Storing Up Trouble Page 3

“I’m not giving you my pistol purse. These are dangerous times for a lady traveling alone, and that pistol purse lends me a sense of security.”

  “Your pistol purse lends me an ache in my chest where that bullet would have torn my skin if I’d not had the presence of mind to gird my chest with plates of steel to begin with.”

  “If you’d not been so clumsy as to stumble into your horse, which then bumped into mine, I wouldn’t have tumbled to the ground, nor would I have dropped the pistol purse, which then caused it to fire—a rare occurrence I’m sure since I’ve not read any reports in the newspaper about this particular weapon firing at random.”

  “You read?”

  “I don’t believe I need to dignify that with an answer.” She rose to her feet and dusted off her hands.

  “I’m not questioning whether you can read,” Norman clarified. “I was questioning the idea that you read newspapers.”

  “Of course I read newspapers.”

  “There’s no need to sound so indignant. You must know that electing to read newspapers is a peculiar choice for a woman. I can’t claim to know but three women who read the daily newsprints.”

  “You must not be acquainted with many women.”

  “I’m acquainted with lots of women, but again, they’ve never brought it to my attention that they read newspapers.”

  She let out a bit of a snort. “That’s only because women are brought up to believe that gentlemen do not want to spend time with bluestockings, so most women keep their true reading habits to themselves to spare them disdainful conversations like the one I’m currently not enjoying with you.” She tilted her head. “Out of curiosity, though, have you ever asked a woman what she prefers to read?”

  “And be bored silly as that woman would, of course, expound on the delights of Jane Austen or the like?”

  “I’ll take that as a no.” She dusted off her hands again. “And with that settled, shall we get moving?” She gave him a tight smile. “I’m afraid if we spend too much time together, I may very well be tempted to drop my pistol purse to the ground again, preferably aimed in your direction.”

  He was relatively certain she wasn’t jesting. “By all means, let us get on our way, although I don’t believe I’m feeling settled enough just yet, after having been shot, to climb back into that saddle.”

  “You were never in the saddle, merely sprawled over it.”

  “I told you, I suffered a riding accident in my youth. As I recovered from that accident, I decided that I’d never ride a horse again.”

  Beatrix held out her hand to him, and even though he was surprised by the gesture, he took it, surprised again when she hauled him to his feet.

  “Didn’t your parents believe that it’s always best to get right back on a horse after you’ve fallen off?” she asked, releasing his hand.

  “I couldn’t very well have gotten right back on that dastardly horse because I suffered two broken arms, a broken leg, fractured ribs, and a concussed head.”

  “You did take quite the spill, didn’t you?”

  “Indeed. I was confined to my bed for months. Today is the first time in over two decades that I’ve been up close and personal with a horse.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “But if you’d gotten back in the saddle after you’d recovered, you wouldn’t now be hampered by a fear of horses.”

  “I have no issue with my fear of horses.”

  “It takes a confident man to admit that.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never been overly concerned with what others think of me. I’m well aware that many people find me eccentric, a notion that doesn’t bother me in the least.”

  “Why do people find you eccentric?”

  “I have an unusual mind.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  He tilted his head. “Aren’t you curious why I believe I have an unusual mind?”

  “I don’t believe you need to give any further explanation.” She smiled. “I am curious, though, how your parents allowed you to avoid riding again, what with how horses are a necessary means of transportation.”

  “Do you not have a mother?”

  “Of course I have a mother.”

  “Then you really shouldn’t need more of an explanation than that. My mother suffered tremendously after I was thrown from my horse, so because of that, and because she also decided I was a fragile sort, she didn’t bat an eye when I declared I was never mounting a horse again.”

  “You don’t look fragile.”

  “I made a concerted effort to improve my physical form after I was permitted to leave my sickbed. To this day, I maintain a strict schedule devoted to physical activity.”

  Her gaze traveled over him. “That strict schedule is clearly effective. But returning to your refusal to ride horses . . . while I understand your mother’s decision, what of your father? Did he not have a say in the matter?”

  “My father enjoys keeping a harmonious relationship with my mother.” Norman brushed a leaf from the sleeve of his jacket before he lifted his head and frowned. “I find myself curious, though, about your understanding of my mother’s decision. I’ve often wondered about spinsters and their outlook on life, but now feel as if my theories may be off the mark.”

  Beatrix narrowed her eyes at him. “What theories?”

  “Well, one of them has always been that because spinsters are not mothers, they don’t develop the expected maternal feelings their counterparts do, which would then make it more difficult for them to understand emotional reactions such as my mother had.”

  A flash of temper flickered through her eyes. “While it’s bewildering to me why you would even contemplate such nonsense, what with how you claim to have a brilliant mind, I don’t believe spinsterhood is responsible for depriving a woman of maternal instincts. Frankly, I find such theories insulting and have to wonder what your wife thinks about all that.”

  “I’m not married.”

  “That explains much.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What theory would you come up with about me if I told you that not only am I a spinster, and one who has no interest in marrying at the moment, I’m also an avid supporter of the suffrage movement?”

