The love in Lara’s eyes was so real, Lavinia had to cross the room and take her into her arms. “Having you in Eden for the wedding meant so much to Belle and the rest of us. Thank you for coming.”
She pulled back with a laugh, so typical for Lara when a situation became emotional. She didn’t seem to know how to handle sentiment, unlike the Brinkmans. “Mother and Father were delighted to get me out from under their feet for a few weeks. They’re amazed at the turn of events as well.”
Karen pushed through the door, her face shiny from exertion. She glanced around and smiled. “Is lunch made for Mavis and the men at the livery?”
“Yes. I’m putting on the finishing touches right now.” Lavinia wrapped the three large sandwiches she’d made in clean napkins and set them into the basket with three slices of pie and a small crock of coffee. On days Mavis spent at the barn, getting dirty, she’d request a meal delivered for her, Maverick, and Cash. “I’ll take the basket over in a few minutes. I’m surprised Mavis is spending so much time at the livery, but I’m glad. The air is fresh and clean, and she works outside. Seeing her glow with health after being shut away in her accounting job for so many months is nice. The change in scenery has helped her get past the loss of Darvid.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Lara asked. She plucked an apron from the hook on the wall and slipped the garment over her head. Reaching back, she tied a bow and, with a folded dishcloth, lifted the heavy coffeepot from the stove.
Scandalized, Lavinia rushed forward. “No. You’re a guest. Karen and I have been taking care of this for months. And for some time, she did the job on her own, with just one cook.”
Lara tottered under the weight. Her arms were soft and silky, not used to any kind of work. “Where’s your cook now?” she asked.
“He’s only here during the busiest times.” Karen lifted the lid of the kettle on the stove, picked up the wooden spoon off the dish on the counter, and gave the stew a gentle stir. “The lunch rush is over, and it’ll be some time before many diners arrive for supper.”
Determined to fill the coffee cups, Lara turned back. “Humor me. I aim to learn as much as I can about living in the West. This morning I went out to the barn with Belle, and she taught me to saddle a horse. Imagine that. Me, flopping on the saddle blanket and pulling the under thing tight.” Her smile was bright.
“That’s called a cinch.”
“Yes, well. Not that I’d be able to accomplish the chore on my own anytime soon, but hopefully by the time I leave. I think my two younger brothers will be well impressed upon my return.” She winked her long, dark lashes and was about to go through the swinging door with the coffeepot in her hands, but paused. “Vin, I just had the most fantastic idea!” She placed the pot on the wooden floor and clapped her hands. “Why don’t you turn the Five Sisters into a travel destination? A resort. A place to visit for fresh air and healthy constitutions.”
Lavinia humored her with a laugh. “What on earth are you suggesting?” She glanced at Karen, who looked as shocked as Lavinia felt.
“You remember hearing about White Sulphur Springs in West Virginia? Rich people go there for a reprieve from the heat and coal-filled air of the cities. Well, on my trip out here, I actually heard someone speaking about visiting a cattle ranch to ride horses and camp out. They’re willing to pay to have a Western experience. One fellow told another that a cattle ranch in North Dakota had opened their doors to Easterners. Their ranch hands take guests on hunting and fishing trips, or just plain horseback riding in the mountains. Supposedly they have a steady stream of Easterners willing to pay a couple of dollars a day just to drink coffee brewed over a campfire, sleep under the stars, and see some authentic Indian artifacts. Think about that, Vin! That’s a lot of money.” She glanced at Karen. “Can you envision what I’m suggesting?”
Karen mumbled something noncommittal.
Lara’s smile stretched from ear to ear. She was always at her best when organizing something outlandish. She was the only girl in her family, with three brothers, one older and two younger. She’d told Lavinia often that she longed for female companionship within her family. Her mother, as delightful as she was, was totally dedicated to Lara’s father and the two did everything together, almost as if the children didn’t exist. Lara had been raised by a string of nannies. If the Brinkmans could provide a sense of family for her, Lavinia was more than happy to oblige.
