Thunder on the Plains (16 page)

The
court's decision ends a four-month struggle by Miss Landers to have the will administered according to her father's wishes, and it leaves her one of the richest women in the country, and one with extraordinary power for a female only nineteen years of age. Miss Landers has gone into seclusion at the family home and was unavailable for comment, but it is rumored that when she reenters society, she will carry on her father's campaign for a transcontinental railroad, in which Landers had invested heavily. It is well known that Miss Landers and her father were close to President Lincoln, who has made it known publicly that he favors such a railroad, but no bill for such a project is expected to be passed anytime soon.

Colt let out a soft whistle. Sunny Landers was a very, very rich lady, and only nineteen. What a burden her father had placed on her! And what a horror it must have been, having to go up against her brother and fight to keep what had been given to her. He remembered when she and Bo and Stuart had talked about the older brother, Vincent. Sunny had seemed almost afraid of him. What kind of hell had he put her through, and all the while she must have been grieving so deeply over her father. He was all she had ever known, her protector, apparently the only one in the family who had loved her the way she deserved to be loved.

How well he understood grief and loneliness. He wondered if she ever thought about him anymore, if she still kept that journal. His heart went out to her for her loss. It was difficult enough to lose one's father under any circumstances, but to be left with such tremendous responsibilities could only be an added strain, especially on a woman so young.

He reread the article, noticing that apparently only Vincent had contested the will. At least she didn't have both brothers against her, a small consolation in the midst of such responsibilities. He wished there were something he could do to help console her. He wondered if he should write her, express his concern over her loss. Maybe she would like hearing from him. Then again, maybe she had practically forgotten him.

“Are you sure you're ready to go out and face the world, Miss Sunny?” Mae finished pinning a straw hat to Sunny's hair.

“I don't have much choice.” Sunny turned to look into the mirror, hardly able to believe the image she saw reflected there. She had lost weight, too much weight, and the circles under her eyes could not be hidden by powders. Losing her father had been cause for enough grief, but Vince's contesting of the will caused public attention and court appearances that temporarily halted any control she had over her railroad holdings and Landers Enterprises. The turmoil Vince had caused had left her no time to truly grieve. She had spent the month since the court's decision in seclusion, taking the time she needed to weep, to think, to pray. She wondered if she would have survived at all if not for Vi's kind support and their long talks.

She had visited her father's grave many times, praying that somehow he would visit her in spirit and help her know what to do. She had a big job ahead of her, and she still struggled with depression. Her doctor had given her a special tonic to take twice a day, and Stuart had promised to help as much as he could, but he also had the responsibility of running his own companies, and he had a family who needed him. He could not go running off with her to Washington whenever it was necessary, and she knew he probably wouldn't be much help there anyway. A person had to be aggressive and he had to know what he was talking about. Stuart still knew little about the railroad. He had not bothered to try to learn.

“Well, today I begin playing the part of Bo Landers,” she told Mae. She rose and turned. “A slight difference in size, wouldn't you say?”

Mae smiled sadly. “Only physically. I've seen you stand up to the worst of them, Miss Sunny, and I'll bet facing congressmen and fellow businessmen won't be half as hard as having to face that cruel brother of yours and his witch of a wife.” She gasped, her eyes widening. “Pardon me! I shouldn't have said that about your family.”

Sunny smiled. “What you said isn't half as bad as what I'm thinking about them, so don't worry.” She took a deep breath. “Leave me alone for a few minutes, will you, Mae?”

The young woman nodded. “Good luck, Miss Sunny.”

“Thank you.”

Mae left and Sunny walked across an Oriental rug to the library table she kept at the front window of her bedroom. She took out her journal, opening it to a new page. She sat down in the ornate cabriole chair kept at the desk, then she picked up her pen and dipped it into an inkwell.

Today
I
go
out
to
face
the
world
, she wrote.
Actually, this is my first day of official business since Father died five months ago. I think I am strong enough now. In a few days I will travel to New York and Washington to get back to lobbying for the railroad. I hope those who were working on a railroad bill have not given up. With the country in full civil war, I fear the task ahead is great.

My
grief
will
always
be
with
me, but each day it gets a little easier. Writing these entries helps me cope.

