He scooted through the tied-back curtains. As usual, not a strand of his nicely combed hair was out of place, and his face appeared as soft as a baby’s derriere. His aftershave floated over and made her nose twitch. He took pride in his appearance, and this morning was no exception. As soon as he was settled, he picked up her hand. “How did you sleep?”
His overt expressions of affection always caused her a bit of discomfort.
“As well as I could after what we learned yesterday.”
“Such a shock. I wish I could protect you from the turmoil. But at least your father didn’t leave you penniless. That is a nice surprise.”
She swallowed. How on earth will I find the courage to say the things I must?
“Coming from Philadelphia, everything in this tiny town must almost feel like a nightmare to you, Belle. I’m sure you’re as eager to return as I am.”
She gently pulled her hand away and set it in her lap. “Actually, I was born in Eden. This is where I’m from.”
“Yes, well . . .” His nose wrinkled. “I’m keen for you to conclude your business so we can depart. I long to shower you with the love you deserve.”
Why do his words feel so cumbersome today? “I’m impatient to have this sorted out as well, Lesley. I can promise you that.”
Nerves skittered up her spine. His gaze was so direct, she felt as if he could read her mind. But he only smiled and said, “Will you girls get your bank drafts today? If yes, I can make arrangements for our journey back to Philadelphia on the Saturday stage. Or if you’d like to spend a few more days, actually see the ranch before you go, that might be the prudent thing to do. I doubt any of you will make this trip again.”
Why is he writing off Eden so quickly? It’s not so bad. Out of loyalty to her father, she felt compelled to defend the town. “Actually, Lesley . . . Mavis and I were discussing things last night. After we talked, we went and woke the others. We’re not going to take the bank drafts Mr. Glass offered. We’re going to stay in Eden for six months, as our father wished. After that, we can decide whether to sell the ranch or not. Of the two options, this is the better investment. Mr. Glass stressed that point many times.”
Lesley’s already pale skin turned chalk white. A moment of pity washed over her.
“Surely you’re joking, Belle.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Your sense of humor is a bit off.”
“I wasn’t . . .”
The look of amusement left his face. “You’re not staying in this countrified place. It has absolutely nothing to offer a woman like you.”
“We are. We’ll make a lot more money this way,” she hurried to state. Businessmen were always concerned with the bottom line, period, and Lesley’s family was no different. They had made plenty of money in construction. Surely he’d understand that reasoning. “There’s no better investment than land. I’ve heard your father say so many times. Six months is nothing compared to the money we’ll make by selling to another buyer. The time will go by in the blink of an eye.”
His face had lost all traces of pleasantness. “I hardly think so.”
The waitress was back with a tray. She set out a small white porcelain pot along with a white teacup and saucer, both painted with purple pansies. She added a small crock of honey and a miniature pitcher of cream to the table. “I didn’t ask if you took cream, miss, so I brought some anyway. Fresh this morning.” She looked at Lesley. “What can I get you, sir? Coffee or tea?”
He just sat there.
“He’ll have the same as me, please,” Belle said quickly. She forced a smile, trying not to let the tension get the best of her.
The waitress nodded and walked away.
“Lesley, please. Say something,” she whispered. “You’re making me nervous.”
The muscle in his jaw clenched several times, and he looked away, probably counting to ten. When his gaze came back to her, she could tell he was more than angry. If she had to guess, she’d say he was furious.
“What do you want me to say, Belle? What am I supposed to tell my parents when I return without you? Do you have any idea how awkward this is going to be? They’ll never understand.”
She didn’t have the answers. “I can’t. But you must know, must understand. I never expected this to happen. Not in a million years. None of us did. This was just as much of a shock to us as our wanting to stay is to you. It’s not like I had this planned to hurt you.”
She felt the hairs on her neck tingle in a funny way, and she looked up. Mr. Harding stood in the doorway, watching them. She forced herself not to look away for three seconds longer than was comfortable, then squeezed Lesley’s hands. “I’m sorry.” When she looked up again, Mr. Harding was gone.
