Jolt

  Lalita called after him. "Aren't you going to help me down?"

  Tate turned. "I'm always happy to assist a lady should there happen to be one nearby."

  Fuming, Lalita jumped to the ground and hurried after him. "I see you're wearing your old man hat again today."

  He continued up the steps to the back door but hesitated before opening it. "Someone has to be the older one in the household, Miss Torres. Now I'm sure you don't want to continue this conversation in front of Mrs. Kettler. She'll be out of sorts already with having to give Nellie a bath in the middle of the week at a time when we should be sitting down to eat. I will be glad to speak to you later after she has gone home. Am I clear?"

  ***

  "There are certain things that society expects from its citizens…" —Tate was pacing back and forth in the parlor while Lalita and Nellie sat on the settee— "a certain level of decorum that sets us apart from the rabble of the world."

  He stopped and looked at Lalita, who was sporting an attitude a mile wide. "And while bike riding has become an accepted activity for men and women alike, it should be a leisure activity, where a lady doesn't push herself to the point of perspiring unduly."

  Lalita was about to protest that statement since she was sweating just sitting still in the stuffy parlor, but Tate turned and continued his pacing and yammering. "I can't speak for you, Miss Torres, but I would very much like my daughter to grow up with a sense of what is lady-like behavior and what is not."

  He stopped to take a breath, and Lalita stood, her ire rising. "I'm very sorry, Doc, to not fit into your mold for what a lady looks like, but I won't apologize for giving Nellie something to do today besides playing jacks. I understand your desire for a simpler time, I really do, but unfortunately, the time you picked is very confining for women. Your society rules are a complete bore."

  He narrowed his eyes. "The time I picked…"

  She waved a hand. "Well, probably not you personally, but whoever set this all up. Or maybe it's been going on since 1892; the people back then just decided they didn't like the way the world was progressing and dug in their heels."

  Tate just stared.

  "You know, like the Amish."

  "The Amish… in Pennsylvania. What do we have to do with the Amish?"

  She walked toward him. "You know, this whole… town is… is set apart from the rest of the world—the rest of progress and technology." He continued to look at her as though she were speaking Swahili. She blew out an exasperated breath and began pacing herself. "I mean, over a hundred years of advancement—computers and cars and mammograms and and and video games and microwave ovens and mini skirts and…" She spun to face him. "Tate, I'm sure you remember that out there, there are refrigerators that make ice, not just hold a huge block of it!"

  Tate swallowed and turned to his daughter. "Nellie, run on upstairs. I'll be up in a minute to tuck you in."

  Nellie, whose eyes had gone round during Lita's discourse, slid off the settee and walked swiftly to the stairs.

  He turned back to Lita, scolding himself for not seeing that she was still unstable in her thinking. He forced a smile and waved a hand toward the settee. "Please, sit. There's no need to get upset."

  She didn't move. "I'll sit if you'll sit."

  He moved to the settee and sat, and she slowly joined him.

  Tate licked his lips, wondering how to proceed. "Lita, two nights ago you said you understood that I'm a real doctor, and the people here aren't just acting in some grand production…"

  She nodded. "Not a production, but definitely a different way of life."

  "Different like the Amish."

  "Yes. I would think that is obvious. You do know something about the Amish and how they live, don't you?"

  "They are bound by common religious convictions in a tight-knit community."

  "That's not the only thing that separates them anymore. As the world progressed, they didn't—just like here."

  "So aside from the Amish and Manitou, the rest of the world has moved on?"

  "Big time. While you're trotting around in your horse and buggy, the rest of the world is driving 75 miles per hour down the interstate and jetting around the globe."

  Tate leaned back, one arm across his abdomen and a hand to his chin. "This world 'out there'… does it include Colorado Springs? Are they driving 75 miles per hour in Colorado Springs?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Well, not through town, but on the highway, yeah."

  "So one could drive to Denver from Colorado Springs in about… an hour?"

  "Yeah, thereabouts. The traffic was really bad when I flew into the airport, so it took us a bit longer than that."