“After my trip here,” Lara went on as if the coffeepot on the floor was a natural thing, “with the buckboards, calves, and horses, not to even mention the handsome ranch hands—I’ve been contemplating booking my own visit to that North Dakota ranch.” She tapped her temple. “I wish I could remember the name. Anyway, when I do, I’ll sleep under the stars while a fine-looking cowboy strums his guitar and sings some sad song about his long-lost love. Last night as I stood on my bedroom balcony, I heard a song just like that coming from your bunkhouse. The velvety voice put gooseflesh on my arms.” She waved her hand to the back window that had a view of the distant San Juan Mountains. “That’s gold ready to be mined, Vin. You’re already in the Rockies! And your old homestead would be perfect. It’s vacant now that you have the new house. With a little work, think how quaint the place would be! Wouldn’t that be a nice tribute to your mother and father? That’s where your family started.” Her face glowed with excitement.
Lavinia was sure she was completely serious. Lara wanted to bring outsiders into their home for money. That sounded so strange. “I think the ranch hands just might have something to say about escorting citified people around by the nose.” She shook her head. “We’d have a mutiny on our hands. They’d all quit if they had to entertain such a notion.”
Lara flashed her saucy smile. “I don’t know about that. Every time I’m at the barn or corral, I find myself surrounded by not one but several attractive, single men competing to do my bidding, show me around, or make sure I’m having a nice visit. I think they were born to the position.”
Lavinia blinked as she felt her face warm. Was Lara right? Could the Five Sisters become a resort, so to speak? What a fascinating idea.
Karen, who’d been quietly listening, snapped her open mouth closed. “John Brinkman, what have you done?” she whispered, before turning back to the counter to put the dirty dishes she held into the sink. “This town will never be the same.”
Lara laughed. “It’s not all that bad, Karen. You’ll see. The wheels are turning in your mind, Vin. You can’t hide that from me.” She lifted the heavy coffeepot back into her hands. “The income might someday overshadow the big dollars you’re bringing in with the cattle. But don’t wait too long. Right now, you’ll be one of the first to open your doors to the public.” With a flouncing of her skirt, Lara was gone.
Karen blinked. “My! That girl has a runaway imagination.”
Lavinia turned to Karen and felt a smile growing on her face. “One thing about Lara, she is determined, but she also flames out quickly. You can see why, with the way she exudes energy. When she gets tired, I’ll make sure she rests in my room upstairs, so she’s not too worn-out.”
“Not too worn-out to present her great notion . . .”
“Actually, I think she’s onto something. On the trip out from Philadelphia, we spoke about the difference a woman’s touch could bring to a ranch—not that we knew then we’d inherit one, we were just passing the time. But a woman does have attributes to contribute in the West, to make the place better. Ideas. Dreams.”
Lavinia let those thoughts linger in her mind. Maybe her millinery ambitions weren’t all she had to offer. Maybe she did have a future here . . .
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rhett didn’t know why he felt so nervous about speaking with Mrs. Applebee, except that she was the oldest Brinkman and he’d received more than a few censorious glances from her since he’d been in town.
I shouldn’t have a guilty conscience. I didn’t touch Mrs. Applebee’s sister in any inappropriate wa
y. I was a perfect gentleman—well, maybe not perfect, but a gentleman indeed.
Right. He could tell himself that until he was blue in the face, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d stood next to nineteen-year-old Lavinia in her undergarments and enjoyed every moment. His thoughts hadn’t been completely innocent, but what man’s would? He shouldn’t be so hard on himself.
And Lavinia was a beauty. And sweet too. Henry Glass surely sung her praises. And Rhett had experienced that firsthand in the café—as embarrassed as she’d been over the incident, she hadn’t thrown him out of her establishment or refused to serve him. She’d also gone out of her way to make sure Dallas had some fresh bones. She didn’t have to do that.
“Dallas,” he called to Shawn’s dog, who trotted ahead on the road. As well behaved as Dallas was, if the dog caught sight of some small animal, he’d bolt.
Without looking back, Dallas stopped in his tracks and waited for him to catch up. Once Rhett was alongside, he continued as if a command hadn’t been given. Sometimes it felt like Dallas had read his mind. They passed a quiet butcher shop and then the gun shop. He’d ventured to Colorado without a weapon, but had been thinking of purchasing one. Some men wore a gun on their hip every day, like Sheriff Dawson. Others had a Winchester in their wagon. He was new. He’d best take heed.
