Pleasance's First Love: A Six Brides for Six Gideons Novella (Book 3) (Grandma's Wedding Quilts 6)

by Kristin Holt

  Tuck surprised Jake and quit early. He climbed over the paddock railing, dropped to the grass, and spat into tufts at the base of a fencepost. “I thought you’d see to your bride.”

  Tension knotted Jake’s muscles. “She can’t stay. I need her gone.”

  Tuck kept his eye on Jake, but resettled his hat on his head and rubbed his chin in deep thought. “That how you want things?”

  Jacob had said his goodbyes four years ago. He’d cut and run, knowing he’d lost the battle and the war. “Yes. I do.” The words sounded like a lie.

  “Uh huh.” Tuck kicked at the grass beneath his boots. “Looks to me like you’ve got yourself a second chance. Miss Robbins loves you.”

  “Her name is Pleasance Benton.”

  “Figured as much.”

  Jacob cut a glance at Tuck.

  “You talk in your sleep.”

  Just what a man wanted to hear.

  Tuck didn’t smile much, but he outright grinned beneath his long-tailed mustache.

  Having no idea what he’d mumbled while dreaming of Pleasance, the only way to salvage his self-respect was to let that one go.

  He’d worked with Tuck for two years before buying the Running G for a whistle and a song…and a wee mortgage. Bringing Tuck along seemed the right thing to do. The men hadn’t discussed it. Hadn’t needed to.

  Since Jacob had saved Walt Tucker’s life on a roundup, and Tuck had returned the favor the following winter, trust had taken root, deep and strong.

  Almost as if Tuck had been his brother.

  Which circled Jake’s thoughts back to brothers. The kind that shared blood and a family line.

  Two letters, probably still in his saddlebags, had been waiting for him at the post office. Both from the private investigator he’d hired. He hadn’t taken time to read them before keeping his appointment with Sandusky.

  “You saw what she’s like. That woman, feisty and headstrong, does what she wants.”

  Like that kiss.

  Even now, she haunted him, flitting through his memory at the slightest provocation. Her kisses curled his toes, heated his blood, and reminded him he’d failed to eradicate Pleasance Benton from his heart.

  What was wrong with him? After everything in their past, he still wanted her. Stupid, but there it was.

  “You told me you was ready to marry up.” Tuck spat. “Changed your mind?”

  Seeing Pleasance again had changed a lot of things. He’d missed her like the dickens that first year, but he’d refused to ask anybody about her. He’d left home and drifted from one horse operation to the next. The pain of losing her had gradually ebbed.

  Tuck’s mustache twitched. “Don’t the bankers expect you to marry?”

  He huffed, disgusted with that nonsense. “Turned me down. I courted a bride, built a house on mortgaged land, and now I don’t have to get married after all.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “If I can’t keep the ranch, secure this land for posterity, I have no business taking a wife.” Not that he could remember, exactly, but one of his clearest childhood memories involved his parents losing the farm to the bank. Everything went to seed after that.

  “She seems determined to stay.”

  He’d never admit the truth to anybody else. “Romancing Pleasance didn’t work before. Why would it work out now?”

  “You’re all grown up, for one.”

  “I was a man of twenty-three when she left.”

  “Maybe.” Tuck chuckled. “I saw that kiss.”

  Jake scrubbed a palm down his face. “It should’ve tasted like dirt.”

  That kiss—that sudden, reconnection with the woman he’d loved with his whole heart—had erased the years as though they’d never happened.

  He remembered the first time he’d kissed her—really kissed her. Not just a chaste peck on the cheek, or even on the mouth. That kiss, like today’s, had lit him on fire. She’d been a week shy of sixteen, and he, nearly twenty. That winter had been bitter cold, but with her in his arms, the conflagration had nearly burned him alive.

  He grinned, remembering her older brother, Zebulon, catching them together. Zeb, somethin’ like ten months her senior, hadn’t finished growing.

  That boy had stood tall and proved himself a man. Tell me, right now. Have you honorable intentions for my sister?

