Inheriting a Bride

by Lauri Robinson

  However, the world took on a brighter hue, and her life didn’t seem so dismal. As a matter of fact, happiness attacked her soul, spewing a rainbow of joy from her heart to her mind. She might not be Katherine Ackerman, a brave woman from Boston, but she was Kit Becker, and she was starting a new chapter in her life. As a smile formed, she approached the cave with an entirely different attitude than she’d had a few minutes ago.

  Reaching out a hand toward her brother, she said, “Hello, Sam. I’m very excited to meet you.”

  He looked perplexed for a moment, but then took her hand and gave it a friendly shake. “I heard a lot about you from Oscar.”

  “Well,” she admitted, without a touch of animosity, “I can’t say the same. I only learned I had a brother a few hours ago, but I hope to have one for the rest of my life.” She trusted he saw the sincerity in her smile.

  Sam shuffled his feet and wiped the back of his hand over his nose. “Come on in, out of the sun,” he said, turning into the cave. “It’s not much, but I call it home.”

  What had she anticipated he’d do? Jump for joy? Hug her and declare he’d always wanted a sister? That was downright silly, yet it would have been nice. Accepting what he did offer—an invitation into his home—as a positive step, she readily followed, telling herself to give him time. One day they’d be the best of family and friends.

  Blinking, she was a bit surprised by the inside of the cave. It smelled of lingering smoke, and was very dark, but she made out a table, two chairs, several boxes and crates, and in the back there was a bed, complete with pillows and a patchwork quilt.

  With his hand in the center of her back, Clay guided her all the way to the table, where Sam was lighting a lamp to brighten the area a bit more.

  “Clay keeps hauling furniture out here. Thinks I can’t take care of myself,” Sam said, with a nod toward the bed as he put the glass chimney back on the lamp.

  “I never said you couldn’t take care of yourself, but I promised Oscar I’d watch out for you.” Clay held the back of a chair and gestured for Kit to sit.

  A smile tickled her lips. Clay might tell others, or even himself, that he watched out for Sam because of Oscar, but she knew differently. She’d witnessed how readily he’d stepped in to take care of “Henry,” and how he’d returned Mrs. Smith’s glasses, and how he provided for Clarice, and—

  “Ma talked a lot about you, too,” Sam said.

  Kit’s spine tingled, causing her to pause in the process of settling in the chair Clay held. Shaking off the tingling, she sat. “She did?”

  Clay laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “Yeah, she did.” Sam shifted slightly. “She cried at times, missing you. Said her folks wouldn’t let her bring you to Colorado. She had a jar she put money in for a trip to Chicago to get you.”

  Kit lifted a hand and wrapped her fingers around Clay’s on her shoulder, as if that would ground her. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “She got sick, though, real sick, and my pa spent the money.”

  If only there was a way to change the past, to meet her mother. Kit had to swallow, knowing there wasn’t, but Clay’s touch helped ease the pain. “Can you tell me about her, Sam?”

  He stared at her, not really acknowledging he’d heard her, and the minutes seemed to drag on before he shrugged. “Sure. What I remember, that is.”

  She chewed her lip, wondering what to say next. There were a number of things she wanted to know, but also realized Sam would have been only seven when their mother died.

  As if he was as unsure as she, Sam gestured toward a crate in the corner. “You folks hungry? I got peaches and beans.” He nodded toward Clay. “He brought them out last time he came. I can warm the beans up, but they’re good right out of the can, too.”

  Kit bit her lips together, to hold in a grin at his hospitality and explanation. It was understandable that he was as nervous as she. “That sounds wonderful.” Right now she’d eat anything Sam offered. Not because she was hungry, but because she really wanted to get to know him. He was her brother. More so, she was his sister. Something she’d always wanted to be.

  “You want ‘em hot or cold?” he asked, already digging in the crate.

  “Sam, I think you should heat the beans up for your guest, don’t you?” Clay responded, squeezing her fingers.

  A clattering of cans hitting against each other sounded as Sam answered, “Uh, yeah. I reckon so.”

  Kit glanced up, and the smile on Clay’s face sent her heart tumbling about in her chest. She returned the smile and wondered if she’d ever experienced the happiness clattering inside her right now.

  Carrying six cans at once, Sam dropped them on the table, catching them as they began to roll in all directions.

