by Renee Ryan
“What would you like for breakfast, Senorita Rosamond?” Rita was preparing sandwiches for the men who were branding the cattle, but she took a moment to stoke the fire under the skillet and lay in some bacon. “Two slices of bacon, two sunny eggs, two biscuits, strawberry jam and coffee?”
“You remember.” Rosamond wasn’t surprised. A mere eighteen years old, Rita already managed the entire household. More proof that Rosamond’s twenty-one years wouldn’t hinder her from completing both of Father’s projects.
“Sí, senorita. How could I forget?” She poured coffee for Rosamond and set it on the breakfast table.
“May I be of assistance, Rita?” The young valet, Roberts, dried his hands on a tea towel. “I can fix Miss Northam’s breakfast while you finish those sandwiches.”
Rita gave him a sweet smile, and her brown eyes sparkled. “I’d be most grateful, Senor Roberts.”
“Just Roberts, miss.” He winked at her and then turned a more serious face to Rosamond. “I have experience in the kitchen, as that’s where I started in service as a boy. If no one minds, I’d like to help Rita. I’ve very little to do for Mr. Wakefield today, and I like to keep occupied.”
“By all means.” Rosamond sat at the table and sipped her coffee. She could easily fix her own breakfast, but watching a possible romance budding right before her eyes was more enjoyable. “Where’s Richards?” Percy’s valet was somewhat older, perhaps in his thirties.
Roberts arched his brown eyebrows at her question. Visiting wealthy friends in Boston, she’d noticed that servants didn’t chat with the family of the house. No doubt that was also the custom in England. “He went with Mr. Morrow to watch the branding, miss.”
“Hmm.” Rosamond hid a grin. “To watch or to protect his employer?”
Roberts also hid a grin by laboring unnecessarily over the bacon. “I’d imagine both. Our gentlemen didn’t bring what you’d call work clothes, so it’ll be our job to repair any damage.”
A memory popped into Rosamond’s mind. Last night, Nate, Rand and Tolley traded looks suggesting they’d devised some initiation into the cowboy world for the Englishmen. She needed to eat before joining the branding, but she dearly wanted to see what mischief her brothers planned for their hapless victims.
“On second thought, I’ll just take this.” She picked up a beef and cheese sandwich, wrapped it in a napkin and tucked it in her pocket. With her coffee cup in hand, she headed for the door. On a hook by the back entrance hung her old hat right where she left it before going back East. Prepared to reenter her old life, she dashed out into the warm May sunshine.
And she’d try very hard not to laugh too much at whatever disaster fell upon stuffy Mr. Garrick Wakefield.
Chapter Three
Garrick, Percy and Richards perched on the fence of the labyrinthine corral to watch the Northam brothers work. Cattle branding was a messy, noisy business, but no more so than sheep shearing, which Garrick had observed every spring at Uncle’s manor. As heir presumptive, he’d spent his first eighteen years learning about his future responsibilities. Even after six years of knowing he wouldn’t inherit, he couldn’t put aside the habit of recording new knowledge, new experiences that might be helpful in the future. Of course, he’d never need to know about cattle branding. He’d never even dressed the deer or grouse he’d shot in Uncle’s park. The gamekeepers always did the dirty work.
Yet somehow, in spite of himself, he was impressed by the Northams’ personal involvement in the ranch work. They employed countless cowboys, yet stayed in the thick of the branding process. Garrick never touched a sheep, although his governess let him feel the freshly sheared wool. He suspected she enjoyed the waxy lanolin balm present in the wool.
“Hey, gents.” In the center of the corral, Nate raised a branding iron in the air. “Want to try it?”
“No, thank you.” Garrick couldn’t think of inflicting pain upon those young calves. At least sheep shearing was painless to the animals, even welcomed, for it removed their heavy winter coats.
“Yes.” Percy jumped into the corral. “I’d be delighted.”
“Sir?” Seated on the fence beside Garrick, Richards called out. “May I be so bold…?”
“Certainly.” Percy beckoned to him. “Come along.”
Richards hopped down and strode alongside Percy with a spring in his step, as though he were on his way to a picnic.
