Miranda Takes a Stand Read online

  Manchester Women

  Book Three

  Miranda Takes a Stand

  By

  Jordan Bollinger

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Manchester Women Series

  Other Books By Jordan Bollinger | Duty with Honor Series

  Dedication and Acknowledgment

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  About Jordan Bollinger

  Sign up for Jordan Bollinger's Mailing List

  Manchester Women Series

  Book One: Staying Strong

  Book Two: Miss Thorne Blossoms

  Book Three: Miranda Takes a Stand

  Book Four: Moira's Pride

  Other Books By Jordan Bollinger

  Duty with Honor Series

  Book One: Leap of Faith

  Book Two: Second Chances

  Book Three: Hunted Honeymoon

  Book Four: Finessing the Wolf

  Book Five: An Unexpected Pause

  Book Six: Bad Moon on the Rise

  Book Seven: Siren's Song

  Book Eight: Tipping Point

  Sisterly Love: The Saga of Lizzie and Emma Borden

  Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc.

  27305 W. Live Oak Rd #424

  Castaic, CA 91384

  http://www.DesertBreezePublishing.com

  Copyright © 2017 by Jordan Bollinger

  ISBN 13: 978-1-68294-095-2

  Published in the United States of America

  Publication Date: August 2017

  Editor-In-Chief: Gail R. Delaney

  Editor: Kathy C. Spiess

  Marketing Director: Jenifer Ranieri

  Cover Artist: Gwen Phifer

  Cover Art Copyright by Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc. © 2017

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.

  Ebooks are not transferrable, either in whole or in part. As the purchaser or otherwise lawful recipient of this ebook, you have the right to enjoy the novel on your own computer or other device. Further distribution, copying, sharing, gifting or uploading is illegal and violates United States Copyright laws.

  Pirating of ebooks is illegal. Criminal Copyright Infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, may be investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of up to $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  Dedication and Acknowledgment

  To Jen, who does so much for so many, with a gentle patience and determination that is an inspiration for all of us.

  Prologue

  Miranda opened her eyes, sat up, and listened intently. At first, she'd thought the pounding was in a dream, but no—someone was definitely trying to knock down her door. She sat up, swung her feet off the bed, onto the floor, and scooted them around until she found her slippers, before she struggled into a wrapper.

  Who in the world would be knocking at this time of the morning? It was barely dawn, she thought, as she stumbled down the stairs and to the kitchen door. Something must be wrong. Someone must be very sick or severely injured. Still... why would they come here? Victoria was the physician, and she was in town. And, no one lived close to her.

  Perhaps, her hired-hand, Bert Smith, was ill. She went to the back door, reaching out to touch the rifle that stayed, loaded, beside the door—just to reassure herself—before she called out, "Who's there? What is it you want?"

  "Mrs. Hendriksen, it's Daniel. I work for Mr. Gus. He sent me to tell you we found them girls. They're safe and sound, and we got all them that had them, too."

  "You have the girls?" Miranda asked, in an incredulous voice.

  "Yes, ma'am. And, they're all right."

  "They're all right..." she repeated.

  "Then Mr. Gus said everyone—although, I'm not sure who 'everyone' is—will be meeting with the judge tomorrow morning. Well, I suppose that's later today. Anyway, they'll expect you."

  "Yes, all right." She stepped back into the kitchen and asked, "Would you like some coffee? I think there's some left in the pot."

  "No, ma'am. I need to get back to town. With the sheriff away, we're helping the deputies with them people—the ones that had the girls. But, thank you, though."

  "All right. Thank you for coming out here at such an early hour. And, please, tell Gus I'll be there."

  Miranda made herself a cup of tea, carried it to the table, and sank into her chair. Her initial elation over Daniel's news quickly morphed into a deep, unfathomable sadness. The brothel had been found. The girls they'd spent months searching for were found. And, the people behind it were found, as well.

  But, the girls would never be all right. It wasn't enough that the fates took their parents from them, leaving them orphans. No! Just when they believed they were being given a chance for a fresh start at making a new life—a good life—for themselves and their sisters, they were lied to, held hostage, and forced to become prostitutes. Whores controlled by their captors and fed opium to keep them docile.

  They'd lost their freedom, their sisters, and their very dignity.

  No. She doubted they would ever be 'all right'. But, she had decided months ago that she was going to do all she could to make things—if she was not able to make it 'up to them', at least she'd make their lives easier. She'd make sure they felt safer and cared for.

  Yes, she vowed as she sipped her now cold tea, she was going to do all she could to see they would become as close to 'all right' as they were able.

  As soon as she was dressed, Miranda Hendriksen went to town. Leaving her wagon at the livery stable she ran towards the hotel. Well, perhaps not ran, exactly. But, she definitely walked faster than was considered ladylike. As it was, she worried she'd be too late.

