Chapter One
May 1892
Houston Chandler walked the block and a half to her house
as sedately as she could manage, halting before a three-
story, red brick French Victorian house that the town
called the Chandler Mansion. Composing herself, smoothing
her hair, she mounted the steps.
As she put her parasol in the porcelain holder in the
little vestibule, she heard her stepfather bellowing at
her sister.
"I'll not have language like that in my house. You may
think that because you call yourself a doctor you have a
right to indecent behavior, but not in my house," Duncan
Gates shouted.
Blair Chandler, as like her twin sister as another person
can be, glared at the man, who was a few inches shorter
than she was and built as solidly as a stone
building. "Since when is this your house? My father -- ."
Houston stepped into the family parlor and put herself
between her sister and her stepfather. "Isn't it time for
dinner? Perhaps we should go in." With her back to her
stepfather, she gave a pleading look to her sister.
Blair turned away from them both, her anger obvious.
Duncan took Houston's arm and led her past the staircase
and toward the dining room. "At least I have one decent
daughter."
Houston winced as she heard the often repeated remark. She
hated being compared to Blair, and worse, hated being the
winner.
They were barely seated at the big, mahogany table, each
setting laid with crystal, porcelain and sterling, Duncan
at the head, Opal Gates at the foot, the twins across from
each other, when he started again.
"You'd think you'd want to do something to please your
mother," Duncan said, glaring at Blair, as an eleven-pound
roast was set before him. He picked up carving
utensils. "Are you too selfish to care about anybody else?
Doesn't your mother mean anything to you?"
Blair, her jaw clenched, looked at her mother. Opal was
like a faded copy of her beautiful daughters. It was
obvious that what spirit she'd ever had was either gone or
deeply buried. "Mother," Blair said, "do you want me to
return to Chandler, marry some fat banker, have a dozen
children and give up medicine?"
Opal smiled fondly at her daughter as she took a small
helping of eggplant from the platter held by a maid. "I
want you to be happy, dear, and I believe it's rather
noble of you to want to save people's lives."
Blair turned triumphant eyes toward her
stepfather. "Houston's given up her life in order to
please you. Isn't that enough for you? Do you have to see
me broken too?"
"Houston!" Duncan thundered, clutching the big carving
knife until his knuckles were white. "Are you going to
allow your sister to say such things?"
Houston looked from her sister to her stepfather. Under no
circumstances did she want to side with either one of
them. When Blair returned to Pennsylvania after the
wedding, Houston'd still be in the same town with her
stepfather. With joy, she heard the downstairs maid
announce Dr. Leander Westfield.
Quickly, Houston stood. "Susan," she said to the serving
maid, "set another place."
Leander walked into the room with long, confident strides.
He was tall, slim, dark, extremely good-looking -- with
green eyes to die for, as a friend of Houston's once said -
- and exuded an air of self-assurance that made women stop
on the street and stare. He greeted Mr. and Mrs. Gates.
Leander leaned across the edge of the table and gave
Houston a quick kiss on the cheek. Kissing a woman, even
your wife, and certainly your flanc6e, so publicly was
outrageous, but Leander had an air about him that allowed
him to get away with things other men couldn't.
"Will you have dinner with us?" Houston asked politely,
indicating the place set next to her.
"I've eaten, but maybe I'll join you for a cup of coffee.
Good evening, Blair," he said as he sat down across from
her.
Blair only glanced at him in answer as she poked at the
food on her plate.
"Blair, you'll speak to Leander properly," Duncan
commanded.
"That's all right, Mr. Gates," Leander replied pleasantly,
but looking at Blair in puzzlement. He smiled at
Houston. "You're as pretty as a bride today."
"Bride!" Blair gasped, standing and nearly upsetting her
chair before she ran from the room.
"Why, that -- ," Duncan began, putting down his fork and
starting to rise.
But Houston stopped him. "Please don't. Something's up
setting her badly. Perhaps she misses her friends in
Pennsylvania. Leander, didn't you want to talk to me about
the wedding? Could we go now?"
"Of course." Leander silently escorted her to his waiting
buggy, clucked to the horse and drove her up the steep end
of Second Street and parked on one of the many dead ends
in Chandler. It was beginning to get dark and the mountain
air was growing cold. Houston moved back into the corner
of the carriage.
"Now, tell me what's going on," he said as he tied the
horse's reins, put on the brake, and turned to her. "It
seems to me that you're as upset as Blair."
