Dear Miss Cucinotta

by Kit Morgan

  C.J. stared at him a moment as they rode. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “The MacDonalds are good people, son. I like them. Everyone does. Whenever they come to Clear Creek they do nothing but good. Now this Melvale character I’m not so familiar with, but he seems nice enough.”

  “I was just curious.”

  “You were suspicious,” Cyrus corrected. “And I suppose I’d be too if I were jealous.”

  “Jealous?” C.J. shot back.

  Cyrus laughed. “Son, you’re as jealous as they come. I saw the way you watched Miss Cucinotta watching Melvale yesterday. Anyone could.”

  C.J. groaned at how obvious he’d been. And if Cyrus saw it, who else did? The Weavers themselves must’ve been too wrapped up in everything going on at the time to notice, or one of them would have pulled him aside and given him a talking-to. “You’re right,” he sighed. “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But I don’t think I should …”

  “Of course you should,” Cyrus interrupted. “At least get to know her – there’s nothing wrong with that. And the two of you get to go look for the bird after supper. What better time to start?”

  “Cyrus, she’s here temporarily, just like me. What could come of it?”

  Cyrus brought his horse to a stop. “Now look here, young fellow, I know you’re in town so I can teach you a few things about business. But let me fill you in on a few things about love.”

  C.J. stopped his horse alongside him and sighed again. “I just don’t see the point. Besides, I doubt the two Mr. Weavers would take too kindly to my courting their relative.”

  “And what if she falls in love with you? They’d have to adjust, wouldn’t they?”

  “You sound pretty positive that she and I can make something happen.”

  “And why not? You’re a handsome, successful young man and she’s a beautiful young woman of marrying age. You’re here, she’s here. What can be more convenient?”

  “Is that how you met Polly?”

  “Never mind how we met. But the moment I saw her I knew I wanted to marry her.”

  C.J. leaned on horn of his saddle. “And how long did it take you to convince her?”

  “That’s another story. Suffice to say I fought for and won her heart. The rest is history – over fifty years’ worth.”

  “And what was your competition like?” C.J. asked dryly.

  Cyrus frowned. “Two other men, more handsome and more successful than I was at the time.”

  “Whatever happened to them?”

  “They both work for me. They’re my accountants back in Boston.”

  C.J. laughed. “I really want to hear that story.”

  “I’ll tell you one day. But all I’m saying is make the most of your time while you’re here. Get to know Miss Cucinotta and her family. Who knows what will grow from it? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  “You seem determined that I do. Any reason why?”

  “I just don’t want to see you pass up a chance to be happy. Besides, I’ve heard plenty of stories about the Weavers from Tom. He thinks very highly of them. If you brought a woman like that home to your grandfather, he’d have nothing to base a rejection on. I know his concerns, and she’s no gold digger. None of the Weavers are, according to Tom.” They started moving again.

  C.J. wanted to believe him, he really did. What man wouldn’t want to pursue a woman like Rufi Cucinotta – beautiful, witty, spirited, good with children. So what could it hurt to get to know her better? Hadn’t he already made up his mind he would last night?

  Before he knew it they were back at the ranch house, in the kitchen enjoying coffee and pie. C.J. stood to one side as Cyrus visited with Cozette, Sadie and Belle. An older couple entered and he was introduced to Jefferson Cooke and his wife Edith. Jefferson was the Cooke brothers’ stepfather.

  As he watched them talk about old times, his heart began to long for a home, a big family, children. All he had now was Grandpa Rufus. Even if he did marry, unless his wife had a good-sized family, he would never have what he saw in front of him at that moment. A part of him grieved for that absence, even as another part rejoiced in the possibility that it might someday be.

  “Doggone you Cyrus,” he muttered and took a bite of pie. The more he thought about it, the more Rufi was beginning to look like the perfect woman for him. Unfortunately, she only had eyes for the stunning Melvale. This brought him back to the same question as before. What could he do about it?

  When Rufi brought the children down to the hotel dining room for tea (something Mr. Brody urged them to partake in), the rest of the family was already there. “What a fun afternoon,” Charity commented, taking Truly from Rufi’s arms and smiling. “Did they behave?”