Garrick shook his head. Richards held one of the highest ranks possible for a servant. Why ever would he want to get his hands, not to mention his clothes, soiled with such menial work with dirty animals?
“Don’t you want to play?” Rosamond nimbly climbed the fence and sat beside Garrick. Pulling a sandwich from her pocket, she began to eat.
In spite of her boyish attire, his midsection did its usual dance. He really mustn’t allow himself to react this way. But how did one stop the involuntary feelings? How even to relate to her? He knew so little about young ladies. The aristocratic girls he’d known in his youth turned a cold shoulder to him once his newborn cousin replaced him as Uncle’s heir.
“Good morning to you, too, Rosamond.”
She laughed, a musical sound that reminded him of her merry song the day before. “Are you enjoying the show?” She tilted her head toward the action in the corral.
“That? Well, I must say I feel a bit sorry for those calves.”
If the rolling of her eyes was any indication, he’d said the wrong thing…again.
“If we didn’t brand them, they could be stolen and someone else could claim them.”
“Stolen? From right here on your father’s ranch?”
Another rolling of the eyes, this time accompanied by a shake of her head, as though he were a hopeless numbskull. “The ranch doesn’t grow enough hay to feed all the cattle year round, so the hands drive the herd up into the hills for summer grazing. Sometimes our cattle mingle with other herds, so the brands keep everybody honest.”
“Ah, I see.”
She polished off the sandwich in a rather dainty manner, considering the setting and her hoydenish garb. “You’ll excuse me?” She started to jump down.
“What? You?” Garrick felt an entirely different kick in his midsection—fear. For her. The actual branding wasn’t the hard part of this operation. The unwilling calves struggled violently to avoid their fate. What if she were injured?
“Yes, me.” She stayed on the fence. “These are my cattle and, like my brothers, I always participate in the branding.”
“Don’t you mean they’re your father’s cattle?” He’d say anything, no matter how annoying, to keep her from danger.
She huffed out a sigh. “Yes, my father’s, my mother’s, Nate’s, Rand’s, Tolley’s and mine. We’re all owners of the Four Stones Ranch.”
“Indeed.” Garrick eyed her doubtfully. “Are you saying your oldest brother won’t inherit everything?” Even for Americans, this idea was truly novel.
She gave him an indulgent smile. “That’s what I’m saying. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He still couldn’t let her go. “So the four stones in the ranch’s name are—”
“My brothers and I.”
Before he could climb down to assist her, she jumped to the ground and seemed no worse for the experience.
“Come on, Garrick.” She beckoned with a charming wave of her hand, and her invitation held a challenge he couldn’t refuse.
“Very well.” He jumped down beside her, and pain shot through his feet. Perhaps he should purchase a pair of those cowboy boots. If nothing else, his experiences on this ranch were sure to give him some much-needed exercise.
*
The way Garrick and Percy plunged into the branding impressed Rosamond. As with the train robbers, they proved themselves courageous in a new and dangerous situation. After an hour or so, however, she couldn’t understand why her brothers hadn’t pulled a prank on their guests. Then it happened. While helping Tolley hog-tie a reluctant calf, Garrick fell
into a pile of cow droppings. Even though he laughed, his disgust was obvious when he excused himself and headed back toward the house. Rosamond felt a little sorry for him, but she felt sorrier for Roberts, who must restore those filthy trousers and shirt. She’d cleaned up similar messes all her life. Obviously, Garrick hadn’t.
However, she discovered herself a bit rusty at branding. The indolent years in Boston and her need to get used to the altitude took their toll. When she tried to pick up the heavy iron, she needed Tolley’s help so she wouldn’t cause her calf extra pain if she misapplied the white-hot brand. Winded far too soon, she begged off before the task was finished. Her ever-indulgent brothers praised her efforts and sent her back to the house.
“I say.” Percy fell in beside her. “What an exhilarating experience.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She couldn’t say the same about Garrick, so best not to mention him. “Richards seems to be enjoying himself, too.”