  She dashed across the street, cutting diagonally towards the hotel. Even though it was still early, there were people on the street. However, they were congregating further down near the end of town, so she wasn't forced to stop and speak to anyone. And for that she was glad.

  As she reached the hotel, she nearly bumped into a gentleman exiting. He held the door open for her and mumbled a greeting, but she merely plastered on a bri
ttle smile as she entered the building and the man went on his way.

  Joe, the hotel clerk looked up, smiled and said, "They're all in the private dining room. You know the one the judge uses for court."

  Chapter One

  It was an uncomfortable walk to the hotel. People kept approaching them and bombarding them with questions. But Sheriff Frank Dunkirk shooed them all away, insisting that they couldn't talk about anything until after the judge arrived.

  As soon as they reached the hotel, Dr. Victoria Thorne ran upstairs to check on Meg—who was now awake, confused, and insisting on being told what had happened. So, the doctor filled in some of the basics, while Meg washed up and combed her hair. Then, they walked down to the restaurant where they were supposed to meet Judge Preston and the two Pinkerton agents, but there was no sign of them.

  Ann Clark, their waitress, came scurrying over and told them, "Everyone is in the little side room. Joe decided if he didn't put you all in there, people would just keep pestering you. And, you all look tired enough."

  "Thank you, Ann," the doctor said, as she guided a still wobbly Meg towards the little private dining room.

  Entering the dining room, they discovered the men, now joined by the judge and his clerk, Joe Stuart, and the two Pinkerton men, Will and Jake.

  Immediately, Meg asked, "But where are the others? Where are Eva and Kit, and Miranda, and Miss Murphy and those poor girls?" She looked at Victoria and said, "You said everyone was all right."

  Gus said, "They are, Margaret. Eva and Kit are watching over the others while they get some rest. We promise you—I promise you—everyone is perfectly safe." He pulled out a chair for her, and insisted, "Just sit down. If you feel any bit like I do, sitting is definitely better than standing."

  "I hope I haven't missed anything," Miranda Hendriksen asked as she hurried into the room.

  "No," Judge Jonathan Preston told her, "we were just about to begin. Although, I don't suppose there's any need to hurry, now. So, why don't we get some refreshments?

  "Then I think we'll let the agents make their reports first."

  The Pinkerton man, Jake protested, "Truly, Your Honor, except for getting a man killed, I have little to report."

  "And, I have even less," Will said. "Possibly, less than nothing, even."

  "Please," Miranda interrupted, "before you continue, I have a request."

  "What is it, Mrs. Hendriksen?" the judge asked.

  "Please. I have a good size house, and a fairly productive spread. I'm all alone, and they're all alone. And, I've always wanted children. I want to adopt those two girls."

  "Uh..." the judge began, "I'm not sure I can promise you that. They were wards of Illinois, not Iowa. They might have to return to them."

  "You can't mean they'd send them back to that orphanage?"

  "No. I think I can promise they won't return to that facility. In fact, I believe the Illinois State Attorney's office has started an investigation into the currently accepted practices within that system.

  "While it might not do much good," the judge continued, "it should at least keep the children in the state's care rather than being farmed out to God knows who." And, no one could help but hear the anger and frustration in his voice.

  "Please, Your Honor," Miranda sobbed, "help me. Promise me you'll do all you can to help me."

  Victoria broke in, and said, "Miranda, we haven't spoken about this, yet, but those girls will be a handful for six or eight weeks, at the least."

  "What..."

  "They're addicted to the morphine that those horrible people used to control them. And there's only one way of helping them. They must give it up completely.

  "They're not only going to be anxious and unhappy, but actually ill. They won't be able to eat or sleep, or really do anything, other than pace and complain, when they aren't being sick."

  "I don't care," Miranda insisted. "I will do whatever it takes to help them. Please."

  Victoria's voice softened and lowered, as she turned to the judge and added, "I know nothing I say will make a difference, but it might be best for the girls to remain here in Manchester.

  "Although, I only gave them a cursory examination once we had them safely at Meg's last night, I am afraid that Kathy, the older girl, is pregnant. She's only seventeen, although she might be eighteen before the baby arrives. Still, she has no husband, money, or any way of earning money. If she's returned to state care, any state's care, there's a good chance her child will be taken from her as soon as it's born."

  "Would that be so terrible?" the judge asked.

  "Yes!" Victoria cried out. Then, in a softer, calmer voice she added, "These girls were already orphans. They've endured a nightmare existence for eight or nine months, both lost sisters during that time. And, being drugged.

  "I believe, and I want to stress it's only my belief, they need each other. And, I'm not just speaking about getting through their battle against their opium addiction. I believe they will need each other and any children they give birth to go on with their lives. To take Kathy's baby from her would be devastating.