  Pleasance, red in the face, had begged her brother to leave them be, but Jake had known, even then, exactly what he wanted. Zebulon had every right to ask, having caught them kissing. I intend to wed her. As soon as she’ll have me.

  He’d been sincere, honest. Determined. Pleasance Benton was the woman for him. Her kisses made him want a whole lot more than he had a right to. He’d proposed marriage, that very night.

  How many times had he asked her, begged her, to wed him?

  He shook off the memory, shamed, even now, by the frequency of his proposals.

  She hadn’t wanted him then. What made him think she’d want him now?

  If he let her stay, if he actually married her… “She’ll up and leave. Maybe not today, or tomorrow.” He swallowed, the memory enough to warn him off. “I’d rather hurry that eventuality along. Before she’s settled.”

  Before I fall for her again.

  Before her leaving kills me.

  Good ol’ Tuck waited, in no hurry to rush the conversation.

  As usual, talking things through with his closest friend helped him find answers. He clapped Tuck on the back. “I know how to handle this.”

  “That right?”

  “I’ll show her life on the Running G ain’t a thing like Paris. Within seven days, she’ll be long gone, and it’ll be her idea.”

  Seven days, probably less. He could safeguard his foolish heart that long, as long as there were no more kisses.

  Chapter Six

  The bedroom Jacob set aside for Ann Robbins was spacious and airy. Painted a clean white, the room was at the top of the stairs, settled into a corner of the house, where two windows ventilated the room.

  Pleasance loved it immediately.

  A simple bedstead, soft mattress, and side table sat between the two windows, an armoire and chest of drawers opposite.

  Jacob’s letters to Ann said he’d prepared this room with her in mind. He’d told her about procurement of the furniture from a carpenter’s furniture shop in Leadville. The lumber had been carted by oxen up the steep mountain canyon before the local lumber mill, or the railroad spur, had been completed.

  She could only imagine how much he’d paid for the pieces.

  Unlocking and opening her trunks, settling her belongings into this bedroom, helped her to relax after their tussle.

  Discovering the woman who worked for him was none other than his older sister, Frances, who’d grown up next door to Pleasance in Denver elated her. Fran’s parents, big-hearted Irish immigrants had quite a brood, but always said there was room for one more. When they’d found young Jacob Gideon somewhere in Denver, obviously alone and desperate, they’d brought him home. When they’d learned he hadn’t anywhere to go, he’d become part of the family.

  She’d always love the O’Kanes for saving him.

  “How long have you worked for Jacob?” she asked Fran.

  “I’ve been here nearly a year.” Fran’s brown eyes, so warm and expressive lost their sparkle. She tucked a wayward lock of wild, frizzy red hair behind an ear. “Didn’t your parents tell you my Ira died in the springtime, just over a year ago? He lost control of the horse and cart he led through an alleyway, and when it was over, the horse had trampled him.”

  “Oh, Fran! I hadn’t heard.” What a horrible, terrible end to a marriage that had just begun—handsome Ira Derrick’s life ended far too early. She embraced the woman she’d known well as a little girl. Frances had been older, enough so they’d not played together often.

  In that moment, Fran locked in her embrace, Pleasance felt as if the bond had continued without interruption.

  Fran drew a deep breath
, dried her eyes, and smiled a bit too brightly. “Let’s talk about you. So you are Ann Robbins. And me, so innocent, thinking Ann Robbins, the fancy opera singer, and Ann Robbins, my little brother’s bride, were two different people.”

  Pleasance couldn’t meet her friend’s eye. “Are you upset with me?”

  “How could I be? You and Jake have been destined for one another from the time you were children. I never felt right ‘bout him marrying someone else. In my heart, I’d hoped ‘twas you.”

  The sincerity and love on Fran’s expression reassured her. “Thank you.”

  “So out with it. Tell me how you came to be the lady my brother wrote to this past year.”

  Pleasance unpacked another trunk, this one containing sturdy ranch clothing she’d bought. Sturdy boots, heavy socks, a heavy coat. A hat. Gloves. Trousers that fit her.

  The wardrobe of a rancher’s wife.

  Lovely dresses too. New designs from Paris. Just two, as she’d eventually have an opportunity to wear them.