  “Of course,” Rufi said with a shrug and took a seat as Hugh and Thatcher ran to Calvin and Bella, squealing in delight. “Did you have fun too?” she asked Bella.

  Bella picked up Hugh and cuddled him. “Yes, it is a nice way to see the countryside. Alas, we did not find the bird.”

  “Ma and I didn’t have any luck either,” Harlan said. “But we’ll give it another go tomorrow. August told us he hasn’t seen their rooster for a while now, though Penelope thought she saw him a few weeks ago.”

  “Perhaps you and Mr. Branson will have better luck,” Bella told Rufi.

  Rufi glanced around the dining room as if Mr. Branson was about to jump out from underneath a table. And where was Melvale? She hadn’t seen him since breakfast. She looked at her sister and shrugged. “Maybe we will, maybe we won’t.”

  “What’s the matter with ya?” Calvin asked. “Stop mopin’ and start havin’ a good time like the rest of us.”

  “While you were having a good time, I was watching the children,” she replied pointedly.

  “Oh yeah,” Calvin said with a grimace. “Sorry ‘bout that. I guess Bella and me were havin’ so much fun, we forgot ‘bout ya and the younguns. But you’ll have yer chance for some fun after supper. Oughta be a nice warm evenin’.”

  Sally Upton bustled into the dining room pushing a teacart. “Well, well, you’re the first to arrive. I’ve got scones, cake and cookies to go with your tea.” She parked the cart by one of the tables and began to serve. “What’s all this business about everyone looking for Clyde?”

  “Shucks, Mrs. Upton,” Calvin said. “I thought ya’d know all ‘bout it by now.”

  “Not when Rosie and I work different shifts. And we didn’t have much time for talking this morning or this afternoon. All I know is some fancy city gentleman has the whole town looking for that rooster.”

  “His name’s Melvale,” Charity said, “and he says Clyde isn’t a rooster at all. He’s some sort of rare bird they intend to return to wherever it came from.”

  “You don’t say?” Sally poured Charity a cup. “How fascinating.”

  “Harlan and I had a grand time this morning,” Ma said. “The Bennetts have the loveliest little farm.”

  “Sure do,” Harlan agreed. “August said that Penelope and her sisters plan a trip to town to meet all of you, seeing as how Tom told us so many stories about them.”

  “They prob’ly wanna make sure they were all true,” Benjamin said with a laugh.

  Rufi sipped her tea and nibbled on a cookie. Once again she had the odd feeling of being an outsider. But why would that be? This was her family, after all. “I haven’t looked at my map yet,” she commented. “I don’t know where I’ll be searching.”

  “Best take a good look at it,” Harlan advised. “You start your turn right after supper.”

  She smiled and went back to her tea and cookie.

  Two cups and four cookies later, Mr. Branson and Cyrus entered the hotel. “Well, if it isn’t the Weavers!” Cyrus said with a grin. “How has your day been?”

  “Fine, Cyrus,” Harlan replied. “We took our turn looking for that bird. No luck yet, though.”

  Cyrus turned to Benjamin and Charity. “I apologize for Polly and I not
joining you – we got caught up visiting at the Cooke ranch.”

  “That’s all right,” Benjamin said. “Charity and me didn’t find nothin’ either, but we had a lot of fun lookin’.”

  “We had fun too,” Calvin added. “Mighty fine country ‘round here, Mr. Van Cleet.”

  Rufi sat up as she suddenly remembered. “Did Melv … er, Mr. Melvale have much to say while you were looking?”

  “He didn’t make it – we were on our own,” Calvin answered.

  She sank in her chair. But wait – if he didn’t go with Calvin and Bella, maybe …

  “Are you ready for our turn this evening?” Mr. Branson asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  Rufi’s cheeks went pink as she looked at him. “Oh, um, I suppose. But who will go with us?”

  His brow creased. Was he frowning at her? “I thought the McDonalds were joining us.”

  She faced the table with a shrug. “I only ask because no one’s been with who they were supposed to so far today. Why would it be any different with us?”

