“A little. I do need to get ready for supper,” she said.
She glanced up, and it seemed something in her eyes felt the way he did. Maybe he’d been forgiven.
“Biscuits to make, a couple of chickens to put into the oven, those kinds of things.”
Lara shivered, making them all laugh.
“I guess a few extra minutes won’t put me too far behind.” Lavinia slid a censuring look to her friend, who only smiled.
“In that case, we’ll go the long way.” He opened the gate to the back pasture and they crossed the field as the handful of horses watched. On the other side, he assisted the women through another gate, lifting the lowest board high over some mud. There was an expanse of open ground that led to the back of the Spanish Trail Cantina, where a wagon sat and a few horses were tied in the shade of the building. He’d been into the cantina a couple of times and met Santiago Alvarado and Miguel, his father.
“Look at this old adobe building,” Lara said as she gaped around at the place. “It’s a saloon? Right? Shall we go inside? I’d like to see a real Western bar. I’ve noticed Poor Fred’s, down from the hotel, but didn’t dare look inside.” She raised her brows at him. “Alone.”
Rhett glanced at Lavinia, wondering what she thought of the unusual idea. He was sure she’d say, Absolutely not. Ladies don’t visit saloons, but something in her expectant expression made his lips twitch. She’s game. I’d never have expected that response. But then, that wasn’t quite true. Maybe of her here and now—in Eden. But he knew a few things about Miss Lavinia’s past that she didn’t know he knew, and some of them were a bit astonishing. He wondered what other aspects of herself she liked to keep hidden.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lavinia recalled the invitation that the handsome Mexican Santiago Alvarado had issued all those months ago when they’d first met him in front of the hotel. His eyes had seemed to devour her younger sister in a way an unfamiliar man’s should not. But somehow, coming from him, the caress hadn’t been offensive. The man wouldn’t have invited them to his establishment if doing so would put John’s daughters in danger, would he? His exact words had been an invitation to stop by for tea, of all things. The months had flown by and Lavinia realized not one of them had taken him up on his offer. That was not only rude, but mean as well. Today, she could make a start on alleviating that wrong.
“I say, why not?” Mr. Laughlin’s astonished smile created a small flutter inside. Lara could be adventuresome, so why couldn’t she?
Two paints and a sorrel gelding stood at the hitching rail, along with one mule draped with a colorful blanket. The walls of the pink adobe building were worn from years of rain, sun, and snow, but the stairs and the porch that ran the length of the building were spotlessly clean, as were the few chairs and one small table. On their approach, they’d passed a long water trough on the side of the structure half-full of murky water.
“You sure?” Rhett asked.
His half smile directed at her sent a little zip of excitement up Lavinia’s spine. Being in his company without going over and over what had transpired between them was refreshing.
She glanced at Lara. “I wouldn’t want to put our guest in any danger. Her parents are expecting her to return to them at some time—and in one piece. Do you think going inside is safe?” There, that hadn’t been so difficult, speaking directly to him as if they had no history at all. He nodded slowly, regarding her, as if he were thinking the same thing.
“This time of day should be fine.”
“In that case, I’d like to.” She gave the building another moment of scrutiny. “Mr. Santiago Alvarado invited all of us for tea, but that was some time ago. I wonder if he’ll remember.”
Rhett gave a slight shrug. “There’s only one way to find out. Stay,” he said to his dog as the three of them climbed the porch and he opened the door.
A rush of cool, musty air cascaded outside. Two men of Mexican descent stood hunched over the bar, one with a tumbler of dark liquid in his hand, the other an empty glass. Another sat slouched in a chair in the corner, his boots propped on the edge of the next table, his hat covering his face.
The bartender’s eyes widened when he saw them on each side of Rhett. He glanced quickly at the stairs. “Senor Santiago! Come quickly.”
The men at the bar looked around at the bartender’s frightened tone, but the sleeper never budged.
