Inheriting a Bride

by Lauri Robinson

  When he stood at full height, his sister stretched on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, something Kit wished she could do. Her heart was expanding so fast her chest hurt, both at how Liza Rose had reacted to her gift, and how wonderful it must be to have a family like this.

  “Oh?” Clay said, giving his sister a hug. “What do you want now?”

  Clarice laughed and reached over to take Kit’s arm. “Nothing. That was very nice of you to repair Mrs. Smith’s glasses.”

  He took Kit’s other arm as Clarice tugged her into the house. “Then you’ll be surprised to hear I’m attending the matinee with you.”

  Though Clarice’s hair was a delightful shade of yellow, her eyes were the same dark blue as her brother’s, and right now they darted between Clay and the hold he had on her arm, making Kit’s toes curl inside her dress shoes.

  “You are?” Clarice asked, as if she didn’t believe him.

  “Yes,” he said, “I am.” Still holding Kit’s arm, he led her through the open doorway. “I believe we were invited to join you for lunch before the play begins.”

  “Well, then, right this way,” Clarice said, waving her arm.

  The meal proved to be the most delightful one Kit had ever had. Though twelve chairs sat around the table, there weren’t enough for everyone, so on both sides, long planks were stretched across three chairs, making room for four or five to sit instead of three. Kit sat directly across from Clay, and every once in a while, when she’d feel his gaze upon her, a heat rose into her cheeks such as she’d never experienced before.

  The meal started with an orchestra of platters, bowls and plates being passed left to right. Well-behaved, the children took a sample of everything going by, and the older ones helped the younger ones when needed. For the first few minutes, after the last platter was set back in the center of the table, a busy silence filled the room as the children enjoyed the meal with gusto. It had Kit enthralled, just being a part of it all, and shortly afterward the conversations had her laughing aloud. The children had eaten enough to take the edge off their endless hunger, and their array of questions focused on the matinee, and were mainly directed at Clay, who responded with exaggerated teasing.

  By the time the meal ended Kit’s cheeks hurt from laughing. When the children, well-versed on their chores, began to clear the table, she rose to help, but paused when Clay took her arm.

  “Are you sure you want to attend the play?” he asked, sidestepping out of the way of rushing children.

  “Yes,” she answered, her insides bubbling all over again. An ounce of dread rose up, making her ask, “Don’t you?”

  “Sure,” he said, but his eyes were reading her face again, in that way they seemed to do. “I just didn’t know if you still wanted to, after seeing how wild ten kids can be.”

  “I think they’re delightful,” she answered honestly. “I always wished I’d had siblings.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded, but her smile slipped as she caught the serious look that all of a sudden covered his face. Her skin prickled, too, as if in warning of something about to come. There wasn’t time for her to reflect upon it, though, because Clarice patted her arm right then.

  “Kit, would you mind helping the children for a moment?” she asked. “I need to speak with Clay for just a second.”

  “Of course not,” Kit answered, and was immediately given instructions by a nearby Liza Rose.

  The cleaning up was completed in no time, and then the entire group exited the house, gathering on the front porch for a count of heads.

  Clay’s fingers wrapped around her hand as he said, “I told Clarice we’d be the caboose, make sure no one gets sidetracked on the way.”

  Kit nodded. It was the most she could do. The fire his touch caused was growing. Now, not just the skin where his fingers touched heated up, but her insides did, too. The warmth was enough to make her sway on her feet. Well, that and the fact that as soon as he said caboose her mind recalled how they’d kissed.

  “Are you all right?”

  She blinked and took a deep breath. How could mere thoughts make a person feel as dizzy as if she’d just twisted the ropes of a swing together and spun around in tight circles?

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m fine. Being the caboose is a good idea.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Oh, goodness, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Clarice asked, sitting down in the chair in the large kitchen.

