True Heart's Desire (Colorado Hearts Book 2)

by Caroline Fyffe

  Freddie, a boy of six who had a clubfoot, came clumsily through the door first. He was one of her favorites. He held out his hands for inspection. When Sister Cecilia smiled and nodded, he shyly came a few inches nearer.

  “Come closer, Freddie.” Lavinia coaxed him with a smile. “Don’t be shy. You can have the first cookie.”

  His face lit up. Knowing the rules, he went promptly to the bench and took his seat. Lavinia set a large cookie on the napkin in front of him.

  “Cookies!” Others scrambled in and took their seats. Three girls and five boys, including twin brothers, five-year-olds of Italian descent, Alfio and Antonio, who’d ended up orphans when their parents took sick and died. They’d been sent up from an overcrowded orphanage in Santa Fe.

  Once the children were eating, Lavinia withdrew the three bonnets she’d made in the prior weeks. A murmur of appreciation went around the table, but not a child spoke out of turn.

  Lavinia held one up. “Well, what do you think?”

  “So purty,” little Brenda whispered, her fingers taking tiny pieces of her cookie to her mouth. She was only four, and the youngest. The nuns had several families in correspondence that were considering adopting the child.

  “I’m glad you think so, Brenda Blue Bird, because I made it just for you.” Lavinia turned it back and forth so the children could see the white eyelet lace and decorative trimmings. Being gentle, she set the soft pink bonnet on Brenda’s head and tied the bow beneath her chin, taking in the child’s wary gaze. No one really knew the child’s history, but her skittish behavior made them think it hadn’t been easy. Lavinia kissed her forehead. Something about this mishmash of orphans reminded her of her and her sisters. The five little girls set adrift when their mother took them away from Eden, then died, leaving them to be raised by the thieving Crowdaires. “It will keep the sun off when the weather warms up. I hope you like it.”

  Brenda nodded and smiled.

  “These are for you, Jackie and Judy. Matching yellow with blue bows, since you’re very good friends.”

  The boys sat stone-faced, eating their cookies and sure they’d been left out. Lavinia almost laughed. “You haven’t been forgotten, boys. I’d never do that.”

  She passed out five small sombreros she’d ordered from Emma’s store over a month ago and then done her work making each one different. The twins’ had brown velvet hatbands, which they were fingering at the moment. On Manuel’s she’d put a silky red hatband and hung little red balls of material at the end of a string all around the brim, knowing they probably wouldn’t last but a day. The children laughed when he put it on, but he seemed to like it. On Freddie’s she’d molded the crown so it had a crease like the men’s cowboy hats and sewed on a leather stampede string so he could hang it down his back. His eyes shined like gold and her heart squeezed. And for Miller, the oldest child, who’d been living here for many years, she’d fashioned a hatband from a rattlesnake skin she’d gotten from Trevor.

  “There! Is everyone accounted for?”

  The children cheered and thanked her profusely.

  Sister Cecilia again clapped her hands. “All right, now let’s not let this beautiful spring weather go to waste. Winter was long and you all need some sunshine. Out you go . . .” She gave Miller a direct look. “You’re in charge until Sister Agatha and I come out. Go on, now . . .”

  As soon as everyone was out the door, Sister Cecilia turned to her. “They will miss you when you go.”

  Straightening, Sister Agatha promptly went to the door. “I’m just on my way to see the goats. We don’t want them to feel left out of all the festivities.”

  Before Lavinia could stop her, Sister Agatha was gone. Mystified, she gazed at the nun by her side. “I’m not going anywhere.” She’d not told a soul about Mr. Hansberry. And sharing her hopes now, after her chance was over, would be too hurtful. The sight of all those sombreros and bonnets had cheered her, and now the truth of her squashed dreams came rushing back.

  Sister Cecilia went to the woodstove and fed the fire. “That was just my way of saying they appreciate all you do for them. Being they spend most of their days with us here at the orphanage, they enjoy an outsider, so to speak, taking an interest. They love you, Lavinia, never doubt that.”

