabrielle Meyer

GABRIELLE MEYER lives in central Minnesota on the banks of the Mississippi River with her husband and four young children. As an employee of the Minnesota Historical Society, she fell in love with the rich history of her state and enjoys writing fictional stories inspired by real people and events. Gabrielle can be found at www.gabriellemeyer.com, where she writes about her passion for history, Minnesota and her faith.

Inherited: Unexpected Family

Gabrielle Meyer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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And Jesus knew their thoughts, and said unto them, “Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand.”

—Matthew 12:25

To my dear writer friends, Lindsay Harrel, Alena Tauriainen and Melissa Tagg. Thank you for the countless hours of brainstorming, critiquing and encouragement. I can’t imagine walking this journey without you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Minnesota Territory

June 26, 1857

There was no telling what awaited Elizabeth Bell and her two sisters when they reached the Northern Hotel. Elizabeth inhaled the humid air, wishing for a breeze as the stagecoach lurched and swayed over the Wood’s Tail. They had left St. Paul early that morning and her anticipation had mounted with each passing mile. By night’s end she would know how much work lay ahead before they could open the hotel. Maybe, just maybe, they would finally have the lives they had dreamed about since Papa abandoned them four years ago.

The last vestiges of daylight streaked across the sky, casting long shadows over Grace, who sat across from Elizabeth. A sudden bump forced Elizabeth to dig her feet into the floor to stay seated. She clutched Rose tighter on her lap so her little sister wouldn’t fall.

“Grace?” Elizabeth spoke quietly so she wouldn’t wake Rose.

Grace, just barely nineteen, stared out the window with thinly veiled hostility, unwilling to acknowledge Elizabeth. She had not wanted to leave their home in Rockford, Illinois, and had made the weeklong trip unbearable. “Could you hold Rose for a bit? I’d like to look at Papa’s letter one more time to make sure we’re going to the right place.”

Papa’s letter had been the only correspondence they had received from him in four years, and it had been written on his deathbed. He’d left them a hotel in Minnesota Territory. It was the perfect solution to so many troubles Elizabeth had faced in Rockford. She could get out from under a domineering employer, start over with a fresh reputation and take Grace away from the rough crowd she’d been going around with. If only Grace would cooperate.

She continued to look out the window and didn’t bother to respond to Elizabeth’s request.

Elizabeth sighed and repositioned herself on the hard bench, causing Rose to stir in her sleep. The four-year-old cuddled close on Elizabeth’s lap, her cheek pressed against Elizabeth’s shoulder, her soft curls tickling Elizabeth’s cheek. Mama had died giving birth to Rose, and Papa had disappeared the moment they finished burying her. His sudden departure had left Elizabeth to provide for her sisters. Thankfully, sweet Rose knew very little about all the pain they had endured and she had no memory of losing either parent.

Elizabeth squinted into the fading sunlight and noticed the first building they’d seen in several miles. She sat up straighter. Was this Little Falls? Their new home? She knew virtually nothing about the town, except for the gossip their stagecoach driver had shared with them—and none of it was good. A failing economy, a gang of desperadoes and a decline in population threatened her plans for the hotel—but surely hard work and dedication would go a long way toward their success.

Anything was better than their life in Rockford.

Another building rushed by, and yet another. The orange sunset sparkled off the Mississippi River in the distance. A sawmill appeared on the banks at the bottom of a hill, with a house and barn outlined in the shadows nearby. Soon dozens of various-sized buildings lined the main stretch of road. A church, a bank, a two-story general store and even a hotel called The Batters House Hotel. Elizabeth hadn’t anticipated competition, but hopefully her hospitality would draw customers to the Northern.

Grace’s stiff shoulders did not indicate any interest in the new town until a group of men shouted a hello at the passing stage.

Here and there people stood on the wooden boardwalks watching the stage roll by. Some came and went out of buildings, and others gathered in small clusters talking.

Most of them were men.

Elizabeth turned her attention toward the Northern. No doubt the hotel would be boarded up after Papa’s death. They might need help prying off the boards to get inside, but maybe the driver would have a tool for them to use. From the date on the letter, and the finality of Papa’s words, Elizabeth estimated that he had died about a month ago. She had mourned his loss, but had little time to dwell on what it meant. She’d worked for a week to sell their meager belongings in Rockford and secure their travel plans.

“We should be getting close,” Elizabeth said, excitement and trepidation making her voice sound higher than she intended. “The driver told us the stage stops right outside the Northern.”

Grace didn’t respond, her blue eyes, so like Elizabeth’s, focused on another group of men walking in the same direction the stage was headed.

The stage came to a stop outside a large white clapboard building. It was an impressive Greek Revival structure that covered the length of one city block, and looked out of place with the humble buildings in the rest of town. Several lights had already been lit within the pretty establishment, and at least half a dozen men entered through the front door.

Elizabeth frowned. “I thought the stage stopped at the Northern Hotel.”

“Maybe this is the Northern Hotel,” Grace said in a dry tone.

“How could it be?” Elizabeth handed Rose to Grace, not waiting for her sister’s approval, and ducked as she stepped to the door. “The Northern Hotel is supposed to be boarded up and empty.”

The driver appeared at the door and pulled it open. “Welcome to Little Falls.”

Elizabeth lifted her hem and stepped onto the boardwalk. “I thought the stage stopped at the Northern.”

“This here is the Northern.” He nodded at the large building.

Elizabeth looked at the structure again. “But how is that possible?” Another group of men approached and stopped outside the door to stare at her.

The driver scratched his head, tilting his hat at an odd angle. “It’s possible—’cause it just is.”

“But—” Elizabeth gasped. Was someone squatting in her hotel? Operating it in her absence? She pursed her lips, her heart rate escalating. Whoever was trespassing would soon be turned out, of that she was certain.

Elizabeth went back to the coach to speak to Grace. “I’m going in to confront the squatter. See that our luggage is unloaded properly.”

Grace nodded and Elizabeth squared her shoulders. She’d been forced to deal with her fair share of stubborn men in the past four years. One more shouldn’t be too difficult...she hoped.

A man standing near the building pushed open the front door and doffed his cap as she marched over the threshold and into the lobby.

The interior of the building was just as impressive as the exterior. Elizabeth paused to let her eyes roam over the white wainscoting, the wide stairway and the floral sofa near the door. In the opposite corner, to Elizabeth’s right, was a sturdy counter covered with the same wainscoting. A man stood behind the counter, his back to the door, his head bent over a thick ledger. When he stood straight, Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice his height and the breadth of his shoulders under a well-tailored suit coat.

So this was the squatter.

Elizabeth clenched her jaw and prepared for battle. She strode to the counter, ignoring the curious looks she garnered from dozens of patrons milling about the lobby. The air was thick with conversation and the smell of heady cologne mixed with cigar smoke.

She stopped at the counter, but he did not turn.

She cleared her throat, but he must not have heard over the conversation.

Finally, she did something most unladylike and tapped his broad shoulder. “Pardon me.”

He turned, his dark brown hair shimmering under the light above his head, his equally brown eyes holding a hint of surprise. “May I help you?”

Elizabeth swallowed the nerves quivering up her throat. My, but he was a handsome man—much too handsome to be a squatter.

But, then again, weren’t most scoundrels handsome? Her ex-fiancé, James, had been very good-looking.

She straightened her backbone and lifted her chin. “Who are you?”

Humor twinkled in his eyes. “Jude Allen. Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What are you doing in my hotel?”

His humor subsided, just a bit. “Your hotel?”

“You’re squatting on my property and I demand you leave immediately before I contact the local authority.”

He did laugh this time. “I’d like to see you try to get the sheriff to do something useful around here.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Didn’t you hear me? You’re trespassing and I want you to leave.”

He leaned forward, his hands on the counter, all trace of laughter gone from his deep voice. “I don’t know if you’re trying to be funny or just annoying. If you’re here for a room, I’m sorry, but we’re full because of the ball.” He tilted his head to a set of double doors leading into a ballroom where dozens of people spun about the room.

She put her hands on the counter, too. “I don’t want a room—I want my hotel.”

He leaned even closer, his voice lowered. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but this is my hotel. Has been for two years.”

Elizabeth’s lips straightened into a tight line. “This was my father’s hotel, and he left it to me and my sisters. I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but this is my hotel.”

“That’s impossible. I don’t even know who your father is.”

“Clarence Bell, the owner of the Northern Hotel.”

His face became still and he slowly stood straight, disbelief lining his handsome features. “Clarence had a daughter?”

She planted her feet. “Three daughters and we’re here to claim our inheritance.”

