Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage AgreementCowgirl for KeepsThe Lawman's RedemptionCaptive on the High Seas

by Renee Ryan

  He lowered the wick on the kerosene lamp to douse the flame, then followed Rosamond out of the office into the hallways lit by candles in wall sconces. In England, most upper-class houses and businesses used gaslight for illumination. Would gaslight work in the hotel? Or would Rosamond find fault with that idea, too?

  Upstairs, as Garrick started to enter his room, Percy offered him a cheerful goodnight, lifting his mood a little. Maybe his jolly cousin could serve as a sort of buffer between Garrick and Rosamond—if he wasn’t too busy dancing in attendance on Beryl. But that was a problem for another day. Garrick fell asleep trying to sort out which items on his planning list could be modified and on which ones he must stand firm.

  The next day’s weather was agreeable, if a little warm. Shortly after breakfast, Garrick made his way to the barn. With no footman to inform the stable boy of their need for a carriage, Garrick volunteered to carry the message, mainly to avoid another conflict with Rosamond. She’d barely spoken to him at breakfast. Nor had Tolley been the most pleasant meal companion. He’d glared at Garrick across the table, his dislike obvious. Of course, he laughed when he learned how his pups had destroyed Garrick’s hat, as though he’d instructed the beasts to do it. When Mrs. Northam suggested that her youngest son lend Garrick one of his hats, Tolley had pretended not to hear her, instead asking Rosamond to pass the bacon and eggs.

  As Garrick strode across the barnyard, an odd little thought—revolutionary almost—took root in his mind. He’d sensed from the beginning that Rosamond didn’t care much for him. While she didn’t completely ignore him, as the young ladies in London had, she also didn’t seem to respect him. What sort of man did she respect?

  She clearly adored her three brothers. Unlike wealthy, indolent English sons, all of the Northam offspring worked alongside their cowhands. Yet, as Garrick had noticed at church on Sunday, they received the community’s highest regard. In England, such esteem was reserved for the wellborn, their birthright, so to speak. Perhaps to earn similar regard from these Americans, Garrick should follow the customs of the land and lend a hand around the ranch. He hadn’t found the branding enjoyable in the least. Thankfully that job was completed for the year, so he needn’t attempt to master the skill. But he might prove useful at other tasks. He sent a silent request upward asking the Lord for wisdom in how to proceed.

  Encouraged by the promise of James 1:5—“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not, and it shall be given to him”—Garrick strode into the barn. On guard against an attack by the rascal puppies, he was relieved to see them curled up in a furry black-and-white mass in the first stall. Only one lifted a sleepy head to eye him before dropping back to sleep.

  Garrick found Pete cleaning an already spotless harness with saddle soap on a cotton rag. The wiry old cowboy set aside his work, stood from his seat on a hay bale and tipped his wide-brimmed hat.

  “Mornin’, Mr. Wakefield. What can I do for you?” His wide grin, which revealed a few teeth missing and many years of wear on those that remained, bespoke the very kind of regard Garrick sought. His piercing blue eyes also exuded warmth that went a long way to soothing Garrick’s sense of rejection.

  “Pete, I want your job.”

  The old man blinked. Then he burst into a loud guffaw. “Awright, boy. You’re hired.” He fisted calloused hands at his waist. “What do you want to learn first?”

  Pleased to be so quickly understood, Garrick waved a hand toward a back stall. “We’re going into town, so I’d like to learn how to prepare that surrey for the trip.”

  “Didn’t I hear tell that you and Mr. Morrow learnt about hitchin’ up wagons on Sunday from Miss Rosamond and Miss Beryl?”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t do much to help.” And could kick himself for having missed the opportunity. His foolish pride had kept him from accepting Rosamond’s tutelage.

  “I’ll be happy to oblige.” Pete walked toward the stall. “Let me get it.”

  “Permit me.” Garrick strode after him. “I want to know how to manage by myself.”

  That comment earned him another one of those piercing looks, along with a nod of approval. With some difficulty, Garrick managed to pull the conveyance out into the barnyard. Thankfully, he’d not lost all his strength despite not exercising these past weeks as he traveled.

