The question was, would Mavis? Clint couldn’t imagine living in the same town with her if she never forgave his stupid blunder. A little over twenty-four hours felt like twenty-four years.
Cash, so good with horses, stepped off the boardwalk and rubbed the mare’s nose. She calmed and dropped her head. “See. She just needs a little undivided attention.”
Feeling discouraged, Clint lifted a worn-out shoulder. “I’m not so sure about that. She about pitched me off when I went to check out a campfire Laughlin found.” Just like Mavis. “Don’t know if it was the same one Henry and I saw, but was in the same vicinity. Let me know if you spot any suspicious strangers around, will you?” He slung his arm over his son’s shoulder. “Now let’s get some grub. I’m tired of thinking . . .”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
In the warm corner of what would be his dining room, Rhett shook the nightmare from his thoughts, rose from his bedroll, and strode into the kitchen, the essence of burned cornmeal and chicken still heavy on the air. At the sink, he splashed his face and torso, cool water calming his ragged nerves. He toweled off and tossed the cloth back to the counter. This room was better put to use for bathing than cooking. He was in trouble.
He’d dreamed of Shawn. The day he’d died. And again, the day of his funeral.
He went through the room and opened the front door. The coolness of the Eden night rushed in, blessedly softening his thoughts. Outside, the street was quiet. He tried to get used to the clearness of the sky and stars when fog and cold were his usual impression of nightfall. Two doors down at Poor Fred’s saloon, he could hear the hum of men still awake and wasting their money.
Shame filled him. Still, after all this time, and the death of his brother, he was tempted to go for a drink. The taste of whiskey called him, and he ran a steadying hand over his face. Taking a deep breath, he looked the other way, to the moon shining off the face of the stone wall beside the hotel. If he’d not been three sheets to the wind the night before Shawn had been killed, he would have worked his own shift, and Shawn would be alive.
Pulling on an undershirt and boots over his socks, he ambled outside. Still some work to be done on his building to make it into a restaurant. He had to stretch his dollars. He glanced back at the saloon. In a few easy wins at poker, he could double or triple his net worth. But he wouldn’t. That’s what he’d been doing the night before everything changed. Gambling and drinking . . .
“Let it go,” he mumbled to himself. “When I finish doesn’t matter. This isn’t a race. As long as I finish.”
He walked out into the street and turned back to gaze at his place. At the moment, the building was looking better. He’d replaced much of the front, replaced the window casings and glass, and given the place a new porch. A modicum of pride filled him. He’d done a fine job so far.
Men came out of the saloon to the boardwalk, leaning against the post. They didn’t see him standing in the street. One he recognized as one of the men who’d ridden into town a few days past. The other was Cash.
“We just might have something for you when we get set up,” the older fellow said. “Keep close, and keep your mouth closed.”
“Sure,” Cash answered in his boyish voice. Did the men know how young Clint’s son was? And did Clint know where his boy was?
“You’re a big, strapping kid. Just the kind we like.” He slapped Cash on the back. He pointed to several horses tied at the hitching rail. “My cayuse is about on his last legs. If I stop by the livery to see about a new one, act like you don’t know me.”
Cayuse was the term a lumberman called his horse. Suspicion eased its way through Rhett’s veins. He’d met more than a few at the lumberyards and up and down the coast of California.
Cash didn’t answer for a few long moments. “Why? I don’t see why not.”
“Just do as I say, if you want a good-paying job. I’m not ready to let the cat out of the bag just yet.” His tone had turned hard. “Don’t worry. We aren’t doing anything illegal.”
Yeah, I bet. Cash was involved with the wrong men.
Still, Rhett wasn’t going to get mixed up in anyone else’s business. He had enough worries of his own. He walked toward the tall rock face that had captured his interest since the day he’d stepped off the stagecoach. He placed his hand against the cool, stalwart rock. Amazing. And beautiful, especially with the moonlight reflecting the tiny particles of granite. They sparkled like stars.
Slow steps came out of the darkness.
Unarmed, he waited silently.