They had come so far she wouldn’t let this man stand in her way now.

* * *

Jude couldn’t take his eyes off the beauty before him—the woman who was making such a ludicrous claim. Her sparking blue eyes were filled with determination and certainty. Her gown looked outdated and almost worn through, with frayed cuffs and carefully placed patches. Was she Clarence’s daughter or a desperate woman looking for a free ride?

“It’s impossible,” Jude said. “Clarence never mentioned being married, let alone fathering children.” He had never said much at all, which made their partnership ideal.

The door opened and another woman entered the lobby, her chocolate-brown curls and stunning blue eyes indicating she was related to the woman standing on the other side of the counter. She held a sleeping child in her arms and she looked just as exhausted and threadbare as the first.

“I don’t know why Papa failed to mention us,” the first woman said—though her tight lips and stilted voice suggested she wasn’t surprised. “But, regardless, we are his daughters and heirs to his hotel.”

The conversation in the lobby stilled as several people stopped to listen to their exchange. Jude was highly respected as one of the first business owners in Little Falls. He’d built the American Hotel in 1855, but it had been nothing compared to the impressive Northern. When the Northern had come up for sale just a few months later, Jude sold his smaller hotel to Mr. Batters. He didn’t have enough money to buy the Northern, so he’d taken on a business partner, Clarence Bell. The man was moody and taciturn—though he was a good businessman. He’d taken over the bookwork and behind-the-scenes operations, while Jude worked at the front of the hotel with the customers and staff. It had been a good partnership—until Clarence fell ill and died a month ago.

Jude had assumed he was the sole owner of the Northern after Clarence’s passing...apparently he’d been wrong. But how could he be sure? “Do you have proof? Did Clarence have a will I’m not aware of?”

“I have a letter.”

“A letter? That’s all you have to prove you’re his heir?”

“What else do I need?”

“A legal document, at the very least. A birth certificate, a will—something substantial.”

She anchored her gloved hands on the counter, her voice level, her jaw firm. “My father abandoned us four years ago. The only thing I have from him is a letter.”

How could Clarence have abandoned his own children? “Where is the letter?”

She opened the reticule dangling from her wrist and pulled out an envelope as the other lady approached.

The second woman stood behind her sister and surveyed the room with disdain wrinkling her brow. It was hard to imagine these beautiful women were Clarence’s daughters. They looked nothing like him. The man had been unkempt and disheveled, to say the least. Why had he never mentioned a family?

The first lady handed the letter over to Jude. It was addressed to Elizabeth and Grace.

“I’m Elizabeth,” she said. “This is Grace.” She indicated the other woman. “And the child is our youngest sister, Rose.”

Jude lifted his eyes from the letter and looked at each of the women, his gaze stopping on the sleeping child.

He looked back at the letter and, sure enough, it was Clarence’s handwriting. He’d know it anywhere. And the letter seemed legitimate, written the day before Clarence had died. He apologized for leaving them four years ago upon the death of his wife and asked for their forgiveness. He’d planned to invite them to Little Falls once he had enough money to send for them, but he’d used it all to buy the hotel. As a way of recompense, he offered the hotel to his daughters.

Pain began to pulse in the back of Jude’s eyes as he lowered the letter. This couldn’t be happening. He had gone into the hotel business for one reason only: to rescue defenseless women from prostitution. The profits from the hotel allowed him to help them escape and then give them a job while his cook, Martha, taught them domestic skills. Over the past two years, they had rescued ten women, including his current maid, Violet. The other nine had either married or found jobs far from where they had been enslaved to their former profession.

Jude was driven to redeem the sins of his past, but no matter how many women he rescued, he could never bring back to life the one woman he wanted to save, but couldn’t.

His mother.

What would the Bell sisters think when they met Violet or found out what he did with the proceeds from the hotel? Clarence hadn’t liked it, but he’d allowed Jude to continue if it didn’t interfere with the business. There was no way the prim and proper Miss Bell would approve—and, as 50 percent owner, she would have a say...if she found out.

Jude handed the letter back to Elizabeth, resolve strengthening his voice. “I plan to speak to my attorney in the morning.”

She put it back in the envelope. “What’s there to discuss? We own half of this hotel.”

Jude cringed. It couldn’t be true. What did they know of running a business? “I don’t believe this letter will hold up in court. It’s not a legal document—just a piece of paper written when your father wasn’t in his right mind.”

“His right mind?” Elizabeth spoke the words in a sort of hushed anger. She looked over her shoulder at her sisters and then around at the room of men watching them. She lowered her voice. “Mr. Allen, I do not believe we are in a frame of mind to argue this further tonight. I propose we both visit the attorney tomorrow and sort this out.”

“Fine.”

She stared at him.

He stared back.

The little girl roused in Grace’s arms and lifted her head to look around the room. She, unlike her sisters, had golden-blond hair and deep-brown eyes—the same color as Clarence’s. They blinked with sleep and came to rest on Jude. She studied his face and didn’t look away, even when she reached for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth took the child and then addressed Jude. “We are all tired. Will you please show us to our father’s room?”

Martha appeared from down the hall where she spent most of her time in the kitchen. She wiped her knotted hands on her apron, her concerned gaze hopping from one Bell sister to the other and finally landing on Jude. Her droopy bun hung loose at the back of her head and wisps of graying hair poked out around her face. She was one of the hardest workers Jude had ever met, which was one of the many reasons he trusted her explicitly. She watched all of them closely, but didn’t take a step forward to interfere.

“Your father’s rooms are occupied,” Jude said.

“Then we’d like whatever you have available. My sisters are tired.”

How could he refuse Clarence’s daughters a place to stay, especially the child? But where would he put them?

“Jude.” Martha finally approached, a frown of disapproval on her face. She had become his surrogate mother over the years and he felt her chastisement now. “Are these Clarence’s daughters?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “They’re tired and grieving and should have their papa’s rooms. You can sleep on one of the sofas in the parlor.”

Elizabeth looked at once relieved and irritated. She addressed Jude. “You’re the one occupying my father’s rooms?”

Jude had given the master’s suite to Clarence when they had purchased the establishment, but he’d moved in after Clarence passed. “I will give them to you and your sisters for now, but as soon as we clear up this mess, I’ll see you on the next stage out of town.”

“Hush, now,” Martha said in her no-nonsense way. “All that can be worked out later. I’ll show them to their rooms.” Martha turned to the Bell sisters. “Don’t mind Jude. He’s just surprised, is all. I’m Martha Dupree. I’m the cook around here, but I’m more like the mama hen.” She chuckled at her own joke as she pulled the women close around her. “I’ll show you to your rooms and Andrew can bring up your things.” She glanced at Andrew, the stagecoach driver.

He dipped the brim of his hat and headed out the door.

Martha ushered the ladies up the stairs, clucking all the way about how tired they looked and how hungry they must be.

At least two dozen men stood around the lobby, watching their ascent with keen interest, no doubt wondering who the pretty strangers were and when they’d get a chance to meet. The town was young, only a few years old, and like many frontier settlements the single-male population far outnumbered the eligible females. It was probably a good thing they were going up to his room. With a ball going on, they’d soon be bombarded with attention and they didn’t look energetic enough to deal with that sort of problem.

A thought struck Jude and he scrambled to get out from behind the counter. He raced up the stairs and ran down the hall, but he was too late. Martha had already showed them into his room.

He had to get his journal before they noticed it lying open on the secretary. It was full of details about his mission work, his contacts throughout the territory and notes about several women who were in need of help.

If they saw what he did, he was sure they would not think very highly of him or the women he rescued. Most proper young women didn’t.

He and Martha worked hard to keep their mission work a secret from the citizens of Little Falls. It would be much harder to keep it hidden from two women and a child living under his roof.

Chapter Two

Elizabeth didn’t know what to expect, but she wasn’t prepared for the fine sitting room they entered.

Martha lit a tall lamp using a match from a box on the fireplace mantel and the room filled with a soft glow.

The walls were papered in tiny blue flowers and the trim was crafted of beautiful red oak. Two tall windows allowed the stars to be visible in the fading dusk, and a small fireplace sat empty on this warm night.

“The bedroom is over there.” Martha indicated a door on the right as she picked up a man’s shirt hanging over the edge of a wingback chair.

A cursory glance around the room indicated Mr. Allen was not tidy. A lone shoe peeked out from under a table, a pair of suspenders hung from a lamp and a journal lay open on a secretary with a few crumpled papers nearby.

