True Heart's Desire (Colorado Hearts Book 2)

by Caroline Fyffe

  Lavinia jerked back as if she’d been slapped. Her hand flew to her throat, and tears sprang to her eyes. Her mouth opened and closed several times, reminding Rhett of the nets filled with fish they’d pulled from the ocean. He wondered if in Eden his offense merited jail.

  But the sheriff didn’t look in any way ready to arrest him. To the contrary, there was a humorous tilt to his lips, and his eyes twinkled.

  “You, sir, are no gentleman!” Lavinia spat, her eyes snapping with anger. “You should have corrected the misunderstanding at once. But you didn’t, and I think you actually enjoyed yourself.”

  Her assessment of him was the understatement of the year. “In defense of myself, I must remind you I never once claimed to be a doctor, and was reluctant to come into your room. If you recall, you tugged me up the stairs with a badger hold on my arm, while jabbering in my ear.”

  Fear flashed in her eyes. A red line began at the base of her throat and slowly worked its way up her face until even her forehead glowed crimson. Is she remembering the same things I am? Slipping off her robe? Clutching my arm for balance as she stepped into her dress . . .

  “And then, even though I tried to refuse, when it was time to get dr—”

  “—the hot oil!” she screeched, interrupting what he was about to say. “To get the hot oil for my eye. Yes, you kindly complied. I do need to remember that when I feel myself getting angry.”

  So she didn’t want him to spill the beans about helping her with her clothes. That was fine with him. But the memories of her standing before him in nothing but her corset, pantaloons, and stockings brought heat to his face as he recalled how pretty she looked in her soft undergarments. That was a sight he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

  The older woman looked aghast. “I fear this mix-up is all my fault. I was the one to see you get off the stagecoach and tell Lavinia the new doctor had arrived. I can’t say how utterly sorry I am.”

  Without another word, Lavinia spun on her heel and bolted away. Her sisters and the other woman followed, leaving him and the two men standing in the street.

  The taller of the two lifted a shoulder so, Rhett was sure, he’d see the star pinned to his shirt. “I’m Sheriff Clint Dawson. If you’re not the doctor, who exactly are you? And what is your business in Eden?” He gazed at Rhett through intelligent, narrowed eyes.

  “Name’s Rhetten Laughlin. I’m here about starting a business. A restaurant.” He nodded to the old building and then looked at Henry. “In that building in particular.”

  The other man brightened. “Mr. Laughlin! I’m Henry Glass, the person who returned your telegram. I didn’t put two and two together because you’re early and I’ve been busy with the wedding.”

  Rhett reluctantly stuck out his hand and the men shook. This was not the way he’d pictured his new beginning.

  Dawson followed suit.

  “I see you made the trip from San Francisco without problem. Welcome to Eden.”

  “Thank you. But now I seem to have landed myself in more trouble than I can fix.” He glanced down the street in the direction that Miss Lavinia Brinkman and her corset—her cohorts—had gone. “I never set out to fool Miss Brinkman. On the contrary. She single-handedly captured me in the vacant hotel lobby and dragged me up to her room. I can say honestly, nothing untoward happened besides that I lent her my assistance with her eye.”

  And helped her into her clothes. I hope she has the presence of mind not to say anything about that to anyone. If she keeps her mouth closed about the affair and so do I, no one will be the wiser.

  Sheriff Dawson didn’t look entirely convinced, but Mr. Glass smiled, giving Rhett hope that not all was lost.

  “She’ll get over the shock,” he said, glancing at the sheriff. “Someday.”

  “I hope it’s before she has the chance to turn the whole town against me. I know about the Brinkman sisters. I know how the town loves ’em.”

  Dawson stepped forward, his concerned expression reappearing. “Oh? How might that be, Mr. Laughlin?”

  He’d gone and said too much. “Newspaper in San Francisco ran a series of articles. The San Francisco Daily Call, to be exact. Told how John Brinkman enticed his daughters back to town. Kept them here for six months. The inheritance. Wanted them to make the place their home.”

  The sheriff glanced at Henry and then back at him. “That’s a lot of personal information. I wonder how many other men will find their way here in hope of landing a big fish. I don’t recall any reporters sniffing around last year. I don’t like this at all.”