“Odd, that.” Percy laughed, clearly not troubled by his valet’s request to continue working with the hands. “By the by, are we still going to the Eberly ranch today?”
“Yes. After dinner.” She hoped no one would ask why she must see Beryl when they’d just spent almost two years together at school, not to mention the long trip home. “We’ll go as soon as we clean up. Oh. Do you need your valet?”
Percy, who always seemed cheerful, laughed again. “Not at all. Of course, I want to present myself well, but I’ll make quick work of it.” He leaned close as they walked across the barnyard, as though he thought someone else might hear him. “Unlike my cousin, I didn’t always have servants, so I learned to take care of myself.”
Rosamond laughed with him. “Oh, you poor thing.” So she’d been right about Garrick. That explained much about his behavior. She thanked the Lord she’d been taught self-sufficiency like her brothers. At least in most ways. Even out here, she must mind the proprieties that protected her reputation, even if it meant she must include Garrick in this afternoon’s jaunt.
“Do you suppose Garrick would like to go along?”
Percy gave her a sly look. “You enjoy his company?”
“No. I mean…oh, dear.” She huffed out a sigh. “Although it’s just a short ride, we’ll need a chaperone. People are particular about such things out here.”
He stopped, and his blond eyebrows shot up. “Oh, my. I wouldn’t think of doing it any other way.”
With that settled, Rosamond sent him on to the house while she went to the barn to see which horses were available. Pete, one of the older cowboys who no longer took part in branding, hurried over to greet her. After they’d exchanged pleasantries, he volunteered to saddle three horses for her by one o’clock.
Maybe she should have asked Pete to go with her. Now she’d committed herself to an afternoon with Garrick. Oddly, the thought didn’t depress her as much as it should have.
*
“Very good work, Roberts.” Garrick studied his reflection in the wardrobe mirror. “You’ve managed wonders. A cold but cleansing bath and perfectly pressed clothes.” In the mirror, he checked the back of his fresh ensemble as he tried to dismiss the incident from his mind. At Eton, he’d never have lived down such a humiliating ordeal, even years later. One hapless chap whose family didn’t come up to snuff in Society’s view still received the scorn of former classmates over a similar event. When Garrick lost his position as Uncle’s heir, he’d fallen into that same category in some people’s opinion.
He knew Tolley had deliberately tripped him, but accusations would be fruitless. All the Northam brothers found the accident amusing. Perhaps he’d passed some sort of cowboy initiation when he stifled his chagrin and laughed with them. He prayed no more such incidents occurred. After checking his hair in the mirror, he sniffed his hands for the second time. “I can’t detect a single bit of cow odor. Well done.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Roberts maintained his usual blank facade, although Garrick had seen him smile at the attractive young Mexican cook. If romance was budding, Garrick must nip it lest Roberts decide to stay in Colorado. Nor would Rita fit in as a servant in England, not even in the most liberal households. More important, Garrick couldn’t afford to find a new valet. Roberts, being young and newly elevated to his position last year, settled for lower wages than a more experienced gentleman’s gentleman demanded. Further, Garrick had trained him to anticipate his needs. The loss would be dreadful.
Percy knocked as he entered. “Ready to go?”
“Your riding gloves, sir.” Roberts handed Garrick the tan leather accessory.
“Thank you.” Garrick was tempted to tell his man to spend the afternoon washing his trousers and shirt, but that would be an insult. Roberts knew what his duties were. Garrick could only hope the washing area was nowhere near the kitchen and pretty little Rita.
After searching for their horses at the front of the house, he and Percy found Rosamond by the back entrance with three saddled beasts. Why did they use the servants’ entrance when the house’s facade was quite lovely, albeit quaint? These Americans. At least the family employed a groom to see to the horses. Despite the saddle’s oddly shaped pommel, he soon found his seat and easily kept up with Rosamond as they rode across fields, paths and gullies.
They slowed to a walk and turned down a lane to a ranch similar to Four Stones, with an attractive two-story white house and numerous outbuildings, including a giant red barn.
“I say, Rosamond.” Percy rode beside her. “Good idea to ride over to your neighbors’ instead of walking. All those little streams and fences would be rather a challenge to cross on foot.”