“I’ll just grab Jude’s things and then you can get sett—”

“I’ll take care of my own things.” Jude walked through the open door and went to the secretary, where he snapped the book closed. With quick hands, he picked the discarded paper up off the desk and then went around the room gathering his personal items. Though he was tall, he moved about with surprising grace. His suit was pressed, his shoes shining and his hair combed into perfect submission. It was clear Mr. Allen liked his appearance in order—so why the disheveled room?

“I’ll get my things out of my bedchamber and be on my way,” he said as he entered the other room and closed the door.

“I’ll grab the clean linen while we wait for Jude. It’s just down the hall.” Martha bustled out of the sitting room, leaving Elizabeth alone with her sisters.

“I’m tired, Lizzie.” Rose laid her head against Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“We’ll be in bed in just a moment.” She swayed back and forth, holding her sister close while Grace went to the window and stared outside.

After a few minutes, Jude’s bedroom door opened and he held a small trunk on his shoulder. “Tell Martha I’ll sleep on one of the sofas in the ballroom parlor tonight.”

“I heard you well enough,” Martha said as she walked back in. “You go on now. I need to get that wee one in bed.”

Jude left the sitting room as Martha led the way into the bedroom. “How are you holding up, lovey?” she asked Elizabeth. “Clarence was a good man. Though he could be surly at times, to be sure, I’m still grieving our loss.”

Elizabeth allowed the first smile to warm her lips at Martha’s frank assessment. She remembered Papa in much the same way, though Mama had always tempered his bad moods with her gentle manner. “I’m doing much better now that I’m here.”

Martha nodded and patted Elizabeth’s hand as she guided her into the bedroom. “The three of you should fit comfortable-like in this room, though it might be a tight squeeze in that bed.” Martha set the clean linens on a bureau and clasped her hands together.

The room held a bed, a bureau, a rocking chair and a large green trunk that had belonged to Papa.

Martha noticed the trunk, too. “Jude was meaning to bring your pa’s things to the attic.” She went to the trunk and lifted the lid. “I think there will be a few things in here you’ll like to have.”

Elizabeth slowly followed her to the trunk, unsure if she could face more memories of her father. She had been angry and hurt when he left them, and then overwhelmed with the burden of her responsibilities. In her head, she wanted to believe she had forgiven him—but her heart wasn’t as certain.

Martha pulled out a daguerreotype and handed it to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth set Rose on her feet and ran her fingertip over the cool metal. “Mama.” It was the only picture they had of their mother, and Papa had brought it with him when he left. “I almost forgot what she looked like.”

Grace stood just inside the door, her detached gaze looking anywhere but at the picture.

“Mama?” Rose asked, tugging on the sleeve of Elizabeth’s dress. “Is that my mama?”

Elizabeth bent to show Rose the picture for the first time. The lantern light flickered over the image, making it appear lifelike.

“She looks like you.” Rose glanced up at Elizabeth. “She was pretty.”

“Grace and I look like Mama.” Elizabeth put her hand on Rose’s cheek. “You look more like Papa’s family.”

Martha had remained quiet as she watched them, but now she made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Poor dears. I’ll get this linen changed so you can go to sleep.”

Elizabeth helped her strip the bed and then put on the clean sheets. Andrew came into the sitting room with their luggage and soon they were all set for the night.

Martha looked around one more time and then said to Elizabeth, “If you need anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen at the back of the hotel until the ball is over.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth closed the door of the suite behind her, then she returned to the bedroom and found Grace helping Rose unbutton her dress to change into a nightgown.

It was just Elizabeth and her sisters, alone again. She looked at both of them, feeling, as always, that she had somehow failed. “I had no idea Papa had a partner. It changes all my plans.”

Grace glanced up at her but didn’t say anything.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and put on a smile for Rose’s benefit. “I’ll trust God that it will work out just fine. He didn’t forsake us in Rockford and He won’t forsake us here, either.”

“Speak for yourself.” Grace pulled Rose’s dress off over her head. “The way I look at it, He didn’t do us any favors before and He won’t do us any favors now. We’re no better off than when we were in Rockford—at least there we had friends.” She went to Rose’s trunk and took out a nightgown, her movements quick and awkward.

It didn’t pay to argue with Grace when she was in this frame of mind. The friends Grace had in Rockford had been leading her in a direction Elizabeth didn’t want her to go, but Grace did not agree.

Instead of fighting, Elizabeth untied the ribbon under her chin and removed her bonnet with deliberate care. Rose watched her older sisters closely, and though Elizabeth could not control how Grace acted, she could control her own behavior.

Grace slipped Rose’s nightgown on over her head and began to unlace her boots. “What will we do?” she asked Elizabeth. “Will we stay?”

“Of course we’ll stay.” Elizabeth squatted down to help remove Rose’s boots. “This is our hotel and I plan to operate it to the best of my ability.”

“How?” Grace sat on the bed. “We might own half the business, but no man will allow you to have a say in how he runs his establishment.”

Elizabeth took off Rose’s stockings and turned down the bedcover. She motioned for Rose to climb in. Thoughts of her old employer, Mr. Brown, filled her with terrible memories. He owned the general store Elizabeth had worked at in Rockford, and he had come to depend on her for all aspects of the store’s operation. She had done everything from stocking the merchandise to managing the books, and he had never once given her credit. When someone complimented his store, he’d boasted about his business acumen.

The job had kept her and her sisters fed while Grace had finished school, and she found she had a natural knack for the work, but she had been forced to resist his advances from the first day. It had become harder and more wearisome with each passing month, especially when his wife assumed Elizabeth had been guilty of appalling things at the very end. Each time she said she was leaving, he would increase her pay and treat her better for a time. Truth be told, there were so few jobs available for a woman with her limited education, she couldn’t give up the work, no matter how difficult it was.

She had looked forward to doing as she pleased with the hotel business—but now she would be forced to bend to another man’s will. Would Mr. Allen be just as horrible to work with?

“There’s only one thing to be done,” Elizabeth said to Grace with more confidence than she felt. “We will need to raise enough money to buy Mr. Allen’s share of the hotel.”

Grace stopped working on her boots and looked up at Elizabeth. “Why would we want to do something like that? Why don’t we sell our share to Mr. Allen?”

“Mama and Papa spoke of owning a hotel for as long as I can remember, but they never had enough money to pursue the venture,” Elizabeth said. “We can’t give up on their dream now—especially when Papa wanted it this way.”

“Their dream?” Grace asked with sarcasm in her voice. “Or yours?”

“Of course it’s their dream. Don’t you care about their legacy?”

Grace scoffed. “I don’t give a fig about this hotel or Mama and Papa’s dreams. Papa abandoned us and I don’t owe him a thing.”

Elizabeth’s chest tightened and she wanted to cover Rose’s ears. It had been this way with Grace since their father left. Before Mama died, Grace had always been sweet and kind—a little mischievous, but never mean. The best thing for her would be to find a good husband, and the sooner the better. She needed to be settled in her own home and getting on with her life. She didn’t need to be saddled with their father’s hotel and a little sister. Those were Elizabeth’s responsibilities. She had forfeited her own happily-ever-after when she chose her family over James. What man would want her with all her responsibilities now? Isn’t that what James had said? She came with too many problems.

Her sisters deserved better, and she would do whatever she could to ensure their happiness. She would find Grace a good husband as soon as possible and provide for Rose to the best of her ability.

Elizabeth met Grace’s gaze and she knew her face revealed the depth of sadness she felt.

For a moment, it looked as if Grace might soften, but then she inhaled a breath and kicked off her second boot. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Rose looked up at Elizabeth, searching for reassurance. The unconditional love in her big brown eyes was the reminder Elizabeth needed to keep fighting for Grace, for her parents’ dream and for her own future.

Elizabeth winked at Rose and gave her a smile. “It’s time to sleep.”

“I forgot to say my prayers.” Rose climbed out of bed and knelt on the floor. She said her nightly prayers and then got back into bed.

Grace had put on her nightgown and sat beside Rose. “How will we raise enough money to buy Mr. Allen’s share? It could be thousands of dollars.”

“Maybe we can get a loan from the bank.” Elizabeth tucked the covers in around Rose. “Regardless, we’ll have to do extra work to pay for it. I’ll speak to Mr. Allen about all of that tomorrow. For now, get some sleep and don’t worry.”

Rose yawned. “I’m thirsty, Lizzie.”

Grace lifted the sheet and snuggled into the bed without looking at Elizabeth.

“I’ll get you something. But don’t leave this room,” Elizabeth said to Rose. “Stay here with Grace and I’ll come right back with something for you to drink.”

Rose nodded, a solemn promise in her trusting eyes.