“Bonjour, Monsieur.”
He turned to find a young woman wearing a quaint farmer’s dress and white apron. A triangular, blue-paisley kerchief covered some of her blond curls, and a small cape covered her shoulders. She wore a wide smile and her pretty eyes were filled with curiosity.
Dallas stopped by his side as they waited for her to catch up. “Hello.”
“You are Mr. Laughlin. I’ve heard much about you.”
He stuck out his hand and they shook. “You’re correct. But you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know who you are.”
Her brows rose. “Can you not guess by my accent? I’m Amorette Boucher. My brother and I own the establishment just down this street.” She pointed to the narrow, curvy lanes that made up the area of small, prebuilt shops.
“Ahh, Mademoiselle de Sells. I’ve heard much about your place. Actually, word spread all the way to San Francisco.”
She gave a small shake of her head. “I am not surprised. Jean-Luc is tremendously talented. Nobody can create sauces like his.”
“I didn’t hear you behind me. Your step is very light.” He glanced at the wicker basket, the handle nestled in the crook of her arm. A blue napkin covered the contents.
She gave a small laugh and her cheeks tinged pink. “I came from the butcher’s as you passed.” She slightly lifted the basket. “Getting ready for supper. We have a small group coming in tonight.” She smiled down at Dallas, who gazed intently at the basket of meat. She laughed when he licked his chops. “Au revoir. I must be on my way before Jean-Luc comes looking. Come to our restaurant sometime soon. You will enjoy.”
He nodded as he watched her turn the corner and hurry down the cobblestone lane.
Rubbing his palms together, he approached the tall ponderosa pines, narrowleaf cottonwoods, and a few aspens that sprinkled the area around the large livery barn and cluster of outbuildings. The place had a good feel, cool, refreshing. The aroma of stock animals lingered on the breeze.
The tall barn doors were open. He saw Cash out in the back paddock approaching a horse with a halter in hand. Several wagons parked along the side of the fence displayed red-and-white “For Sale” signs. He entered and looked around. Heard laughter. Proceeded down the aisle of stalls to the back. There was an ample shed roof for when the weather turned hot, but for now, Mrs. Applebee, Lavinia Brinkman, and another woman he’d yet to meet sat on three-legged stools in the sunshine next to a cottonwood tree, laughing with a man he suspected must be Maverick Daves, the smithy. Lavinia and the other young woman wore capes over their shoulders, but Mrs. Applebee wore a much-too-large man’s coat. An open basket sat on a small makeshift table. They were eating and drinking out of china cups.
Cash, now on his way in from the field leading a bay horse, called out, having seen him first. “Mr. Laughlin!”
The others jerked around.
Lavinia’s smile disappeared.
Still nursing her bruised feelings.
Everyone stood, looking more than a little uncomfortable.
“Cash,” Rhett replied. Nerves scuttled up and down his spine. He stopped. “I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon meal. I’ll come back when you’re not busy.”
Maverick Daves, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, and mightily smudged as most smithies often looked, set his cup on the table and waved him over.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mr. Daves called. “You have a question about somethin’?”
Dallas bounded up to the group, sniffing and wagging his tail at the women, who smiled and petted his back.
“Dallas, here.” Coming forward, Rhett tried to keep his gaze far from Lavinia. She wore a gray-blue dress that reminded him of the overcast skies of San Francisco. Her gaze gleamed, probably with animosity. The other young woman smiled like she had a secret. Edginess pushed at his arms and legs. He wished he could turn around and leave without making a scene.
Don’t be inane, man. You’ll just state your business and be on your way.
Dallas ignored him, so he answered the smith. “Yes, I do, Mr. Daves. I need you to look at my cookstove. Dallas!” he called again to the dog, who had taken a shine to Lavinia.
The dog trotted over and sat at his heels, his tongue lolling out.
“You must be Mr. Laughlin,” the unknown woman said.
He nodded.
“This is Miss Lara Marsh,” Mrs. Applebee provided. “She’s a friend from Back East. She came for the wedding.”
