Quinn's Promise Read online

  QUINN’S PROMISE

  by

  AGNES ALEXANDER

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Published by

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Copyright © 2015 by Agnes Alexander

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-61160-304-0

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Gemini Judson

  Editor: Dave Field

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  Dedicated to my Kernersville critique group who have encouraged me to continue writing the western historical romances. Thanks Dixie, Larry, Dave, Harol, Trudy, Karen, John, Linda and Emogene.

  Chapter 1

  Quinn Stockton pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and braced herself against the brisk March wind as she trod down the street. She remembered how only a short time ago she’d never walked to town, much less on a street such as this. Then she was driven anywhere she wanted to go in her father’s buggy behind two prancing stallions.

  Thinking about what life was like before hurt too much so she shook her head and looked at her surroundings. Last night’s light snow covering made the bleak houses look almost pristine. As she trudged forward, not bothering to lift her skirts to prevent them from getting wet, she fought threatening tears. What was she going to do now? Barrington’s Mercantile had been the last business on her list. Her last hope of finding a job within walking distance of home.

  Home. She shuddered when she thought of the shabby place where her family now lived.

  How had the Stocktons come to this? Though they’d only been in this house six months, it seemed like a lifetime since they’d lived on one of the better streets in Philadelphia. Now they were in a ramshackle cottage on a street she and her sisters were afraid to walk down at night. A cottage their father’s cousin Otis never let them forget he allowed them to use rent free until Papa got back on his feet. Why he’d made this arrangement with their father, she didn’t understand and Papa wouldn’t say.

  But Quinn knew Papa would never be the same again. After her mother’s death three years earlier, Papa turned to drink and had no interest in work. Things began to spiral downward for the Stocktons and Papa ended up broke, sick and jobless. For the last six months he’d lingered in bed in one of the two bedrooms in Cousin Otis’s run-down cottage. The doctor said his bad heart would soon take Rodney Stockton out of this world, not only because he was too sick to get well, but also because he’d lost his will to live.

  What would they do when something happened to Papa? Otis had made it clear that when Rodney died, the Stockton sisters would no longer be welcome in this house unless they could come up with the monthly rent he planned to charge. This worried the sisters daily.

  Reaching the house, Quinn turned into the back yard. She wasn’t ready to face her sisters since there was no way she could hide the fact she was depressed. Not only because she didn’t find work, but also because Edna Barrington had been brutal and insulting. It wouldn’t have been so hurtful if Mrs. Barrington had told her about her niece coming to live with her and stopped with that. But the storekeeper went on to say she didn’t want a drunk’s daughter working in her store and added since Quinn was near destitute she might be tempted to steal from the items in stock.

  With Edna Barrington’s words still stinging her, Quinn took a deep breath and stopped at the woodpile near a shed. They always needed more wood in the house and had a rule when anyone went outside they were to bring some in. She filled her arms with the split logs they used to cook and heat the house. As she stepped onto the porch and stomped the mud and snow off her boots, Deborah opened the back door.

  “Thank you,” Quinn muttered and dropped the split wood in the empty box beside the big iron cook stove, the only source of heat in the house. Straightening, she turned to face her eldest sister. “Were you going out?”

  “I was headed to get wood. Thanks for getting some.”

  “I’m glad you split those logs yesterday. It looks like it’s going to be cold for a while and we’ll have to keep a fire going.” Deborah nodded and closed the door. “How did it go at Barrington’s?”

  “Not well.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Deborah sighed. “I might as well tell you up front, Otis came by to talk with Papa.”

  “What did he say?”

  “They sent me out of the room, but I heard raised voices. I tried to listen, but couldn’t understand them.”

  “Doesn’t Otis realize Papa shouldn’t get upset with his bad heart?”

  “Really, Quinn, do you think Otis cares?” Deborah moved to the stove, opened the firebox and placed wood inside.

  “Probably not.” Quinn removed her cape and hung it on one of the hooks near the door. “Where’s Marlene?”

  “She’s delivering the dress she sewed for Mrs. Rogers. What happened at Barrington’s?”

  Quinn decided it was best not to tell her sister how Edna Barrington referred to the Stockton girls as daughters of a drunk. “Mrs. Barrington’s niece is moving to town and she says she’ll have to let her work in the store. She couldn’t afford to hire an outsider.”

  “You shouldn’t have to be the one looking for work. After all, I’m the oldest.”

  “You know I like getting out and doing things more than cooking and sewing. Besides, somebody has to be here with Papa.”

  “Marlene will be here.”

  “But if she picks up more sewing, she’ll have to be in and out and you know we can’t leave Papa alone.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Deborah moved the pot of stew from the back to the front of the stove where the fire was hotter.

  Quinn turned her head sideways as she got the makings of biscuits from the shelf beside the stove. “How’s Papa?”

