“You sure?”
She nodded. “My tears, though. I’m embarrassed . . .”
“Don’t be. Just shows you have a heart.” He went back to staring at the graves. “For all these years, I didn’t think you did. Now I know different.”
She looked at another grave, the one with the oldest, most faded headstone, beaten and shabby from the weather. Several of the chiseled-out letters had crumbled away, making reading it a challenge—except that it bore the same name as her father’s. Her grandfather, John Brinkman. This land had been in her father’s blood for years, and his father’s before him. No wonder he couldn’t leave it when her mother had decided to go to Philadelphia. That would have been a sentence worse than death.
“Whose grave is that?” She pointed to a smaller, simpler marker. “Cranston Field. Do you know?”
Blake nodded. “I do. Your mother’s father.”
Another grandfather. How special. She studied the dates, her mind filling with a thousand questions. She was about to ask when she noticed Blake’s gaze anchored on a plain wooden cross set off under a copse of aspen all by itself. Could it be a grandmother, or a sister or brother I didn’t know about? Why is that person set away from the rest?
“The wooden cross. Whose is that?”
He stood so still he reminded her of the pictures she’d seen of Michelangelo’s David, only clothed in Western attire. His pants encased powerful thighs, and a blue chambray shirt that looked as soft as the clotted cream they served at her favorite teahouse in Philadelphia covered his potent chest and arms. She was on his right side, so she couldn’t see the scar. How painful that injury must have been. And it had something to do with Moses. But when she raised her eyes farther, it was the devastated look in his thundery blue gaze that captured her completely.
“My wife. Ann. Only eighteen. And my daughter, Marcia. They both died in childbirth.”
He glanced her way for only a second.
The mourning dove called out again, and Belle thought she’d never heard anything so sad. Blake. A widower? Lost a wife and daughter on the same day. How could he stand it? Her heartbreak was complete. She should say a soothing word, but what? There was nothing to cure a pain like that. Nothing that could ever make his world right again.
“How long ago?”
He kicked at a mound of grass. “Four years.”
What to say? Or do? She felt rooted to the ground.
“Blake, I’m so, so sorry—”
He put up a hand to silence her. Surely, his visits here were usually alone, to be with his wife and daughter. And now her father too. The briskness of the wind made her shiver.
Or was that caused by the souls lingering in the dancing trees?
Blake cleared his throat and turned away. He was over the pain long ago. Over everything, as a matter of fact. He just needed to get through each day, and then one day, to his surprise, a certain hour would be his last. That’s what John used to say. “One day at a time, one breath at a time.” Blake understood that completely. He looked off at the mountains. “You have any recollections of making mud pies?” he asked, embarrassed when his voice came out thick with emotion. He waited for her answer.
She shook her head. He began a slow walk in the grass. She followed.
“You should. One day, when your ma was large with Katie, she kept Lavinia with her and sent John and me out from underfoot with you, Mavis, and Emma. John had the bright idea to take his girls fishing. Well, that lasted all of two seconds. Mavis found a shallow spot in the sand, safe with boulders that cut it off from the river. There, the three of you ended up covered in mud, freezing cold from splashing each other—and us—even though it was the dead of summer. And boy, could you chatter like a magpie. You’d Blake me this and Blake me that.” He chuckled. “Your ma was none too pleased with us on our return.”
The story brought a smile back to Belle’s lips.
“You don’t remember?”
Again, she shook her head, a tender look in her eyes.
Spotting a group of riders coming up the long and winding road that led to the ranch, he pointed, thankful for a diversion. He recognized the fellas. One was the town’s mayor, a man who sometimes stood in for Clint when the sheriff had more important things to attend to—like hunting Praig, Riley, and Bush. Moses hadn’t said anything about the other two men being there, but they still had to be questioned. The other rider was a hireling from one of the saloons. Out in front was the woman they were escorting: Nicole Day. She rode as well as any man. Belle was in for a treat.