Elizabeth kissed her forehead and left the bedroom through a door that led directly into the dark hallway. She stood for a moment, wondering where the kitchen might be. Martha had said it was at the back of the hotel.

She walked down the hall to where a swatch of light lit up the stairway at the end. The sound of laughter and music made her feet itch to dance. It had been years since she’d gone to a ball. James had not approved of dancing, and after he left, her name had become sullied by Mrs. Brown’s accusations, so no one had extended another invitation.

It would feel good to twist and twirl around a dance floor again, especially if she was in the arms of a competent dancer. For a fleeting moment, she thought of Mr. Allen’s strong form and graceful movements and wondered if he was any good at dancing, but the question soon faded when she remembered how much he irritated her.

Hopefully she could sneak in and out of the kitchen without being noticed.

She wasn’t in the mood to see him again tonight.

* * *

Jude stormed through the dining room and entered the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm cinnamon bread wafted up to meet him. But even that didn’t improve his mood.

“What am I going to do with them?” he asked Martha as soon as the swinging door closed.

“I don’t imagine there’s anything you can do with them.” Martha lifted a steaming pan of bread from the oven. “They’re here to stay.”

Jude pulled out a stool and took a seat—but he couldn’t stay still, so he stood and shoved it back under the worktable. “They can’t stay here.”

The door opened and Violet entered. Her bright-red hair would make her stand out in a room—but it was the worldly set of her shoulders and the hardened look in her eyes that made people take a second glance. “Is the coffee ready?” she asked.

Martha nodded to the pot on the stove. “Just now. Bring me the empty one from the ballroom when you come back and I’ll get more going.”

Violet moved to the stove without another word. Though Jude had rescued her six weeks ago and had been nothing but kind, she still didn’t meet his gaze. She skirted around him like he might reach out and grab her—but he didn’t take it to heart. It was the same with almost all the women he’d liberated these past two years. They knew almost nothing about compassion and decency. For many, their only experience of men was abuse and neglect. He was the first man who’d respected them and treated them with care. It would take her some time to trust him.

Violet left the kitchen with the coffee and the door swung closed again.

“The way I see it,” Martha said, setting the loaf of cinnamon bread on the cooling rack near the window, “Clarence’s daughters own half this hotel and there’s nothing you can do to change that fact. God knows what He’s doing. He doesn’t make mistakes. Though we don’t understand some of His choices, He’s still sovereign and much smarter than the rest of us.”

Jude rubbed the back of his neck. He usually appreciated Martha’s wisdom and perspective, but at the moment, he’d rather she keep them to herself. “There has to be a way to get rid of them.”

“Ack!” Martha clicked her tongue. “Go on with you. Those women are in need of a home and this is all they have. They’re not that much different than the women you rescue.”

“There’s a world of difference between them—besides, this hotel can’t support all the women living here!” They could barely support Martha and Violet. “I need to find a way to get them to leave. I’m going to see Roald Hall tomorrow and find out if that letter has any legal value.”

“And what if it does?”

He didn’t want to contemplate the validity of the letter. How could he hide his rescue work if they ended up staying? Surely, once they met Violet, they’d start asking questions. What would happen when he brought in the next lady? And the next?

Frustration made him pace faster. “I don’t know why such pretty women aren’t married.”

Martha turned away from the window, her hands on her hips. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe they don’t want to be married?”

“Well they should—and soon. At least then they might give up on the idea of running a hotel.”

Martha took another pan of bread that had been cooling at the window and brought it to the worktable. She turned it onto a cutting board. “You probably won’t have to wait long. There’s nary a bride in this town that had to wait more than a fortnight to be engaged.”

Jude paused, the first glimmer of hope rising. “You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“If I do a little matchmaking, I could probably have them engaged by the end of this week.”

Martha harrumphed. “If they had attended the ball, they would have had at least a dozen proposals tonight.”

It was true. So true, in fact, the men in town had placed an advertisement in several papers back East seeking brides. They had claimed there were a hundred eligible bachelors for every single woman. To his knowledge, no one had answered the ad—yet—but it only proved how desperate and lonely the men were in Little Falls.

He simply needed to introduce Elizabeth and Grace to the best husband candidates and they could be out of his way in no time.

“Martha, you’re a genius.”

The door opened slowly and Elizabeth Bell poked her head through the opening. She paused when she saw Jude.

For the first time since her arrival, he was happy to see her. Maybe he could still get her into that ballroom tonight and start the introductions. He moved forward and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

She took a tentative step over the threshold as she looked around the kitchen.

Martha wiped her hands on her apron. “What do you need, lovey? Are you hungry? There’s leftover roast beef and fresh cinnamon bread, right out of the oven.”

“Could I have a glass of water for Rose, please?”

“Water, you say?” Martha stood on tiptoe to reach one of the glasses. Her short stature was a constant irritant to her, so Jude reached over her head and grabbed a glass for her. “Thank you.” She straightened her shirtwaist. “How about some warm milk for the little one?”

“Milk would be even better.” Elizabeth’s voice hinted her relief. “She’s had none since we left Rockford a week ago.”

“Then milk it is. I’ll grab some in the cellar and be back in a jiffy.”

Martha exited the kitchen leaving Jude and Elizabeth alone.

She looked at him for a moment and he studied her, perplexed all over again by how Clarence could have such a beautiful daughter. But, more important, how could he convince her to go into the ballroom with him?

She looked away and played with the frayed cuff at her wrist.

“The ballroom is full tonight,” he said. “We have the best orchestra in the territory right here in Little Falls. They’ll play until midnight, at least, maybe longer if the dancers insist.”

“I imagine it’s good for business.”

“It is.” He smiled, trying to draw upon all the charm he’d mastered as a business owner. “Do you enjoy dancing, Miss Elizabeth?”

She lifted her blue-eyed gaze and blinked. “I do enjoy dancing, Mr. Allen.”

Her answer encouraged him. “Would you—?”

“Here we are.” Martha returned much sooner than he would have liked—or expected. “I left the milk on the shelf in the lean-to and thought I’d put it in the cellar later. Good thing I didn’t.” She placed a kettle on the stove. “The milk will be warm in a minute.”

“It isn’t necessary to heat the milk.” Elizabeth took a step toward Martha. “I can take it as it is. Rose won’t mind.”

“Nonsense. Everyone benefits from warm milk before bed.”

“If you enjoy dancing,” Jude said, “would you care to join the others in the ballroom?”

Elizabeth stared at him and Martha turned with the milk in one hand and the kettle in the other. “Look at the lady, Jude. She’s tuckered out.”

Martha wasn’t making this easy for him.

“I thought Miss Elizabeth might enjoy a little entertainment after her long journey.”

“Even if I would, my ball gown is tucked away in my trunk and in need of some updating.” Elizabeth touched her cuff once again. “It’s been years since I’ve gone to a ball.”

“All the more reason to go tonight.”

“I should be with my sisters.”

Martha tossed him a look of disapproval and then went back to the milk.

“They’ll soon be asleep.” Jude tried again. “You can stay for as little or as long as you’d like.”

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder toward the door that would lead them to the ballroom, and she looked like she might concede—but then she shook her head. “Not tonight. I’ll need all the strength and mental clarity I can muster when we meet with the attorney and go over the books tomorrow. I’m sure there will be a hundred things we’ll need to discuss about the operation of the hotel.”

The thought of talking business with her made him crabby. What did she know of such things? “Fine.” He gave her a curt nod. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He walked past her and out the kitchen door. He might not get her into the ballroom tonight, but he’d be sure to invite every bachelor he knew to come by tomorrow.

He would marry Elizabeth Bell off to the first man who turned her head, and then he’d get on with the work that really mattered.

Chapter Three

Elizabeth looked in the mirror the next morning, well before the sun had crested the horizon. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes and weary lines edged the sides of her mouth. Though she hadn’t slept well in weeks, she had tossed and turned all night, trying to think of a way she could earn enough money to buy out Jude Allen.

More than anything, she wanted to be in control—not only of the hotel, but her life. So many decisions had been made for her since Mama had died. It would have been nice to have a say in her future for once. But before she could think of saving money, she needed to know if she had any legal right to the hotel.

Not wanting to wake her sisters, Elizabeth found her father’s letter, put it into a pocket in her skirt and left their rooms. Worries about the legality of the letter had plagued her all night long. Surely it was enough to claim her inheritance—it had to be. She had used every penny they’d made on the sale of their things in Rockford to make the trip to Little Falls. There was nothing left to go elsewhere. They’d be destitute.