She set aside the pen, deciding to wait and write more after her first board meeting as chairman of Landers Enterprises. She thumbed back through some of her first entries, seldom able to open the journal without going back to the passages about her trip west. How she longed at the moment for the peace and beauty she had known there! It seemed strange, with all she had suffered and lost on that journey, that she should remember it so fondly. In her grief she had discovered that thoughts of the beautiful land and the mountains were a great comfort.

She closed the journal, deciding this was not a time for daydreaming or longing for what could not be. She walked back to the mirror and checked herself once more. Her hat was trimmed with dark brown velvet ribbon and no flowers. Her dress was relatively plain, white poplin with a carter's frock draped apron-like over a dark brown-and-white striped sateen underskirt. White lace trim decorated the cuffs and high neckline of the dark brown bodice of the dress. She would rather have worn something with shorter sleeves and a lower neckline because of the July heat, but today she wanted to look as businesslike and proper as possible, no frills, nothing to make her look too feminine. It was going to be difficult enough to garner the respect of the other board members, who now must look to her for final decisions.

She picked up her handbag, turning and looking at the canopied four-poster, wanting to run back to it and hide out for another day; but there was work to be done. She thought of how strong and energetic her father had always been, what he would expect of her now. It was time to carry on.

She marched out the door and down the stairs, saying good-bye to Mae. There was no room for tears or doubt. She had a job to do. She just prayed she would have the strength to do it. She walked to the waiting open carriage, smiling at the driver, an old black man called Page.

“Mornin', Miss Landers.” Page opened the carriage door.

“Good morning, Page.” Sunny climbed inside, situating the skirt of her dress as she settled into the freshly cleaned leather seat.

“Glad to see you're finally up and about. You're too young to keep yourself cooped up in that big ol' house all alone.”

Page closed the door and climbed up into the driver's seat. Sunny liked the graying man, whose eyes always showed respect, even now. It seemed most of her help was kinder to her than her own family. “Take me to the office, Page,” she said.

“Yes, ma'am.” He snapped the reins, getting the shiny black mare that pulled the carriage into motion. “Fine day, isn't it?”

Sunny studied the manicured lawns and gardens of neighboring mansions. “Yes, it is.” She studied the man a moment from behind, realizing she didn't know much about him in spite of all the years he had worked for her father. She knew he had four grown children and he and his family lived in a little brick house near the stables on the Landers estate. “Page, tell me, what do you think of this war? Were you ever a slave?”

“No, ma'am,” he answered, watching the road ahead. “My father was, though, before I was born. He worked for a good man who gave him his freedom papers, and he came up here right off because he was afraid some other slaver would catch him and destroy his papers. He met my mama down by St. Louis and they came up here—had his own little farm north of Chicago. Me, I came to the city to find work, only had a couple other jobs before I started working for your father thirty years ago. Far as the war, fighting is always a bad thing, especially when it's among a country's own people. I expect those in the South think they have a right to defend their way of life, but from the things my father used to tell me about how slaves got treated on other farms that he knew of, if it takes a war to end it, then I guess we've got to have one. I just thank the Lord that most all the fighting will be in the South and not up here.”

“Yes, I suppose we can be grateful for that much. I just hope it's over with soon. It's frightening to think of people in the same country fighting each other.”

“Some folks say it's going to get mighty ugly before it's over.”

Sunny shivered, deciding to change the subject. She was not ready to think about this war. “Thirty years is a long time,” she told Page. “Didn't you ever want to do anything else besides drive for my father?”

“No, ma'am. Your father was always good to me. I like this job just fine, and I've got a nice house to go along with it.”

Sunny realized as she watched him that while her father was alive, she had never questioned how or why others had come into the Landers employ. Even his business associates were simply people that had always been in Bo Landers's life. Now she would find out who had been kind to her out of sincerity, and who had only been kowtowing to Bo Landers because of his wealth and power. She did not look forward to this day, but seeing to her father's wishes had to start sometime, and no day was going to be a good day for it.

The carriage clattered over the brick streets, and Sunny caught the smell of the lake in the air. She had spent many long days sitting on the bluff looking out at Lake Michigan, sometimes imagining that the rolling waves were the rolling grasslands of Nebraska, or speculating what it might be like to sail across that lake and never come back.

