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Praise for the novels of Susan Wiggs
“Susan Wiggs paints the details of
human relationships with the finesse of a master.”
—Jodi Picoult, New York Times bestselling author
“Wiggs provides a delicious story for us to savor.”
—Oakland Press on The Mistress
“Susan Wiggs delves deeply into her characters’
hearts and motivations to touch our own.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Mistress
“Once more, Ms. Wiggs demonstrates her ability
to bring readers a story to savor that has them
impatiently awaiting each new novel.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Hostage
“A quiet page-turner that will hold readers
spellbound as the relationships, characters
and story unfold. Fans of historical romances
will naturally flock to this skillfully executed trilogy,
and general women’s fiction readers should
find this story enchanting as well.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Firebrand
“Wiggs is one of our best observers
of stories of the heart. Maybe that is because
she knows how to capture emotion on
virtually every page of every book.”
—Salem Statesman-Journal
“Susan Wiggs writes with bright assurance,
humor and compassion.”
—Luanne Rice, New York Times bestselling author
The Mistress
The Chicago Fire Trilogy
Susan Wiggs
To my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Marge Green,
who taught me cursive writing
and told me the story of Mrs. O’Leary’s cow.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Joyce, Betty and Barb, for favors too numerous to count; to friends near and far, including Jamie for brainstorming a trading scam, and Jodi for therapeutic e-mail conversations; thanks to Jill for the Bunco book, and to the wonderful Martha Keenan, who always edits above and beyond the call of duty.
Special thanks to the Chicago Historical Society, one of the richest resources ever to make itself available to a writer.
Also by Susan Wiggs
Contemporary Romances
HOME BEFORE DARK
THE OCEAN BETWEEN US
SUMMER BY THE SEA
TABLE FOR FIVE
LAKESIDE COTTAGE
JUST BREATHE
The Lakeshore Chronicles
SUMMER AT WILLOW LAKE
THE WINTER LODGE
DOCKSIDE
SNOWFALL AT WILLOW LAKE
FIRESIDE
LAKESHORE CHRISTMAS
THE SUMMER HIDEAWAY
Historical Romances
THE LIGHTKEEPER
THE DRIFTER
The Tudor Rose Trilogy
AT THE KING’S COMMAND
THE MAIDEN’S HAND
AT THE QUEEN’S SUMMONS
Chicago Fire Trilogy
THE HOSTAGE
THE MISTRESS
THE FIREBRAND
Calhoun Chronicles
THE CHARM SCHOOL
THE HORSEMASTER’S DAUGHTER
HALFWAY TO HEAVEN
ENCHANTED AFTERNOON
A SUMMER AFFAIR
One dark night,—
when people were in bed,
Old Mrs. Leary lit a lantern in her shed;
The cow kicked it over, winked its eye and
said”There’ll be a hot time
in the old town tonight.”
~Anon.,
quoted in the Chicago Evening Post
The Contact
What is the chief end of man?
—to get rich.
In what way?
—dishonestly if we can;
honestly if we must.
Mark Twain, 1871
The Setup
It was beautiful and simple
as all truly great swindles are.
~O. Henry
Annual income twenty pounds,
annual expenditure nineteen six,
result happiness.
~Charles Dickens
Prologue
Chicago
October 8, 1871
She looked older than her years from a lifetime of toil. The routine struggles of making her way in the world wore on her like the fading dye of her dimity dress. Up at dawn for the milking, feeding the hungry mouths that depended on her for every breath they took, keeping house, seeing to the livestock and navigating the unseen reefs and rocky shoals of everyday living had stolen her youth.
On a hot October night following a hot October day, Catherine O’Leary put the children down early. She washed up after supper, plunging her chapped and chafed hands into the tepid water. A high prairie wind roared through the shantytown that comprised her small world, across the river from the quiet, stately mansions of the grain barons and merchant princes. Her children had learned to sleep despite the boisterous, frequent celebrations of the McLaughlins next door. The neighbors were welcoming a cousin newly arrived from Ireland, and the thin, lively whine of fiddle music flooded through the open windows, causing the walls to vibrate. As she washed, Catherine tapped her sore, bare foot to match the rhythm of hobnail boots on plank floors emanating from the adjacent cottage.
Shadows deepened across the beaten-earth yard leading to the cow barn that housed the source of the family’s livelihood. Her husband was out back now, feeding and watering the animals. The dry, blowing heat caused brown leaves to erupt in restless swirls through the air. The wind picked up, sounding like the chug of a locomotive coming on fast.
Catherine dried her hands