Casting aside the troubling thoughts, Elizabeth tiptoed down the dimly lit hall, not wanting to disturb their guests. More than two dozen doors spread out on either side of her, and snores could be heard escaping from several rooms.

The hotel was clean and orderly, the furnishings were well cared for and everything about the place spoke of top-quality craftsmanship. How much would it be worth if she wanted to purchase Mr. Allen’s share?

Elizabeth descended the front stairs and found a man seated behind the counter, his keen gaze following her every step. As she approached, he stood and nodded a clumsy greeting. He was a tall man—taller than most she’d ever met. His beefy hands and balding head were the first things she noticed about him, but despite his size, a simple kindness emanated from his hazel eyes.

“Good morning, miss.” His voice hinted at a lack of education. “Are ya one of them Bell sisters?”

“I am Elizabeth Bell.” She extended her hand and watched in amazement as it was swallowed up inside his.

“I’m Pascal Doucette.” He pumped her hand up and down.

She pulled her hand away and held it by her side—surprised it had returned to her unharmed from his massive grip. “Are you the night watchman?”

“I am, miss. But I do lots o’ other things for Mr. Jude.”

“What things do you do?”

“Well, I watch out for the ladies.”

Elizabeth frowned. “What ladies?”

“Violet—and the others when they lived here.”

“Who is Violet?”

“The lady Mr. Jude brought here.” Pascal stood a little straighter, his eyes going round. “Didn’t Mr. Jude tell you about them ladies?”

She shook her head. “Will you tell me?”

Pascal took a step back and put up his hands, concern deepening the wrinkles on his high forehead. “There’s nothing to tell, miss. Nothing, at all.”

What was he talking about? Who was Violet and where had Jude brought her from? “Does Violet work in the hotel?”

Pascal looked all around the lobby, everywhere except at her. He reminded her of a cornered animal and she decided to leave him be for the moment. Soon enough she’d have Mr. Allen answer her questions.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Doucette.”

“Call me Pascal, same as everyone else.”

“All right, Mr. Pascal.” She left him and walked down the hall, past the double doors leading into the ballroom, past a few single doors she assumed were sitting rooms and into the large dining room. At least two dozen tables were scattered about, and ferns filled every corner. A bank of windows lined one wall facing the street, with sheer curtains draping from brass rods. White linen cloths covered the tables and a single, unlit candle stood in the center of each.

Elizabeth was surprised to find that she wasn’t the first person awake. Already there were three men seated in the room, steaming cups of coffee and large plates of flapjacks before them.

She felt their gazes as she passed through and pushed open the swinging door into the kitchen.

The aroma of coffee filled the room and she inhaled a deep breath. The smell invigorated her and gave her some much-needed energy.

“Morning, lovey. You’re up early.” Martha stood at the stove turning a flapjack. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Another woman sat in the room, polishing silverware, but she paused in her work to stare at Elizabeth. She had bright red hair and brown eyes. At first glance, Elizabeth assumed she was a young woman, but the lines around her hard eyes made her look much older.

Martha glanced at the woman and then wiped her hands on her apron. “Miss Elizabeth, I’d like you to meet Miss Violet.”

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Elizabeth said, offering her hand.

Violet put out her hand and shook Elizabeth’s with a force that surprised her.

So, this was Violet. Something about the woman didn’t settle right in Elizabeth’s mind. “Do you work here?” she asked.

“Yes, miss.”

It was a simple answer and Elizabeth waited for more of a response, but none came. “What do you do?”

Violet continued to polish a spoon. “Whatever needs to be done. Mostly I clean.”

“Don’t let her modesty fool you,” Martha said with a merry laugh. “She’s invaluable to us.”

“How long have you worked here?”

Violet looked to Martha and Martha hurriedly said, “Long enough to know she’s one of the best maids we’ve ever had.”

So far, Elizabeth had counted three employees at the hotel—four, including Mr. Allen. Were there more?

The door swung open and Mr. Allen appeared with a freshly shaved face, the pleasant scent of cologne preceding him into the room.

He scanned the kitchen and his handsome gaze stopped on Elizabeth. “Pascal told me he met you and that you came in this direction.” He let the door close behind him. “I see you’ve also met Violet.”

“I have.” She took a step closer to him and said quietly. “Are there any more employees I need to know about?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Martha placed a flapjack on a plate. “Will you have some breakfast before you go see Mr. Hall?”

“Mr. Hall?” Elizabeth asked.

“Roald Hall,” Jude supplied as he took the plate from Martha. “My attorney.”

Elizabeth touched the letter in her pocket, hoping the law would be on her side.

They ate in the kitchen, and when they were finished, she followed Jude out of the hotel and into the bright sunshine. The morning was cool, though humidity hung in the air and promised to bring more warmth later.

The Northern stood on the northwest corner of what appeared to be a main intersection. Wide streets fanned out in all four directions, the hard-packed dirt filled with deep wagon ruts crisscrossing from one side to the other. Dozens of clapboard buildings, some complete with false fronts and others fashioned in the same Greek Revival style as the Northern, lined every street, with wooden boardwalks connecting them together. It looked like many of the frontier towns they had passed on their way from Illinois to Minnesota—but it boasted something most others lacked: the rushing waters of the Upper Mississippi River.

“Mr. Hall’s office is near the ravine.” Mr. Allen motioned for her to cross the road.

“Ravine?”

“It’s an old river bed running through the eastern edge of town.”

They crossed the street, and as soon as they rounded a building on the corner, she was able to glimpse the landmark he’d referenced.

A bridge crossed the ravine, with wooden walkways on stilts extending out from either side to four different stores.

Elizabeth tried to keep up with Jude’s long strides, her boot heels clicking on the boardwalk. He was much taller than she and appeared to be just as eager to speak to the attorney.

Before long, Jude stopped in front of an unremarkable building and pushed open the door. He held it for her to enter and she passed by with nary a glance in his direction.

The law office of Roald Hall was not much to speak of. A wide desk, two bookshelves and a few wooden chairs were the only items in the room.

But the man behind the desk lit up the space with a gregarious smile. “Welcome! Come on in.” He stood and waved them inside. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” He looked at Elizabeth, his grin growing wider.

“Roald, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Elizabeth Bell.” Jude nodded at Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, this is Mr. Hall—my attorney.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Elizabeth offered her hand.

“Bell?” Mr. Hall shook her hand and looked from Jude to Elizabeth. “As in Clarence Bell?”

“Clarence was my father,” Elizabeth said.

Jude planted his feet and crossed his arms. “I wasn’t aware of it, but apparently Clarence had three daughters, and according to Miss Elizabeth he sent a letter from his deathbed bequeathing his share of the hotel to them.”

Mr. Hall rubbed his square jaw, his gaze assessing Elizabeth. “Do you have the letter?”

She dug it out of her pocket and handed it to the attorney, her hands shaking as she clasped them together. Her future depended on that letter. It was the most precious and valuable thing she owned at the moment—yet, was it enough?

Mr. Hall read the letter, nodding now and again as he perused its contents. Finally, he lowered the paper and looked at Elizabeth. “I don’t see why this letter wouldn’t hold up in a court of law.”

She wanted to collapse in relief.

“However, you’ll have to gather several other documents to prove you are Clarence’s heir. You’ll need your birth certificate and his death certificate for starters. You’ll also need to find documents with his handwriting to prove he wrote this letter.” He handed it back to Elizabeth, his face grim. “It could take months, or even up to a year to gather everything you need and present it to a judge.”

“A—a year?”

“Not to mention a great deal of money for legal fees.”

She didn’t have a penny to her name. How would she pay for legal fees?

“And,” Mr. Hall continued, “until then, Mr. Allen isn’t required to house you and your sisters. You’ll need to find somewhere to live.”

Elizabeth sank into a chair nearby and tried not to let panic overwhelm her. She’d been in a similar situation right after her father had left, before she found work with Mr. Brown. She had been so desperate to keep her sisters alive and there hadn’t been any work to speak of, she’d almost sacrificed her virtue. Would she be required to make that choice again?

* * *

Jude watched Elizabeth collapse into the chair, her shoulders rolling forward in defeat. She hadn’t received the news she’d hoped for—yet neither had he. It was clear these were Clarence’s daughters and they had nowhere else to go. He wouldn’t sit back and let the worst happen to them, no matter what it might cost his business. What kind of a man would he be? Especially when he spent his life protecting defenseless women just like her.

The Bell sisters weren’t all that different from the others, after all. They were victims of their circumstances and forced to make the best of their lives. Some women went into prostitution to provide for themselves and their families—but Elizabeth had been able to avoid that trap. She was clutching her father’s letter as if it was a lifeline, and in many ways, it was.