“That would be your companion.” His chuckle sounded strange, even to his own ears. “I don’t think the ranch has ever seen so much activity in one day.” He slid his gaze to hers, and her lips tipped up. “You have a way of disrupting things.”
“I hope in a good way. And I hope it calms down soon. A person can only take so much.”
“You’re telling me that?”
“Yes, I am. Let’s go see who they sent to hold my hand,” she said with a note of cynicism. “I can hardly wait.”
“Don’t be turning up your nose at help. You haven’t been here but a few hours. I promise you, you’ll be glad Nicole’s here. And then tomorrow we can expect more Brinkmans. Things around the Five Sisters are really looking up.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Belle liked this Blake. Easygoing, with a smile now and then and a joke thrown in for good measure. The other Blake was too intense. She didn’t know how to handle him at all. “I won’t turn my nose up. I’ll be nice and welcoming to Nicole.”
The men in the group split off and headed for the corrals in front of the bunkhouse while a woman, dressed in pants and a shirt just like Belle, headed in the direction of the house and then rode right up to where she and Blake walked.
“Hey there, Blake Harding. Haven’t seen you around for a while. What’ve you been doing? Hiding out in the hills from all these Brinkman women?” She laughed and dismounted with ease as if she’d been doing it all her life.
Blake gave a hearty laugh that went right up Belle’s spine.
“Belle,” he said, loud enough for the newcomer to hear him, “meet Nicole Day, Sheriff Clint Dawson’s sister. She’s as good a protector as any man. Six bears and a wolf couldn’t intimidate her.”
Belle bristled at his amused brow. He ran an affectionate hand down Nicole’s horse’s blaze. “How was the ride out? See anything peculiar?”
“You’re the only peculiar thing out here, Harding,” she joked, then looked straight at Belle.
Are they flirting? Nicole is pretty enough. For that matter, so was Amorette at Mademoiselle de Sells. Blake’s wife has been gone for four years, after all—that’s a long time. A sharp twinge of jealousy pricked her. Where did that come from? Blake is practically my stepbrother. Surely seeing him settled with a wife again would have made Father happy. I need to remember that. Besides, Lesley will be waiting at home for me. He’s going to propose. He said so just this morning.
She’d gotten everything she wanted.
And—she smiled—now she had the chance to make her first proper girlfriend in Eden.
“Let’s not get carried away, Nic. This is Belle Brinkman. It’s good of you to come out for a few days, show her the ropes. We’ll be able to use a hand during the roundup too, if you’re staying that long.”
“I can’t stay but a couple of days. Still, I was happy Henry thought of me to babysit your new partner. I can use the money.”
Belle’s smile vanished.
Oh boy. Blake jerked straight and cut a warning look at Nicole. “Stop teasing, Nic. You’re just trying to get a rise out of Miss Brinkman. She may look all soft and citified, but she’s smart and tough too. Just like you.” That wasn’t the exact truth, but he didn’t want to inflame Belle any more.
Nicole laughed and stuck out her hand. “I’m just teasing, Belle. Hope there aren’t any hard feelings on your end. I can promise we’re going to be good friends before long.” She shrugg
ed. “And by all that’s reasonable, I am sort of babysitting. Aren’t I? Why so prickly?”
Nicole stood quietly with an outstretched hand. Blake knew that wouldn’t last long if Belle didn’t respond. Turning, he took Belle by the arm and extended it until the girls were forced to grasp hands. With his large hand covering theirs, he pushed them up and down, smiling as wide as he could. Nicole seemed to have already forgotten the whole scene, but Belle’s nostrils flared, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen eyes so narrow.
“Nicole didn’t mean any harm. She just doesn’t seem to have a filter. You’ll get used to her kidding.”
“I doubt that.” Belle dropped her hand as if she’d been touching cow dung.
This wasn’t going well. The men came from the bunkhouse, mounted, and rode up to join them.
“I appreciate you escorting Nicole out.” Blake pointed with his hat. “This is Mick, a good fellow. And this is Donald Dodge—he’s mayor of Eden. You met his brother, Ray, earlier.”