  Henry scowled. “No, neither do I. The girls won’t be pleased. I wonder who put out the story in the first place. I’d certainly like to know.”

  “More than casual facts,” Rhett went on. “Some of a delicate nature, embarrassing, actually, more than I would think printable, filled the pages.” Rhett switched his weight to his opposite leg as Dallas sniffed around Dawson’s boots. “Occurrences dating back years.” He shook his head, still marveling at the detail the paper had gone into. “That’s what made the articles so captivating—almost like a dime novel. People lined up on Sundays wanting to get the papers hot off the press. Unless all the details were fiction, they made for interesting reading. We had no way of knowing.”

  “We?”

  Rhett felt a twinge of anger. He’d rather divulge information in his own time. He simply said, “My brother and myself.”

  The sheriff watched Rhett with a critical squint. “We better keep this information quiet until I have a chance to investigate. Did you bring these newspapers? Can I see them?”

  He nodded. “I’ll bring them by your office when I get unpacked.”

  “Thanks. You have an interest in the sisters?” Dawson asked.

  Rhett quickly put up a hand. “No. Matrimony’s not my intent at all. But if courting one of them was my aim, the fact wouldn’t be your business to worry about, now would it, Sheriff?” Explaining his reasons for wanting to move to town galled him. As far as he knew, Colorado was a free country, or had been the last time he’d checked.

  Sheriff Dawson just stared.

  “Let me repeat. I have no interest in the Brinkmans. But I am interested in the men their situation will attract. Their inheritance will be tempting to a lot of fellas who aim to capitalize on their good fortune.” He rubbed a palm over his mouth. “Nothing more. And speculation’s not a crime. If Miss Brinkman is embarrassed over what happened, she has no one to blame except herself.”

  “Mr. Laughlin is what he claims to be,” Henry Glass said to Dawson. “A new merchant for Eden. I’m sure he won’t be the last to arrive, Clint, and we may as well prepare ourselves. Eden is growing. And maybe faster than we expected.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lavinia marched through the front door of Mademoiselle de Sells, tracked through the restaurant, ignoring astonished looks from the wedding guests, and continued out the back door, intending to keep going until she once again reached the hotel, where she could shut herself away. Where nobody would see her. Stare at her. Snicker behind their hands. In her blind rush to escape Mr. Laughlin and the embarrassing situation, she’d turned and marched back the way she’d come before realizing her best recourse was to seek solitude in her room.

  Shame and mortification squeezed her lungs, making any rational thought impossible as she strode forward, her gaze glued to the cobblestones. Rhett Laughlin was not a doctor! He was some, some man whom she’d allowed to see her in her corset and stockings. No, not just that, she’d begged him for help dressing. The warmth of his skin beneath her fingers as she balanced on his arm was burned into her mind.

  In a matter of minutes, the news would be everywhere! She’d told Belle and Mavis her intentions of finding the new doctor and returning with him to introduce him around, but that was only after she’d told half the merchants, their wives, and the town council. She’d felt a bit prideful, being the first to meet him and welcome him to town. When he hadn’t showed, she’d joked he must have
been too shy to come on his own.

  Fiddlesticks!

  Shy? Why, he was a predator, sneaking around to deflower any unaware young woman silly enough to fall for his tricks. How easily he could have taken advantage of her. Alone, in her room, in the deserted hotel, only her corset and bloomers between them.

  Far off, the peaks of the mountains watched over the town as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t just made such a fool of herself.

  But Mr. Laughlin was a gentleman. If there is any blame to be leveled, it’s at yourself.

  “Lavinia, wait!”

  She turned.

  Emma was close on her heels and quickly halving the distance between them. She grasped Lavinia’s arm and pulled her around. “What’re you doing?”

  “I can’t stay in there another minute. I’ve told everyone what a wonderful man Dr. Laughlin is. Or was! How he came to my room. How gentle his hands are. How patient he is, what a splendid doctor Eden has acquired. That the children will love him. My gosh, I’ve all but put him up for sainthood—and now this! I’m so embarrassed, I want to die. I’ll never be able to show my face again.” She gulped in two deep breaths, and her eyes filled. “W-what am I g-going to do, Emma? I’m ruined.”