“I have a proposition, Elizabeth.”

She glanced up, yet didn’t really look at him.

“I have no doubt Clarence wrote that letter,” Jude said, “and regardless if it’s binding or not, I’d like to propose a solution.”

“What?” Her gaze finally focused on his face, though mistrust lay deep in her eyes.

Roald also looked at Jude, though with more calculation than Elizabeth.

“Shall we take a walk and discuss the terms of the agreement?” Jude asked her.

“W-What kind of an agreement?” She stood slowly and looked at him like he was about to propose a tryst.

“It’s a proper agreement,” he said quickly. “I’ll not ask anything immoral of you.”

Her cheeks filled with color and he looked away from her. If only she knew who she was talking to.

Elizabeth offered her hand to Roald. “It was nice to meet you.”

Roald bent over her hand in a great show of aplomb. “The pleasure was all mine. I do hope we meet again soon.”

Could Roald be the one who would capture Elizabeth’s attention? It wouldn’t be a bad match. Roald was loud and boisterous, but he made a decent living and was a good man. Yet he didn’t seem right for Elizabeth. She was almost regal in her bearing and she deserved someone who would complement her graciousness and not draw all the attention, as Roald was wont to do.

Jude opened the door and waited until Elizabeth passed.

“Sorry for troubling you,” he said to Roald.

Roald’s eyes were on Elizabeth. “No trouble at all.”

Jude joined Elizabeth on the boardwalk. She watched him warily and he wondered if she had trusted any man since her father left her.

“What is your proposition, Mr. Allen?”

The street bustled with people and several men stop to stare at Elizabeth. “Would you like to take a walk as we discuss my idea?”

She nodded and he led her up Broadway, past the Northern and toward the river.

“I am sorry about your loss,” he began. “And I’m sorry that your father left the way he did. I wish he would have told me about you and let me know he was offering his share of the hotel to you, but he didn’t and I’ve made plans and adjustments accordingly.”

She was silent as she walked beside him. He wished he knew what she was thinking.

“So I have a proposition. I will allow you and your sisters to continue living at the Northern, if you work for your room and board—”

“My father didn’t intend for us to simply work there,” she said with frustration in her voice. “He intended for us to be owners.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” He tipped his hat at an acquaintance, but didn’t stop to chat, though the young man looked like he wanted an introduction. “This town is rough—too rough for a sensible woman. I don’t know what your father was thinking when he wrote that letter. The frontier is no place for an unmarried lady to make her way.”

Elizabeth stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Are you saying I’m too weak to endure the frontier?”

He also stopped. “It’s nothing personal. Most women would struggle.”

“I’m not most women.”

“Maybe not, but you’ll be hard-pressed to make it through the year. After winter sets in you’ll be stuck—if you make it that long. So here’s my proposition. If you can make it until January, I will put you and your sisters on the deed. If, before that time, you decide life in Little Falls isn’t what you had hoped, I will pay for you and your sisters to go back to Rockford. I don’t have enough to buy your share of the hotel, but I have a little saved that could set you up in a comfortable place to live.” He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. If she and Grace were married before then, he wouldn’t have to pay for them to go back. They would all be happy then. Elizabeth and Grace would have homes with husbands to provide for their needs, and he’d have his hotel.

She started walking again, her shoulders stiff. “I think you underestimate me, Mr. Allen.”

“Call me Jude.”

“I’ll make it until winter,” she said with certainty, “and beyond. You’re stuck with me until I can earn enough money to buy your share of the hotel.”

“Buy my share?” He reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her.

She looked down at his hand and up into his eyes, a pretty scowl on her face.

“It’s not for sale,” he said.

She lifted her chin. “Everything is for sale.”

“Not my hotel.”

She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “It’s my hotel, too—or, at least, it will be when I am still here in January. As soon as I have enough money saved, I intend to buy your share. It might take me a long time, but I have no intentions of going anywhere or doing anything else.”

Jude clenched his jaw. “I could make you leave right now, if I wanted.”

Her face grew still as she studied him.

“I won’t do that,” he said a bit more quietly. “I wouldn’t turn any woman out on the street, especially Clarence’s daughters.”

She swallowed and some of her bluster faded. “Thank you for that.”

“But I have no interest in having a business partner.” Especially a woman. “So my proposition still stands. You and your sisters may stay at the Northern, provided you work for your room and board, and if you make it until January I will put your name on the deed—and no more talk of buying my share.” He started walking again. “It’s not for sale and it won’t be for sale.”

She walked beside him, but she didn’t say anything until they reached the river and stopped to watch the logs float past. The waterfall was to their left, with the dam, sawmill, gristmill and cabinet shop on the eastern bank. Abram and Charlotte Cooper’s home was at the bottom of the hill where their boys were running around in the yard.

Jude turned to face Elizabeth. The sun played with the highlights in her hair and bathed her face. Her blue eyes reflected the water, and the wind toyed with the tendrils of hair playing about her cheeks. He had to steel himself against letting his thoughts wander. She was a beautiful woman, and he couldn’t deny he was attracted to her, but he had no unrealistic hopes about winning her affection. She was destined for another man and the sooner the better.

“Are you amenable to my proposition?” he asked.

She finally looked up at him. “It’s not what I had hoped when I came to Little Falls, but it’s far better than the alternative.” She nodded. “I agree.”

“Good. Martha can use you and Grace in the kitchen and dining room. You’ll also need to help clean.”

She stood a bit straighter. “I will gladly help with the cooking and cleaning, but I would also like to look over the books, if I may.”

“Are you good with sums?”

“I worked at a general store for the past three and a half years and I was in charge of all the bookwork.”

“I will happily hand over the accounting to you.” After Clarence died it had fallen on Jude’s shoulders, and he’d be the first to admit he did a poor job.

“Then it’s settled. My sisters and I will live and work at the Northern until January when you will add us to the deed. At that time, we will address the terms of our partnership.” She held out her hand to shake his.

He took her hand and was surprised at the strength in her grip. She was a confident woman, he’d give her that, and if she had experience in business then she would be an asset. He might be a little more concerned if he wasn’t convinced that she and her sister would be married well before January.

The only thing that worried him was keeping his rescue work hidden. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but most people didn’t understand why he did what he did. If she learned the truth, he’d have to explain to her about his past and that was something that he was ashamed of.

He let go of her hand and indicated the road that would take them back to the Northern.

“May I look at the books immediately?” she asked as they walked.

“I give you full permission to do whatever you’d like with them.” Toss them in the river, for all he cared. They had been a bane to him this past month.

“And may I make a few suggestions regarding your budget?”

“If you can find a way for us to spend less and make more, then by all means.”

They continued on to the Northern, and when they walked inside, Rose jumped off the staircase’s bottom step and flew across the lobby into Elizabeth’s arms.

“Where have you been, Lizzie? I’ve been waiting for you all morning.”

“Does Grace know you’re down here?” Elizabeth asked.

The girl nodded, her eyes solemn, and then the nod turned to a shake of her head. “No.”

Elizabeth dropped her forehead to her sister’s. “You know you’re not supposed to leave Grace’s side. She’s probably worried.”

Rose noticed Jude watching her and she burrowed her head into Elizabeth’s chest as she peeked out at him. “Who is he?”

Elizabeth looked up. “This is Mr. Jude. He lives here, too.”

“Is he nice?”

Elizabeth studied him. “I don’t know—I didn’t think so, at first, but then he did something very nice today.”

Rose pulled back from Elizabeth’s chest and she smiled. “What did you do, Mr. Jude?”

Jude swallowed. He had never spent time in the presence of children before and didn’t quite know what to think of this one.

“He gave us a home,” Elizabeth said.

“He did?” Rose studied Jude closely, her wide eyes blinking slowly. “Thank you, Mr. Jude.”

He had no frame of reference for how to address the child, so he simply nodded. It didn’t feel right to accept her appreciation when he would be finding them another home as soon as possible.

Chapter Four

He thinks the frontier is too rough for an unmarried lady. The thought still riled Elizabeth hours after she and Jude walked home from the attorney’s office. She pulled a clean apron from her trunk and snapped it with a flick of her wrists to get the wrinkles out. With quick movements, she tied it around her waist and smoothed down the material.

“Too weak, indeed,” she muttered to herself and then looked over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t woken Rose, who was taking a nap.