  “The MacDonalds are prompt,” Cyrus said. “I’m sure they’ll accompany the two of you as planned. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go see Polly. She hasn’t been feeling well lately as you know.” He turned to Mr. Branson. “Why don’t you join the others for tea? Have some refreshment, then rest before supper?”

  “You don’t need me for anything?”

  “No, you’ve helped me enough today, C.J. Thank you.”

  Mr. Branson shook Mr. Van Cleet’s hand. “Glad to be of service, sir.” He tipped his hat to the old man and watched him leave.

  “Here’s an empty chair, Mr. Branson,” Harlan waved at the one between himself and Rufi.

  Mr. Branson’s eyes flashed with something she didn’t recognize as he made his way around the table and sat. “I’ve gotten in the habit of afternoon tea since I’ve come here. Never done it before.” He looked at Rufi. “Have you?”

  “No. We don’t do such things on the farm. If we want a cup of tea we just make one.”

  “No need to get snippy with the poor man, Rufi,” Ma said. “For Heaven’s sake …”

  “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, Ma,” she said in her defense. “I was just telling him.”

  “It’s fine,” he said, hands up like he was surrendering. “I was the same way before I came to this town. If I wanted some coffee or tea, I just made a pot.”

  “They sure do things differently in Clear Creek,” Ma said. “But I like it.”

  “That they do, my dear,” Harlan said. “Including checkers. I’ve got games lined up this evening after supper.”

  “Yer playing checkers?” Benjamin smiled. “Like Tom told us ‘bout in his stories?”

  “Exactly,” Harlan said. “Cyrus pulled me aside last night and challenged me, so our first round’s tonight. And I aim to beat him like he stole something.”

  “Won’t that be fun?” Benjamin asked Charity.

  She rolled her eyes. “If not for the children, I think I’d tag along with Mr. Branson and Rufi.”

  “Don’t ya wanna watch Harlan and Mr. Van Cleet play checkers?” Calvin asked from the other table. “I do.”

  “I do not want to watch checkers,” Bella said. “Besides, you will make Harlan nervous.”

  Rufi glanced at Mr. Branson as her family continued to decide who would or wouldn’t watch the checker match. “Is your family always like this?” Mr. Branson asked quietly.

  “No. Most of the time they are much louder.”

  His eyes widened. “Then I guess a quiet evening of strolling through the countryside would be welcome.”

  Rufi hadn’t thought of that. She smiled at him. “You’re right. It will be.”

  Chapter Nine

  C.J. sat, a slice of cake in front of him. He’d had two pieces of pie at the Triple-C, so the last thing he needed was more sweets – too much sugar gave him headaches. Maybe he could ask Sally for a sandwich?

  “Are you looking forward to this evening?” Rufi asked. She seemed to be in a better mood. She also had no idea how much he was looking forward to their time together. He glanced at her with a smile. He’d take Cyrus’s advice and do his best to get to know her better, and if nothing came of it, the worst he’d suffer would be a little heartache. It’s not like he’d fall in love with her in the next day or two and have his heart broken.

  Which made him ask, “How long are you and your family in town?”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “That is not what I asked.”

  “No, but I want to know. If we’re going to be looking for the bird together …”

  “Oh, I understand.” She shrugged. “When Harlan decides to go back. A week, a month? It’s hard to tell.”

  “I see. Well, if after two or three weeks we can’t find Mr. Melvale’s bird, I suppose he’ll be on his way.”

  She stared at the table. “Yes, I’m sure he will. Why would he stay?”

  C.J. studied her. He had his work cut out for him. But when in Rome, no pun intended … “Where do you suppose he’s from?”

  Her head came up and she straightened in her chair. “I was wondering the same thing. That odd accent …”

  “Exactly.” He leaned toward her. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again – I’ve never heard one like it. Should we try asking him?”

  She glanced at her family. “We could, since we didn’t do it last night. I suppose it wouldn’t be rude to do so at this point.”

  “Shame on us. What rotten Pinkertons we’d make.”

  “What is a Pinkerton?”