  Pete told Garrick how to make certain the carriage was clean and sound and then sent Garrick into the back corral to fetch Old Sam, a large brown gelding, out to the barnyard. At Pete’s instruction, he gave him a good brushing, attached the freshly cleaned harness, guided the beast backward between the shafts and secured the trappings.

  Garrick worked up quite a sweat, but completing the job alone brought him an unfamiliar sense of satisfaction. When Pete patted him on the shoulder and commended his work, satisfaction threatened to turn to pride. Should he tell Rosamond he’d prepared the surrey? No. That would be boasting. She might even laugh at him for thinking the deed remarkable.

  He climbed onto the front bench and lifted the reins, only to discover his hands stung from his labors. If he drove to town, as he intended to do, he ought to wear gloves. The gelding had a soft mouth and required little direction as he guided him to the front of the house. Garrick left the animal to nibble on the front lawn while he went inside to fetch the others.

  Rosamond wore a pretty blue gingham frock that turned her green eyes a lovely shade of turquoise. Her thick, dark brown hair was swept up into a charming coiffure beneath a pretty straw bonnet, and tiny gold-and-pearl earrings dangled from her ears. As Garrick helped her into the front seat of the surrey, he caught the scent of her rose perfume. Her elegance and grace stirred his heart dangerously…until she assumed the driver’s seat on the right and took up the reins.

  “Do permit me to drive, Rosamond.” Garrick hoped she wouldn’t argue.

  To his relief, she merely turned a quizzical look his way. “Do you know how?”

  He chuckled softly. If only he could tell her how many curricle races he’d won. But again, that would be boasting. “I did manage to bring the surrey around from the barn.”

  “Oh, pish-tosh.” Percy thumped him on the shoulder before climbing into the back beside Beryl. “My cousin is far too modest. He was a champion driver at Oxford. You can trust him entirely.”

  Garrick couldn’t stop the flush of pleasure creeping up his neck. Good old Percy, bragging about him that way.

  With a shrug, Rosamond scooted over to the left side. “Very well. Let’s see how you manage.”

  Had she decided not to approve of anything about him? Disappointment dispelled his momentary elation. In its place, wounded pride reared its ugly head, and Garrick did nothing to stifle it. He must remember his purpose for being here, not only for his sister’s benefit, but for his own sense of self-worth. Miss Rosamond Northam might not think much of him, but he’d prove himself worthy of Uncle’s trust by building the grandest hotel possible in this inhospitable wilderness.

  *

  Rosamond watched Garrick from the corner of her eye, silently approving the way he drove up the lane and onto the main road into town as though driving were second nature to him. As Percy had indicated, Garrick did know how to handle the reins. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to compliment him for his skill, even when he carefully guided the mare around a hole in the road. Any cowboy could do the same. She and her brothers didn’t expect praise for knowing how to do such a simple task. Besides, if she told him he was doing a good job, he’d probably say, “Of course.”

  Lord, forgive me. This morning while reading her Bible and praying, she’d promised the Lord she’d try to get along with Garrick, even be hospitable. But the dark looks he’d given Tolley over the breakfast table made the promise hard to keep. Yesterday when the puppies destroyed his hat, he’d been rightfully displeased, yet eventually laughed it off. When Tolley laughed at the story, however, Garrick reacted poorly. No wonder Tolley ignored Mother’s request to lend the E
nglishman a hat.

  How she wished she could enjoy this lovely day like her friends in the backseat. Beryl and Percy talked softly, with Percy remarking about this or that bit of scenery and Beryl explaining some historical note about the site. Rosamond released a quiet sigh, wishing she could think of a pleasant topic of conversation. She noticed Garrick’s bare head and his dark, curly hair being tossed across his forehead by the breeze in an attractive way. She squelched the giddy jump of her heart over his manly presence. They had nothing in common, and she refused to become fond of him. On the other hand, she owed him a hat and would purchase one for him.

  “Let’s stop at Winsted’s General Store before we go out to the quarry.”

  He gave her a sober nod, while a slight flicker in his eyes suggested he was pleased with the idea. “As you wish.”