Santiago appeared at the top of the stairs, his signature grin on his face. His lean, powerful build would be attractive to any woman.
His arms thrust forward. “Welcome, ladies!” he called, moving down the steps at a fast pace.
He kissed the back of Lavinia’s hand, his warm lips a strange sensation. He quickly did the same with Lara. The men shook hands.
“I wondered if my invitation had been forgotten.” With a sweep of his arm, he ushered them toward the back of the room. “Come into our kitchen, where you will be more comfortable away from curious eyes. These men have never seen such beauty. Let me take your mantles.”
Lavinia thought of the day he’d helped rescue Katie from the Chinese peddler, and another time he’d been so protective after Belle found a rattlesnake in her wardrobe. She’d seen him other times too, at their ranch parties, and recently at the wedding, but their talk had always been superficial. She liked his face and the inviting challenge in his eyes.
The inside adobe walls appeared as smooth as satin and looked cool and inviting. Splashes of color, illuminated in the light of many lanterns, made the shadowy room appealing. The two other saloons in town, Poor Fred’s and the Hole in the Floor, couldn’t possibly hold a candle to this wonderful old structure that must have a thousand exciting stories to tell. She’d never been inside either of the others, or had a desire to do so, but in her heart she knew neither one could possess a smidgen of the history and charm of this ancient building.
Santiago laughed as he watched both her and Lara take in their surroundings with amazement. He slapped Rhett on the back, a wide grin splitting his face. “I owe you a favor, amigo. You bring a spot of spring to my establishment.”
They all ambled through a doorway in the back of the saloon into a wide-open kitchen. Aromas of spices, sweet and savory, met her as she took in the tidy room.
Santiago’s father glanced up in surprise from his place at the table. An assortment of pastries were arranged on a platter before him, as was a delicate teacup she thought much too small for his hands. His surprise was chased away by a smile. He stood. “Why, Senorita Brinkman, this is a lovely surprise.” He nodded to Lara and Rhett.
“Please forgive our dropping in on you unannounced, Mr. Alvarado,” Lavinia said. Warmth rose to her cheeks. She realized too late that this was tantamount to someone dropping in on them at the new house out at the ranch without a word of warning. The Spanish Trail Cantina was more than a business; it was Santiago’s home, as well as his father’s. She’d heard from Blake about Santiago’s older brother, Demetrio, being incarcerated in Sugar House Penitentiary. The name of the penitentiary sent shivers down her spine. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if one of her sisters was locked away in such a ghastly place. Shame filled her for having thought this visit a lark. Her father would never have been so thoughtless. “Your place has always held such charm and allure; we stepped inside to see the interior. We hadn’t expected to be invited into your home.” She glanced at Santiago, who watched her closely. Behind his eyes seemed to be some kind of secret, or test?
“Nonsense, Miss Brinkman!” the older Alvarado said. “You are always welcome in my casa.” He glanced at Santiago. “Our casa. Drop in any time. Your father, God rest his soul, did often, and each time, we considered his presence an honor. We will consider the same of you and your guests.” His gaze flicked from her to Rhett and Lara. Miguel was a handsome older man, not as tall as Santiago, but he certainly would have been as attractive in his younger years. The lines that fanned from his eyes and across his forehead did nothing to detr
act from his appeal. His dark hair was sprinkled with silver in a striking way.
“Thank you, Mr. Alvarado. Let me introduce my dear girlfriend from Philadelphia, Lara Marsh. She made the journey to Eden for the wedding and is staying on for some time. And this is Mr. Laughlin, our newest citizen, who is opening up a restaurant across from the hotel.” The words held much less sting for her each time she said them.
Lara gave a small curtsy and smiled, spreading her ample charm around the room, and Rhett dipped his chin in acknowledgment.
“We are acquainted,” Santiago said with a smile. “Rhett enjoys Mrs. Gonzales’s cooking as much as we do.”