  Jake might need a ranch wife, but he wanted a feminine bride.

  One way or another, she’d win her man’s heart.

  “You know I love Jacob,” she told Fran. “I always have.”

  “Yes, yes. How did you know he sought a bride?”

  Fran had always been this outspoken. Nothing scared her. Pleasance decided to shirk her fear. “One of your mother’s letters mentioned his plan to find a bride. Then a letter arrived from my mother, confirming his intentions. And I…”

  Her throat spasmed. She couldn’t comfortably speak.

  “And you decided to reclaim what was rightfully yours.”

  “Yes.”

  An odd realization came out of nowhere. She’d always assumed her mother had learned of Jacob’s intentions to find a wife from his adoptive parents, who still lived next door. But now that she saw the gleam of interest in Fran’s eyes, knew Fran had been here, at the Running G for a year… “You told my mother. You set things in motion.”

  “I do write letters home, now and again.”

  “Fran!” A surprise, but a very welcome surprise at that. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  “I did it for my brother.” Fran held a serious expression, but it didn’t last. “Oh, all right. I did it for the both of you. Someone had to shake some sense into you both. Who else, but a bossy big sister?”

  “Who, indeed.” Pleasance threw her arms around her friend, squeezing with sincere affection.

  “And Ma writes to me,” Fran said, “as does your mother, so I know they’re both doubtful you’re home to stay.”

  That news dampened her enjoyment. “That’s no surprise. My parents—” She gestured with a vague sense of helplessness.

  “I suspect your parents thought you fancied Europe and America’s big cities too much to return to Colorado.”

  She nodded, setting a pair of sturdy work boots on the floor of the armoire. With that trunk empty, only two remained. She unlocked the next, finding her sewing, including the quilt blocks she’d carefully pieced in the quiet hours between performances, and in lonely hotel rooms. She’d worked on the project in earnest over the past year as Jacob’s letters had provided fresh inspiration and she no longer worked from memory alone.

  “Given you’ve learned my role in bringing you here, small and innocent though it was, I’ll ask what’s on my mind. Will you be leaving my brother again?”

  Pleasance looked up from the drawer where she’d set the quilt top, mostly completed now. “No!”

  “So you’ll be staying, then? No matter what comes?”

  “No matter what comes.” She unloaded her trousseau towels, table cloths, napkins, and more. All things she’d made one by one, preparing for her marriage. “I’ve had my time to study music, and now I want nothing more than to marry him, and stay forever.”

  “You remember that.” Fran’s tone may have sounded insistent, but not threatening. She doubted Fran could issue a threat and mean it.

  “No matter what my mother says, I’m home to stay. This is home.”

  “See that it is, and you and I will get along fine.”

  With the last trunk unlocked, she’d begun emptying lacy chemises and drawers, stockings and hose-supporters, when heavy, masculine footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  She took a panicked step toward the chest of drawers, ready to dump them all into one drawer and slam it shut, but the bedroom door was closed. Jacob wouldn’t see her armload of unmentionables.

  Jacob—who else?—stopped outside her door. A second passed, then two. Pleasance looked to Fran, her eyes wide, and had just shoved the underclothes into a drawer and shut it before two brisk knocks sounded on the door.

  “Come in.” Fran called.

  Jacob opened the door with confidence. He folded his arms, bracing his feet an impressive shoulder-width apart. Though he glanced at his sister, Fran made no move to leave them alone—she was the guaranteed chaperone after all. The determination in Jacob’s pale eyes chilled her.

  “You chose to leave Leadville, refused to book passage on anther train out of town, and now you’re unpacking.”

  Did that statement contain a question? “Yes. I’m here to stay. Just as we discussed.”

  He shook his head. His features, once filled with love and light had hardened to stone. “We discussed two weeks, maybe three, to determine if we found one another suitable for marriage.” He paused, his gaze pinning her with glacial intensity. “Two weeks, Ann. Not one day more. Two weeks to prove you can cut it here. Two weeks to decide if this is the life you want.”

  She tried to smile. This was Jacob, the man she loved. And she understood his concerns. Really, she did. “Sounds fair. I’m ready.”