  Here was her silver lining. Perhaps she wasn’t meant to leave Eden. Her beloved family was here, and the orphans, they depended on her. Everything about Eden was perfect . . . except . . .

  “Well,” she said to the sister, “I guess there is something I’d like to share.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  In the lobby of the hotel, Rhett waited nervously by the entrance to the café. Sunday and Monday had come and gone and Lavinia hadn’t ventured into town that he’d seen. Surely he’d run into her today, because early this morning she’d driven herself to town in a buggy. He couldn’t help but notice, being right across the street with nothing to do until he got some building supplies. If he could avoid her, he would, but the drifting aroma of hot coffee had lured him over. Trying to appear inconspicuous, he gazed at the pendulum clock on the far wall, wondering if he should just seat himself.

  Lavinia came through the kitchen door and pulled up the moment she saw him, her expression one of surprise and distaste. Startled for only a moment, she slowly approached.

  He’d have chosen a more private place for their first meeting since their discussion on the street, where he could properly apologize. Tell her how sorry he was that the mishap had happened in the first place. But he’d have to make do with here and now.

  “Mr. Laughlin.”

  “Miss Brinkman.”

  Four boisterous fellas entered behind him, passed by, and took a seat at a center table amid sliding chairs and laughter. Lavinia watched and appeared as if she were about to start away when Rhett said, “I was wondering if I might get some breakfast.” Yesterday he’d found a Mexican woman in the old part of town who sold beans and burritos, as well as other items. Today he needed something more substantial. He pushed his fingers through his hair, feeling much younger than his twenty-seven years. Would she turn him away?

  Miss Brinkman glanced at the many empty tables. “Yes, of course. Choose any table you’d like.”

  He dipped his head. “Thank you.”

  She turned to face him. “Actually, I thought you might be gone by now. There was a stagecoach yesterday, if I’m not mistaken. I’m surprised you’re still here.”

  As they spoke, she had to lift her chin to see into his face, the difference in their height substantial. “Are you planning to stay in Eden long?”

  The sheriff or Henry hadn’t told her his plans—they’d left the telling to him. “Actually, I’m making Eden my home.”

  He could tell she was struggling not to react to his news, but the pretty smile he’d been admiring a moment ago vanished and turned into a hard, flat line. He dreaded voicing the news that he knew he had to.

  “I’ve bought the building across the way.”

  Her gaze flew to the front door. “The building across the road?” she repeated, blinking. “Why?”

  That’s a darned good question.

  He nodded and gestured to the wall as if they both could see through it to the timeworn structure that represented his new life. After several hours checking the place over yesterday, and taking a good, hard look at what he might be able to accomplish with it, he’d signed papers with Henry, giving him half the owed amount. The attorney had legal authorization to lease or sell the building on behalf of its owner. Henry had actually warmed up to him, showed him around town, and introduced him to several of the other business owners as well as a handful of the locals.

  The word about what had transpired between him and Lavinia had spread. People either thought the whole incident amusing and had a few good laughs at his and Lavinia’s expense, or they appeared indignant, eyeing him as if he’d purposely set out to fool her for unscrupulous reasons.

  She sputtered and pointed. “Are we talking about the
same place?” She took two steps toward the door. “The Hungry Lizard Café?”

  He nodded. More than a few heads had turned their way. People were listening.

  “Yes, ma’am. The location is prime.” With the difference in their ages, she was more miss than ma’am, but he didn’t want to add to her ire. None of this could be easy for her.

  “What are you putting in?” She jabbed a finger. “In the old place.”