  “What can I do to help, Sam?” she asked.

  Once he had the cans standing side by side, he nodded toward the stacked crates. “There’s plates and forks in the top, under the cloth. I gotta go start the fire.”

  Clay stepped aside for her to stand, but when she started to move, his fingers wrapped around her arm. He held her in place, not saying anything as he watched Sam scurry out of the cave’s arched opening. When her brother had disappeared in the sunlight, Clay asked, “You sure about this?”

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I’m sure.”

  His eyes held respect, and that touched her. Significantly.

  “All right.” He let go of her arm. “I’ll go see to the horses.”

  She couldn’t ask him not to see to the horses, and she wasn’t afraid to be in the cave alone, so why didn’t she want him to leave? Kit reached out and took his hand before it fell to his side. Searching for something, anything to keep him near for a moment longer, she squeezed his fingers. “Thank you.”

  He took her hand in his, and then folded his other one around it as well. “You’ve said that enough already today.”

  “I’ll never be able to thank you enough. I want you to know that. Bringing me here, introducing me to Sam …” A lump formed in her throat. She licked her lips and took a breath. It was true. He’d done so much for her. No wonder Gramps had thought so highly of Clay.

  He leaned forward and once again kissed her, this time brushing his lips to her temple. “It’s my job,” he said. “I promised Oscar I’d watch out for both of you.”

  It was a moment before Kit could move or drag her eyes from Clay as he strolled through the cave opening. A sickening lump had formed in her stomach.

  “Hey, Hoffman,” Sam shouted as Clay walked out the doorway. “You got a dog?”

  “Nope,” he answered, moving to where Andrew and Rachel stood, patiently waiting to be led out of the sun. The first meeting between siblings had gone well. Not that he’d been worried. Sam was a good kid, just a little lost, and Kit … Well, everyone who met Kit liked her. His insides bucked, reigniting the fire that had flared when he’d wanted to kiss her before. Not on the forehead as he’d done, but on the lips. A full man-to-woman kiss. Shaking his shoulders, hoping that would help distract him from his thoughts, he loosened the cinch on Rachel, then pulled the saddle and blanket from her back. Carrying them over to set on a rock, and still needing a diversion, he asked, “Why’s that, Sam?”

  “Just wondering,” the youth answered, building a tripod of sticks to start a fire in the well-used pit outside the cave door. “If you named your horses after presidents, you’d probably name a dog after the states or something.” He struck a match on his boot heel and held the flame near the bits of dried grass he’d sprinkled at the base of the sticks. “A dog wouldn’t know how to act if his name was Massachusetts.”

  “If I ever get a dog, I’ll take that into consideration.” Clay walked to Andrew and undid the cinch of his saddle. Massachusetts. Interesting choice. He’d never wondered about the state before meeting Katherine Ackerman from Boston, Massachusetts.

  The leather straps hung to the ground, and he grabbed the saddle, but didn’t lift it off Andrew. His mind was di
vided. Even though one side knew who Kit was, the other side kept thinking about how he’d kissed Katherine on the train, and how he wanted to do that again. Downright craved it.

  Clay cursed silently, not wanting anyone to hear. He spun around, staring toward the cave opening. Though she looked like a woman, a lovely one, Kit was Oscar’s granddaughter, and Katherine didn’t exist.

  No amount of pondering the ins and outs could ever change that. With a heavy sigh, he turned back to Andrew and took his time unsaddling the horse. Afterward he led both mounts to the side of the cave, where the creek trickled by and trees provided them shade and a nice patch of grass to graze. He could have led a dozen animals to that spot and it still wouldn’t have given him enough time to figure out his thoughts. Flummoxed, that’s what he was, through and through. How different things could have been if Katherine hadn’t turned out to be Kit.

  That thought certainly didn’t help—it set flames scorching specific parts of his body. Parts that, just like his heart, had regained full consciousness lately.

  “You looking for something?”

  He spun around. “No.”

  Sam frowned. “You just standing there staring at the ground, then?”

  Clay shrugged, but experienced an ounce of gratitude when his confused mind found an excuse. “I figured you and Kit might like some time alone. Get to know each other.”

