Silken Dreams by Bingham Lisa

Author:Bingham, Lisa [Bingham, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FICTION/Romance/Historical
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2014-01-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Breakfast at the boardinghouse was served at seven o’clock without deviation. Because of this, Lettie and her mother rose at dawn in order to prepare for the first meal of the day. On most occasions, the boarders arrived a little early. They would chatter and gather around the table, eat quickly, then disperse, intent upon their own daily tasks.

But there was a difference today. Lettie could feel it. Jeb Clark’s death had cast a mood of mourning over the assembly. The boarders talked less frequently and their appetites were slightly off—all except for Natalie Gruber’s. She swept into the dining room, her features wreathed in smiles.

“Good morning, all!” she called, then proceeded to settle herself on one of the far chairs, her spine at least three inches from the back of her chair, a snowy napkin carefully covering the peach dimity morning gown she wore. As the other boarders spoke of Jeb Clark in regretful murmurs, she began to dine upon one cup of tea, one slice of bacon, and one piece of nonbuttered bread, with her usual delicate enthusiasm.

“It’s a shame, that’s what it is,” Alma Beasley stated with a sad shake of her head. “A man cut down in his prime. The person responsible should be shot!”

At her words, Dorothy Rupert suddenly jumped from her chair, causing it to clatter behind her. “I’m sorry, I—” Holding a trembling hand to her mouth, she darted from the room.

Amelia made a tsk-ing noise of concern. “Oh, dear. It must have been something you said, Sister.”

Despite the embarrassment she felt at her own wayward tongue, Alma rolled her eyes.

Lettie sighed and moved to right the chair, sliding it under the table. When she turned back, Mr. Goldsmith was stuffing a bright yellow napkin into the collar of his shirt and reaching for a helping of fried eggs. “I hear tell they’ll have the funeral tomorrow.” He scooped three eggs onto his plate, then a healthy portion of fried potatoes. “Ned, see to it that you exchange our train tickets to Chicago for a later time in the day so that we can attend.” He fixed Ned with a stern glance.

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Goldsmith stuffed a forkful of dripping egg yolk into his mouth and chewed with eager enthusiasm. “I also hear tell there’s a hefty reward for the culprit,” he added, after swallowing and scooping another bite of food.

Lettie stiffened and reached out to brush an imaginary crease from the tablecloth.

“More than a thousand dollars, if I remember correctly. And they’ll take him dead or alive. Personally, I’d see to it I brought him in dead. I wouldn’t want to rastle with a no-account weasel like that.”

Lettie’s heart began to pound, and her breathing became short. The Star had done this. The Star was to blame. If they had been doing their job correctly, they would have known Ethan wasn’t responsible.

She looked up to find Alma regarding her in concern, Amelia in surprise, and Natalie with a piercing stare. Glancing down

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