  “Are you, now.”

  Oh, yes. Ready, and then some. She smiled to show just how happy she was. “What, exactly, do you want me to do tomorrow?”

  “You’re coming out with me. I want to show you the spread, my operation.”

  “I’d like that. What time do you want me to be ready? Six?”

  “Half-past three.”

  Fran snorted. “What’s so all-fired important that you’re starting your work day two hours early? This isn’t a dairy, Jacob Gideon, and you know it.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes at his big sister. “Need I remind you, Mrs. Deverick, you are here to work. For me.”

  “Be nice. Your bride-to-be just got off a train. She’s been on a train for two long days.”

  “Four.” Pleasance stated, more a matter of pride than a plea for recovery time. She didn’t need it. The thought of riding the property with Jake thrilled her.

  “Your bride has been on a train for five long days. So you’ll be nice. Go get the bathtub and bring it here. I have water heating on the stove for her bath. And you’ll have a good breakfast before you ride out in the morning. I’m cooking that breakfast, and I say it’s on the table at five. You’ll leave at half-past five.”

  “Who’s in charge here?” Jake demanded, those long, strong fingers bracketing his hips. “Me. I’m in charge.”

  “And you have the muscles necessary to carry a bathtub and water.”

  “I suggest, Miss Robbins,” he nodded at Pleasance, “that you bathe downstairs like everybody else.”

  “Bah.” Fran stood, leaving open trunks and stacks of Pleasance’s ranch gear around her feet. “Go get the bathtub. Carry the water. It’s romantic and appealing to see a man showing his bride little kindnesses.”

  “I don’t mind bathing downstairs.” She didn’t need Jake to carry bucket after bucket of water up the stairs. “I’ll be right down. I’ll lift the water myself.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Fran could be insistent. For whatever reason, this mattered to her.

  Jake dropped his head to his chest as if praying for patience. He glowered at his sister, stomped out, and slammed the door.

  Fran laughed. “Oh, Pleasance, I do believe you’re about to give Jacob a run for his money.”

&nb
sp; “May I ask whose side you’re on?”

  “I work for Jacob. I love my brother. You know that. But Pleasance, I’ve known you since you were a little girl. And I’ve known you two were right for each other for ages. Don’t mind me if I try to help your romance along, just a little. Mr. Gideon won’t hear a word about it from me.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Chapter Seven

  Late the following morning, Jacob had led Pleasance, on horseback, through most of the Running G’s five thousand acres. He urged Note up a knoll where he knew the view to be amazing. The house and outbuildings, pastures and fields, spread out below. The mountains shielded this high-altitude valley, and on a day like this, with the sky bluer than blue and not a cloud in sight, seeing his land all at once, never failed to fill him with happiness.

  Hours ago, he’d grudgingly admitted Pleasance rode far better than he’d anticipated. Maybe Paris had more than musicales. Somewhere, she’d learned to ride.

  With expert control, she brought Baroness to his side. “Oh, what a view.” She spoke with reverence, her attention on the valley below. He watched her gaze trace the line of the river, the trail through the evergreens, and the south pasture. As she followed their morning’s ride over the property, he drank in her profile.

  Not some fancy riding habit like well-to-do ladies wore, but real, legitimate ranching clothes. New, but that wasn’t surprising. What had shocked him was her denim breeches. Form-fitting, belted at the waist, and tucked into knee-high boots. A wide-brimmed hat shaded her face, held on with a leather cord tied beneath her chin. Not one flower, ribbon, or gold earbob in sight.

  Functional, like a man.

  But no man, anywhere on Earth, had filled out a pair of cotton jeans like Pleasance Benton.

  Not smart, this fascination, because she wouldn’t be here long.

  Besides, this moment was about showing off his prosperous ranch. Even without the money to invest in improving his breeding stock, they did well. He’d come a long way since she’d believed this ranch to be a fanciful dream and little more. He was proud of how much he’d accomplished, how hard he’d worked to save money, the significant down-payment made, and the beautiful property he’d bought. The mortgage niggled at the back of his mind.