to her standards, let alone get dust on the hem of one of her expensive dresses.
Jude dreaded one-on-one visits with Corinne, which was how he thought of her most of the time, a woman named Corinne, not his mother. It irked him that she could still stir emotions in him only a younger child should have—the hurt of feeling unworthy, unloved and unwanted. He steeled himself against her hard, dark eyes before he even climbed up the platform to her car.
The door opened before he could knock, and there stood the woman he seldom saw. They both led such busy lives in different ways, and there was no closeness between them to warrant going out of their way to see each other, which made this visit all the more odd. Even when they were all home at the sprawling Kingman mansion, they seldom ran into each other or dined together.
And, of course, there was that look—not a “glad to see you, son” look, but more like “it’s about time you got here.” Corinne was accustomed to snapping her fingers or ringing a bell and receiving almost instant gratification.
“Come in quickly,” she said curtly. “The train yard here smells of cattle, and I’m trying to keep the odor out of this car.”
Jude walked inside the richly carpeted train car. Heavy velvet curtains at the windows kept it so dark that light had to be provided with small gaslights on the walls. “It’s hot in here,” he complained. “I’d rather smell cattle than sweat to death.”
“I will open the windows when I leave, which will be soon,” his mother answered, turning to walk to a satin-covered chair. “Your father doesn’t even know I am here,” she said, sitting down. “I told him I was going to see my sister in St. Louis.”
Jude folded his arms. “Well, I’m glad to see you, too, Mother. May I sit down?”
“Of course, Jude. Don’t be silly.” She suddenly softened somewhat, but Jude knew the woman well. Her moods could change in an instant, and usually were designed to get whatever she wanted. “I’m sorry to take you from your work,” she added.
He didn’t believe that. He sat down in a chair across from her, removing his hat and taking a handkerchief from a vest pocket to dab at perspiration on his forehead. “You should be sorry. I had to take a train all the way back here from Plum Creek, and on a Sunday, which is the best day to be in town to talk to settlers. A lot of them come into town on Sundays for church and to buy supplies.”
Corinne, too, dabbed at perspiration with a lace handkerchief. “I can’t imagine having to stay in that horrible little town. There isn’t even a decent hotel here in Omaha, let alone a little farm town like Plum Creek.” She sniffed. “What a quaint name.”
Jude noticed that in spite of the heat, her form-fitting dress was tidy and unwrinkled. Every one of her graying hairs was in place, a jeweled comb perfectly positioned in sausage curls on top of her head. His mother was still beautiful and slender—too thin, actually. She was like a piece of china that might break if touched the wrong way.
“Plum Creek isn’t that bad,” he answered. “Besides, I stay in my Pullman, just like you do in such places, although I am establishing an office there.” Jude leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re here? You’d never come to Omaha just to visit. And what’s wrong with Dad knowing about this?”
Corinne fussed with the lace trim on her dress. “Because he doesn’t like it when I come between him and his decisions, especially when it involves you and Mark.”
Jude understood immediately. His mother would never come here just to see him, but she’d probably go to Plum Creek herself and dig in the dirt with the farmers if it meant doing something to help Mark. “I should have known this had something to do with my brother, although I can’t imagine what it is.”
Corinne stiffened and raised her chin. “Jude, dear…” She hesitated.
Jude almost laughed. Dear? The woman must be ready to beg!
“I know about the job your father has given you. However…”
Her hesitation made Jude wary. “However what?” He felt his anger building, imagining how nice it would have been if she’d really come here just to see him—as any normal mother would do. He saw her put on her authoritative demeanor then.
“Mark came to me about this—this assignment, or whatever you want to call it. He’s very upset that your father gave you this job. Mark feels it should have gone to him, in spite of how much he’d hate going to a place like Plum Creek. You’ve been here a month already, and hardly anything has been accomplished, according to Mark. He wants the chance to prove to his father that he can do better in a situation like this. I came to ask—well—I just wish you’d go back to Chicago and tell your father you’ve decided you can’t do this and that Mark is the better one for the job.”
For a moment Jude just stared at her, dumbfounded. Then he shook his head. “You know, Mother, I’ve always known you favored Mark and that he could get anything he wanted out of you, but to go crying to you at his age about this—it’s like a little kid begging his mother to let him have a certain toy instead of his brother.”
“Don’t insult him! He doesn’t even know I am here. He simply complained to me about it, that’s all.”
Jude snickered. “Do you know how ridiculous your request is? I’m not going back to Chicago like some whining child and ask Daddy dear to please not make me do this. Besides, Dad knows what Mark can do. Personally I don’t think he is the right one for the job, because he would use tactics that would only enrage the farmers and cause possible riots and damage to the railroad and who knows what else? I have some ideas I am trying to utilize to make this all happen peacefully and without making the Kingman name look bad. That’s why it’s taking some time. So you can go back to Chicago and tell Mark to get to work on the things he’s supposed to be doing!” He rose. “I’ve really enjoyed our visit, Mother. I hate to cut things short, but I have to get back to Plum Creek.”
“Jude, just think about it, will you? Mark is anxious to come down here and take care of this.”
Jude studied her eyes. “You know, Mother, I’d really like to know what I’ve ever done to make you so prejudiced toward Mark. I graduated with top honors from Yale, far better grades, I might add, than Mark ever got. On top of that, I’m your firstborn son.”
There it was, that way she had of looking away slightly when he talked about being her son. Then she stiffened again as she rose. “That’s just it. You outdo poor Mark in everything. You’re bigger and far more handsome and young women beg for your hand, while Mark…” She peered at him intently. “The reason your father doesn’t give you the important jobs is because Mark needs to feel important. He needs the confidence it gives him to know he can handle anything Kingman Enterprises might expect of him, and your father recognizes that Mark has that slight ruthlessness that it takes to run a business as big as your father’s.” She seemed to plead with him again. “Why can’t you just marry into one of the wealthy families of Chicago and settle down and quietly do what’s expected of you and let Mark have more of the limelight?”
Jude walked past her. “I haven’t found one woman among our family’s snobby friends worth marrying. And I am doing what is expected of me. I’m the one Dad sent down here, remember?” He walked toward the door again. “I have to say, Mother, that if I’d known Mark wanted this glorious assignment, I’d have gladly given it to him. But until Dad tells me differently, I’ll do it myself and I’ll do it my way. Now, why don’t you have the