So the cantina owners and Rhett knew each other already. Rhett hadn’t let on a few moments ago. Instead he’d acted as if he was just as keen on seeing the inside of the establishment as they were, when he probably knew the saloon as well as the back of his hand. Shame on him. Did he make a habit of fudging the truth?
Santiago gestured to the large, round table. “Please. And speaking of Mrs. Gonzales, she has just delivered an assortment of cakes. You must join us. There are plenty.”
How kind. Lavinia smiled. “We’d love to, but only for a moment.”
Santiago pulled out a chair for Lara, and Rhett did the same for her. How strange to be falling into such an easygoing routine with him. The man who had thrown her world upside down not that long ago. This day seemed impossible.
He carefully pushed in her chair. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Mr. Alvarado sat as well. Santiago brought more plates to the table. He pointed to the platter of delectable-looking treats, and the pinkish ones, shaped like seashells, first.
“This is concha, a sweet roll covered in a cookielike crust. If you like vanilla, I highly recommend you try one.”
He pointed to the largest of the selections, a puffed dough baked to a golden color. A snowy-white cream oozed from the middle seams, making her mouth water. They looked delicious.
“Pan de muerto, also known as bread of the dead.”
Lara looked over at her with wide eyes.
Mr. Alvarado smiled. “The sweet cream inside the light pastry is some of my favorite, and Mrs. Gonzales, in her kindness, indulges me. Usually the cross-marked pastries are saved for Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, a tradition of central and southern Mexico. Mrs. Gonzales’s family migrated many, many years ago from southern Mexico, but she still holds many traditions close to her heart. This is a general explanation, of course, but might help you understand the markings. Do not be afraid. They are only flour and sugar, some vanilla as well.”
“They look delicious, Mr. Alvarado, but so large. I think I’ll choose one of these smaller offerings,” Lara said, carefully reaching for an oval-shaped goodie coated in pecans.
“That is ratón. Quite good as well.”
Santiago chuckled as he poured four cups of tea from an already hot teakettle as if he were used to doing the chore every day. Returning the kettle to the stove, he sat at the open spot and took a pastry for himself. “Translation, mouse.”
Lara had just taken her first bite but stopped chewing. She covered her mouth with her fingers, blinking several times in quick succession, and then reached for her cup of tea.
The men laughed.
“I can assure you, there is no part of a rodent cooked into your pastry, Miss Marsh.” Santiago’s eyes twinkled. “You are safe.”
Steps sounded on the back-door stairs, and a moment later Katie stepped inside, seemingly comfortable with entering on her own. She pulled up in shock when she saw Lavinia and the group at the table.
Santiago stood.
“Katie!” Lavinia gasped. What on earth are you doing coming in the back door?
Without missing a beat, Santiago, unbothered by whatever situation was unfolding before their eyes, went to Katie’s side, taking a parcel out of her hands. “Katie.” Her name rolled off his tongue like a sweet caress.
Color scorched her sister’s cheeks, and she kept her gaze far away from Lavinia’s or Santiago’s.
It was evident her arrival was no surprise to the senior Alvarado either, as his smile was warm and endearing. What had been going on all these months that Katie had been riding out to the lumber mill in her buggy? She’d become so proficient with her horse and conveyance that she often drove herself. No one thought a thing of her doing so as they settled into their new lives. Lavinia had assumed that she went straight to the mill and came straight back to the hotel, for the sisters often stayed in town or the ranch, but not here to the cantina.
Katie has fooled us all. And so has Santiago! Anger at the swain, proudly puffing out his chest, burned inside. If he’s compromised my little sister, I’ll kill him! Lavinia didn’t care how much her father had thought of the Alvarados. If Santiago had hurt Katie in any way, she’d take him apart limb by limb.
Mr. Alvarado had stood, and Rhett as well.
“You are just in time for tea with your sister and friend,” Santiago said softly.