  Tate tried not be distracted by the idea of heavy traffic and flying into an airport, and only focused on what he knew about driving a buggy to Denver— it was easily a seven to nine hour journey, depending on the horse.

  He looked back into her eyes. Eyes that seemed so sure of her delusions. And he made a decision.

  He rose and offered his hand, and she took it with a perplexed expression as he escorted her out of the parlor and down the hall. "I think you'd better turn in; we will have a big day tomorrow."

  "Why? What's going on tomorrow?"

  He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Tomorrow, I'm taking you to Colorado Springs, so you can show me all the progress that has passed us by."

  Chapter 15

  Lalita woke early with the first rays of sun, even though sleep had been hard to come by. She was both elated and saddened to be leaving the Cavanaugh residence today.

  When Tate had planned to take her on a picnic, she thought it meant something—maybe even something like a date—but his indignation at her "unlady-like behavior" spewing like the Cheyenne Soda Fountain had her questioning his feelings. She wondered if they were just too different to have a relationship.

  She had never intended to get Nellie in trouble. The poor girl had been near tears before her papa had wound down. The tumble into the ditch had been unfortunate, but no bones were broken and both they and the clothes could be washed. Good grief, you'd think we'd robbed a bank instead of going on a bike ride.

  After a trip to the bathroom to brush her teeth with the coarse toothbrush and horrible tasting tooth powder that Tate had provided her, she made her way quietly across the hall and through Augusta's bedroom to the dressing room to find something to wear. It needs to be lightweight. She dug through the open trunk. And it can't require a corset to fit. She pulled out a pale blue number and gave it a shake. "It's time to go home."

  ***

  After Lalita said a cordial goodbye to Mrs. Kettler and an emotional goodbye to Nellie, Tate helped her up into the buggy, and with a snap of the reins, they were off.

  She thought leaving would be easier, but she had grown attached to Nellie in the last few days. She looked to Tate and felt a tug. Despite his old-fashioned beliefs about women's behavior, she still felt incredibly sad to be leaving him. And we never got to have our picnic.

  She looked around at the town, wishing she could see it at Christmastime, blanketed in snow. She admired the residents for their strength, even as she couldn't fathom making a decision to live more than a century in the past technology-wise. She had to admit, though, having the mountains at her back gave her an empty feeling.

  When they reached the edge of town, Tate glanced her way. "I don't think you've been this quiet since you woke up in my examination room."

  Lalita tried to smile but found she just couldn't. "I know. It's weird, huh?" She realized her hands were twisting her skirt into wrinkles, and she tried to relax. "You put the cast on Max this morning?"

  "Yes, and his father was supposed to pick him up within the hour." He adjusted the homburg hat on his head to keep the sun out of his eyes. "I think Max was quite sad to be leaving your company."

  Lalita smiled. "He's a sweet kid. I'm happy to be missing his father today, though."

  Tate nodded. "Stay away from men like Seth Dickson."


  Lalita's mouth quirked to the side. "Aw, Doc, you do care, after all."

  He sat up straight, his chin ticking up. "If I did not care, we wouldn't be making this trip."

  "I thought after you yelled at me last night that…well, I mean, you said I wasn't a lady, and I know how important all that is to you." She turned her face away, trying to keep her composure.

  His hand pulled her chin back to him.

  "Lita, I'm sorry. I over-reacted. It was a very long day yesterday, and I was tired. I hope you can forgive me." Lalita felt a shudder move through her as his fingers left her chin and settled over her hand on her lap. "If you leave me today, I hope you will think well of me, and not as I was last night."

  Lalita's mouth had gone dry. "I will miss you."

  He smiled, squeezed her hand, and returned his to the business of holding the reins. Lalita wished for it back on her hand, her chin, running through her hair. She swallowed. "How far until everything gets back to normal?"

  Tate shifted the reins in his hands. "That's a rather difficult question."

  She frowned. "Not really. How many miles before we run into a paved road or a highway? Maisy won't be frightened, will she?"