Soon he made out the shape of a cow, being led slowly his way. At the sight of the long robe of the woman holding the lead rope, he wondered if he was seeing things.
“Mr. Laughlin,” she said in a soft voice. The cow halted beside her, its large eyes blinking in the darkness. It let out a long, lonesome moo.
He stepped closer. “Have we met?”
“Not officially. I’m Sister Cecilia Nushbell, from the Mother of Mercy Orphanage.” She gestured down the road leading out of town toward the Five Sisters Ranch. “We’re just a little ways out of town.”
He’d heard about the place but hadn’t given it much thought. He wondered how she’d heard about him. The sleepy-eyed cow looked in no hurry to be off.
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am. But how do you know me? That’s a mystery.”
She gave a small laugh and affectionately rubbed the cow’s broad forehead. “Not a mystery at all. Our dear Lavinia works at the orphanage whenever she can spare a few hours. The children love her. She told me about how the two of you met.”
“I see.”
“Not really,” Sister Cecilia replied.
He wondered at her comment. He’d not ask, because he didn’t really want to know. “You’re out walking your cow?”
Another humorous laugh. He figured she wasn’t frightened of anything.
“No, our sweet cow, Sister Clover, likes to break out of her stall and take midnight walks. Most times she ends up in Saint Rose’s garden patch. I think she likes Father Francisco and tries to gain his attention.”
Okay . . .
“Good night,” she said, stroking the bovine’s face as they ambled away. “Milking time isn’t far off.”
Rhett realized he was watching her retreat with a wide grin. He liked her. Very much. And after such a short conversation. If only his life could be as easy as retrieving a cow from a church garden.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Four days came and went without much incident. After pushing out the side wall as well as finishing the upstairs living quarters, Rhett felt a huge measure of accomplishment—toward the building, but not the cooking. He’d helped his father often, building new and remodeling old. If he had to choose a life away from the docks, construction fit him well.
Taking a break, he leaned against his front wall and wiped an arm over his moist brow. He hadn’t been a resident here long enough to know who were townspeople and who were new, but the traffic in the street was steady, and seemed like more than when he’d arrived. The sooner he was able to get his doors open, the better. Rumor had it, a fella who’d recently arrived was an actual dentist, with equipment and a drill. Rhett steeled himself at the thought of a stranger putting a drill to his teeth. Back in San Francisco, there’d been several dentists, and he’d heard more than enough horror stories to stay away from those places at all costs. He clamped his jaws firmly together. He’d been blessed with straight, healthy ivories, and he’d not let anyone near them.
Rhett untied the kerchief around his neck and swabbed the sweat from his face. The day was warm for just eleven o’clock. But how much warmer was the hot kitchen with the oven cooking? He’d had several disastrous attempts at making biscuits, too black for even Dallas to consider. But he’d persevered until he had three batches in a row come out soft and golden brown.
Across the road, several people stepped out of the hotel, followed a moment later by Lara Marsh. He’d have to be blind
not to notice she’d been around the last few days. Why had she left the ranch? He could understand if Lavinia were staying in town in her room, as she often did, but that wasn’t the case. She came in early by buggy and left in the afternoon.
Lara spotted him and raised a hand to wave.
He waved back.
Soon she lifted her skirt and, being careful of riders, a wagon or two, and a man herding a half dozen cattle up the street, came his way.
“Good day, Miss Marsh,” he said. She was nicely dressed, as she’d been the day he’d met her under the tall cottonwood next to the livery. Her hair, drawn back at her nape with a wide, royal-blue ribbon, looked freshly washed, catching the sunlight whenever she turned. There was a sadness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“Miss Marsh, how are you faring? I couldn’t help but notice, since my building is right across the street from the hotel, that you’ve moved from the ranch.” It wasn’t his business and he usually didn’t talk so much, but they had spent that afternoon walk together, and they both held Katie Brinkman’s secret. He supposed they did have quite a bit in common.
The new doctor came out of the mercantile, his arms full of purchases. He glanced about and nodded when their gazes connected. A moment later he started away.
