Thunder on the Plains (17 page)

She hesitated at the door, realizing Tod had not spoken or made a move. She turned to look at him, and he stood staring at her strangely. He was a short, rather stocky man with looks as plain as a door. Tod was all business, usually prompt, efficient, scurrying; but he was making no moves at the moment. “Is something wrong, Tod?”

His eyes moved over her strangely, showing none of the pleasant welcome he had always given her when she came here with her father. “Well, I, uh, I've been handling a lot of things alone, Miss Landers, and I've had all this time to think; but I, well, you surprised me before I had a chance to decide.”

“Decide what?”

“Well, I'm just not sure I can work for you. I mean, to work for a woman is bad enough, but your age. I mean, how would it look, a man my age taking orders from an unmarried nineteen-year-old woman?”

Sunny's blue eyes blazed with the affront. “I am the same Sunny Landers who has always been coming here, Tod, the same one you used to greet with a smile. You took orders from me when my father was alive, so what is the difference?”

He reddened slightly, touching a sideburn nervously. “But everybody knew then that Bo was the real boss. You were just, I don't know, just Sunny.”

“Well, I'm not
just
Sunny anymore! If it helps, you can think of me as my father.” She faced him more fully, putting her hands to her waist. “I am not entirely happy with the tremendous burden all of this means for me, Tod, but if you had any respect for my father, then you should respect his choice as to who should be his successor. You know perfectly well that I am capable of carrying on in his place.”

She took a deep breath to boost her courage, hooking the strings of her purse over her arm and removing her white gloves finger by finger. “I suppose the decision is yours, Tod, but I will remind you that this has always been a good-paying job. You have been able to provide for your family well because of it. If it helps your pride any, I will give you a ten dollar a week raise. I have far too much to do to have to worry about breaking in someone new. It would be a great help to me if you stayed on.” She held his gaze, deciding to play up to his pride. “In all honesty, I need you. I don't think anyone else could handle the job nearly as well as you.”

She saw his eyes soften a little. “Well, thank you,” he said almost humbly. “I didn't mean any offense, Miss Landers. You have to admit it's a rather strange situation for me.”

“I can see where it might be, but you will find me all business, Tod, just as eager to get to what needs doing as my father would be. In fact, I want you to make arrangements for me for a trip to New York in three days. It
is
still safe to travel by train to the east, isn't it? I'm afraid I haven't kept abreast of what is happening with the war.”

“Not much has happened yet, except that eleven southern states have now seceded, and General Robert E. Lee resigned from the army and will join the rebels. That's, uh, that's what northerners are calling the southerners. Poor President Lincoln has walked into an awful political mess, I'm afraid. As far as travel goes, there is nothing dangerous in it so far.”

“Good, then I will be going to New York.”

“Yes, ma'am. By the way, there is some recent mail on your father's—I mean, your desk. There is one there from Thomas Durant. I just thought you should be aware of it.”

“Fine.” Sunny opened her purse and put her gloves inside.

“And thank you, Miss Landers, for the raise. I wasn't asking for one.”

“I know that, but you probably deserve it.” Sunny put her hand on the knob of the door that led into her father's office. “And you always called me Sunny before, Tod.”

“I know. But now that you're my boss, I just feel better calling you Miss Landers.”

Sunny closed her eyes in exasperation. “Whatever suits you.” She opened the door to her father's office.

“Miss Landers—”

She turned, meeting Tod's eyes expectantly. “Yes?”

“I, uh, I'm awful sorry about your father. He was always real good to me. I wanted to talk to you at the funeral, but, well, you were pretty bad off. I've done some grieving of my own.”

The pain returned to Sunny's stomach. She still remembered so little about the funeral. “Yes, thank you,” she told Tod.

He shook his head. “In spite of feeling strange working for you, I do want to compliment your courage, Miss Landers. I can't help wondering what the business world will think, dealing with a young woman.”

“They'll just have to get used to it, I guess.”

Sunny turned and went into her father's office, closing the door and leaning against it. She reminded herself that this room was hers now, and it gave her the shivers. She gathered her courage and walked across the deep green plush carpeting, and immediately the memories came flooding over her, the lingering smell of cigar smoke making them even sharper and more painful. She could almost see Bo Landers sitting behind the huge mahogany desk. “Lord, help me,” she whimpered. The room was cool, and dark as a tomb. It made her shiver, and she hurried over to jerk open the green velvet drapes that hung at three huge windows, letting in the morning light.

Since the room was on the seventh floor, it was sheltered from the noise of the streets below. The only sound was the quiet ticking of a grandfather clock that stood in one corner. Sunny felt surrounded by Bo Landers, wished she were little again and could sit on his lap and let him take care of everything. Tears stung her eyes at the hurt of it, and she decided she would redecorate the office in a more feminine way. She couldn't bear to come in here every day with so much of her father in everything she saw and touched. She looked up at the painting of her at ten years old that still hung behind his desk. That would have to come down. Maybe she would replace it with a painting of a locomotive. That would be more fitting.

Mustering her courage, she moved behind the desk and sat in the huge leather chair. The chair too, would have to be replaced. It simply did not fit her small frame. She felt lost in it. She blinked back tears and picked up the mail, thumbing through it, seeing the letter from Thomas Durant and setting it aside.

The door opened then, and she looked up to see Stuart standing there. She smiled softly. Over the past weeks, because of the close relationship she had developed with Vi, she had inadvertently grown closer to Stuart, who had been surprisingly kind since Bo's death. “Most people knock first,” she said, teasingly as she stood up.