  At the store, Mrs. Winsted greeted the party in her usual welcoming fashion, even speaking to Garrick like an old friend. “I guess that letter you sent yesterday is halfway across Kansas by now.” She chuckled. “Don’t think I’ll ever get over how fast letters can get from one place to another since the railroad came.”

  While Beryl and Percy traipsed off to shop, Garrick pulled an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and held it out to Mrs. Winsted. “Would you be so kind as to post this one on today’s train?”

  Curiosity seized Rosamond, but she couldn’t ask to whom he’d written. Nor could she read the address before Mrs. Winsted took it in hand.

  “Another one to that Lord Westbourne, eh?” Mrs. Winsted eyed him with obvious admiration as she accepted his coin, stamped the missive and placed it in her outgoing mail pouch. “You’ll end up broke writing to him every day.”

  Garrick glanced at Rosamond, puzzlement in his eyes. Did he wonder how to answer Mrs. Winsted’s harmless comment? Was he actually looking to Rosamond to help him out? The urge to rescue him swept away all curiosity about why he’d written to his uncle twice in two days.

  “Mrs. Winsted, our English guest lost his lovely black bowler hat yesterday in an unfortunate incident.” Rosamond grasped Garrick’s upper arm, surprised at the bulging muscle beneath the black linen frock coat. She tugged him toward the display of men’s hats. “Oh, look, Garrick, she has several bowlers. But I’d suggest a Stetson, since you’ll be out of doors a great deal. Their wider brims protect you from the sun. Here, this white one’s perfect for you.”

  Before he could object, she placed the headpiece on him and gently shoved him toward the mirror on the counter. “See how handsome you look?” Had she actually said that? Heat rose up her neck and into her cheeks. “Just like a cowboy.”

  “A cowboy?” He snorted out a mirthless laugh. “Ah, yes, the epitome of manliness.”

  Was that sarcasm or resignation in his voice?

  “I say.” Percy approached with Beryl at his side. “What a ripping good hat, old boy. Don’t you think?”

  Garrick grimaced. “Maybe in another color. Perhaps a black one?” He handed the hat to Mrs. Winsted. At her negative response, he said, “Tan? Brown?”

  She offered a brown one, but it was too small. “I’m afraid white is all I have in your size, Mr. Wakefield. We’ll have a new shipment from Philadelphia next week.”

  “White it is, then.” Percy triumphantly placed it back on Garrick’s head.

  A few minutes of animated debate between the cousins gave Rosamond a chance to whisper to Mrs. Winsted that she must put the cost of the hat on the Northam account. The storekeeper nodded and then put an end to the discussion with “Wear it for a few days, Mr. Wakefield. If you decide it’s not for you, bring it back.”

  “Please do that, Garrick,” Rosamond added. “If we’re going to get out to the quarry and do everything else we need to do today, we can’t spend any more time here.”

  Before Garrick could object, they bustled him out to the buggy, and soon they were on their way west to the quarry.

  Rosamond watched Garrick from the corner of her eye. He really did look handsome in that white hat. Maybe she’d made a mistake to insist that he take it. The last thing she needed was something else to make him more attractive to her. Even his befuddlement over their insisting that he take the hat caused her heart to hiccup. Like Father when Mother took charge of some clothing issue, Garrick exuded a charming vulnerability in the face of his quandary. No wonder he needed a valet to see to his attire.

  *

  Garrick felt as if everyone on the street were staring at him. In fact, several people he recognized from church did take a second look after waving at the surrey’s occupants. He felt ridiculous in the hat, almost like a fraud. While he had no doubt he could master any skill a cowboy performed, he hadn’t the slightest desire to make it his life’s work. He certainly didn’t want anyone to mistake him for a rancher.

  Once they arrived at the quarry some seven or so miles west of Esperanza, however, he gave over his objections to the hat. The sun beat down relentlessly as they toured the vast stone works, and the wide brim did indeed protect him from its burning rays. By the time they’d settled their business with the master mason and headed back toward town, Percy, being of a fairer complexion and wearing his black bowler, had turned quite red around the edges.