  “I checked on him a few minutes before you got home and he was sleeping.” Deborah picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the stew.

  The back door rattled and Marlene stepped inside. “Hello, sisters.” She dropped an arm full of wood into the box. “Mrs. Rogers loved the dress.”

  “Wonderful,” Deborah said. “Did she order another one?”

  “No, but Prudence Elliot was there and asked if I’d make a party dress for her.” She wasn’t smiling as she usually did when she sold a dress.

  Deborah eyed her. “You don’t seem happy about the work.”

  “You know Prudence used to be one of my friends, but it seemed she couldn’t wait to throw it in my face that she wanted the dress so she could wear it to Ellen Simpson’s birthday party.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I wanted to tell her we might have lost our money, but we were still the same people who used to go to all the parties, too. But I didn’t.” Marlene shrugged. “I simply measured her and wrote it down, then she left.”

  “I would’ve had to remind her we were once part of her group,” Quinn said.

  Marlene shrug
ged. “When Mrs. Rogers paid me she said she was glad Miss Elliot was there so I could get another job. She also politely told me I shouldn’t call her Prudence any longer, but to refer to her as Miss Elliot from now on.”

  “The damn women in this town are vicious,” Quinn snapped.

  “Watch your language, Quinn,” Deborah chided.

  “I can’t help it. People can be so mean.”

  “I agree.” Marlene unbuttoned her cape.

  “Don’t let what she said worry you, Marlene. Everybody knows Prudence Elliot is going to bed with any boy who asks her. She’ll get her comeuppance sooner or later.” Quinn punched the dough she was working on and began pulling off wads and placing them none too gently on the pan to bake.

  “She’ll probably get with child and it’ll be Richard’s. It’d serve him and her both right.” There was bitterness in Deborah’s voice.

  “I hope you’re predicting what’s to be.” Quinn sniggered. ”Mr. big banker Evans wouldn’t be so proud of his son then, would he?”

  “After what Richard’s daddy did to Papa, I hope you’re right and I am forecasting the future.”

  Marlene changed the subject. “How’s Papa?”

  “Deborah said he was asleep.”

  Marlene hung her faded cloak on a peg beside Quinn’s. “What can I do to help?”

  “Why don’t you check Papa then set the table?” Deborah suggested.

  Quinn was taking the bread out of the oven when Marlene returned. “Papa woke up and said he was a little hungry.”

  “I’ll take him some stew.” Deborah put the bowl on a tray and picked up a hot biscuit. “You two go ahead and eat.”

  Marlene dished up stew for herself and her sister. Quinn put the biscuits on the table.

  Marlene played with her spoon for several moments before she broke the silence. “It made me feel worse than dirt when Prudence Elliott said she’d pick out the material in a day or two for her dress. She didn’t even ask if I had the time to sew it or if I wanted the job.”

  “I’m sure you felt degraded. It made me furious when Edna Barrington let me know she didn’t want me working in her store because she thought we were so desperate I’d be tempted to steal from her.”

  “I can’t believe she’d say such a thing. Of course I never dreamed Prudence would treat me the way she did either.”

  Quinn reached across the table and patted her sister’s hand. “If we weren’t in this predicament you’d be going to that birthday party. Maybe we all would.”

  “I know.” A tear slid down her cheek. “How did it happen, Quinn? Did Papa really do those things they accused him of?”

  “I don’t know, but he did make some mistakes.”

  “But they took our house and everything.”

  “When Mother died and Papa started drinking he wasn’t as good at his job as before.”

  “Did he make enough mistakes to lose everything we had?”

  Quinn shook her head. “I guess Mr. Evans thought he did since he took everything we owned to cover Papa’s errors.”

  There was a stretch of silence, then Marlene said, “No man in Philadelphia is going to want to marry Rodney Stockton’s destitute daughters. Look how quickly Richard Evans dropped Deborah when we lost our money. We’re always going to be poor, aren’t we?”

  “Something will—”

  “Don’t try to make me feel better, Quinn. I know you always look on the bright side, but let’s face it, I’m lucky to get four dollars for sewing a party dress. The day dresses bring only one or two dollars. We’ll never get rich on my sewing.”

  Deborah came back into the room and set the tray on the counter. “Papa wants to talk to you, Quinn.”

  Quinn pushed back her bowl and left the kitchen.

  Every time she saw her frail father in bed, it broke Quinn’s heart. He was no longer the tall gentleman with the handsome face and the brown hair graying at the temples. Nor did he have that bright smile or the twinkle that always seemed to be in his hazel eyes. It was hard to think this man, who now looked ninety years old, was the same man they’d always known as Papa.

  As she stepped into his bedroom, Quinn plastered on a smile and told herself not to let the sadness in her eyes show.

  “Hello, Papa,” she said brightly, closing the door behind her. “Deborah said you wanted to talk with me.”

