headed for Minnesota to rescue his sister’s children, he had cut off most of his prewar social contacts and devoted himself almost entirely to managing his father’s considerable estate, thereby convincing himself that his self-discipline had eradicated any desire for feminine companionship. Until Miss Jane.
Leighton thought it absurd that after swearing off younger and more beautiful women, he should find a rather plain, willow-thin spinster attractive. Even more absurd was the fact that what he liked most of all about Miss Jane had little to do with either her figure or her features. What he admired was her manner. She was all business, amazingly focused on her duty to God and her adopted family. She had a fiery disposition. She had suffered her own battles, did not consider herself a victim, and apparently did not appropriate the title to him, either. Not once had he seen pity in her eyes when she looked at him.
When Leighton found himself unable to conquer his attraction to Miss Jane, he took solace in the fact that he would soon be returning to New York with Ellen’s children. And that, he thought, would be the end of that. It was, therefore, totally disarming when Miss Jane pulled on his shirt sleeve and laid his hook in the palm of her hand, apparently without revulsion. It was equally unnerving when, not two hours after he had left the Whitney kitchen, a hotel maid knocked at his door and presented him with a calling card informing him that a certain Miss Jane Williams was waiting to speak with him in the hotel dining room.
When Leighton descended to meet her, Miss Jane stood up to receive him. She had donned a severe black dress and a magnificently outdated hat and yet, Leighton thought as he walked toward her, her manner lent a measure of grace to the costume. She returned his handshake firmly and sat down, quickly waving a waiter over and ordering tea. It did not go unnoticed by Leighton that she handled the entire exchange as if she did it every day. He suspected that it had been at least ten years since Miss Jane had had any opportunity to order tea in a hotel dining room. He could not keep from smiling inwardly at the woman’s ability to adapt to situations.
As soon as the tea was put before them, Miss Jane said abruptly, “I’ve come to discuss your difficulty with my friend Miss LaCroix.” She looked directly at him and he did not miss the spark of emotion in her eyes. “It would appear, based on your previous comments, that you determined to dislike her even before you came to St. Anthony.” Placing her hands on either side of her cup and saucer, she said earnestly, “I am waiting, Mr. Leighton, for you to say something to convince me that you are not really so simpleminded.”
Leighton pursed his lips. He lifted his chin and reached up to adjust his cravat. “Of course I’m not so stupid as that. I’m very well-read on the subject of the Indian problem.”
Miss Jane leaned forward. “Tell me something, Mr. Leighton, exactly how many Indians had you known personally before coming to Minnesota?”
He was defensive. “You know the answer to that. It doesn’t matter. As I said, I have researched the subject extensively.”
“It isn’t a subject,” she snapped. “It’s people. People who bleed and hurt and love and have families and grieve. People who know what it is to be lonely, to have dreams ripped out of their hands through no fault of their own—”
“Lo, the poor Indian,” Leighton said sarcastically.
Miss Jane sat back and eyed him carefully. “Miss LaCroix and I were together when the war party decided to move all the captives farther north. A fellow named Otter had charge of us. Charming fellow. Liked to make things as difficult as possible for his captives. On this particular day, he decided to toughen us up a bit. He decided we shouldn’t be allowed on the road with the rest of the group.” Miss Jane looked out the window as she relived the event. “Otter drove us like cattle. We walked for miles without water, without rest. He had made it perfectly clear that if we faltered, he would shoot us. He was tired of us by then.” She turned and looked at Leighton, satisfied that she had his attention.
“The landscape was dotted with thickets of brambles and berry bushes. Of course Otter rode around these things. But