  "Maisy will be fine."

  She noticed he didn't answer the first question. "Tate, how—"

  "Lita, just relax and enjoy the ride. We'll get there when we get there."

  She huffed out an anxious breath. "Patience isn't my strong suit."

  Tate chuckled. "Isn't it."

  That pulled a smile out of her. "Oh, so you think you know me so well, do you?"

  He shook his head. "No. The more I try to decipher you, the more baffled I get."

  "Hmm, if you've been trying to decipher me, then I must have been on your mind quite a lot."

  He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

  Lalita studied his profile. She hoped Nonnie would be home when she got there, so she could take their picture together. All at once, she remembered their portrait. "Oh, no! You never picked up our pictures from the photographer! Promise me you'll mail me one."

  Tate slipped his hand into his jacket's inside breast pocket and pulled out a stiff-backed picture. She took it from him, and unexpected tears came to her eyes as she saw for the first time the expression on Tate's face. She could almost feel how fast his heart was beating with his hand on her shoulder in that exhilarating thirty-second pose.

  Pulling open the drawstring purse at her wrist, she slipped it inside beside the picture of the wild bike ride that Nellie had drawn for her. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she tried to wipe them discreetly on her sleeve before Tate offered her a folded white handkerchief.

  As the dusty road went on, taking them lower in elevation, Lalita couldn't help the sigh that escaped her. Tate noticed. "Would you like to drive the buggy?"

  Lalita perked up. "I've ridden a horse, but I've never 'driven' one."

  "There's a first time for everything. Do you want to try?"

  She took off her hat and threw it under the seat. "Sure. Is there more to it than snapping the reins to go and pulling back to stop?"

  "A bit. First of all, look how I'm holding the reins."

  The left rein went over the top of his left hand's fingers, his thumb holding it tight. The right rein went between his third and fourth fingers. His right hand rested easily between them.

  "I use my right hand for signaling a stop or a turn. I grab both reins and pull back for a stop, and I pull on either the right or left for corresponding turns." He reined Maisy in and helped Lalita position the reins in her hands. "Relax and give just a small flick of the reins to give her the go-ahead."

  The arrangement of the reins felt awkward in her hands, but she put some slack into them and flipped them the way she'd seen Tate do it, and Maisy started forward. Lalita grinned and looked to Tate. "You'll tell me if I need to turn, right?"

  He smiled back. "Don't worry, I'll let you know."

  As the morning started to heat up, Tate slipped out of his jacket and laid it on the seat between them, rolling up his shirt sleeves and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.

  Lalita glanced his way. "Goodness Tate, Mrs. K. was right." She looked back to the road, a smile tugging at her lips. "You do need a chaperone."

  His hand stilled. "You heard that conversation?"

  "How could I miss it? She was quite loud… and very insistent." She laughed. "Oh my heavens, I haven't had a chaperone since I was sixteen!"

  Tate straightened, his surprise evident. "Your parents let you go unchaperoned at such a young age?"

  "Most parents are less strict than mine. Some have no idea where their thirteen and fourteen-year-olds are most of the time. Then they wonder why their daughters end up drunk and pregnant."

  Tate's eyes grew wide. "Missouri must have turned into a veritable den of iniquity."

  "Not just Missouri. You should leave Manitou once in a while, so you know what's going on."

  Tate finished rolling up his sleeves, wondering if her assessment of life outside his little town was really so dire, or if this was more of her unfettered imagination. It's true he hadn't ventured from Manitou for four or five months, but surely the world outside it couldn't have slid so fast into wanton immorality.

  While the morals may have slipped in Missouri, he was certain that Colorado Springs was not so much different than Manitou. He wondered how she'd take it when she saw that no one was racing around at 75 miles per hour.

  He knew this whole jaunt was a risk. Her mind would either accept reality or reject it, but rejecting it could push her further into her self-deception. Her mind could shatter utterly. He considered again the need to seek out professionals in the field. Only his fear for her care in one of the state sanitariums kept him from stopping her and turning the buggy around.