Houston had to blink back tears. It was so good to be
alone with Lee. He was so familiar, so safe. He was an
oasis of sanity in her life. "It's Mr. Gates. He's always
antagonizing Blair, telling her she's no good, reminding
her that even as a child he thought there was no hope for
her, and he's always demanding that she give up medicine
and remain in Chandler. And, Lee, he keeps telling Blair
how perfect I am."
"Ah, sweetheart," Lee said, pulling her into his
arms, "you are perfect. You're sweet and kind and pliable
and -- ."
She pulled away from him. "Pliable! You mean like taffy?"
"No," Lee smiled at her, "I just meant that you're a
pretty, sweet woman, and I think it's good of you to be so
worried about your sister, but I also think Blair should
have been prepared for some criticism when she became a
doctor."
"You don't think she should give up medicine, do you?"
"I have no idea what your sister should do. She's not my
responsibility." He reached for her again. "What are we
talking about Blair for? We have our own lives to live."
As he spoke, his arms tightened around her and he began to
nuzzle her ear.
This was the part of their courtship Houston always hated.
Lee was so easy to be around, someone she knew so well.
After all, they'd been a "couple" since she was six and he
was twelve. Now, at twenty-two, she'd spent a great deal
of time near Leander Westfield, had known forever that she
was going to be Mrs. Westfield, All her schooling,
everything she'd ever learned was in preparation for the
day she'd be Lee's wife.
But a few months ago, after he'd returned from studying in
Europe, he'd started this kissing, pushing her into the
buggy seat, groping at her clothes, and all she'd felt was
that she wished he'd stop fumbling at her. Then Lee'd get
angry, once again call her an ice princess, and take her
home.
Houston knew how she was supposed to react to Lee's touch.
For all its appearance of staidness, Chandler, Colorado,
was an enlightened town -- at least its women were -- but
for the life of her Houston felt nothing when Lee touched
her. She'd cried herself to sleep with worry many times.
She couldn't imagine loving anyone more than she loved
Leander, but she was just not excited by his touch.
He seemed to sense what Houston was thinking and drew away
from her, his anger showing in his eyes.
"It's fewer than three weeks," she said with hope in her
voice. "In a short time we'll be married and then..."
"And then what?" he said, looking at her sideways. "The
ice princess melts?"
"I hope so," she whispered, mostly to herself. "No one
hopes so more than I do."
They were silent for a moment.
"Are you ready for the governor's reception tomorrow?" Lee
asked, pulling a long cheroot from his pocket and lighting
it.
Houston gave him a trembling smile. These few minutes
after she'd turned him down were always the worst. "My
Worth gown's steamed and ready."
"The governor will love you, you know that?" He smiled at
her, but she sensed he was forcing the smile. "Someday
I'll have the most beautiful wife in the state at my
side."
She tried to relax. A governor's reception was a place she
felt confident. This was something she was trained for.
Perhaps she should have taken a course in how not to be a
cold, sexless wife. She knew that some men thought their
wives shouldn't enjoy sex, but she also knew Leander was
like no one else. He'd explained to her that he expected
her to enjoy him and Houston'd told herself she would, but
mostly she felt annoyed when Leander kissed her.
"I have to go to town tomorrow," he said, interrupting her
thoughts. "Want to come along?"
"I'd love to. Oh! Blair wanted to stop by the newspaper
office. I believe someone sent her a new medical journal
from New York."
Houston leaned back in the carriage as Leander clucked to
the horse and wondered what he'd say if he knew
his "pliable" intended was, once a week, doing something
that was quite illegal.
Blair lounged against the end of the ornate, canopied,
walnut bed, one knee bent, showing the separation of her
Turkish pants. Her big blue and white room was on the
third floor, with a beautiful view of Ayers Peak out the
west window. She'd had a room on the second floor with the
rest of the family, but after she'd left Chandler when she
was twelve, Opal'd become pregnant and Mr. Gates had made
her room into a bath and a nursery. Opal lost the child
and the little room stood unused now, filled with dolls
and toy soldiers Mr. Gates had bought.
"I really don't see why we have to go with Leander," Blair
said to Houston who sat quite straight on a white brocade
chair. "I haven't seen you in years and now I have to
share YOU."
Houston gave her sister a little smile. "Leander asked us
to accompany him, not the other way around. Sometimes I
think you don't like him. But I can't see how that could
be possible. He's kind, considerate, he has position in
the community and he -- ."
"And he completely owns you!" Blair exploded, jumping up
from the bed, startling Houston with the strength of her
outburst. "Don't you realize that in school I worked with
women like you, women who were so unhappy they repeatedly
attempted suicide?"
"Suicide? Blair, I have no idea what you're talking about.
