Miss Phipps and the Cattle Baron Read Online Free Page A

the unusual color a cross between Anne Boleyn's
dark brown eyes, and Henry's piercing blue ones...
    But enough about the queen! Sharing a
likeness with a woman who lived three hundred years before did
nothing for Priscilla now. But having the bank manager prepare bank
drafts for four irritated men would at least bring finality to that
matter.
    An hour later, she met with the manager of
the bank, who informed her that her funds from their eastern branch
had arrived, and that her account was set up. She had the man
prepare bank drafts for Clayton Rathborn, Jeremy Bottoms and Adam
Whittington. Frank Gifford had still not approached her about Edith
Hogan, but she would be ready for him when he did. With the bank
drafts prepared, and the women's contracts for the men to sign
clasped in her hands, Priscilla waited in the lobby of the bank for
the men to arrive.
    The women were staying in a boarding house on
the outskirts of town. But as soon as she was finished at the bank,
she'd collect the women and they would spend the day cleaning the
upstairs living quarters, where the women would be staying until
they could accumulate enough money to return to the boarding house.
Thankfully, her building was located in the center of town, so they
could walk to most stores. But she would get around town on her
Rover, which she'd purchased just before leaving Missouri. She had
only ridden the new safety bicycle a few times, but she'd mastered
pedaling and steering in one afternoon. It was a marvel of design.
If the women of Cheyenne were not aware of the personal freedom and
self-reliance bicycling embodied, they'd learn about it in an
editorial.
    Before long, Jeremy Bottoms and Clayton
Rathborn arrived, spiteful and bad-tempered and grumbling about
meddlesome old maids and fickle mail-order brides. They
begrudgingly signed the contracts and left. After an hour, when
Lord Whittington had still not shown up, Priscilla left the bank to
look into renting a buckboard and horse.
    Two hours later, Priscilla, driving a vehicle
piled high with cleaning supplies, new mattress pads, bolts of
cloth, and bundles of bed linens, and accompanied by four women who
were chattering enthusiastically, arrived at the old Sentinel
building. The notice she'd posted on the mercantile remained there,
but Frank Gifford had not come forward to claim Edith, so they had
no idea where things stood.
    By early afternoon they'd cleared the
upstairs rooms—mostly boxes of papers that mice had used for nests,
along with some broken chairs and other discarded furniture—and the
old wooden floorboards were scrubbed clean. After the floor boards
had thoroughly dried, Priscilla and the women stashed their trunks
alongside one wall, placed the mattress pads on the floors of two
rooms, and cut and tacked panels of new yard goods over the windows
for privacy. While each woman made up her bed, Priscilla prepared a
dressing table out of a discarded dresser and hung a mirror over
it, then fashioned a wash stand from a small, discarded table and
placed her own china pitcher and bowl on top of it. She intended to
live there permanently, so after the press room would be set up and
the women staying in the boarding house, she'd look into renovating
the upstairs into comfortable quarters for herself. One of the
advantages of remaining unmarried. The luxury of living and doing
exactly as she pleased.
    Meanwhile, Jim Jackson, her pressman, was
downstairs clearing out the old equipment in preparation for
patching the plaster and painting the walls and fixing the door
that hung askew. After the women would be finished cleaning and
waxing the floors, Jim would bring in the printing press, the
bundles of Ready Print, and the many type cases filled with ems,
type sticks and other printing equipment that she'd hauled west in
the covered wagon.
    It was late afternoon and the women were on
their hands and knees in the back room, scrubbing the floor, while
Priscilla and Jim stood in the main room,