“I’m a little rusty.” Lassoing was an art he learned due to boredom while working on the Trans-Pacific Railroad. He sighed and picked up the rope, tying a slip knot. “What do you want me to lasso first?”
“Me!” The little girl laughed and skipped to the outer perimeter of the room. Keeping his lasso wide and his wrist firm, he twirled a big loop over his head. With forward momentum, he aimed, let go of the lasso, propelling it forward and allowing the loop to sail over the fleeing girl’s head and shoulders. He cinched tight and pulled the squealing, laughing girl back to the applause of the children.
“Do me! Do me!” each child echoed.
For an hour, he entertained the orphans. He’d been stone-hearted drifting his way through life and focused on his own welfare. He marveled at how being with the children gave him a change of heart. Their laughter, contagious, and the act of doing for them gave him joy.
The little, violet-eyed girl begged him again. How could he deny her? Adults gathered into the room. They were done with boring speeches heralded by the mayor and other dignitaries. Zachary paid them no mind. He was having fun with the orphans.
Elizabeth was escorted by her father’s best friend and colleague, Rawlins Dyer to the grand ribbon cutting ceremony of the Fitzgerald Orphanage. Rawlins, an elderly bachelor, her father’s age, was like a favorite uncle. He sided with Elizabeth and never refused any of her requests.
“Isn’t today a lovely day?” Elizabeth said, beaming and tugging her escort to the room where the orphans would be waiting for a buffet celebration. She stood on tiptoes, scanning for a glimpse of her daughter, and then caught Rawlins taking out a handkerchief, sniffing the linen, and then tucking it back in his pocket. How sentimental and endearing her adopted uncle was, keeping the embroidered linen patterned with violets she had stitched for him when she was sixteen.
Unaware of her scrutiny, he patted her hand in the crook of his arm. “All made lovely by your efforts, Elizabeth. You should be proud.”
“I did raise an obscene amount of money, shaming and inspiring mother’s friends to fling open their bank accounts. The largest donation came from you, Rawlins, and I’m forever thankful.”
Dyer’s eyes searched hers. “I’d do anything for you, Elizabeth.”
“Why is it that I can always feel comfortable in confiding to you? You champion me with my mother, especially with my charity work at the orphanage. She thinks it is beneath my station to ‘cavort’ with orphans.”
“She has antiquated thinking.”
“If only she thought like you and shared my love of children.”
Rawlins Dyer possessed a full head of gray hair and thick walrus mustache, the bearer of a vast oil empire and a fortune tantamount to her father’s. With pride, she beamed up at Rawlins, an aristocratic, confident man who commanded a presence everywhere. He did not suffer an inflated ego, a need for power and control, or the manipulations that lay rabid among his peers. “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you, Rawlins. You even took time from your busy work schedule to be with me today. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share my time with.”
She referred to the new prospect her mother had arranged for her to marry, Isaac Havemeyer, heir to the most modern sugar refineries in the world.
The oil magnate’s lips twitched in amusement. “Ah, the interference of meddling mothers. I don’t like him either. I feel he is unsuitable for you. You may find him too…sweet?”
Elizabeth placed her gloved hand over her mouth and giggled and then drew a fatalistic sigh. “How is it I can depend on youto brighten my day? What has distressed me is my mother’s recent push to marry. On numerous occasions, she’s called me an embarrassing spinster, and provoked father enough to listen. Soon there will be an ultimatum.”
“Perhaps I can be of influence?”
Elizabeth leaned over and whispered to her confidante. “Do you think if I married, my husband would allow me to continue my work at the Fitzgerald Orphanage?”
Rawlins Dyer’s answer was lost to a sudden roar of laughter rippling through a surge of young bodies. Elizabeth viewed the back of a man winging out a lasso to snag a fleeing youngster. She couldn’t see his face, but caught the impression of dark hair, broad shoulders, and a long cocksure stride.
She took Dyer’s proffered arm and together they pressed close to get a view of the pandemonium, moving beside Shawn Fitzgerald.
“Rawlins,” greeted Shawn. “Miss Spencer, we owe this impressive addition to your efforts. And thank you, Rawlins, for your hefty donation.”
Elizabeth beamed with the profuse acknowledgement. “I’m delighted the orphans have additional space for their lessons and recreation.”
Elizabeth searched for her daughter, Caroline. How she wished to take her daughter to shows, spend Christmas with her, and snuggle in bed with her at night. Other than a brief hug which she gave to all the orphans, Elizabeth remained circumspect, betraying her secret to no one. Visiting and teaching at the orphanage, and bringing little presents was the best she could do. Often, she did find a reason to hug her daughter and perhaps, too overlong.
“What is going on?” asked Dyer.
“Some spontaneous amusement,” said Shawn.
Dyer gave a dismissive nod. “You hired cowboys for entertainment? And a Chinese cowboy, as well?”
Elizabeth cringed with Dyer’s snide condescension of the tall Chinaman.
Shawn gestured with his head to the one holding the rope. “That’s Zachary Rourke, my friend. He’s just arrived from out west.”
“Out west?” Why did the hairs rise on her neck?Ridiculous.