  Here was the blow that would forever wedge them apart. When he’d taken up with this idea, he’d known a Brinkman daughter had inherited the hotel café, but he hadn’t met Lavinia, or seen the depth of her eyes or how she bit her bottom lip when she was annoyed. He’d never known her heart-shaped face or noticed the tiny hourglass birthmark on the side of her neck. Those months ago, if you’d asked him if he cared that he’d be in competition with a Brinkman, he’d have smiled and said bring on the games. Now, standing in front of her dumbfounded face, he’d do anything to calm her annoyance at him. If taking a different place were possible, he’d do it. But this one was set up so nicely and came with a storage room full of chairs (in need of repair), several tables still usable, pots and pans, and some dishes. Enough to get him started. That was all he needed. Just a way and time to begin.

  “With the stage office right next to you, I figure the town could use another eatery. I hear you get pretty packed with a full stage, and sometimes there’s a wait.” He lifted a shoulder. “They say competition is good for business.”

  A deep V formed between her brows. The coffeepot, which must be considerably heavy, sagged in her hands. Her eye, the one that had once been angry and red, seemed completely healed, and for that he was glad. A thick braid cascaded down her back and was tied with a dark blue ribbon that matched her dress. In her face, he saw vulnerability hidden by a cold exterior. Was she scared? His stomach fell and his appetite vanished. He didn’t like to think it.

  “An eatery? In direct competition with me.” She swallowed and her nostrils flared slightly. He wouldn’t be surprised if she were counting to ten.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’d inquired about the building sometime before I arrived, and before we ever met. Corresponded with Henry Glass. So this has nothing to do with what transpired between us. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

  “Nothing has transpired between us,” she spat back, and then glanced furtively around.

  Sorry. Wrong choice of words.

  A couple at the window table got up, the man leaving a few coins beside his plate.

  “You’re right,” he replied, dipping his chin to the indignant-looking middle-aged woman who’d stopped to give Lavinia a hug.

  “That was as tasty as ever, Lavinia dear. We’ll be in tomorrow, just like we are every day.” That comment was leveled directly to his face, as if they would never set foot in the establishment of some woman wrecker.

  A wobbly smile appeared. “Thank you, Mrs. Wilkerson. I’ll be sure we bake fresh tomorrow, just for you.”

  Mr. Wilkerson waited for his wife outside the door, gazing across the street with interest. Women seemed much more loyal to their friend than did the men. Each and every one he’d voiced his plans to appeared eager for a new restaurant, somewhere different to sate his hunger.

  With the couple gone, Rhett wondered if his eating in her café would cause Lavinia undue distress. Maybe he should go back to the Mexican woman over her fire. “I can go elsewhere, if you’d prefer. Henry introduced me to a nice woman who does tortillas and meat. She’s not far at all. I’ve been taking my meals there but was in the mood for flapjacks. I need to fill this growing hole in my belly before I start lining up what I need to begin work on my own restaurant. Mr. Glass took care of the paperwork yesterday. I should have realized you’d not want to see me again.”

  Her expression darkened. “That’s silly. We’re going to have to get used to each other sooner or later.”

  Although he had no problem with her, her tone said that was the last thing she wanted to do. She led the way to the table by the window the waitress had just cleared and wiped.

  She looked around. “Where’s your dog?”

  Her tone had softened and the corners of her mouth had curled. “Waiting outside.”

  “He’s well trained.”

  “He is.” When he wants to be.

  “Remind me before you leave and I’ll find some scraps and bones for him.”

  “Thank you, that’s kind.” He tipped his head, remembering something he’d read in the newspaper articles—a tradition the girls had had growing up. “By the way, do you serve lamb on Tuesday evenings?”

  Her brows drew down sharply as she looked deep into his eyes.

  “I just, ah . . . really like lamb, and was hoping.”

  “We do, yes.” She gave him another long look and then hurried away.

  What a way to begin his new life. He’d had such plans on the trip out from San Francisco. Such hope. Anything to get past losing Shawn. The thoughts and plans formulated first on the train, and then on the rocking stagecoach ride to Eden had kept his mind off the sadness inside caused by leaving San Francisco, the salty air, and his pa. Those tragedies seemed a lifetime ago.