  “Have a seat, honey. This might take a while.” Even his voice was now only a weak version of what it had once been.

  Quinn pulled the straight chair close to his bed and took his hand. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes. I’ve nowhere to go.”

  “That’s my fault, too.”

  “Don’t say that, Papa. It was only an expression.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

  He took a deep breath. “Quinn, you know I’ve always been proud of you. Though you’re the youngest, you’re the strongest and probably the smartest of my three daughters. You always have been.”

  “I think we’re all strong and smart, Papa.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, honey. I love all three of you. In your own ways, you’re wonderful women, but you’re the one that holds everything together. You’ve heard the story about when your mother and I were expecting our first child; I had the name Quinn picked out because I was sure we’d have a son. When a girl arrived, I told your mother to name her anything she wanted to. She chose Deborah. Then Marlene came along and again I let your mother name her. When you came into the world, I said, ‘to hell with it. I don’t care if she is a girl. Her name will be Quinn.’” He tried to chuckle. “Your mama didn’t think it was a proper name for a girl, but she got used to it. In the end, I think she even liked it.”

  “I know the story, Papa. Mother told me she did like my name.”

  “I loved your mother, Quinn.” His eyes clouded.

  “I know. She loved you, too.”

  “I felt like half of me died when she did.”

  “I know it was hard for you.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I love you girls, but I haven’t done right by you. I’ve ruined all your lives.”

  “No, Papa. We’re young. We’ll be fine.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I was nineteen a couple of months ago. Marlene’s twenty and Deborah is twenty-one.”

  “All of you should have husbands and be settled by now. Not living in this awful place looking after a sick old man.”

  “Papa, we—”

  He opened his eyes and looked directly at her. “Please listen to me, Quinn. I know I’m not long for this world.”

  “Don’t say that, Papa.”

  “Honey, this is no time for fairy tales. I’m likely to be dead within the month.”

  “Papa—”

  “Please, Quinn, listen.”

  “All right.”

  “There’s something that’s been a family secret for a long time. Now that I’m dying and the rest are long gone, I don’t feel obliged to honor my parents’ request that I never tell. I believe it’s time somebody knew the truth.”

  Quinn frowned. “What truth, Papa?”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m not an only child. Everyone believed my brother died, but he didn’t. My brother’s alive”

  When she started to say something, he added, “Please don’t interrupt. I know you knew nothing about him. Nobody was allowed to mention his name after he left home because of a tragedy. He was about eleven at the time.”

  “What tragedy, Papa?”

  “That’s not for me to say.” He glanced away. “His name’s Henry and he lives out west.” Rodney coughed, then continued. “Though the family wouldn’t have approved if they’d known, Henry contacted me a couple of years after he left. We kept it a secret between us, but we wrote each other occasionally. I don’t know exactly where he is now, but the last time I heard from him he was in a little town called Tornado in western Colorado. He set up a business when he moved there.”

  “Do you want me to write him and tell hi
m you’re sick?” Quinn looked at her father and knew it was important she understand what he told her.

  He shook his head. “Otis says he’ll be taking this house as soon as I die. He might even try to talk you into…never mind.” He paused to catch his breath, then went on. “You girls have to get away from here and away from him. Deborah and Marlene need somebody to look after them and I’m counting on you to see they don’t make foolish mistakes by marrying some good-for-nothing or take part in some of Otis’s illegal activities to put food on the table. You’re the level-headed one in the family.”

  “Papa, don’t—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Quinn.” His voice grew stronger. “Otis only lets us live here because of the things I know about him. I have information that could land him in prison. When I’m gone, he knows you girls can’t do anything about his illegal activities.”

  “Papa—”

  “Let me finish, honey. After we lost everything I was able to hide a little money from Evans. It’s in a metal box tucked under the false bottom of my wardrobe. Come get it when the others go to bed. There’s enough to get you girls to Colorado and to find Henry. I know you’ll use it wisely.”

  “But—”

  Rodney held up his hand. “You have to go, Quinn. Philadelphia has turned its back on you. Take the girls to Colorado and find Henry. I know he’ll help you get a new start. He’s nothing like Otis.”

  Quinn looked puzzled.

  “It’s the only answer, Quinn. Promise me you’ll take your sisters there.”

  “I don’t—”

  His breathing became raspy and labored. “Promise me, Quinn.”

  “All right, I promise you, Papa.”

  “Thank you, honey.”

  “I do have to put one condition on that promise.”

  “You’re always the one to want to bargain, Quinn.” He gave her a weak smile. “What’s your condition?”

  “You have to tell Deborah and Marlene you want them to go to Colorado. They respect my opinion, but getting them to go west will be harder than you realize.”

  “Then I’ll tell them, but if they don’t want to go you have to convince them.”