  “Just stop. You’re making this into something much larger. You’re not ruined and you’re not a fool. You made a mistake, is all. Everyone does.” Emma wiped away the fat tear that had slipped down Lavinia’s cheek. “What happened isn’t the end of the world. Like you said, nothing occurred between the two of you. But please, you have to come back inside, Lavinia. You can’t run out on Belle and Blake’s wedding reception.”

  Choking down her shame, Lavinia lifted a noncommittal shoulder. “They won’t even notice I’m gone.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course they will. It’s their special day. If they see you’ve left, they’ll wonder why. And feel bad. Don’t you see? You must come back and help celebrate. If the tables were turned, you wouldn’t want Belle running off to hide. We all stand together. And we all stand behind you. You have to believe that.”

  No adequate words came to mind. Her mind twirled mercilessly, like an umbrella blown away by the wind.

  Emma’s right. I must go back to the party with my head held high. There’s no other option. “I will for Belle.”

  Emma smiled. “And Blake.”

  “Endure the looks and the smiles. That can’t be so hard,” Lavinia whispered.

  She’d been so stupid. She wished she could melt away. This would be a good time for her to get on a stage and head back to Philadelphia and beg Mr. Hansberry for that apprentice spot. No one here would miss her, and especially not bold Mr. Laughlin. She swallowed down her embarrassment.

  “Lavinia?”

  What was she supposed to do with her life now that her millinery dreams were most likely dashed? All her sisters had settled in, found their niche here in Eden. But she’d held on to the knowledge that change was just around the corner. That as soon as the papers were signed for the ranch, she’d be on her way back to Philadelphia for the summer apprenticeship. The waiting period for the ranch ran out in only twenty-one more days, and two days after that was her twentieth birthday. She’d planned to tell her sisters about the apprenticeship after the ink was dry on the contract. She’d had a secret, a wonderful, happy secret that had kept her going. And now . . .

  She squared her shoulders. “You’re absolutely right, Emma. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should stop worrying about myself so much and lift my chin.” She had no other option. She couldn’t hide away in the hotel or out at the ranch for the rest of her life.

  As they returned to the restaurant, Lavinia forced a smile on her face and resolved to take the whole matter as a joke. What else can I do? At least Rhetten Laughlin wasn’t at the wedding party. She’d get through this day just fine. She was a Brinkman. Little setbacks like this didn’t bother them in the least.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The next day, Lavinia drew the buggy to a stop in front of the Spanish-style stucco building of the Mother of Mercy Orphanage. The yard was spotlessly clean, as she knew it would be, considering Sister Cecilia’s penchant for order. Aspens lined the long, winding driveway, and seven fruit trees dotted the front yard, their branches laden with small buds. The children would be out back playing in the fresh air at this time, Sunday service long past. Or perhaps in the barn with the cow and goats.

  Peace.

  She closed her eyes and raised her face to the sun, already feeling lighter than she had since before that wretched Rhett Laughlin had made her a laughingstock, before Mr. Hansberry’s belated letter had dashed her dreams. It felt wonderful to be outside, away from her sisters, the ranch hands, and life. She blinked her left eye a few times, pleased not to feel any twinge of pain, though she did feel a twinge of guilt. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the tall, handsome stranger had been her hero. For that, she was grateful.

  Lavinia straightened her small lavender hat and then carefully descended to the ground. She gathered the box from behind the buggy seat and made her way to the front door, letting herself in. Aromas of warm bread, sugary syrup, and coffee hung on the air. She set the box on the long pine table that took up a good portion of the front room and crossed to the back door.

  Hardly a moment passed before the alarm went up.

  “Miss Lavinia!”

  Jackie’s high-pitched voice brought a surge of happiness. The eight-year-old with long, curly red tresses dropped the rake she was holding and dashed forward, a broad smile revealing her missing front tooth. It wasn’t a baby tooth, which broke Lavinia’s heart.