  “A private detective, a sheriff of sorts. One hires them to find out things.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of those.” She took a sip of tea and he thought he might die. She had the most perfect lips … “I was hoping he’d come with us so we could find out more about him,” she went on. “But we could ask the MacDonalds.”

  “I don’t see why not. The three of them seem to be friends.”

  She leaned toward him now, glancing around as she did. “You don’t suppose he has … a past, do you? Maybe some reason he doesn’t want anyone to know where he’s from?”

  But you want to know all about him, don’t you? he thought to himself. “Well,” he said with a slow nod, “that’s a definite possibility. You might want to be prepared for not getting an answer. Or getting one you don’t like …”

  “What are you two whispering about over there?” Harlan asked. “Don’t tell me Rufi’s talking you into some fiendish plan of hers?”

  C.J. smiled and eyed her. “Fiendish?”

  “He’s teasing.” She stuck her tongue out at Harlan.

  “Rufi!” her sister gasped “Mind your manners in front of the gentleman.”

  She shrugged, rolled her eyes and sat back.

  C.J. was still stuck on that word. “So, Mr. Hughes, just what type of things does she do that are so fiendish?”

  Everyone at both tables laughed. Rufi crossed her arms. “Don’t get them started.”

  C.J. grinned, thoroughly enthralled. “Oh I don’t mind listening to a few of your escapades.”

  She sat up straight and jabbed a thumb into her chest. “I mind!” She waved a hand at her family. “So don’t any of you tell him anything!” This only sent the Weavers into fits of laughter, and she threw her hands in the air and began yelling at them in Italian.

  C.J. laughed and slapped the table, unable to help it. He could get used to this – it was more fun than seeing the Cooke brothers’ reunion earlier. Family gathered around a table (or two) enjoying afternoon tea and sweets, laughing, joking, telling stories – maybe this was what had been missing from his life.

  “Oh, here you are.”

  C.J. looked up to find Mrs. MacDonald approaching their table, and stood. Then he noticed none of the other men did.

  Rufi looked at him, then her relatives. “You are a gentleman,” she whispered.

  He smiled. “Mrs. MacDonald, would you like to sit down?”

&
nbsp; “No, thank you, Mr. Branson. I just came by to find out what time you and Miss Cucinotta would like to set out.”

  “After supper, yes?” Rufi asked.

  “Immediately after?” Mrs. MacDonald said.

  She glanced up at C.J., and his heart skipped a beat. “Fine with me,” he replied.

  Rufi turned back to Mrs. MacDonald. “Then yes.”

  “Good. Dallan and I will see you then.”

  “Aren’t you eating supper here?” Rufi asked.

  “No, we’ll be eating with the Van Cleets in their rooms.” Mrs. MacDonald smiled at everyone. “Until this evening.” She left.

  C.J. took his seat again. “Well, now we know they’ll be there,” he told Rufi, his voice low. “Maybe we should make a list of questions to ask them.”

  Her eyes brightened. “What a good idea!”

  “There they go again with their whispering,” Harlan commented.

  “We are not whispering!” Rufi said loudly. Sure enough, the Weavers flew into hysterics again.

  C.J. laughed right along with them. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose his heart to more than the Italian beauty seated next to him. He might lose it to the whole family. And that sort of heartbreak might prove far worse.

  He finished his tea and excused himself (as hard as it was) after agreeing to meet Rufi right after supper. They wanted to spend a few minutes organizing their questions for the MacDonalds as to Melvale’s origins. For now, he had an appointment with Doc Waller.

  “Howdy, C.J.,” Grandma said when she opened her front door. “Here to see Doc?”

  “Yes, Grandma. Your barn needs a few repairs?”

  “Got some bad floorboards, and some side boards need to be replaced. It’s not a big barn, but it needs upkeep.” She opened the door wide.

  C.J. stepped inside and spied Bowen in the parlor with his wife Elsie. “Good afternoon, Dr. Drake.”

  “Hello, Mr. Branson.”

  “What’s this ‘Mr. Branson’ talk?” Grandma said. “Call him C.J. like the rest of us.”

  Bowen smiled, looking as if he’d been roused from deep thought. “Sorry, Grandma. C.J. it is, then.”