  “Yes, it was,” Kit agreed, still as dizzy as if she’d been on a swing. Sitting next to Clay in the darkened playhouse had turned her entire body to mush. Her legs had barely managed to carry her back to the society house. Now that he was gone, a sense of normality was returning, but somehow she knew she’d never be the same.

  Clarice was as kind and friendly as she was beautiful, and as if sensing Kit was still a touch off-kilter, she patted her hand. “Sometimes the children can be a bit overwhelming. Thank you, again, for helping today.”

  The children were not what had overwhelmed her. “I really enjoyed it,” Kit replied, taking another sip from the teacup painted with blue roses and then replacing it on the matching saucer. The inside of Children’s Society House was as neat and tidy as the outside. It was a cheerful home, made more so by the laughter floating through the open door. This was the kind of place she’d never tire of, including the cat that right now was rubbing against her leg. She bent down to pat his head. “I’m so happy to hear Frenchie didn’t eat those baby birds.”

  “I should have told Liza Rose they flew away this morning, but with everything else going on, I just didn’t think of it. I’m glad you didn’t get hurt climbing that tree after him,” Clarice said as she refilled both their cups.

  Kit had thought changing the subject might help, but talk of climbing the tree made her think of Clay all over again. Hearing a male laugh mingling with the children’s in the backyard, she snatched on to the distraction. “Jonathan certainly enjoyed the play.”

  Clarice’s face grew soft and a dreamlike gleam appeared in her eyes as she gazed toward the doorway. “He’s so wonderful with the children and has been such a help since I opened this place.”

  “How long ago was that? When you opened the society house?” Kit asked, determining that was an even safer subject.

  “Almost two years ago now.”

  “I wonder why Gramps never mentioned it,” Kit murmured. He would have known she would be interested in hearing about such a home. When she was younger she had used to beg him to bring home another child for her to play with. With that low-pitched chuckle of his he’d say she was the only child he and Grandma could handle.

  “I don’t believe he saw it. The last time he was in Nevadaville he spent most of the time out at the mine.”

  “That sounds like Gramps.” Despite the tug at her heart, she grinned. “He loved to get his hands dirty, as he used to say.”

  Clarice looked thoughtful for a moment and then smiled with understanding while resting a hand on top of Kit’s. “He was a wonderful man. I remember being little and looking forward to his visits. I used to wish he was my grandpa.”

  Kit nodded, blinking at the sting in her eyes. During the past couple of months, when her wondering mind had gone down dark roads, her love for her grandparents had faltered at times, which had been silly indeed. She would always love them. “He was the best.”

  They sat for a moment, sipping their tea, while joyous sounds continued to echo outside. After a year of living in solitude, Kit found it refreshing to be with others, to feel welcome and a part of something. Not that her home had ever been overflowing with people, but even when it had been just her and Grandma, at least she hadn’t been alone. Not like the past year, when there had been times she’d feared the very walls would fall in around her. No one, unless they’d experienced it, could understand just how lonely she’d been.

  “Clarice,” Kit said. “Do you know Sam Edwards?”

  Clarice took a sip of her tea, and then set
it down on the matching saucer. “Sure, everyone does. But I want to know what you’re interested in. What did you do back in Chicago?” With a wave of her hand, she added, “I always dreamed of owning a place like this, for children. What have you always wanted to do?”

  Have a family, Kit almost answered, but compared to a society house, that sounded like an insignificant dream. “Well,” she said, “I thought about starting a library.”

  “A library?”

  Kit nodded. “I have rooms full of books back home. All kinds, and I have them all cataloged and arranged.” Mainly because there’d been little else to fill her time with over the years. “I thought about opening a library to memorialize Grandpa and his love of books.”

  “How many books do you have?”

  “Thousands,” Kit answered. “Well, five thousand, six hundred and ninety-eight. New York and Los Angeles, as well as a few other cities, have been working at getting public libraries, and I thought Chicago might want one as well, but after talking with city officials, I realized the Oscar Becker Memorial Community Library was just a silly dream.”

  “You talked to the city?”