Her ex-fiancé, James, had thought the same. He assumed he was rescuing her from a life of poverty and shame when her father had abandoned them—and she had been so overcome with fear at the time, she almost believed him. But he wanted her without the responsibilities of her two younger sisters. If she had married him, she would have had to leave them. She could never have done that. Not only because she had promised Mama she would take care of them—but because she could never sacrifice her sisters’ well-being for the love of a man.

No. She had broken her engagement to James and faced her fears. In the process, she had realized she was a lot stronger than she—or James—had given her credit for. It hadn’t been easy, but she had done it.

And she’d do it again at the Northern Hotel. January would come and go, and she’d still be there, waiting to see her name on that deed.

A quick look in the mirror confirmed that her hair needed to be repinned. She had helped serve lunch and cleaned the dishes afterward in the hot kitchen, while Grace kept an eye on Rose. When all was finished, Rose had been put down for a nap and Grace had gone to clean one of the guest rooms with Violet. Elizabeth had asked Jude for a tour of the property to assess what needed attention so she would have an understanding of how the business worked when she looked over the books. There were always ways to cut spending and generate revenue.

She pulled out all the pins and combed her hair with her fingers, then she twisted the thick mass at the back of her head. With practiced fingers, she replaced all the pins and looked at her work. She shouldn’t care so much about her appearance with Jude, but she wanted him to think of her as a smart, competent and organized woman. Maybe, if he recognized her worth, he would put her on the deed sooner than January.

Elizabeth left her bedchamber and walked into the sitting room to get a piece of paper and a pencil out of the secretary to take notes. Jude had removed his journal and pulled papers out of the drawers the night they had arrived, but perhaps there were still a few supplies left for her. She opened the first drawer, but found it empty. The second and third were also empty. If she didn’t find something, she could always ask if he had paper at the front desk.

Elizabeth opened the last drawer and paused when she glimpsed an envelope crushed into the back. She pulled it out, thinking it could be salvaged for her notes. There was no name or return address on the envelope. She smoothed it down, opened the flap and pulled out a letter. The slanted handwriting was not her father’s, but maybe it was Jude’s. She quickly scanned the simple contents.

Take the young woman tonight. Proceed with caution and all haste.

It took a moment before the weight of the message hit her. Who would write such a sinister note? And more importantly, who had received it? Was it a joke to frighten her? Jude had said she couldn’t survive the frontier—was this his way of making a point? But how could he have placed the letter in the secretary without coming into the room? He wouldn’t have done that without her permission.

Would he?

That left her to assume the correspondence was legitimate. But what did it mean? Was someone stolen? Was Jude involved?

The wall clock chimed the hour. She needed to meet Jude in the lobby, but questions continued to fill her mind with horrible assumptions.

Elizabeth put the letter back in the envelope and slipped it into the pocket of her apron. She didn’t want to leave it out for her sisters to find—yet what would happen if she showed it to Jude and demanded answers? He would probably deny all knowledge of the note, or make an excuse to pacify her.

On second thought, she went back to her room and placed the letter in the bottom of her trunk, under her personal items. She’d do some investigating of her own before she approached him. She could always talk to Martha and Violet and ask if they knew of any suspicious behavior. If something didn’t seem right, she’d take the letter to the authorities.

Elizabeth scurried out of her room, raced down the hall and descended the stairs. Jude stood in the lobby, speaking with a customer. The other man shook Jude’s hand and left the building.

When Elizabeth stopped at the bottom of the steps, out of breath, Jude turned, his eyebrow raised. “Do you always make such a dramatic entrance?”

She forced a smile and tried not to look wary. “Not always.”

“Shall we get started on the tour?”

“May I have a piece of paper and a pencil to take notes?”

He nodded and went behind the counter to grab her requested items. “Are you always so thorough?”

She took the paper and pencil. “Always.”

He smiled and walked her down the long hall to the right of the main stairway. “We have one of the finest ballrooms west of the Mississippi River,” he began without small talk and pushed open the wide double doors.

They entered the echoing hall and Elizabeth took in a surprised breath.

Beautiful parquet floors gleamed from the sunshine streaming in through the tall windows. Large mirrors reflected the creamy yellow paint on the walls and three chandeliers hung suspended from the high ceiling overhead. A raised platform stood at one end, where the orchestra probably sat during the balls.

“It’s amazing,” Elizabeth said.

“I like to hold a ball each month. It’s good for business and morale. We’ll also be hosting the Fourth of July Ball.”

“Do you charge an admission fee?”

“No.”

She scribbled a note on her paper.

“What?” he asked.

“We could bring in revenue if we charged a small fee.”

He frowned, clearly not convinced. “The balls always fill up the guest rooms.”

“Which is good,” she said. “But not good enough. Do you charge for refreshments?”

“Of course not.”

She scribbled another note. “We’ll have to change that, too.”

Jude put his hand on the paper and she looked up. “I won’t let you come in here and change everything, especially since the Fourth of July Ball is less than a week away.”

“You said I was in charge of the books and I could do anything that would bring in revenue.” She pulled the paper out of his grasp. “We shook on it.”

“Within reason.”

“This is within reason.”

He stared at her for a moment and then said, “We can talk about it after the Fourth of July Ball.” He led her out of the ballroom and down the hall toward the kitchen.

As she made notes about the peeling wallpaper and the cracked glass in the back door, she couldn’t stop thinking about the letter tucked inside her trunk. What did she really know about Mr. Allen? Her father must have trusted him...shouldn’t that be good enough for her?

“How did you and my father come to be partners?”

He showed her the back staircase that led to the upper rooms. “I met Clarence when he first came to town working for the Little Falls Company as a carpenter. The company was started by Abram Cooper and two other men to establish Little Falls. They construct buildings, build roads, operate the mills and sell property. I owned the American Hotel—what’s now the Batters House—and Clarence lived there. He told me he had always wanted to go into the hotel business, so when I sold the American to buy the Northern, I asked if he was interested in becoming partners.”

“How long were you partners?”

“Two years.” He climbed to the top of the back stairs and stood to the side to let her pass in front of him into the hallway near her bedroom. “Your father was a good man and I was sad to see him go.”

She bit her bottom lip as she listened to him speak. He seemed truly genuine. If her father had been in business with him for two years, and still felt it safe enough to send for her and her sisters, shouldn’t that be enough for her to trust Jude? It would have to be. She couldn’t walk around suspicious of his every move.

“We have twenty-four guest rooms in all,” Jude said as he opened the one across the hall from hers. It was currently unoccupied. “There is a bed, a bureau and a rocking chair in each room.” He closed the door and stepped across the hall to open another. A set of stairs led up to the third floor. “It’s a large, single room under the rafters. Martha and Violet sleep there. If you’d like to see it, you can ask Martha to show you.”

Elizabeth wrote more notes. The guest room drapes needed to be cleaned and the quilt on the bed needed to be patched. She looked up and found Jude trying to see what she wrote. She tilted the list up. “Where does Pascal sleep?”

“In the barn loft. He takes the overnight shift at the front desk, so he sleeps during the day.” Jude took the back stairs down to the main level. “I’ll show you the barn. We have one of the best in town. Some of the local men rent space from us to house their animals. For a small fee, Pascal feeds them and mucks out the stalls.” Jude pushed open the back door. “We also own twenty-five acres of cornfields, so I keep our tools and equipment in the barn, as well.”

She paused. “Cornfields?”

“On the outskirts of town.” He held the door open for her. “There are several business owners in town who have wheat and cornfields to earn a little extra income and provide for the community. It brings in much-needed money to pay for a couple months of mortgage over the winter when business is slow.”

She scribbled notes as fast as she could and then stepped into the shadowed alley between the hotel and barn. “You reap and sow the fields yourself?”

“With help from Pascal—yes.” Jude closed the back door and started toward the barn. It was covered in the same white clapboard siding as the hotel.

A tall man passed on Broadway and paused. He waved hello to Jude and entered the alley at a leisurely pace.

Jude turned to Elizabeth. “I’d like to introduce you to a friend.”

Elizabeth had met so many men at lunch, she was sure this one would be yet another she’d soon forget, but they were all potential customers, so she acquiesced. “All right.”

The man approached, and the first things Elizabeth noted were his kind eyes and his handsome smile. She found herself offering him a genuine smile in return.

“Miss Elizabeth Bell, this is my good friend Reverend Ben Lahaye.”

“Reverend?” Elizabeth looked at Jude. “You attend church?”

“Only on Sundays,” Reverend Lahaye said with a grin. “Jude wouldn’t miss a chance to hear me preach.”

Jude grinned. “If I missed your sermon on Sunday, I wouldn’t know what to banter with you about the rest of the week.”