“Good day to you, Mr. Laughlin,” Lara said. “How’s your restaurant coming along?” She gave the boards, which still needed several coats of paint, an appraising assessment.
She’d not answered his question.
“I’m getting closer. I have no real rush, except to get some cash coming in to offset the cash going out. This place has turned into a money-eating monster.”
“I’m sure that’ll take care of itself the moment your ‘Open’ sign goes up. People are curious. We’ve noticed all sorts of aromas wafting over.” She waggled her eyebrows.
I bet.
“Everyone has forgiven you for your inauspicious beginnings with Lavinia. You should feel exceedingly happy about that.”
And Lavinia? Has she forgiven me as well? “I hope you’re right about that.”
“What is your specialty, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Again, an inquisitive smile lit up her face in a way that made him chuckle. “Just simple fare.” I wish. “Stews.” I hope. “A hearty chicken and dumplings, and robust breakfasts—the kind a man would enjoy and come away full.”
“So you’ll be open for all meals?”
“Someday. When I round up help. I believe I may open in stages.”
Her eyebrow slowly inched up her face, and finally a smile appeared.
She pointed to the large “Help Wanted” sign he’d tacked up next to the door. “If you’re still looking, I’d like to apply.”
Surprise rocked him back on his heels. What exactly was going on with Miss Marsh? She didn’t seem like the type that had to work. Or would want to work. Or knew anything about restaurants. Shouldn’t he get someone with some experience, since he didn’t have any? He’d been under the impression her stay was only so long and she’d be on her way. “I don’t understand,” he finally said. “Aren’t you a guest at the Five Sisters? Why would you want a job in town?”
“I’ve moved into the hotel for now and plan to stay in Eden. But, you should know, before you make any decisions, the sisters and I have had a falling-out. They think I’m waiting for the stagecoach to take me to the train, but I’m not. I’ve never been a quitter, and I don’t aim to begin now.”
The articles? It has to be. The timing was too much of a coincidence otherwise. Caution rushed through him. Hiring her would solve one of his problems, but he didn’t want to alienate the whole Brinkman clan.
Lara waited patiently as a hundred thoughts ran through his mind. Looking into her face, he didn’t see duplicity or malice, just youth, curiosity, and determination. He had to give her credit for backbone.
Right then a Conestoga wagon rounded the corner, driven by an eager-faced man. He looked Rhett over and drew back the lines to his weary team. “Howdy,” he said. He doffed his hat. “Morning, Miss Brinkman.”
Scowling, Rhett stepped forward. He wasn’t Lara’s keeper, but he didn’t much like this fellow mentioning the Brinkmans the moment he’d pulled into town. “Who’re you and what do you want? And this is Miss Marsh—not Brinkman.”
The man’s smile faded.
“That’s not a very friendly tone,” he said. “Just tell me where I can park this rig so I can get a decent meal. I’m starving.” He turned to the hotel. “The hotel café any good?”
Next, the man eyeballed Rhett’s building none too nicely. He needed a bath and shave but didn’t look disreputable or like an outlaw. Actually, he had kind eyes, and a smile before Rhett had chased it away.
“Sure is.” He’d better soften up. “For the livery, turn around and head down Falcon Haven a couple of blocks. It’s easy to spot.”
“Much obliged.” The fella flexed his leg on the brake and slapped the lines over the backs of his team. The wagon jerked forward.
“All right, Miss Marsh, I’ll give you a try, but I’m not exactly sure when I’m going to open. Hopefully by the end of the week, if not sooner. Will you be available then?”
She nodded.
“And I can’t pay much.”
“I understand.”
“I guess we have a deal, then,” he said, and stuck out his hand to shake.
“Deal!” She grasped his hand firmly and gave him her first real smile.