  All heads popped up, swiveled around, or nodded in her direction. Children scurried forward, followed by her dear friend Sister Cecilia and a younger Sister Agatha. The younger nun had arrived at the orphanage last year shortly before the sisters had come to Eden.

  In seconds, Lavinia was surrounded. Here she could breathe, and smile. It was as if nothing had happened.

  “Children, children,” Sister Cecilia called, clapping her hands. “Some of you have been in the garden. Be sure not to share your love of earth with our dear Lavinia and soil her pretty dress.”

  The nun’s words were full of affection. In all the months Lavinia had been helping out at the orphanage, she’d never once heard the woman lose her temper, her tone always as soft as flower petals.

  “Hello, hello.” Lavinia laughed as the children snuggled near. Jackie wrapped her in a strong embrace, laying her head on Lavinia’s chest. The others enfolded their arms around anything they could get ahold of. They had so much love to give.

  The two nuns stood back, grinning from ear to ear. Their brown habits were tied at the waist by a leather cord and their rounded white collars were spotless. Their sleeves were wide at the wrist to make working easy. White veils covered their hair and flowed over their shoulders, ending at the backs of their knees. A white cross hanging on a thin leather cable around their necks was their only adornment. They were beautiful.

  “I think they missed you, Lavinia,” Sister Agatha said, a few wisps of chestnut hair showing at her forehead. Twenty-three, Mavis’s age, and almost half the age of Sister Cecilia, the slight woman had professed her vows two years before. “This is a delightful surprise.”

  Where Sister Agatha was beautiful, spirited, and capricious, with the most gorgeous blue eyes Lavinia had ever seen, Sister Cecilia was handsome, steadfast, and wise. The older nun, slight in stature, wore round, wire-rimmed glasses and an endearing smile. Lavinia had no idea what color hair she had, because none was ever showing. The two were a perfect mix for the children in residence. Both were educators, in both material and spiritual matters, and took their jobs seriously, but they were also extremely fond of music and dance, incorporating singing and movement in most of the chores needed to keep everything running smoothly. The orphanage was a happy place.

  “A surprise for me as well,” Lavinia answered, tremendously glad she’d made the decisi
on to bring the new bonnets and hats she’d made for the girls and boys out today. A dose of this was what she needed to get her thinking back on track. She’d lain awake all night going over and over yesterday’s events. Thoughts of Philadelphia and her future. But worse, she’d finally fallen asleep hours after midnight and dreamed of Rhett Laughlin, with his piercing blue eyes and whiskey-deep voice. The memory was shadowy, but she thought they might have even kissed! She reached up and touched her lips, remembering how with the arrival of morning she’d been exhausted and confused. “Come inside,” she said. “I’ve brought something for everyone.”

  Excited cries went up.

  Sister Agatha held up a hand. “Before entering, remove your dirty shoes and wash your hands.”

  Shivering with excitement, the children dashed away, plopped down on the flagstones to untie their sturdy black boots and set them neatly, toes into the wall, next to the house. A line formed at the outside sink, and Miller, the oldest boy at twelve, thrust the pump handle up and down.

  Sister Cecilia smiled and ushered her and Sister Agatha out of the brisk afternoon chill to the main room, where a small fire burned in the woodstove. They went to Lavinia’s box of goodies.

  First, Lavinia carefully extracted a cloth-covered plate. “Ada, the young woman who helps with the house, made these,” she said, lifting the fabric to reveal several dozen molasses cookies. “If this visit wasn’t so spontaneous, I’d have baked a cake as well.”

  “They look wonderful,” Sister Cecilia said. “The children can have one now and more after supper for dessert. That was very kind of you.”

  Lavinia could never do enough for these little ones. She came often, to help with schooling, or gardening, and many times the meals. She never threw anything out at the restaurant, but instead brought leftovers here. Sometimes they took nature walks, or trips out to the ranch, or into town. The nuns were careful picking good homes, when homes were available. They’d told Lavinia that often orphans were looked at as free labor, and were taken in as farm or ranch help, not to be raised as a cherished son or daughter. Some of the children were what some people considered unadoptable, with a problem or disfigurement. Lavinia was dedicated to finding a way to help them all, more than just monetarily, if she could.