Read Online Galveston: Between Wind And Water (A Historical Literary Fiction Novel Filled with Romance and Drama) by Rachel Cartwright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachel Cartwright
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perfect for the yellow bolero jacket and dress with the brown satin flowers. Gabrielle dressed quickly and strutted down the stairs to the parlor where she overheard Timothy DeRocha and her father discussing Bret’s drilling activities in Beaumont.
Timothy snapped to attention when Gabrielle entered. She admired his tanned face with its curved nose and brown eyes, but his voice was always servile in the presence of her father.
After exchanging mutual pleasantries, she listened patiently, encouraging each with a smile or a nod. A woman always found her most valuable information by letting men vent their irritation and argue with each other.
Gabrielle’s father scratched his moustache. “It appears Bret never sent word ahead to anyone here or his man, Philip, when he departed England for New York.”
Timothy smiled at her and adjusted his gold tie pin. “I believe he’s bankrupt, spent his entire inheritance abroad and now he has returned to scrounge off the good graces of his old friends and business partners.”
“No. There’s more to it,” Gabrielle insisted, surprised by how quickly she had voiced her private suspicion.
“Surely you don’t believe in his oil drilling scam in Beaumont?” Timothy asked. “I’d have more respect for him if he asked me for money to dig for the pirate treasure of Jean Lafitte.”
Gabrielle’s father frowned. “No, sir. Whatever money Bret had left has surely sunk into those empty holes with the remains of his family’s name.”
Timothy nodded. “That seems to agree with all the reports I’ve heard. The man is desperate. This fancy party of his is nothing but an elaborate attempt to swindle those who have loved and trusted him most.”
Gabrielle bristled. “You sound so certain, Timothy.”
Timothy looked at her as though she were an errant child. “Please, Gabrielle. You of all people should know I’m right.”
She wanted to say something in Bret’s defense but could only press her lips together.
“I made almost one hundred percent profit on my first shipment of cotton,” her father said, turning from the window. “And nearly two hundred percent on my first sale of steers.”
Timothy regarded her father with adoring veneration. “You are an example to us all, Mr. Caldwell. When a man risks everything to start a business and build a better life for his family, he deserves those rewards and more. But nothing is more valuable to a damn Yankee than his stomach, and he should be happy to pay for the privilege of letting us fill it for him. Isn’t that true, Gabrielle?”
“I would be happy to feed any man north of the Mason-Dixon if he helped me get the vote in return.”
The men stared at each other, then at the floor and shook their heads. Timothy coughed and covered his mouth with his clenched hand. “A gentleman certainly has to stay on his toes around you, Gabrielle. Women’s suffrage? What’s next? Lord, sir, how do you keep up with her?”
Gabrielle’s father tapped the bowl of his pipe on his palm, found it clogged and excused himself to get his cleaning kit from his upstairs study.
When his footsteps reached the second floor landing, Timothy cleared his throat and spoke in hushed tones. “You know I have complete respect for your father and his wishes, but I wish he would leave us alone more often.”
Gabrielle flashed a brief coy smile and stepped to the window. Already this business of having to choose between Timothy, Liam, and Hadlee was beginning to lose its attraction. Every prospect started with promise but after a few minutes of idle parlor chit-chat followed by the crafted casualness of a stroll down to the boardwalk, it was all she could do to keep from running headlong into the waves to revive her senses.
In the end, she always returned to her dressing table and dropped the lace-wrapped bouquets into the wastebasket. Would her meeting with Doctor Hellreich be something as easily tossed aside and forgotten too?
Timothy cleared his
Timothy snapped to attention when Gabrielle entered. She admired his tanned face with its curved nose and brown eyes, but his voice was always servile in the presence of her father.
After exchanging mutual pleasantries, she listened patiently, encouraging each with a smile or a nod. A woman always found her most valuable information by letting men vent their irritation and argue with each other.
Gabrielle’s father scratched his moustache. “It appears Bret never sent word ahead to anyone here or his man, Philip, when he departed England for New York.”
Timothy smiled at her and adjusted his gold tie pin. “I believe he’s bankrupt, spent his entire inheritance abroad and now he has returned to scrounge off the good graces of his old friends and business partners.”
“No. There’s more to it,” Gabrielle insisted, surprised by how quickly she had voiced her private suspicion.
“Surely you don’t believe in his oil drilling scam in Beaumont?” Timothy asked. “I’d have more respect for him if he asked me for money to dig for the pirate treasure of Jean Lafitte.”
Gabrielle’s father frowned. “No, sir. Whatever money Bret had left has surely sunk into those empty holes with the remains of his family’s name.”
Timothy nodded. “That seems to agree with all the reports I’ve heard. The man is desperate. This fancy party of his is nothing but an elaborate attempt to swindle those who have loved and trusted him most.”
Gabrielle bristled. “You sound so certain, Timothy.”
Timothy looked at her as though she were an errant child. “Please, Gabrielle. You of all people should know I’m right.”
She wanted to say something in Bret’s defense but could only press her lips together.
“I made almost one hundred percent profit on my first shipment of cotton,” her father said, turning from the window. “And nearly two hundred percent on my first sale of steers.”
Timothy regarded her father with adoring veneration. “You are an example to us all, Mr. Caldwell. When a man risks everything to start a business and build a better life for his family, he deserves those rewards and more. But nothing is more valuable to a damn Yankee than his stomach, and he should be happy to pay for the privilege of letting us fill it for him. Isn’t that true, Gabrielle?”
“I would be happy to feed any man north of the Mason-Dixon if he helped me get the vote in return.”
The men stared at each other, then at the floor and shook their heads. Timothy coughed and covered his mouth with his clenched hand. “A gentleman certainly has to stay on his toes around you, Gabrielle. Women’s suffrage? What’s next? Lord, sir, how do you keep up with her?”
Gabrielle’s father tapped the bowl of his pipe on his palm, found it clogged and excused himself to get his cleaning kit from his upstairs study.
When his footsteps reached the second floor landing, Timothy cleared his throat and spoke in hushed tones. “You know I have complete respect for your father and his wishes, but I wish he would leave us alone more often.”
Gabrielle flashed a brief coy smile and stepped to the window. Already this business of having to choose between Timothy, Liam, and Hadlee was beginning to lose its attraction. Every prospect started with promise but after a few minutes of idle parlor chit-chat followed by the crafted casualness of a stroll down to the boardwalk, it was all she could do to keep from running headlong into the waves to revive her senses.
In the end, she always returned to her dressing table and dropped the lace-wrapped bouquets into the wastebasket. Would her meeting with Doctor Hellreich be something as easily tossed aside and forgotten too?
Timothy cleared his
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