Was he crazy? He had to be. But not one other person, man or woman, had inquired about the job. Rhett wasn’t sure if the reason was that they were already gainfully employed or if they didn’t want to work for him. He had to have at least one employee to get started. And here she was, staring him in the face.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Lavinia gazed out her hotel room window, enjoying a little time off. She’d been a jumble of nerves since receiving the telegram, but she couldn’t tell anyone why. The same day, she’d replied, telling Mr. Hansberry to expect her in approximately three weeks. That would give her time to sign the paperwork for the ranch and then take the stage to catch the train in Pueblo.
It was Karen who’d suggested she take Wednesday off and stay in bed all day if she wanted—that feat was impossible. But Lavinia had acquiesced and asked Nicole to fill in. She planned to hire the girl full-time to take her place when she left.
To calm her runaway excitement, she’d been working on a new creation for the last hour. The little beauty had a curved, brown-felt brim that was edged with lace. Her good feelings disappeared when she noticed Lara cross the street and go directly toward the Hungry Lizard. She stopped on the front porch to speak with Rhett, who’d been working on the face of his restaurant—her competition. Lavinia set the hat on the dresser.
Seeing Lara brought an ache to her heart. How could she have sold their secrets? And worse than that, how could she fib about it? And even worse than that, the six of them hadn’t yet made up. Three times when Lavinia had gone to her room during the week, Lara had refused to speak with her. The problem had mushroomed into something that might never be healed.
Outside on Eden’s Main Street, she noticed Clint in a tug-of-war with the palomino mare he was using until his gelding was sound. She smiled. And here came kind Mr. Hoffman, the butcher. When he spotted a woman Lavinia didn’t recognize, he doffed his fine, brown, beaver-pelt bowler in a most extravagant way. Knowing she was a hatmaker of sorts, the butcher showed the headpiece to Lavinia each time they met, which she thought very touching. Then Belle and Blake rode in, their love for each other apparent. Whirling, Lavinia turned away. Of course she was thrilled to be leaving, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t miss her family and friends. Or the life she’d come to know in Eden. She’d fulfilled her father’s desire by staying the six months—there was no reason whatsoever for a heavy heart.
Before she could go forward with anything, though, she had to mend fences with Lara. Everyone made mistakes. They’d
been friends far too long to just let the relationship fall away. Going to the mirror, Lavinia checked her reflection, smiling at her cute yellow hat, and went out the door. She needed to catch her friend before she disappeared.
By the time she hurried down the stairs, both Lara and Rhett were nowhere in sight. The busy street held many new faces. Where were all these people staying? The boardinghouse must also be full. Heaving a sigh at missing her chance with Lara, she started for the path to the upper plateau. She’d lift her spirits by gathering new blooms for the restaurant.
Stretching her muscles felt good. Only a few strides up the steep trail and her breathing increased. She crested the top to see Rhett’s rock watcher still standing. A swirl of emotion lifted her chest. Rhett was a mystery. The more she tried to learn about him, the more he kept his real self hidden.
Crossing the meadow to the stand of rainbow-colored grand buckwheat, as well as the plentiful supply of alyssum, she began to carefully snap off stems of both. Within the forest, a ray of sun glimmered on a deer trail she’d not noticed before. Blake had talked about hidden falls somewhere up this way, and how much their father had loved spending time there, thinking about his girls, praying they’d return.
Compelled, she moved forward, the flowers forgotten in her grasp. Coolness surrounded her, and the way grew dark. The path was narrow, and at some places her dress snagged. She wished she’d worn her riding pants, the garments she used out at the ranch. A startled chipmunk darted out of her way. The call of a hawk shattered the silence.
Excitement filled her. None of her sisters had been out this far, she was sure. If they had, they would have said something. Crossing the trail was a stream, not much wider than the ranch buckboard. Anyone who wanted to continue would have to take large steps between the rocks. On a large slab of granite close to the shore was a small, three-rock tower.
Rhett!
She couldn’t stop her smile. He’d been here as well. Walked this path, discovered this clear mountain stream. Being a newcomer hadn’t held him back. Had he sat on the granite slab to watch the water, or was it the trees that drew him here? So many things she didn’t know about him, except the gentleness of his hands.
True Heart's Desire (Colorado Hearts Book 2) Page 17