  “Yes, and Grandpa’s solicitor, but they both said it would be a very expensive venture. That I should just loan my books out to friends and such.”

  Clarice frowned, looked seriously thoughtful for several moments, but then her face brightened. “We could do it here. I could help you.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, here in Nevadaville. I know the city would agree to it.”

  Kit’s heart fluttered wildly, but among the commotion a thought formed, and it was focused on Clay. Creating a library here would mean she could see him regularly, and something about that was overly appealing. She bit her lip, exploring the excitement dancing about, but ultimately shook her head. “All my books are in Chicago,” she said, while her mind told her eventually she’d have to go back there. That’s where she lived.

  “So?” Clarice said. “We could have them shipped here.”

  Biting her lip again, Kit shook her head. She’d left the house empty long enough, something that was probably making Grandma Katie roll over in her grave. That had been the one thing that had kept Kit from coming out here earlier. Years ago Grandma had made her promise never to leave the house empty, and now she had. The guilt was enough to swell her throat shut.

  Clay slid the piece of paper back toward the man on the other side of his desk. “This means nothing.”

  One Ear Bob, covered in animal skins so it was impossible to tell if he had only one ear or not, didn’t take the note. “It says right there that Edwards wanted me to look out for his boy if anything happened to him. I can show you where I buried him if you don’t believe he’s dead.”

  “Whether the man is dead or not is no concern of mine,” Clay said, leaning back in his chair. “Sam’s been on his own for years. He doesn’t need anyone to look out for him.”

  “That boy inherited a gold mine,” the trapper said, puffing out his chest and narrowing his eyes. “Edwards would want me to help him oversee his financial responsibilities. I gave my word I would.”

  Sam’s inheritance was well known in the local area, so Clay couldn’t deny that, but very few people knew the intricacies of it all. “Sam will inherit shares in a mine when he turns twenty-one, but not before then.” Pushing out of his chair, Clay continued, “If you’d like to assist Sam financially until then, by all means, go ahead. You know where he lives.”

  One Ear Bob glowered. “I know you’re part owner in that mine, too, and that you’re just stealing the kid’s money.”

  Clay refused to be riled. “Sam’s share is being overseen by the terms of his grandfather’s will. No one has access to it until he’s twenty-one.” He picked up the paper, which was clearly a fabrication, and handed it to the man. “If you’d care to take it up with a judge, I’ll be happy to give you the name of the solicitor in Chicago who is overseeing everything.”

  The trapper took the paper and stomped out of the office, slamming the door in his wake. On a good day, Clay would bet on never seeing the man again. On a bad day, he’d say the trapper wasn’t done with trying to profit off Sam. Since this was a middling day—where things had gone fifty-fifty—he couldn’t say which way it would go, so just to be safe, he wrote a note to be delivered to the mine, asking the miners to keep a closer eye on Sam and the surroundings.

  The whistle from the stamp mill sounded, declaring shift change time, which also meant it was time to go and see Oscar’s other grandchild. Clay rubbed his head, replaced his hat and headed for the door. Neither Sam nor Kit could turn twenty-one fast enough to suit him today.

  Laughter floated through the windows as he approached his sister’s house, and he wasn’t sure what washed over him, delight or dread. Either one could make a person’s heart race and his palms sweat. He’d asked Clarice to join him this evening in telling Kit about Sam. There was no predicting how she might react, and most likely would need another woman’s support.

  It was still a bit confusing, why Oscar had never told her. Clay had spent the better part of the afternoon looking through his partner’s old files. Kit deserved to know the truth, and all he really had was hearsay. Most of it had come from Oscar, but even in that, the man had been sharing what he thought had happened.

  Clay squared his shoulders and climbed the steps. Someone must have heard the thud of his boots because the door opened before he knocked.

  “Hello, Mr. Hoffman.”

  The child always made him smile. “Hello, Liza Rose.” He bent down to flick the end of her nose and her doll’s. “And hello to you, too, Mrs. Smith.”

