Tycoon Read Online Free PDF Page B

cars. Take your time.”
    The idea of food caused her stomach to roil. She fought the nausea, swallowing. “Thank you,” she forced out.
    He chuckled and, a few seconds later, a door slammed at the other end of the car. Gingerly, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the mattress, holding her head with both hands to prevent it popping off. Her mouth tasted terrible, fuzzy and sour. She stepped carefully to the water closet, cursing the sway of the train along the way. Once she saw to her needs, she splashed water on her face, and rinsed out her mouth. What she wouldn’t give for a bath....
    Ted had said there were things for her in the outer room. A bath wouldn’t be one of them, of course, but hopefully there was something to ease this hideous pain.
    Grabbing the heavy cover off the bed, she wrapped herself in the fabric from head to toe. Though Ted had promised privacy, she wasn’t about to prance around in her shift. Better to exercise caution, just in case. Cracking the door, she peered into the empty sitting area. No Ted, but there were boxes on the floor . . . like the ones that came from stores when you purchased clothes. And quite a number of them, from what she could see.
    Drawing closer, she saw a note on the low rosewood table. Her name had been scrawled on the outside. Inside, it read:

    Clara,
    I cabled ahead last night and had these things readied for you. I guessed on the sizes, so I’m not sure if all will be acceptable, but I wanted to do something to show my appreciation for your help with the Webbers.
    Â 
    Sincerely yours,
Ted
    Â 
    P.S. Drink the contents of the glass on the table. It’s a Prairie Oyster, and while it smells and tastes foul, you will feel better instantly. Trust me.

    The small glass contained a brownish liquid and . . . a raw egg? Her stomach balked, yet she lifted the glass. Unfortunately, she made the mistake of smelling the contents. “Oh!” she said and held the glass as far away as possible. The drink was pungent, to say the least. But he’d promised it would help and she trusted him.
    She pinched her nose and tossed the contents back. A slippery lump in her mouth, the egg nearly made her gag, yet she forced herself to swallow. Her throat immediately protested at the spice as heat licked all the way down to her belly. Tears sprung to her eyes, her breath stolen away. Good Lord, it tasted worse than it smelled. With a full-body shiver, she dragged in some air.
    When she’d recovered, she turned her attention to the boxes littering the floor. No one had ever purchased this many things for her at one time. Her family had not been wealthy and, with so many children, money had always been tight. There were more gifts here than the entire Dobson family received at Christmastime.
    Biting her lip, Clara knelt, threw the blanket off her shoulders, and attacked the boxes like a Viking berserker. When everything had been opened, she could only stare. There were three ensembles—one blue wool skirt and matching shirtwaist, a dark green striped satin afternoon dress, and a silver silk brocade and satin dinner dress—accompanied by matching stockings, petticoats, garters, and gloves. He’d even purchased a corset, chemise, and drawers, as well as a toothbrush and Dr. Sheffield’s Tooth Powder. Rocking back, her behind hit the floor, hard.
    Emotion welled to expand her chest. This was . . . too much.
    Though she was humbled by the gifts, Clara was no fool. Gifts from men came with expectations. The last time she’d received a present, the young man believed she owed much more than a peck on the cheek in appreciation.
    Therefore, she would accept these things and find a way to repay Ted later. She would find a job in Missouri, save her money, and send him whatever she could to make up for the cost.
    Selecting the morning attire and the necessary underthings, she retreated to the sleeping area, where she locked the door as