“That’s easy to say. They’re just words.”
He was right. Distress and culpability washed through her. Then she thought of her father and all he’d tried to do for his children. Maybe she wasn’t being as self-centered as she’d thought. Her scattered emotions went to her sisters, and then finally to Mr. Harding and the way his gaze had just negatively assessed her actions.
Darn him. I should be focused on Lesley, not Mr. Harding.
The waitress appeared again with Lesley’s tea. As if feeling the tension at the table, she set it down quickly. When she was finished, she looked at Belle. “Can I get you anything else, Miss Brinkman?” Her gaze shifted to a moody-looking Lesley and then back to Belle, her brow arched slightly in solidarity.
Belle shook her head, but when the woman turned to walk away, she felt compelled to say something more—if only to delay responding to Lesley. “Excuse me. May I ask your name?”
The waitress turned back. “Of course. I’m Karen Forester. Been working here at the hotel for seven years, and I know all about you and your sisters. The whole town is delighted you’ve finally come home.” She hugged the round tray to her chest. “I always knew you would. You’re all more beautiful than I ever imagined. John was a lucky man. Every New Year’s, he’d tell me this was the year you’d return. He’d say, ‘When they arrive, Karen, we’re going to throw a party the likes this town has never seen. Mark my words.’” Her kind smile faded away, and she gave a small dip of her head. “You let me know if I can be of assistance in any way, Miss Brinkman.”
Heat rushed to Belle’s face. She hadn’t expected to hear that she and her sisters were celebrities. It magnified the whole tragic mess. Her father sounded like the finest man ever born.
“I’m sorry,” Karen said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Or remind you of how much you’ve lost.” She dipped her chin once more and hurried back to the kitchen.
After she’d disappeared, Lesley reached across the table and touched her arm, his anger gone. His mollifying expression maddening. “There you have it. The crux of the matter. Here you’re all prominent figures in a small pond. Imagine that. The Five Sisters is said to be the most prosperous ranch in West Colorado.”
“One of the most,” she corrected, not enjoying his tone.
He went on as if he’d not heard. “Who knows? Perhaps I’d want to stay on too, if I were in your shoes. I don’t understand Mavis, though. How she condones this action. And Emma, Lavinia, and Katie? I’m sure you’re the one to lead the charge, as usual. You’re rather impulsive, you know.”
“I told you it was Mavis. Not me.”
He shrugged. “It’s clear you’re determined to have your way. Today I’ll book passage for tomorrow’s stage.”
“Would you like to accompany us to see the ranch today?”
He shook his head. “I’ve no need to, like the five of you. And I’m anxious to get home. Barring any complications, I’ll be home by next week.”
Relief coursed through her. Then a thought struck her. “Does that mean . . . ?”
Lesley smiled a benevolent smile just as Belle saw her sisters entering the lobby. “Yes, I’ll wait. Then, when you’re home, we’ll remedy the fact that I haven’t yet asked you to become Mrs. Lesley Atkins. You’ll be pleased,
I promise. And we’ll have a beautiful wedding.”
Reaching over the table, he lifted her hand and kissed her fingers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Blake paced Henry’s office, waiting for John’s daughters to show up. They’d agreed last night to meet there again in the morning. Blake had just assumed that meant the same time as yesterday. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He’d arrived at eight, and that was more than an hour ago. He was used to rising early; too much work needed doing to sleep in, even if he wanted to.
A few minutes ago, Henry had discovered he was out of coffee beans and had gone downstairs for more.
Finally. Footsteps on the stairs. Henry must be on his way back.
The door opened. Belle Brinkman, finished with her rendezvous in the café with Mr. Atkins, swished in. She was clearly ready to get on with her day, as if she hadn’t just broken that man’s heart. She seemed light and her face was flushed—with guilt? Or happiness? Blake remembered how pretty she had looked last night, how her eyes opened a bit wider when she contributed to the conversation, how the soft scent of her perfume distracted him. Disgusted with himself, he shoved the thoughts away.
