Aubrey encouraged Ferguson over the last jump. They’d been set up years ago, three jumps spaced along the riding path through the clump of woods at the edge of their property. She would take Ferguson through the jumps, turn him around and do them on the way back. He needed no encouragement. Glad to have her on his back, Ferguson carried her triumphantly through the forest. She’d gotten up early, and now she caught the morning dew on the lily pads by the pond as she thundered by on her steed.
She slowed Ferguson to a trot on the way back up to the house. She saw the Western Union truck in the driveway, the uniformed delivery man coming down the steps. Her father was standing in the doorway, reading the telegram. She goosed a bit more out of Ferguson and cantered into the paddock.
The truck had already turned around and was speeding off by the time she’d placed Ferguson in front of the trough and hurried over to her father. She took off her elbow-length leather gloves and her father looked down at her from the porch.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked breathlessly. “Of course it is. It’s from New York, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“You read it?”
“Sure. I signed for it. It was just marked ‘Endeavours.’” He looked sheepish.
“Oh, Father. I don’t mind.” She climbed the steps, hand outstretched. Colonel Endeavours hesitated, then handed the yellow card over.
She read it fast. Her face, at first ablaze with excitement, suddenly turned sour.
“I’m sorry, Aubrey. I know it wasn’t what you were hoping for. Still, it’s a job. It might lead to other things.”
She fanned herself with the card. The words on it were ringing in her head. Details on the promotion, a flat refusal to finance a plane, the tour to be conducted by train, forty-five cities in six weeks. Reimbursement for expenses only, minimal daily stipend. Maybe that’s why her father was now keen on her accepting it: there would be no flying.
“I’d hardly call that a job. They pay for my train tickets and meals. Big deal.”
“It could lead to other opportunities. You’d be famous again.”
“Hardly—selling soap out of the back of someone’s pickup. Me and bunch of other hotty-totties strutting our stuff in swimwear. No thanks. Not this gal.” Suddenly, her face brightened. “When was Uncle Arthur’s train?”
Colonel Edmundson checked his watch. “Leaves in forty-three minutes.”
“The truck...”
“I drained the oil overnight. I’d have to fill it.”
“No time.”
There was a whinny behind her. She tucked the envelope in her pocket as she sprinted for Ferguson. He seemed delighted with the unexpected ride as she swung herself up into the saddle. She put the reins to him crossways across his neck like she’d seen Tom Mix do in the movies and galloped down the driveway.
4
Arthur Colins’s driver brought the drab grey government-issued Dodge around to the front of the Birchmount. He jumped out of the car and snapped to attention as Colins emerged carrying a suitcase and leather-bound grip. As the driver took the luggage from Colins, there was the sound of a horse’s hooves at a gallop on the paved main street. It had been a dirt track up until ten years before; there were still a few hitching posts along the sidewalk.
Arthur’s jacket was thrown over his shoulder; he held an unlit cigarette between his lips. He looked up from lighting it as Aubrey brought Ferguson to a halt in front of the hotel, caught the reins and put the cigarette back in its case.
“Aubrey, you devil, flying down the street like a banshee.”
She was out of breath, almost as much as Ferguson was. A country boy from Kansas himself, Arthur lashed the reins to a fencepost while she caught her breath.
“Thought I missed you,” she told him.
“You almost did. Corporal McWilliams here was going to drive me to the train station. I’m on the Red Ball to Detroit. Sorry, but we have to get going.”
“That job offer—I want it, if it’s not filled.”
Arthur chuckled again. “It’s not filled. You only turned me down last night. Why the change of heart?”
“I’m free. My circumstances have been altered. I’m all yours.”
“And the next flying promotional tour that comes your way? You’re not going to abandon me halfway through this thing, are you?”
“No, sir. Those swine, the Lux Corporation. They don’t want my flying skills, just my girlish good looks.” She struck a pose and went sweet. Arthur didn’t bite,
“I’m serious, Aubrey. Are you committed to this? I dare say it’s a good deal more important than any soap-selling promotion.”
“I promise. They cabled me this morning. I’m not even going to bother to reply. They can get some cutie anywhere. So, what do you say?”
Arthur reached into his pocket and retrieved a paper folder, the kind they tucked train tickets into. He handed it to her and pulled her away from Corporal McWilliams.
“You’re on the Red Ball to Detroit—same one I’m on, only two days from now. Gives you time to get sorted and say goodbye to your father.”
At the mention of her father, a frown creased her face. She’d almost forgotten the horrific episode last night. By all rights, if he’d had better aim when he was half asleep, she should be dead. The gun was still in her nightstand.
Arthur looked at her. “What’s the matter? Is he alright?”
“He’s fine. I’ll talk to him about this. Detroit and then where? You weren’t finished.”
“And then a connecting train to New York. I need you there no later than the twenty-ninth.”
“For what?”
“For your briefing. After you sign your life away to me and Uncle Sam, that is.” He handed over the ticket. “Pack for a three-week trip. Plenty