  “I’d say it’s fortunate you have no interest in marrying because men do not care to become involved with suffragists, whom everyone knows are simply women disgruntled with their lot in life.”

  For a long moment, she stared at him, until she spun on her heel, stomped over to her pistol purse, scooped it up from the ground, then turned back to him.

  “You’re not intending on shooting me with that, are you?” he finally forced himself to ask when she continued regarding him without speaking a word.

  “Tempting, but no.” With that, she tucked the pistol purse away, walked over to her horse, took the reins, then sent him a nod. “This is where I bid you adieu and wish you luck in finding your way back to civilization.”

  “You’re going to leave a man you only recently shot, and one whom you know is incapable of riding a horse, out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Yes.”

  Before Norman could compose a suitable argument, Beatrix jumped on her horse and galloped away, leaving him behind.

  Chapter 4

  Knowing there was nothing to do but go after Beatrix because he couldn’t very well leave a spinster woman unaccompanied in the middle of a remote forest, Norman strode to the horse Beatrix had left behind. Taking hold of the reins, he resisted the urge to drop them when the horse let out a nicker.

  “This is not the time for such nasty business,” he said, earning a nibble from the horse, which had perspiration beading his forehead and his stomach roiling.

  “You lost, mister?”

  Turning, Norman discovered a young boy standing a few feet away from him, holding an empty bucket in one hand and a stick with a line attached to it in the other.

  He wasn’t a man comfortable around children, never knew what to say to them even though he had numerous nieces and nephew
s. However, since he was lost at the moment, Norman nodded.

  “I’m afraid I am lost. I’ve also misplaced the woman I was traveling with and was about to go on a quest to try and locate her. Any chance you’d be willing to help me out? I have a feeling she’s off to find the nearest road or train station.”

  The lad smiled, revealing a large gap in his front teeth. “Is a quest the same as an adventure?”

  “I suppose it is.”

  The boy nodded. “That sounds almost as fun as fishing, so sure, I’ll help you.” His smile faded. “Don’t know how we can go about finding your lost woman, though, but the road that’ll take you to the Merrillville train station is that way.” He pointed the stick to the right. “Want me to lead the way?”

  “That would be most appreciated.”

  After retrieving the steel plates and research papers, and after taking a moment to re-gird his chest because there was a possibility Beatrix might reappear at some point and because she was still armed, Norman took hold of the horse’s reins and fell into step beside the boy.

  He soon learned that the boy’s name was John Nelson, and he also learned that John was eight years old and had annoying sisters who didn’t care for fishing. The look he sent him after that disclosure left Norman with the distinct impression John found that more than a tad confusing. The little boy then launched into all the reasons why fishing was his favorite activity, and since he didn’t expect Norman to do more than nod every few minutes, Norman found their walk through the forest to be surprisingly pleasant.

  Stepping from the trees almost an hour later, Norman came to an abrupt stop when he heard something behind him. Turning, he frowned when Beatrix cantered into sight, leaving him to wonder if she’d been following them the entire time—a concerning notion since he’d not had the smallest inkling she was trailing after him.

  “Couldn’t find your way back on your own?” he called.

  Beatrix reined her horse to a stop as her nose shot straight into the air. “I turned around to come back for you because I was worried about your mother, which should have you reconsidering your conclusions about spinsters and our supposed lack of maternal feelings.”

  “What does my mother have to do with anything?”

  “I figured she’d be beside herself if you didn’t return to Chicago within the next few days. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself knowing that if you came to an unpleasant end, I could have spared your mother such anguish. So, here I am, but how fortunate this boy came across you and was so helpful with leading you out of the forest and to a road.” With that, Beatrix slid gracefully from the saddle and strode over to John.

  “I’m Miss Beatrix Waterbury,” she said, smiling at John, who was watching her with wide eyes. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m John Nelson, Miss Waterbury, and I ain’t never seen a lady wearing such a fancy dress get off a horse so smoothly.”

  “I’ve been riding since before I could walk,” Beatrix said right as the sound of barking rang out, which sent John bolting forward.

  “That’s Charlie,” he called over his shoulder. “He’s lookin’ for me. Don’t want him to worry, so I’ll be right back.”

  As John dashed away, Beatrix’s smile widened. “What a delightful boy.”

  “I suppose he is, although he’s very chatty for one so young.”

  “Am I correct in assuming you don’t converse in idle chitchat with children?”

  “I don’t have an aptitude for participating in idle chitchat with anyone.”

  “How unfortunate for you. I’ve always found it to be a wonderful way to engage in pleasant interludes with strangers who then often evolve into friends.” Beatrix turned from him as John came racing into sight, a large dog of indeterminate breed keeping pace beside him, its tail wagging furiously.

  A second later, as Beatrix knelt to greet the boy and his dog, she was knocked to the ground by Charlie, peals of laughter escaping her as the dog immediately proceeded to lick her face.