“Oh, the doctor?” Belle asked.
“That’s correct, Miss Brinkman,” Donald said, a much thinner man than his sibling, who was large and fit for a man of her father’s age. Smile lines cradled the mayor’s lips, and his eyes were kind. “I’d like to officially welcome you to Eden. I would have done it the day you arrived, but I just returned myself. We’ve wondered for years if you’d return. Your father would be a proud man today.” He glanced around in the waning light. “It’ll be good to have more Brinkmans in town now that John’s gone.”
He touched the brim of his hat. Blake watched as the men turned their horses and began the trip back to town. He needed to check on Moses. Now that Nicole was here, she could take over where Belle was concerned. At least until tomorrow. But there wouldn’t be much sleep. He and the men would watch the house and ranch in case Praig came prowling in the night.
The distant cry of an early coyote made Belle’s head whip around. Nicole gave a soft snicker. “Blake, where do you want me to put my horse?”
“I’ll stable him for you.”
Nicole reached up, untied the overstuffed carpetbag secured to the back of her saddle, and held it out to Belle. “Your sisters sent you your things.”
Instead, Blake took the heavy satchel from Nicole’s hands. “Come on, let’s get you two settled. Can either of you cook?”
“I can . . . in Philadelphia,” Belle said softly. The immensity of her situation seemed to be finally sinking in. “I don’t know about that old stove I saw in the house, though.”
“What are the men cooking in the bunkhouse?” Nicole asked.
“That isn’t a half-bad idea. You two want to join us since there isn’t much food in the house? Might be easier than doing everything yourself.”
Nicole nodded. “That’d be my vote. Everything tastes better if someone else does the cooking. What about you, Belle? Want to wait a day before tackling the stove?”
In the darkness, Blake couldn’t see her reaction. Cooking on an outdated stove probably sounded as appealing to her as ringworm. He came to the realization that she and her sisters were going to need a whole lot of coddling. Not that he held a grudge against them. He’d had a lifetime with John, who’d taught him everything he needed to be a rancher and a man. Passing on the information to his own daughters seemed like the least Blake could do. And he would. With a good attitude, to boot.
“That’s exactly what you’ll do. If you don’t mind the men.”
At the house, Blake went in first and began lighting the lanterns. “Why don’t you take a half hour and get refreshed? Then I’ll send someone to escort you down.”
“Surely we don’t need a bodyguard on the ranch,” Belle said, surprised.
As golden light filled the room, Blake was astonished once again that he was actually looking at Belle Brinkman. He had a vision of himself at ten, looking at her through the crack of the pantry door. Now that she was here, he’d not let Praig or anything else hurt her.
“Until Clint finds Praig and locks him up, you do.” Clint’s baby sister squished up her face in protest but didn’t buck his orders. “You just be ready in half an hour to experience the meal of a lifetime.”
“Supper in the bunkhouse.” Belle actually smiled, and a glow came back into her dark-blue eyes, transforming them to jewels. “That sounds like an adventure.”
Blake stepped out into the quiet night thinking the exact same thing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was ten minutes after eight o’clock by the time Henry finally located Dr. Dodge, as he was leaving the Hole in the Floor Saloon. Elizabeth and her son, Johnny, had been tucked away in the hotel for more than an hour. He’d had a steak supper sent to her room along with a bowl of chicken soup for the child. As he and the doctor hurried through the streets on their way back, Henry couldn’t get Elizabeth’s story out of his mind. The timing was actually right. He’d never have remembered otherwise, except that John had taken an extended trip to Denver because Blake and Ann had wed and he wanted to give them a few weeks of privacy. Ann hadn’t wanted to leave town because her sister was just getting over being sick. Since it had been years since John had any time away from the ranch, he’d volunteered to go instead, leaving them the house. Henry had made the arrangements for him. A week in Denver, and another in Santa Fe.
Matching the doctor’s long strides, Henry hurried after him through town. John had seemed different upon his return. Happier. Relaxed. That could have been the result of Blake finally marrying, but then, perhaps a different reason was responsible. It was the most content he’d ever seen his friend.