Her gaze landed on his scar.
“Miss Brinkman,” he said, feeling a recurrence of his earlier anger.
They aren’t to blame, he reasoned with himself. They never received any of the letters. They were victims, just as John had been. The memory of John in his final hours, reminiscing about his precious girls as he struggled for life, was still too vivid for him to completely let the resentment go.
She glanced around, obviously looking for Henry.
“He went to buy coffee beans downstairs. Ran out yesterday. There’s none left in the pot . . .”
Turning away, he rolled his eyes at his own stupid babbling. He sounded like a blathering fool. A long crack in the ceiling caught his attention. This room—and the whole town—must look shabby to John’s daughter. Henry kept his office and adjoining living quarters neat as a pin, but its bones were getting old. Looked a little ragged and tired—just like the rest of Eden.
The heck with the Brinkman girls. They can just get back on that stage and return to Philadelphia, for all I care.
“Where’re the others? On their way?”
She clasped her hands tightly in front of her skirt, looking ill at ease, the brightness of her expression gone. “After breakfast, they decided to take a short walk. See some of the town. They should be along anytime.”
He went to the window, wondering which way they’d gone. He didn’t see one female belonging to their family—or to any other.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Harding? Are they in danger?”
“That might depend on which way they went. Some parts of the town can be rough. Did they mention what they wanted to see?”
She hurried to his side, put her hands on the sill, and leaned out, looking both ways. “No. Just things.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine, but I’d prefer you waited for me next time you plan to go sightseeing. When you want to walk, or see John’s grave, I’ll be happy to show you around to your heart’s content.”
Not actually happy, but I will because I told John I would.
“Are they in danger, Mr. Harding?” she asked again, an edge to her tone. “I want them to be more than fine. Will more men be shooting off their guns?”
When the door opened again, he was expecting to see Henry. Instead, in walked Trevor.
His ranch hand jerked to a stop when he saw Miss Brinkman and whipped the hat from his head.
“What is it, Trevor?” Blake asked. “If you’re looking for Henry, he’s downstairs in the mercantile.”
“I just came from there. I’m looking for you.”
“Miss Brinkman,” Blake said, remembering his manners, “meet Trevor Hill. He works for the ranch—and now you, I guess.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, miss,” Trevor gritted out. “And I’m sorry about your pa. That was real bad, the way he died. I’d not wish that on—”
Blake loudly cleared his throat, and Trevor snapped his mouth closed.
Belle’s brow wrinkled and she briefly searched Blake’s gaze. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Hill,” she finally said.
“Just Trevor, ma’am.”
She smiled. “One more face to recognize at the ranch will be nice. I know I have a lot to learn, but I hope you’ll be patient.”
Trevor’s gaze shot to Blake.
Blake shrugged. She didn’t mean anything by that, did she? She’s just making polite conversation. He tried to signal as much to Trevor, who still looked worried. Blake would bet his last nickel that none of these women were up for such a challenge. Why would they be? When they went back to the city, they’d be as rich as could be.
No need to panic just yet—that was what he’d told the men yesterday.
“Uh, we need to talk, Blake,” Trevor finally said.
“I’m listening.”
“Maybe we should speak in private. I don’t want to alarm anyone in the room, if you get my drift.”
Belle’s back went straight.
“This is John’s daughter. If she’s anything like him, she’s tough.” He smiled to himself. Anything but. “I’m sure whatever you have to report won’t shock her too much.” He looked her way. “You won’t faint, will you?”
She shook her head.
Trevor shrugged. “Praig up and left. Took two of the men with him.”
What the hell! Blake, who’d been admiring Belle’s profile as Trevor talked, jerked his attention back to the ranch hand. “What do you mean, he left? Why would he do such a thing? Right before roundup, no less?”