She nodded to a few people who recognized her, thinking about what the general public might be saying about her—that she was a spoiled brat, that she was the one who had created problems over the will, that she had talked her father into giving her practically everything, made sure the rest of the family got cheated out of their fair share.

She decided to let them think what they wanted. She had never asked to be given so much, and she had worked hard at her father's side to learn all that she knew. She was the only one who had believed in his dreams, the only one who would make sure those dreams got finished.

“Page, I never thought to ask you, but you must have known my mother, didn't you?”

The man was silent for a moment. “Yes, ma'am,” he finally answered.

“What was she like? Was she as beautiful as in the painting in our house?”

“No painting could do her justice,” he answered. “And she was right kind to everybody.”

To Sunny's dismay, she realized how little she knew about her mother's heritage or past. While her father was alive, she had never asked anyone else about the woman, since her father was always right there to answer all her questions. Who better to ask than Bo Landers? It never seemed necessary to ask anyone else, and she always felt that her jealous brothers would not have told her the truth anyway.

Still, she realized now that her father had never told her much, except that he had all but worshipped the woman, who had brought him new joy and vitality. She had no doubt whatsoever that they had loved each other very much. As far as personals about her mother, she knew only that Bo had met her in New York. He had told her that the woman's parents were dead and she had no brothers or sisters. Her maiden name was Madison, Lucille Madison, a beautiful woman in a lovely painting who had never held her, whose touch Sunny had never felt. She wished she could hear her voice just once.

She remained quietly lost in thought as Page headed the carriage into town. She could not help being nervous, wondering now if she was ready for this. The carriage pulled up in front of the seven-story Landers Enterprises building, the tallest building in Chicago. Page climbed down and opened the carriage door, helping her out. “You go get 'em, Miss Sunny,” he told her with a grin.

Sunny smiled. “Thank you, Page. I needed to hear that. Be back here at four o'clock, will you?”

Page nodded, and Sunny faced the front door, holding her chin high and taking a deep breath before walking inside, where she greeted secretaries and managers. She sensed their smiles were false, felt a few accusing looks. She ignored them, deciding that in time she would win them all over. She thought how strange it was that when her father was alive and she was just “Bo's daughter,” everyone was kind to her. Now that everything belonged to her, there came the jealousy and the gossip. Only one of the several young women she had once called friends had bothered to come and see her the last few weeks, and Sunny suspected even that visit was out of curiosity.
Some
thought
you
had
lost
your
mind
and
would
never
return
to
society
, Helen Graves had told her, looking her over as though she were something dangerous and insane.

Now
they
know
I
have
returned
, she thought, glad now she had not warned anyone she would be in today. Catching them by surprise helped her get an idea of how they truly felt. If they knew she was coming, they might be ready with flowers and falsely kind greetings.

She entered the elevator, never ceasing to be amazed at the new steam-powered invention her father had had installed just last year. After riding in such a contraption in New York City, he had promptly decided that the Landers Enterprises building must have one, and what Bo Landers wanted, Bo Landers got. She hoped she would be able to deal with people with the same authority.

She reached the top floor, pushing open the elevator gate and stepping into the hall. Her heart ached when she stared at the door to her father's spacious office,
Bo Landers
was still painted on the glass of the outer door. She touched it lovingly, forcing back tears as she stepped inside the secretary's office. Thirty-two-year-old Tod Russell jumped to his feet in surprise. “Miss Landers! You're here!”

Sunny watched him closely, seeing the confusion and sudden defense in his eyes. Tod had worked for her father for twelve years, through a marriage and two children. He was good at what he did, a loyal employee who was paid well.

“In the flesh,” she answered. “I sent a messenger out last night to all the board members that I'm calling a meeting today. I guess I should have told you too. I'm sorry, Tod. Would you prepare the boardroom, make sure there are ashtrays, coffee, and all? We aren't meeting until ten o'clock, so there's plenty of time. I'd like you to fill me in on what's been going on. Stuart says that you and he and Vince have been able to keep things going reasonably well, but there must be certain things that need attention right away.” She headed for the door to her father's office. “If it weren't for all the legal problems Vincent gave me, I could have attended to these things much sooner. Heaven only knows what Vince has managed to deliberately ruin during all of this.”