“My pleasure.”
“And you already know my sister.”
“I do.”
They all stood there in the uncomfortable silence.
“I’ve never seen a dog like that before,” Lara said. “What kind is he?”
“A mongrel.” He reached down to scratch behind Dallas’s ear now that he was behaving like a gentleman. To tell them more, Rhett would have to go into detail about his brother, and how Shawn had rescued a young Dallas from cruel hands. The dog had been loyal to Shawn without question, somehow knowing Rhett’s brother had saved his life.
“So, the stove,” he said, looking at Maverick and then Mavis. She was half owner, and must have a say in what business they took on. He’d probably get further with Daves then he would her. “The flue doesn’t seem to draw properly. I’ve yet to be able to get the fire hot enough to cook anything.” Not that he knew much about that at all, except that his eggs never seemed to cook completely through.
Maverick’s smile looked genuine. “I can take a look anytime you want. How about I swing by in an hour or so? Will you be there?”
Rhett actually laughed. “That’s the only place you’ll find me. I appreciate you taking the time. Thank you.”
Maverick closed the ten feet and shook hands. His raised brow seemed to say, stick with it. Things are already getting better. Walk softly.
Rhett turned, and Miss Marsh called his name.
“Lavinia and I are heading back to the restaurant. May we walk with you?”
Lavinia gaped at her friend and the color in her face deepened. She looked like she wanted to object but couldn’t without sounding like a cranky cow. Others, it seemed, had begun to soften toward him. Surely Miss Brinkman had noticed the change in atmosphere the last couple of days. Even her sister Emma had been accommodating. Should he mention that?
“I’d enjoy that, getting to know you both. I had a nice conversation with Miss Katie and also Miss Emma.” His exaggerated smile felt ghoulish to him, but the others didn’t seem to notice.
Lara lifted the already repacked basket and stepped forward. He took it from her hands when she was within reach. Lavinia held back under the tree, as if still uncertain.
; “Well, come on, Vin. Let’s not keep Mr. Laughlin waiting,” Lara said. “He has work to do, by the appearance of his place.”
Mrs. Applebee gave her younger sister a slight nudge. “I’ll see you tonight, if not sooner.”
Lavinia nodded and hurried forward, taking the position on the far side of her friend and away from him.
For something to do, Rhett glanced down into the basket, the contents obscured by a hastily placed red-checkered cloth. “You had a picnic,” he said, desiring to break the silence. “That’s a nice way to pass the afternoon.”
A scruffy, gray-striped cat slowly tiptoed through the grass in their direction, mewing. Obviously the animal hadn’t noticed Dallas, who was watching with great interest. Before Dallas could lunge forward, Rhett reached down and touched the top of Dallas’s head to break his concentration. “Dallas,” he said low. “Stay.” The dog’s muscles bunched to chase.
Mavis hurried over and lifted the feline into her arms, giving Dallas a stern eye.
“We did have a picnic,” Lara replied as they stepped quickly away to circumvent any problem, keeping an eye on Mavis. “The weather is lovely. May we go this way?” She smiled up at him, as pretty as a Brinkman, but different. She pointed through the back pasture of the livery over to the Old Spanish Trail, a route that would take several minutes longer to reach the hotel than the more direct course. “I’ve yet to explore the southern part of town, and I find myself captivated by everything Eden. The oldest buildings are over there. I don’t want to leave one stone unturned by the time I have to return home.”
The basket on his arm swung with every stride as they walked. “I don’t mind if Miss Lavinia doesn’t. She’s the one who probably has tasks waiting for her.” He glanced around Lara to Lavinia. “Are you pressed for time, Miss Brinkman?”
To his surprise, her pretty eyebrows arched and she actually smiled, an expression he remembered well from her hotel room and then again at the wedding. He longed to get back onto firmer footing where she was concerned. Life would be so much simpler. And a measure of his guilt would ease. If he wanted to be a viable part of the community, he’d have to win back her favor. Even if the doing took him months. They’d be working across the street from each other. They didn’t have time for senseless games.
True Heart's Desire (Colorado Hearts Book 2) Page 9