Trevor scuffed his boot at nothing on the wooden floor. “Some of the men have been grumbling about working for five lady bosses. That’s five more than they signed on for. Guess they finally made their decision.”
Belle blinked and looked between them.
“How’d they decide that? We haven’t heard their official decision yet.” He chanced a quick look at Belle, wary of what he might see. The girl was more stoic than an Indian when she wanted to be. “My bet is they head back to Philadelphia by next week. Miss Brinkman, what do you have to say?”
She smiled, and Blake felt the full force of all those straight, white teeth.
“We spoke about our options late last night. We have come to a decision, but decided not to say anything until you and Mr. Glass were present.”
So that’s how she’s playing it . . .
Trevor shook his head. “The men had a spy planted in the hotel café this morning. Heard ’em talking about staying in Eden. And maybe even bringin’ in sheep.”
“A spy? Who?” Blake demanded.
“Praig.”
“Once sheep were mentioned,” Trevor went on, “he beat it back to the ranch with the news as fast as he could ride. Didn’t take much to convince the men to leave. Sheep and cattlemen don’t mix.”
Belle gasped. “A spy? Are we the enemy? Were the men not loyal to my father?”
“Yes on all counts, miss,” Trevor said.
Blake couldn’t believe his ears. The ride to the ranch was forty-five minutes by wagon, or fifteen on a galloping horse. “You sure he’s gone for good? Maybe you got the story wrong. I can’t spare a single man.”
Again, the nod. “Sure I’m sure. He cleared out his belongings. Told Tank he’s heading where men are respected and they don’t have to work for no woman.” He glanced at Belle. “No disrespect meant to you. I’m just repeating his words.”
“None taken.”
Blake felt like pounding his fist into Praig’s face. He’d told the men to be patient. Not to jump to conclusions. “I should have fired Praig the first time he talked back. Wherever he’s going, he won’t last long. He’s too lazy.”
Belle gave him a long stare. “Why did you keep on a slacker?”
“I need to get back to the ranch before Praig can recruit any more hands,” he answered, avoiding
her question. “Who’d he take?”
“Riley and Bush.”
Blake felt like cursing. “That leaves Garrett, Tank, KT, Moses, you, and me. We can get the roundup done with six men, but the job won’t be easy. Long hours and hard work. We’ve never been this shorthanded before.”
“Praig’s been stewing for a fight since John’s death,” Trevor explained to Belle. “Almost like he was challenging Blake. And maybe he was.” He glanced at Blake and then Belle. “Maybe hearing what John left you was the last straw. Even though he quit, I don’t think he’s gonna let this go. It’s personal to him.”
Trevor has a point.
“You best watch your back, Blake.”
Blake rubbed the back of his neck, thinking how the last conversation he’d had with Praig hadn’t been civil. “I’m thinking the same thing.”
Steps echoed up the staircase. Either Henry was back, or the rest of the Brinkman sisters were finally on their way.
“What’s this about a roundup?” Belle asked as Henry stepped through the door. The lawyer held a brown bag and a stack of mail in his hands. “Are you speaking about the cattle?”
“Nothing to be worried over. We’ll get the roundup done and the cattle ready for the stockmen that’re coming to drive ’em to the stockyards in Santa Fe, just like every year before. Our fall roundup is much smaller than spring’s.”
Even though they’d be shorthanded for the upcoming work, Blake could live with it. What he couldn’t live with was a man who was always stewing for a fight. That was Praig. If it was a beautiful, sunny day, he’d find something to grumble about.
“Sounds the opposite,” she said. “You sure you know what you’re doing without my father?”
The apprehension in her voice turned his anger to annoyance. Is this what I have to look forward to? My decisions questioned on things they know nothing about? In that case, he was doubly glad they probably wouldn’t be sticking around. “Yes, Miss Brinkman, I do, I assure you.”
Henry, who’d been listening intently, set his mail and the bag on his desk. “What’d I miss? Sounds important.”
Heart of Eden Page 8