  “We’ll get you a Stetson, too,” Beryl said. “And as soon as we get back to Four Stones, we’ll apply some aloe to keep those spots from blistering.” Her maternal tone set Garrick’s nerves on edge. How could the two of them become so familiar with each other in less than five days? And how could he keep them from growing any closer?

  Halfway back to town, at Rosamond’s direction, Garrick drove the mare to a shady spot beside the river that ran some hundred yards north of the road.

  “I love to picnic here,” she said as he helped her down from the surrey.

  “Me, too,” Beryl added. “I chaperoned Marybeth and Rand on a picnic a few miles up the road when they were courting.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “Right then, they didn’t know they were courting. Everybody else did, though.”

  Percy found her observation particularly humorous, if his jolly laughter was any indication. “I’ve observed that sort of thing from time to time in my few years of life.” As he helped Beryl lay out the picnic blanket, he cast a look at Garrick. “Some people just don’t realize the value of what’s right in front of them.”

  Garrick glared at his cousin. He most certainly was not courting Rosamond, nor did she seem the slightest bit interested in his doing so.

  They settled down on blankets and began to dine on the fine picnic packed by the Northams’ cook. Garrick made up his mind to enjoy this grassy scene of pine and cottonwood trees, with wildflowers blooming in little patches here and there. The air was fresh but thin, which tired him and made him long for a nap. But the exquisite pink stone in the quarry fired his imagination, making sleep impossible.

  One thing was now settled in his mind. When Garrick had taken the master stonemason aside to ask about payment, the man told him Colonel Northam had paid in full for the entire shipment. That settled at last his concerns about the Colonel having sufficient wealth for his share of the project.

  Mr. Frisk, the master stonemason, added that his workmen would begin transporting the prepared stones to Esperanza straightaway. The foundation would have to be laid first, and then the masonry frame walls would go up. They hoped to finish the exterior before the end of June, leaving the interior to carpenters, who would frame in the interior walls with wooden studs, cover them over with lath and plaster and finally apply wallpaper. Artesian wells would supply water throughout the building. The main section of the hotel should be completed and ready for guests by early September before the weather turned cold. After that, the workmen would continue to build a second wing of the hotel as long as the weather remained agreeable.

  Garrick could now report to Colonel Northam that the hotel would soon become a reality.

  Rosamond appeared as excited as he. She’d made notes in a small journal along the way and now retrieve
d it from her reticule and focused on him.

  “I noticed in your plans that you’ve already ordered the furniture and velvet drapes, but only for the first wing guest rooms. Our local carpenter can make the furniture for the second wing.” She paused to take a bite of her roast beef sandwich. “What about cotton curtains for the less expensive accommodations?” She gave him a glorious smile that gave no hint of their previous disagreements.

  That annoying little hitch in his chest happened again, not unlike when Uncle had given him his first pony. Percy nudged him and smirked, and he realized he was sitting frozen with a sandwich halfway to his lips.

  “Yes, of course. Cotton curtains. Brilliant idea.”

  Rosamond seemed to hide a laugh as she stared down at her journal. “Mrs. Winsted can order the fabric. Mrs. Beal, our town seamstress, will appreciate the work.” She cast a frown in his direction as though she expected disagreement. “She owns a Singer, and her work is of professional quality.”

  “Very good.” Garrick’s first thought was Mrs. Starling, but he wouldn’t contradict Rosamond now that they seemed to be getting along and the subject was as simple as curtains. In any event, he hadn’t seen a sewing machine among her few belongings. “Perhaps she could use an assistant.”

  Rosamond regarded him, curiosity beaming from those bright green eyes. “Probably. Do you know of anyone?”

  He’d spoken without thinking. How could he explain that he knew someone in Esperanza, especially a woman, to whom he’d not been properly introduced? There was nothing for it. His pride mustn’t keep Mrs. Starling from additional employment. “I do. I met a lad in town whose mother might be interested in the position.”

  The girls didn’t seem to find it strange, but Percy questioned him with a look and then shrugged when Garrick didn’t answer. Instead, Garrick accepted a biscuit—cookie—from Rosamond and ate it to avoid further comment. The less anyone knew about his helping the Starling family, the better.