Reverend Lahaye took Elizabeth’s hand and offered a slight bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bell. I’ve already heard much about you and your sisters.”

“The pleasure is mine, Reverend Lahaye.”

He let her hand go. “Call me Ben. I wouldn’t know how to answer to Reverend Lahaye.” He was an attractive man, with high cheekbones and a wide mouth. If she wasn’t mistaken, he looked Métis. She’d read about the people who lived mostly in northern Minnesota and southern Canada. They were descended from French fur-trading fathers and Chippewa mothers. She wouldn’t know it by his clothing, which looked much like Jude’s, or even his hair, which he cut just below his ears, but in his features she saw Indian ancestry, and his last name indicated he was also French.

“Will you be joining us this evening?” Jude asked his friend.

“If Miss Bell will be here.”

Elizabeth looked between the two men. “I don’t know where else I’d be.”

“Splendid,” Ben said. “I hope you’ll save a dance for me.”

“A dance?” Hadn’t there been a ball the night before?

Jude shifted on his feet. “I’ve invited a few friends to the hotel this evening to welcome you and Grace to Little Falls. I thought you might enjoy a little dancing.”

He’d remembered her comments from the night before and planned a dance for her? His thoughtfulness surprised and delighted her—much more than it should—and she offered him a smile. She would enjoy the opportunity to dance again.

She looked at Ben. “I’ll save the first dance for you.”

It would be too forward to ask Jude for a dance, but maybe she’d get to find out if he was good on his feet, after all.

* * *

Jude stood in the lobby after supper, waiting for Elizabeth and Grace to come down the stairs. Rose had been put to sleep and Violet had agreed to stay in their sitting room for the evening to keep an ear on her. Pascal would watch the front desk and Martha would keep the coffee and refreshments going—though after Elizabeth’s comments earlier in the day, he wondered if she’d approve.

The doors opened and a group of Jude’s acquaintances entered. “Where are the mesdemoiselles you told us about?” Pierre LaForce’s French accent punctuated each word. “I have come to sweep them off their feet.”

“They’ll be down shortly,” Jude said. “Make your way to the ballroom.”

The men moved on and Jude paced across the lobby. He had invited about fifty men in hopes that several of them would catch the eye of each Bell sister. No doubt word had spread and others would come, but he couldn’t control the numbers. Single women were so scarce in the territory, they might attract dozens more.

Another group entered and Jude sent them on to the ballroom.

Jude looked at the wall clock and paced across the lobby. If the Bell sisters didn’t come soon, the men would get anxious and Jude would have trouble on his hands.

Finally, two sets of feminine boots appeared at the top of the stairs under two brightly colored hems. For some reason, Jude’s heart rate picked up speed as they made their way down the steps.

Elizabeth and Grace had gone up to change as soon as supper was over, but now they descended and Jude couldn’t take his eyes off Elizabeth. She was the prettiest woman he’d ever met. Yet, it was more than her looks that attracted him. Her eyes were filled with intelligence and she had a drive and a determination that he admired. She carried herself with a graceful mixture of confidence and humility. She wore a blue gown, tight at her slender waist and belled down to the floor. Her dark-brown hair was done up in ringlets with a blue ribbon woven through the curls. Delicate earrings dangled from her earlobes and matched her necklace.

Her sapphire eyes caught the light and sparkled when she looked his way. Color filled her cheeks—but was it from excitement or was she embarrassed to catch him admiring her?

The innocence of the thought warmed him and made him smile. He’d spent most of his life around women who no longer blushed at being noticed by a man. It was refreshing to be near one who wore innocence and purity like a garment.

The door opened again and another group of men entered.

Elizabeth and Grace looked their way.

Catcalls and whistles pierced the air, and while Elizabeth’s blush deepened, Grace seemed to thrive on the attention.

“Gentlemen,” Jude said above the noise. “I’ll kindly ask you to be respectful or you’ll have to leave the hotel.”

“I’m not leaving until I get a dance,” said Alec O’Conner.

“Then I’d advise you all to keep your remarks to yourself and head into the ballroom.” Jude leveled him with a serious gaze. “Or you’ll be on your way out.”

The men grumbled their agreement and walked toward the ballroom.

“How many friends did you invite?” Elizabeth asked Jude.

“A few dozen or so.” He offered his arm to her. “Shall we?”

She gingerly wrapped her hand around his arm and he tried not to notice how good she smelled.

“I don’t know about you,” Grace said as she smoothed the front of her green gown, “but I’m beyond excited to dance again.”

Elizabeth wiggled her fingers just enough for Jude to notice. “Me, too.”

He hadn’t kept track of how many men had entered the hotel—and he was surprised to find at least eighty standing before them when they entered the ballroom.

Already, the fiddle and mouth organ were being put to use, but no one was dancing. How could they? There were no other women in the room.

Another catcall filled the ballroom, followed by whistles and shouts of approval.

Elizabeth tensed at his side and her hand gripped his arm tighter. “This is what you call a few friends?”

He grinned. “I have more.”

She glanced up at him and smiled at his joke.

“Gentlemen,” Jude called, putting up his free hand.

The room quieted as eager eyes roamed the women from head to toe.

“I would like to present to you Clarence Bell’s daughters, Miss Elizabeth and Miss Grace.” Jude indicated each woman. “They have just arrived in Little Falls and will be living and working here at the hotel. They are here to enjoy an evening of visiting and dancing. As you can see, there are only two ladies and far too many men—”

“I’ll say,” said a man in the back and the group broke out in laughter.

“So you won’t all get a chance to dance,” Jude continued. “Be gentlemen and don’t forget your manners.”

Jude nodded toward the stage and met the fiddler’s gaze.

The music started up again and the men swarmed around the ladies. Jude extracted his arm from Elizabeth’s grip and took a step away.

Her gaze found his and he smiled, satisfied that his job was done for the moment. “Have fun.”

“Where is Reverend Lahaye?” she asked over the din.

It pleased Jude to know she had remembered Ben. Of all the men Jude knew, Ben was the most worthy of her attention. Jude looked around the room and spotted Ben near the mirror, not pushing or demanding attention.

Just like Ben.

For once, he’d like his friend to be a little more aggressive. Maybe he’d have a wife by now if he was.

“He’s over there,” Jude said to Elizabeth.

“What?” Elizabeth mouthed—it was too loud for him to hear the word.

Without thinking, Jude took her hand and began to tug her out of the crowd.

She maneuvered through the throng. Her hand was warm beneath her glove. When they were beyond the thick of it, she stood close and smiled up at him. “What did you say?”

Jude was so taken with her smile, he couldn’t think for a moment. “I don’t remember.”

Her smile slowly faded as she became serious. “I asked if Reverend Lahaye is here.”

“Oh.” Jude pulled his gaze from hers and pointed across the room. “He’s being inconspicuous by the mirrors.”

At that moment Ben noticed them and left his sanctuary.

“Where are the women?” Elizabeth asked as they waited for Ben.

He hadn’t even thought to invite other women. His only concern had been to get the single men in the door.

“There you are,” Jude said to Ben. “Elizabeth has been looking for you.”

She pulled away from Jude’s hand and shook Ben’s.

Jude’s skin was hot where she had touched him—but it cooled considerably as she gave her full attention to his friend.

“I’ve been looking forward to our dance,” she said warmly.

Ben grinned down at her. “I hope I’m not too rusty.”

They moved away without another word to Jude, their heads bent toward each other as they laughed and took their place on the dance floor.

Jude was soon joined by dozens of men who were forced to watch the ladies waltz with other partners. The dance floor cleared off and the music began in earnest, but Jude’s temporary victory over Elizabeth and Ben diminished when he spotted Grace and her dance partner.

Hugh Jones, one of the most notorious desperadoes in Little Falls, held Grace as if he already had claimed her—and perhaps he had. Several break-ins and fights had been attributed to his gang, but the citizens were helpless to stop them—just as the other men were helpless to stop him from dancing with Grace now.

Sheriff Pugh was rumored to be one of the desperadoes and he didn’t bother to enforce the law. Judge Barnum tried to hold them accountable, but without the support of the sheriff, it was pointless.

The gang members rarely showed their faces in the Northern, but they were frequent customers at Dew’s place, a brothel and saloon south of town, near the river.

Why had Hugh come? Was it simple curiosity to meet the Bell sisters? Or was he looking for trouble?

Hugh’s cronies peppered the edge of the dance floor, waiting for their turn to dance with Elizabeth and Grace. They would have to contend with over eighty prospective grooms who stood nearby—not to mention Jude, who suddenly felt a deep responsibility to make sure Clarence’s daughters married well.

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