How sad that John hadn’t brought Elizabeth back here. Or knew that he’d sired a son.
“You’re mighty quiet, Henry,” Ray Dodge said, a concerned tilt to his brow. “What’s on your mind? Other than this young boy you’ve just met?”
“Just been a helluva long day, I guess.” And it’s not over yet. Not by any means, whether I like that fact or not. Look at me. Here I am, believing Elizabeth’s story without an ounce of proof. He thought of the depth of concern in her blue eyes.
She could easily be a schemer, just after John’s money. When John died, Henry had wired the sad news to his friend, Judge Harrison Wesley, a circuit judge that resided in Denver. When a person of such substantial wealth passed, news traveled fast. Elizabeth could be from anywhere. And Johnny could be anyone’s son.
I may be her attorney, but I’m also John’s and the ranch’s. I can’t turn a blind eye to their needs just because she walked in with a sad story. No, I can’t and I won’t. Proper steps will be followed. I’ll do my due diligence. I won’t leave one stone unturned. But what does she actually want?
They hadn’t gotten that far in the conversation before he’d insisted she return to the hotel and eat.
The men strode into the Eden Hotel. Only two tables in the café were taken. Karen Forester glanced up from filling salt and pepper shakers on the counter. She set them aside and hurried forward. “Hello.”
Henry nodded. “Did they eat the supper I had sent up?”
“Every last morsel.”
“Good.” He headed for the stairs. “Thank you. Be sure to put that on my account. And anything else they might need while they’re here. I think she’ll be too shy to ask, so please check with her in the morning by knocking on her door, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I’ll write myself a note so I don’t forget.”
At room six, he quietly knocked on the door. It wasn’t a few seconds before the door opened.
“I’ve brought Dr. Dodge.”
Relief crossed Elizabeth’s face. Her hair was down, brushed, and a long braid now fell down her back. She still wore the same skirt she’d had on earlier, but she’d changed into a soft-blue blouse that brought out the color of her eyes. Weary lines fanned out from their corners and cradled her missing smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Glass. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you. But I will, I promise.”
&nb
sp; He waved the comment away.
“I can’t pay you either, Doctor. I want you to know that up front.”
“No need to worry about that right now,” Dr. Dodge replied as he strode for the bed where the small boy lay between sheets only, his face flushed with fever. He placed his palm on Johnny’s forehead and immediately pulled off the top sheet. The child was too sick to react, but his eyes followed the doctor’s moves. “We’ll need ice, Henry,” he said over his shoulder. “More than they’ll have downstairs. You’ll need to go to the icehouse.”
Turning, Henry started for the door, but Elizabeth caught his arm before he stepped out.
“Your kindness means so much to me,” she said. “I never expected this to happen. And having—” Her voice broke, and she looked away.
“Please, Mrs. Smith,” he said, “you don’t need to keep thanking me. Any decent man would do the same. Let’s concentrate on getting your son better, then we’ll worry about the other issues. And you needn’t worry about the money. Each year, Eden sets aside a sum for truly needy widows.” She was a widow, so to speak, if what she said was true. There was no evidence yet that she was lying. He shouldn’t just label her a deceiver because what she’d told him was difficult to believe.
Actually, what she told me is easy to believe. And at face value, the boy’s age matches up with the trip John took. I’m not much of an attorney if I can’t see the picture that’s emerging right before my eyes.
“I’ll put in your request for it, if you’d like.”
And cover the cost myself of anything that goes over the amount. John would do the same for my son and his mother.
“Right now, though, I need to get that ice.” He went to her ceramic water pitcher, which sat in a large matching bowl. He took up the bowl. “You best let me go.”
She stepped back, an amount of relief softening her expression. “Yes. Thank you.” She gave a small smile when she realized she’d just thanked him again.
Henry found himself bounding down the stairs. At the bottom, he spotted Mavis and Emma at a center table in the dining room. The sight stopped him in his tracks.
Heart of Eden Page 12