She laughed in her musical way, a sound Garrick was becoming entirely too fond of. “I’m so glad you’re pleased, Percy.”
Garrick felt a pinch of jealousy, although he knew Percy’s interest lay elsewhere. Why couldn’t he and Rosamond get along as easily? He couldn’t worry about that today. With Percy so keen on getting acquainted with Beryl, not to mention his silly vow to marry her before the end of summer, Garrick would have more than enough to do keeping his impulsive cousin from ruining his life. In England, with his large inheritance from his father’s trade, Percy could marry any heiress, even an aristocrat, and begin to move into the higher levels of Society. Why would he waste his life on a nervous American cowgirl? Yet Percy was in no hurry to meet his future and had insisted upon coming with Garrick to America simply for a lark.
*
Rosamond rode to the back door and dismounted, tying her mare to the hitching rail. “I smell cinnamon. Mabel must be baking.”
The men followed her up the back steps.
“You don’t mean to walk right in, do you?” Garrick frowned.
She returned his look but quickly forced a smile. She must remember English customs were different. Even in Boston, she’d never entered a friend’s house without knocking.
“Yes, I do. Mabel would be bothered if I knocked. She’d have to stop her work to answer.” She opened the door and entered.
The two men followed hesitantly, but Rosamond hurried through the back hallway and into the large but cozy kitchen. “Hey, Mabel.”
Plump, red-haired Mabel Eberly dropped her spoon into the stewpot and turned, her merry face beaming. “Rosamond, honey, come on in.” She embraced her warmly and then held her at arm’s length. “My, you’re even more beautiful than ever.” She glanced at the Englishmen. “I know who these fine gentlemen are. Howdy, boys. Beryl told us how brave you were when those outlaws tried to rob the train. And George says you’ve come out here to build that hotel.” She beckoned to them. “Come on in. Have a seat.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen table. “Would you like some cinnamon rolls and coffee?”
Rosamond prayed they wouldn’t rebuff Mabel’s offer. While Garrick stood back, his handsome face crinkled in confusion or maybe consternation, Percy stepped over to Mabel.
“Rosamond, would you please present me to this charming lady?”
“Mabel, this is Percy Morrow. Percy, remember, first names out here.”
Percy kissed her hand, and Mabel’s sweet face turned even redder than usual. “Oh, go on, now.”
Rosamond summoned Garrick with a whip of her hand and a glare Mabel couldn’t see. “This is Garrick Wakefield.”
He must have realized the importance of compliance, because he followed Percy’s example.
“What fine manners. Now sit down.” Mabel ushered them to the table and served coffee and a plateful of fresh cinnamon buns. Her merry manner seemed to set the men at ease, for they didn’t hesitate to eat.
Seated by the door, Rosamond heard a soft tst. While Mabel plied the men with rolls in exchange for their life stories, Beryl peeked in and beckoned to Rosamond. In the hallway, Beryl embraced her fiercely.
“Rosamond, save me. Get me away from here.”
“What’s wrong?” Rosamond knew the answer. She’d happily donned her comfortable ranch clothes, but Beryl wore one of her Boston dresses. Underneath, Rosamond felt her tightly laced corset.
“It’s my sisters,” Beryl whispered anxiously and glanced toward the back door as if fearing they’d enter. “They expected me to jump right into work.” She bit her lip and stared at her hands. “I’m willing to do my share, but I can’t bear to get all freckled and rough-skinned again.” A tear slid down her ivory cheek. “I’m terrible, aren’t I?”
“Nonsense.” Rosamond hugged her. “You’ll get used to home life again.” She didn’t believe that herself. Beryl’s fears ran deeper than how her complexion looked. Rosamond thought of one way to help her. “Come meet those Englishmen.”
Beryl’s blue eyes widened. “Not like this.” She swiped away tears.
“Go freshen up.” Rosamond forced a cheerful laugh. “Your ma is feeding them her cinnamon rolls, but they can only eat so much.” She smirked. “The blond gentleman wants to meet you.”