His dark gaze assessed Katie from head to toe. Did he think she might run off now that they’d been discovered? Surely Santiago, older than Katie, and five times as worldly, had known their relationship would someday come to light. He didn’t look all that displeased that the secret was out. Was Friday an agreed-upon meeting time? Or did Katie come every day, God forbid? Surely not. If yes, someone would have noticed at some point and reported to Blake or one of her other sisters.
So many questions and no answers at all. Perhaps the satisfied grin stretching Santiago’s handsome face was answer enough.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
With most of the day spent at the livery, Mavis had just enough time to stop in at Clint’s office and finish a quarterly report that needed to be posted this week. Clint was capable of finishing the report, but he much preferred her to do it, because of her handwriting skills and the fact he just wasn’t a man who liked to work with pen and ink. In all honesty, she was happy to help when she could. The work here was peanuts compared with all the book work she’d been responsible for in the accounting department back in Philadelphia. A heartfelt moment slowed her feet for only a moment when she thought of Darvid, now gone almost seven months, and their first meeting at Thornton House. That time felt like an eternity ago. And once she and her sisters signed the contract for the ranch, she’d be tied to Eden for the rest of her life. Was that really in her best interest?
Opening the door, disappointment filled her at the empty room.
“That’s fine.” She slipped the well-worn coat she’d confiscated from her father’s bedroom closet off her shoulders and hung it on a hook by the door. She cherished the garment as if it were made from the finest silk. The room was chilly, but she didn’t want to take the time to start a fire. “The job will be done more quickly if Clint’s not here to chat with every few minutes.” But that’s what I enjoy the most. His little anecdotes make me laugh. She went straight to his desk and tried to get comfortable in his walnut chair, the shiny, smooth seat much too large for her frame.
She lit the desktop lantern, then tugged the right-hand drawer open, withdrew the form she’d begun the other day, and then patted around for the pen. Clint. He’ll go to all measures not to have to write, even misplacing his writing implements. She glanced across the desktop. Then opened the narrow center drawer. There were plenty of pencils, but she preferred to work with ink.
She knew the left-hand drawer was stuffed full with old wanted posters, outdated correspondence, and other things she should somehow make sense of and file away on another day. Had he put the ink there? There were only so many places it could be.
The drawer stuck on her first attempt, and then screeched, giving way. She reached down, around, pulled the lamp closer with her right hand, all the while searching with her left.
There! Something.
Ink! Wet in the bottom of a drawer? Who would put ink where it was sure to spill and make a mess?
Mavi
s’s breath hissed through her teeth when she looked at the black-stained fingertips of her glove. Ruined. Feeling disgruntled, she flopped back in the chair. The lamp illuminated the edge of a newspaper under a few things on the corner of the desk.
Excitement raced through her. Back in Philadelphia she’d read the daily paper religiously, keeping up on news of the city and other places. Oh, how she missed that. Last month, she’d subscribed to the paper back home, but the first issue had yet to arrive. Starved for news, she pulled the paper out, surprised to find two more beneath, and that they came from San Francisco. She’d heard of the bustling coastal town, of course, everybody had. The city was booming. With a mixture of old and new. Rich and poor. Dreams and devastation.
Being a good reader, Mavis devoured the news hungrily and flipped the page. Her fingers splayed and the paper dropped to the desktop.
BRINKMAN SISTERS OF COLORADO—A BOOM OF THEIR OWN
Mavis blinked, not believing what was before her eyes. An article about her and her sisters took up most of the inside second page. Everything from when they’d learned of their father’s death, to the trip on the train, escorted by Lesley, Belle’s beau at the time. Her gaze jerked farther down—here were described events in their childhood, where they’d worked, everything! As bile rose up in her throat, she ripped open the other two papers. Here was news about Thornton House and Darvid! What in the world? The articles had been written by a Harlow Lennington and went into great detail about everything from their feelings of abandonment to what clothes they’d chosen to bring to Colorado.
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