  "These girls have already lost so much. And, by tonight, everyone in town will have heard what happened. Everything will be out in the open. Surely, the people of Manchester will be more receptive to these poor girls and view their situation with more sympathy than the population of most other towns?"

  "Yes!" Miranda cried out. "Please, Judge, listen to her. I will devote my life to these girls." Then, she scanned the room and said, "And, I'm confident I won't be doing it alone."

  "Of course, she won't!" Meg practically shouted.

  "No," Gus added. "I'm sure that those of us, who've dealt with this problem for so long, will all want to support Mrs. Hendriksen in caring for these poor children."

  "Of course, we will," Neil said, as he took the doctor's hand. "She won't be doing any of this by herself. I, for one, feel responsible for those girls."

  Judge Preston threw up his hands in protest. "All right, I give up. While I can't promise you anything, I swear to do my best to have Mrs. Hendriksen named as the girls' legal guardian.

  "But, that's as much as I can do. Mr. Stuart will contact the appropriate parties in Illinois and see what arrangements can be made." Then, looking at his clerk, he added, "In fact, go send a telegram, now. Don't even wait for us to finish here. Tell the authorities we are making a formal request for the state of Illinois to transfer custody of these girls to Iowa. And, if you can think of making it seem the more prudent solution, at least, from their point of view, add it.

  "We might as well strike while the iron is hot. Hopefully, they will jump at the chance to wash their hands of these girls and the scandal that might break out if news of this were to leak out. Maybe we can get lucky, and they'll turn over jurisdiction just to get rid of the problem."

  "Yes, sir," Stuart said. "I'll go at once."

  "Now," the judge continued, looking at Gus, "what happened?"

  Miranda sank into a chair beside Victoria, as the judge repeated, "Go on, tell us what happened.

  Gus shrugged, "I'm not sure how much either Mr. Stratton or I can tell you about what happened. We both passed out. Of course, not quite as fast as Meg had. But then, we kept drinking while the doctor was seeing to Meg." Before the judge was able to speak, Gus continued, "Ah, perhaps there is something I can tell you about.

  "While Harding did allow us to store furniture in his place, he made the strange statement that 'he wouldn't be responsible for it'. Now, we'd already experienced some acts of vandalism, so I took this as a threat.

  "So, I made sure one of my men stayed with the furniture, at all times. Harding gave the man a bottle of brandy, and now knowing how it was drugged, I suspect that he brought it the night he placed Jeannine's body in the stable, along with the others from our scarlet fever fatalities, because my man told me he'd passed out after the one drink he had with Harding.

  "Now, my man, not being much of a drinker, gave it to me. I took it over
to Miss Strong's."

  At this, Meg's head swerved and stared at him.

  He smiled at her, but without slowing down, added, "Finding Lisa's bloody and dead body right outside her door, caused Meg a lot of distress. She was in shock, and I thought she would have benefited from a medicinal sip of spirits that morning. But she didn't have any so, I took it across to Meg's and put it in the pantry. In fact, I might not have even told her.

  "When the doctor and Mr. Stratton announced their engagement, I brought the brandy out to toast them. But, Margaret passed out after only taking a tiny swallow; none of us connected her unconsciousness to the brandy. So, I carried her to her bed, and the doctor followed me to check on her. Looking back on it now, it seems foolish but Neil and I continued drinking our brandy and talking, until we, too, passed out."

  "And then?"

  "We woke up much later, after everything had happened."

  "Well then, perhaps, Dr. Thorne can fill us in."

  Victoria took a deep breath and plunged into the story, "Once Gus and Neil passed out I realized the brandy must have been drugged."

  "But why didn't it affect you, Doctor?"

  "I've had brandy before and can't abide the taste of it, so I just pretended to drink some for their toast," she answered. "Anyway, once the men were unconscious, everything just dropped into place."

  Gesturing to the small, wooden crate sitting in front of the judge on the desk, she continued, "Remember that paper the sheriff found? The one we could read Br'—beneath the blood. I suddenly realized it didn't stand for 'Brumble' as we all thought. As slimy as that saloon owner, Wilfred Brumble is, it wasn't part of his name, but for 'Brent'—Brent Harding.

  "Then I thought of how Harding had been in town for nine months, give or take, and hadn't printed one single newspaper. He just lived in his large, seemingly empty building, reading and waiting for his printing presses to be delivered.

  "But, what finally allowed me to figure everything out was his regular shipments of books."

  She paused for another breath, but before she could speak again, the judge asked, "His regular shipment of books?"

  The doctor answered, "Yes. He got a small, wooden crate nearly every week. I'd actually bumped into him once and heard the contents rattle. But, at the time it, didn't register."