I have no intention of killing myself." Houston couldn't
help drawing away from her sister's vehemence.
"Houston," Blair said quietly, "I wish you could see how
much you've changed. You used to laugh, but now you're so
distant. I understand that you've had to adjust to Gates,
but why would you choose to marry a man just like him?"
Houston stood, putting her hand on the walnut dresser and
idly touching Blair's silver-backed hairbrush. "Leander
isn't like Mr. Gates. He's really very different. Blair" --
she looked at her sister in the big mirror -- "I love
Leander," she said softly. "I have for years, and all I've
ever wanted to do is get married, have children and raise
my family. I never wanted to do anything great or noble
like you seem to want to do. Can't you see that I'm
happy?"
"I wish I could believe you," Blair said sincerely. "But
something keeps me from it. I guess I hate the way Leander
treats you, as if you were already his. I see the two of
you together and you're like a couple who've lived
together for twenty years."
"We have been together a long time." Houston turned back
to face her sister. "What should I look for in a husband
if it isn't compatibility?"
"It seems to me that the best marriages are between people
who find each other interesting. You and Leander are too
much alike. If he were a woman, he'd be a perfect lady."
"Like me," Houston whispered. "But I'm not always a lady.
There are things I do -- ."
"Like Sadie?"
"How did you know about that?" Houston asked.
"Meredith told me. Now, what do you think your darling
Leander is going to say when he finds out that you're
putting yourself in danger every Wednesday? And how will
it look for a surgeon of his stature to be married to a
practicing criminal?"
"I'm not a criminal. I'm doing something that's good for
the whole town," Houston said with fire, then quieted. She
slipped another hairpin invisibly into the neat chignon at
the back of her head. Carefully arranged curls framed her
forehead beneath a hat decorated with a spray of
iridescent blue feathers. "I don't know what Leander will
say. Perhaps he won't find out."
"Hah! That pompous, spoiled man will forbid you to
participate in anything dealing with the coal miners and,
Houston, you're so used to obeying that you'll do exactly
what he says."
"Perhaps I should give up being Sadie after I'm married,"
she said with a sigh.
Suddenly, Blair dropped to her knees on the carpet and
took Houston's hands. "I'm worried about you. You're not
the sister I grew up with. Gates and Westfield are eating
away at your spirit. When we were children, you used to
throw snowballs with the best of them but now it's as if
you're afraid of the world. Even when you do something
wonderful like drive a huckster wagon, you do it in
secret. Oh, Houston -- ."
She broke off at a knock on the door. "Miss Houston, Dr.
Leander is here."
"Yes, Susan, I'll be right down." Houston smoothed her
skirt. "I'm sorry you find me so much to your distaste,"
she said primly, "but I do know my own mind. I want to
marry Leander because I love him." With that, she swept
out of the room, and went downstairs.
Houston tried her best to push Blair's words from her mind
but she couldn't. She greeted Leander absently and was
vaguely aware of a quarrel going on between Lee and Blair,
but she really heard nothing except her own thoughts.
Blair was her twin, they were closer than ordinary sisters
and Blair's concern was genuine. Yet, how could Houston
even think of not marrying Leander? When Leander was eight
years old, he'd decided he was going to be a doctor, a
surgeon who saved people's lives, and by the time Houston
met him, when he was twelve, Lee was already studying
textbooks borrowed from a distant cousin. Houston decided
to find out how to be a doctor's wife.
Neither wavered from his decision. Lee went to Harvard to
study medicine, then to Vienna for further study, and
Houston went to finishing schools in Virginia and
Switzerland.
Houston still winced whenever she thought of the argument
she and Blair'd had about her choice of schools. "You're
going to give up an education just so you can learn to set
a table, so you can learn how to walk into a room wearing
fifty yards of heavy satin and not fall on your face?"
Blair went to Vassar, then medical school, while Houston
went to Miss Jones's School for Young Ladies where she was
put through years of rigorous training in everything from
how to arrange flowers to how to stop men from arguing at
the dinner table.
Now, Lee took her arm as he helped her into the
buggy. "You look as good as always," he said close to her
ear.
"Lee," Houston said, "do you think we find each
other...interesting?"
With a smile, his eyes raked down her body, over the dress
that glued itself to her tightly corseted, exaggerated
hourglass figure. "Houston, I find you fascinating."
"No, I mean, do we have enough to talk about?"
He raised one eyebrow. "It's a wonder I can remember how
to talk when I'm around you," he answered as he helped her
into his; buggy, and drove them the six blocks into the
heart of Chandler.
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