  He hadn’t been seated more than two minutes when Cash Dawson came through the door. Spotting Rhett, he came over to the table.

  “Mr. Laughlin,” he said, respect in his voice. “I heard what happened with Miss—”

  Before he had a chance to say Lavinia’s name, Rhett gestured for him to sit and lower his voice. “I’d rather not rub salt in the wound, Cash.”

  The boy’s face brightened in understanding. “’Nuff said. Just wanted to let you know I spoke with Maverick Daves—he’s my boss at the livery. If you need me, he’s agreed to let me off. As long as I don’t fall behind with my responsibilities. I heard you signed papers with Henry yesterday, and wanted to speak with you before you had a chance to hire someone else. If you give me a chance, I won’t let you down.”

  The boy, much younger than his looks, pushed a grain of salt around on the light blue tablecloth. Nerves pinched Rhett’s stomach. For some reason, the kid wanted this job, but he was young, like Shawn. Actually, much younger.

  “I’m doing this on my own, Cash, but I appreciate your offer.”

  His face fell.

  “If I change my mind, you’ll have the job. If you’re dependable.”

  A wide grin appeared. “I am!”

  Miss Brinkman walked up. “Cash. Did you want something to eat?”

  “No, thank you, ma’am. Just looking for Mr. Laughlin, being he’s a new business owner in Eden.”

  She blinked. “Oh, all right.”

  Her gaze slid to him as if to say, and now it starts. He wished he could put her fears to rest, but he couldn’t. He had no idea what tomorrow would bring, any more than she did.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Rhett jerked to a stop just before the heavy oak bridge leading to the lumber mill. His breath hissed through his teeth. He eyed Aspen Creek, the rushing tributary that was more river than creek that kept him from the timber office nestled amid the trees on the opposite bank. A large rock in the center of the waterway divided the current and created a mist. Dallas trotted over the bridge without concern.

  Rhett felt as if a gun were pointed in his face. His breathing doubled and sweat broke out over his body. His mouth dried to sand and his feet felt anchored to the spot. The sound of the river grew in his mind. Your fault. Your fault.

  His heart twisted. Shawn had stepped in for Rhett so he wouldn’t be fired for missing his shift. The day was typical, foggy and cold. A young boy had chased a ball into the docking area, where crates were piled too high. A strong gust of wind toppled the highest. Saving the child, his brother had taken a blow to his head and was knocked into the icy-cold water. Dallas plunged in to save him without success. Two agonizing days passed before they’d found Shawn’s body.

  Feeling eyes on him, Rhett drew his attention from the swirling current to find Mrs. Gonz
ales, the Mexican woman he’d bought food from, watching from down the road. He nodded and looked away—but still didn’t attempt to cross.

  The three days since his talk with Lavinia in the café had been busy. Avoiding her was easy—with his measuring and researching, he didn’t have time to search her out even if he’d wanted. When he needed something to eat, or a cup of hot coffee, he walked over to Mrs. Gonzales’s fire. Today, the March sun was lukewarm, but much warmer than a San Francisco spring.

  If he didn’t move soon, someone would notice. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the scents of the freshly milled lumber. They tickled his nose, brought a sense of relief as well as an outpouring of homesickness. He swallowed, gave a brief smile to Mrs. Gonzales, and then strode across the bridge—and away from his ghosts. On the other side, he let out the breath lodged in his lungs.

  At the moment, the saws were quiet and the rush of the river was all he heard. A buggy parked close to the office, the horse unharnessed and tethered in the shade of a tree, told him the woman he was looking for must be inside. He approached the office and pulled open the door.

  Katie Brinkman looked up from the front desk. Surprise crossed her face. She stood and glanced over her shoulder to the door to another room. “May I help you?” she asked.

  Her tone was icy.

  “I’m Rhetten Laughlin. I need to order some lumber. As well as roofing material. A number of things.”

  She slowly came forward. “Yes, I know who you are. I was with Lavinia when you admitted your true identity.”