  Norman suddenly felt the most unusual urge to laugh with her, an idea that took him so aback that any amusement he’d been feeling disappeared in a flash.

  He was not a man who laughed often, preferring to embrace a somber attitude, one that befitted a serious man of science.

  The very idea that he’d felt compelled to join in Beatrix’s amusement left him with the concerning notion that his well-structured world was slowly becoming anything other than structured.

  Taking a firm grip of the horse’s reins, he tugged the horse forward, not bothering to even flinch when it let out a nicker. Frankly, there was no time for flinching, not when it was becoming clear to him that his well-structured life was in certain jeopardy.

  For the sake of his sanity, he realized that he needed to part ways as quickly as possible with Miss Beatrix Waterbury because even though he barely knew the woman, he was now convinced she had the ability to disrupt his world, which would then disrupt his work, and that was something he couldn’t—or rather wouldn’t—allow anyone to do.

  After thanking John for getting Norman out of the forest, Beatrix couldn’t resist a roll of the eyes when Norman threw himself across the saddle again. He then asked her to keep their pace at a sedate level, stating his chest was still sore from where she’d shot him and he didn’t care to be jostled about.

  Because she had shot him, though, she didn’t set her horse to galloping, letting it meander down the road at a pace that left much to be desired.

  It quickly became apparent that Norman had not been exaggerating when he’d claimed to have no aptitude for chitchat. The few times she attempted to engage him in conversation during their ride were met with grunts or silence, which was why she eventually abandoned any effort in that regard, spending the time it took to get to the small train station listening to Norman spout out random numbers every few seconds.

  Steering the horse to a hitching post once they reached the station, Beatrix dismounted and tied the reins around the post, doing the same to the reins of Norman’s horse. She then watched in disbelief as Norman slid clumsily off his horse, landing on his backside, but before she could offer him a hand up, he was on his feet, stamping one foot and then the other against the ground and wincing with every stamp.

  “I’m trying to get rid of the tingles,” he said when he noticed her watching him. “Must have lost the circulation at some point.”

  “That wouldn’t have happened if you’d ridden in the saddle.”

  “No, but if I’d done that then there’s a good chance I’d have fainted from terror at some point, and then where would we be?”

  “You’d still be lying on the road, where I would have left you because I don’t believe I would have been sympathetic to your plight a second time.”

  “And yet another reason why you’re not married.”

  Her lips twitched, but not wanting Norman to know he’d actually amused her instead of annoyed her, Beatrix spun on her heel and strode to the ticket window, purchasing them two tickets to Chicago. Delighted to be told the train to Chicago would be leaving in fifteen minutes, she took a moment to explain their situation to the man in the ticket booth, who hurried to assure her that he’d see after the horses, and then returned her money, saying she deserved a free trip after the trouble she’d experienced.

  “Did that man give you back your money?” Norman asked, falling into step beside her after she handed him his ticket and strode for the train.

  “He did.”

  “That was hardly a prudent business decision on his part. You were obviously capable of paying since you’d already done exactly that, although I was intending to pay you back for my ticket.”

  “He was trying to be kind.”

  “But he lost the sale of two tickets.”

  Beatrix stopped walking a few feet from the train. “Do feel free to choose a seat far, far away from me.”

  He frowned. “I was already intending on doing that.”

  “Good.” As s
he marched her way onto the train, her disappointment was swift when she realized all the seats were occupied save two—and those seats, unfortunately, were together.

  “And here I was hoping to get some uninterrupted time on the ride to Chicago,” Norman said behind her. “Highly doubtful that’ll happen now, not when you talked almost nonstop on the ride here.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Beatrix said. “You’re the one who was never silent.”

  “I was working on an elusive mathematical equation, which demanded I talk out loud because that helps me puzzle equations out.”

  “You do know that talking out loud to oneself can be construed by others as rather rude behavior, don’t you?” Beatrix asked as she headed for the two empty seats, sitting down in the one directly by the window, Norman taking the seat next to her.

  “No one has ever mentioned that they find my talking out loud rude, not even the decorum instructors my mother hired for me in my youth.”

  “You had decorum instructors?”

  He nodded. “My mother has always been determined to take her place as one of the society leaders in Chicago society. But the lessons stopped when I turned twelve, though, after Miss Addleson, my last decorum instructor, decided I was a hopeless case.”

  “Your family is society?”

  He nodded again.

  Beatrix’s brows drew together. “Don’t you find society events difficult because you don’t enjoy idle chitchat?”

  “I’m only required to attend a few events every Season.” Norman smiled. “My mother is well aware that I’m somewhat lacking in social graces, which is why she’s content to simply tell everyone I’m occupied with my work. She only insists I attend events that are deemed significant, which, thankfully, are few and far between.”

  The train chugged into motion, picking up speed as Beatrix took a moment to appreciate the scenery now flashing past her window. “How did your family become involved in Chicago society?” she asked, turning back to Norman, who was in the process of retrieving an apple from his pocket, which he promptly gave to her before retrieving another one for himself.