  Liza Rose giggled and darted off, leaving Clay to close the door. As he turned, he found a set of brown eyes gazing his way, and his heart, which had decided to take up permanent residency in his chest again, gave a little kick. He accepted the reaction. Kit was just like Sam. His ward. He should care about them. If reading all of Oscar’s paperwork hadn’t confirmed that, the visit from One Ear Bob had.

  Her expression changed, went from smiling to thoughtful, as if she was trying to read his mind.

  “Hi, Mr. Hoffman,” a tiny voice said.

  “Hi, yourself, Willie,” Clay responded, and moving into the room, he patted the crown of dark curls on the boy’s head. “Did you enjoy the play today?”

  “Yes, sir. I especially liked the wolf.”

  “Really?” Clay asked, keeping one eye on the sofa, where Kit was now fidgeting with the folds of her skirt.

  Clarice had ten children at the home, and it seemed to Clay as if they all started talking at once, every child explaining the part they had found particularly interesting or humorous. The chaos didn’t distract his attention. It remained on the woman peeking at him from beneath her lashes. The news was going to be shocking and that tugged at his newly acquired heart with more force than anything in the past had. Oscar had told him Kit wanted a family, and that made the fact that he hadn’t told her about Sam even more perplexing.

  “Children, please, Mr. Hoffman can’t hear anyone when everyone is talking at the same time,” Clarice said above the clatter. “There, now, that’s better,” she added when things quieted down.

  It was a standing event that he supped with her and the children every Saturday. She felt the children needed a male influence. He didn’t believe he was the best person for the role. Furthermore, Jonathan was there most Saturdays as well. The man was there now, sitting in an armchair beside the sofa where Kit sat.

  “Have a seat, Clay.” Clarice waved a hand toward the sofa as she took the other available armchair.

  He moved across the room, sidestepping a game of checkers and a rope loop full of marbles, on his way to the sofa, where he sat, leaving plenty of space between him and Kit. “How was your afternoon?”

  “Fine,” she answered. “How was yours?”

  “Supper is almost ready,” Adeline Wurm said just then from the kitchen doorway. She nodded his way, smi
ling. “Thank you, Mr. Hoffman, for Mrs. Smith’s glasses. I didn’t get a chance to tell you that earlier.”

  He nodded back, feeling his neck heat up, a bit tongue-tied with Kit’s eyes still on him. A bit. The word made him want to grin, thinking of another time, another place, when she’d been talking about being a “touch” miffed when Big Ed wouldn’t sell her a gun to chase down Sam. The memory brought Clay full circle.

  “All right, children, pick up your games and go wash your hands,” Clarice instructed.

  The children responded, gathering items as they left the room, and the next hour or so was little more than a blur to Clay. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Kit, and that had a battle ensuing in his head. The things he was feeling toward her weren’t the same as the ones he felt toward Sam. They should be, he kept telling himself, but nothing changed in his heart. He’d reread his copy of instructions pertaining to Oscar’s will this afternoon. Not only the one about P.J., but the others, about Kit. If she married before she was twenty-one, she lost everything, and that had him pondering exactly what Oscar had been thinking when he’d added that stipulation. The next one wasn’t much better. Clay had to approve any man she wanted to marry until she was twenty-five. Without his approval, she wouldn’t receive her inheritance.

  As the meal ended, Clarice arrived at his side, watching while Kit helped the children carry dishes into the kitchen.

  “She asked about Sam several times today,” his sister whispered.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I just kept changing the subject.” Clarice glanced toward the kitchen, where his gaze was as well. “I can’t believe Oscar never told her.”

  “Neither can I,” Clay admitted.

  Kit reentered the room and looked at them quizzically.

  Clarice tugged at his arm. “Clay, why don’t you take Kit for a short walk, while I help get the kids settled for the night? Afterward the four of us can play a game of cards or something. Does that sound good to you, Kit?”