“I would have, except that I was so surprised to hear you had come in already. I didn't think you'd be here before nine.” He walked closer. “You sure you're ready for this, Sunny?”

“Is there ever a right time for these things?”

He looked her over with a smile. “You've got to put on some weight. And your eyes—you look terrible.”

“Thank you,” she said with a mock smile.

“You know what I mean. Vince will hit you with everything he's got right off. He's out to break you, Sunny. He's been talking to everybody on the board about how they can get around you, telling them how you'll need all kinds of help, how a girl of nineteen can't handle this.”

“I can handle it, and I can handle Vince. I've already proven that. If the others don't want to cooperate, I'll buy them all out if I have to. I wonder how Vince would like it if I bought up the eleven percent investor-owned portions of the shipping and warehousing. That would give me fifty-one percent ownership, and Vince only forty-nine percent. Maybe the threat of
that
would shut him up.”

Stuart grinned. “I can see you've already thought about how to handle him.”

“When it comes to Vince, it's necessary to try to stay one step ahead. If he does anything to block my railroad investments or anything else to do with Father's dreams of a transcontinental railroad, he will regret it.”

Stuart smiled and shook his head. “By God, you
are
a chip off the old block.”

Sunny sat down again, suddenly weary. She leaned back, the big chair dwarfing her. “Why does he hate me so, Stuart? Is it just the money? It seems like the hatred is directed right at me, like he'd hate me even if he
had
gotten what he wanted in the will.”

Stuart shrugged, averting her eyes. How would she feel if she knew the truth about her mother? “Vince isn't really as bad as you think. And he doesn't hate you. I guess he just, I don't know, resents you, I guess. He knows nothing is really your fault, but it's just easiest to take it all out on you. He and Dad haven't gotten along for years. That's just the way it is. I don't know how to change it. You know I kind of resented you myself, but Vi has taught me a lot about tolerance and such. It's hard to live with her and remain a ruthless businessman.”

Sunny smiled again. “I can understand, and I'm glad you married her. I don't know what I would have done without her help these past months. I know Vince makes things hard on you and Vi too, Stuart. Maybe we can help each other.”

He leaned over her desk, and Sunny noticed he seemed to get a little balder every day. “Well, that's part of the reason I came in here—to tell you I'll help all I can. Are you keeping Tod as a secretary?”

“I have to. He knows too much, and he's too efficient; but he told me straight out he didn't like the thought of working for a woman. I'm afraid I had to bribe him with a raise to get him to stay.”

Stuart laughed lightly and straightened again. “He'll get used to the idea. Besides, who wouldn't want to work for someone as sweet and beautiful as you?”

“A lot of people,” she answered sarcastically, “all male.”

He waved her off. “There might be a few stubborn ones, but you'll win them over. I have no doubt that in six months' time they'll all be eating out of your hand. So will those men in Washington. You can charm them into giving you any vote you want.” He headed for the door. “I'll give you some time to get ready. We'll get things set up in the boardroom.”

“Thanks, Stuart.”

He left, and Sunny put her head back for a moment, glad she had at least one brother on her side. She picked up the rest of her mail and quickly thumbed through it, deciding most of it could be read later, except for Durant's letter. She was about to set it all aside when she noticed an unusual return address. She studied it closer, her eyes widening with shock. “Travis, Pony Express, Fort Kearny, Nebraska.”

“Travis,” she whispered. Colt? It seemed impossible. A prickly chill moved over her as she quickly tore open the envelope, pulling out the folded letter. It was written on plain, cheap paper, and the penmanship was a little shaky. She smiled at the thought of how little opportunity such a man had to write at all, and she was impressed with the apparent effort at neatness. But why on earth had he written her after four years?

Hello, Sunny
, she read.
Please
excuse
the
handwriting. It's been a long, long time since I had to write anything. I guess you must remember me. I'm the man who scouted for you and your father when you came west back in '57.

Immediately, the old girlish flutter returned, and she smiled. “How could I forget you, Colt Travis?” she said softly. She read on.

I
am
writing
because
I
only
recently
read
in
an
Omaha
newspaper
about
your
father's death and something about trouble with your brother over the will. It's too bad he had to cause you trouble when you are in so much sorrow. I remember how much your father meant to you, and you still aren't all that old. I remember and understand the grief and have had more grief of my own. I will not burden you with the details. Just want you to know someone is thinking about you. I remember you as a very strong woman, so I expect you will get through your sorrow and do a good job handling your father's estate. I would never want the job myself but if anybody is made for it, you are.

I
am
currently
riding
for
the
Pony
Express, so if you would want to answer my letter, just write me in care of them at Fort Kearny. I don't have any kind of home right now. I ride between Fort Kearny and Fort Laramie and sleep at either place or at stations in between. I actually settled once, a real wife and a house and everything. Can you believe that? But I am alone again now, and I suppose that's the way it's supposed to be.

I
just
wanted
to
express
my
sorrow
and
remind
you
that
somebody
way
out
here
in
the
Wild
West
thinks
about
you. You don't have to write back. You're a busy lady. Just want to tell you to stay strong and keep faith.

An
old
friend, Colt Travis.

She read the letter again, hardly able to believe he had written to her. He had apparently not lied about being taught well. Every word was spelled right. She wondered what he meant about having more grief of his own. He had settled once, but now he was alone again. What had happened to his wife? She sensed tragedy between the lines, and her heart ached for him. Suddenly, it seemed only yesterday that she had told him good-bye.

She set the letter aside, rising and walking to a west window, looking out at the horizon, wishing she had the time to go back out to the land she had never forgotten, wondering what Colt looked like now, wondering if he, too, needed a friend.