  "So why did you reject Mrs. K.'s advice? She said you would compromise my virtue taking me out alone through the countryside. That was important in 1892." She lifted her brows as she gave him a teasing look. "Don't you care about my virtue?"

  He clasped his hands between his knees. "I most certainly do, but as I told Mrs. Kettler, as a respected doctor in the community, I should be trusted to help one of my patients as I think best."

  Lalita gave him a sly smile. "Good one. See, even you feel pinched by the Victorian society rules."

  Tate gave a little snort. Lita, you have no idea.

  Taking the reins in one hand for a moment, she laid her hand on his leg, speaking softly. "If you want to stop a minute before we get there and give me a kiss, I wouldn't mind," she teased. "No one will ever know."

  Tate swallowed, unable to take his eyes off her hand on his thigh. "If there is to be a goodbye, I'll kiss you then."

  She looked at him, surprised. "Really?"

  He thought about his plans to court her—plans that were no longer viable—and brought his eyes to hers. "Really."

  "On the lips?"

  Tate's heart skipped at the thought. "Lita, you should at least try to be a lady." He smiled, knowing full well that Lita would be Lita.

  ***

  Miles down the road, buildings became visible in the distance. "Seriously, we're this close and still on dirt roads?" Lalita leaned forward, squinting. "Wait. Is that Colorado Springs or some other little town?"

  Tate had taken back the reins. "That's Colorado City. It will take us another half hour to reach Colorado Springs."

  "Oh, yes, I read about that. It was founded first, right? But General Palmer found it too rowdy for his taste and started Colorado Springs further east. I read that he was a real visionary—created beautiful parks and talked up the place to all his wealthy friends."

  "Not only that, he provided funds for the college and brought the railroads to the area. Did you drive by his fabulous castle home?"

  "Glen Eyrie? No, but it was on the list for this week. Such a shame that his wife couldn't stay in the area and enjoy it. She was so young to have a heart attack, and to die at only forty-fo
ur…"

  Tate hadn't heard anything about Queen Palmer's death. Surely it would have been in the newspapers. He was about to question her further, when Lalita gave a little gasp.

  "Tate, it looks just the same as Manitou!"

  Tate chose his words carefully. "What exactly were you expecting?"

  "Not this! Is it more of your Victorian community project?"

  Tate scowled. No accepting reality here. "I don't know what to say, Lita. It is… what it is."

  She slumped back against the seat, looking agitated. "Another half hour."

  He drove Maisy carefully through the town; then when they were out in the open once again, he felt the need to draw Lita out—to learn more about her. "Tell me about your family."

  Lita's breath leaked out in a hiss. "My parents died in an accident when I was little—even younger than Nellie."

  Without thinking, he laid his hand over hers. "Oh, Lita, I'm sorry."

  She rolled her shoulders and looked at the sky. "I had no other living relatives that would take me, so I was put in foster care, and eventually, I was adopted. My new parents never seemed to understand me, however. We were always at odds." She looked at Tate's concerned face. "Even now. I haven't spoken to them in a month. That's when my mom called to see if I'd watch their dog while they go on a family reunion cruise this weekend."

  Tate was shocked. "They have the money for a cruise, but they want you to watch their dog? They're not taking you along?"

  Lita gave him a lop-sided smile. "It always sounds worse to say it out loud. I don't mind, really. I just wish…"

  She trailed off and looked at the horse rigging.

  Tate spoke softly. "What do you wish, Lita?"

  Her eyes stayed on Maisy. "I wish that they'd call when they didn't want something from me. Just to talk, you know?" She let out a heavy sigh. "And that's why it's been a month since we've spoken. I stopped calling them. I just wanted to see if they'd call to say something other than, 'honey, we need a favor.' "

  Tate squeezed her hand, then throwing caution to the wind, he flung his arm around her and pulled her to his chest. He wondered if this early trauma and continued family tension could be the reason for her flights of fancy rather than a head injury. "I'm sorry, Lita." Caught up in her dejection, he pressed a kiss to her head.