  Sam shook his head. “She seems nice and all, but she also seems like the kind that wants to take me to Nevadaville, or even Chicago, just like Oscar. I ain’t going, Clay.”

  He nodded, accepting how Sam recognized Kit had inherited Oscar’s determination, but he had to ask. “Why not?”

  Sam threw out an arm, gesturing toward the hills. “And leave all this?” He shook his head. “These hills are my home. I can’t figure out why folks think I should leave them.”

  Clay walked over to stand next to Sam and gaze out at the vista of peaks and valleys. “What about when you get your full inheritance? You’ll leave then.”

  “No, I won’t,” Sam insisted. “I’ll live right here. Might build a cabin. Probably a barn, too.” He leaned over and punched Clay in the arm. “Maybe even get me a dog named Massachusetts.”

  Clay had to grin at that, but still he wondered. “You want your inheritance so you can go on living right here?”

  “Well, yeah. All I really want is the deed to this here land. Then I’ll have a place I’ll never have to leave. I’ll get me a few more traps.” Sam drew a deep breath. “At one time Pa and me made a good living trapping. Course, Pa liked gambling a bit too much. With the right traps and a good line, I could do just fine. Might even set up a spring rendezvous. What would you think of that?”

  Clay took off his hat to scratch at his tingling scalp. He’d never asked Sam what he’d do with his inheritance. He had assumed the kid just wanted the money to go and waste on some frivolous dream.

  Clay’s gaze went back to the horizon, and he stuck his hat back on his head. He’d admitted to Kit that dreaming was a good thing, so that should apply to Sam, too, shouldn’t it? “A rendezvous?”

  “Yep,” Sam answered with stars in his eyes.

  “For trappers?” Clay clarified.

  “Yep. These hills are still full of them. More and more furs are needed for all the folks mining. They need good coats, you know.”

  Clay gave a nod.

  “One Ear Bob was just saying your mining towns don’t cater to the trappers. Gotta go all the way to Denver to get a good price on a hide. With my inheritance as backing money—” Sam kicked at a rock “—and your train to get the supplies here, I could set up a rendezvous that would bring trappers from all over. They don’t take good to trading with city folks, you know.”

  A nerve had snapped when he’d heard One Ear Bob’s name, but for now, Clay didn’t want to overshadow Kit and Sam’s meeting with more of his own worries. “I think that’s a fine idea, Sam. I’ve never been to a rendezvous. I might have to check that out.”

  “I’ll send you an invite.” Sam planted his hands on his hips and gazed around the hillside like a man overseeing his kingdom.

  Clay stood silently, giving the kid his moment of glory.

  “Well,” Sam said a short time later, while glancing at the cave. “I’d best get back in there. She’ll probably never figure out how to open those cans.” He took a step, then paused. “You coming?”

  “Yeah, I’m coming.”

  “Good,” Sam said. “‘Cause I don’t want to be left alone with her.”

  Shaking his head, Clay assured him, “She doesn’t bite.”

  “How do you know?”

  Sam had a way of bringing out the kid hidden in everyone. Clay hooked him around the neck and knuckled his mop of red hair. “She’s your sister.”

  “So?”

  “So, there’s nothing to be afraid of. She won’t hurt you.”

  Sam stiffened. “I may have lived in the hills my whole life, but there’s one thing I know.”

  “What’s that?” Clay asked. The serious glint in Sam’s eyes sent a tiny shiver racing along his spine.

  “That a man’s better off being leery of women. All women. There ain’t a one of them that’s not out to change him.”

  The shiver caught the top Clay’s spine with a death grip.

  “Every one of them has a plan,” Sam continued, “whether they act like it or not. And usually they need a man to fulfill it. They’ll do anything to get the means to their ends.”

  “Where’d you learn that?” Clay asked, rubbing his neck, which had started to stiffen.

  “Don’t you read any of those books you keep hauling up here?” Sam asked.

  “Yes—”

  “Well, there you have it,” Sam said.

  “There I have what?”

  “Where I learned so much about women.”

  Clay ignored the urge to keep scratching his head. “Those books are—”

  “I know, adventure stories, about men sailing the seas and trekking across unknown territories, but in every one of them there’s a woman making up a list of chores for him.” Sam, evidently satisfied with his explanation, began walking toward the cave.

  Clay followed, his mind making a list of the books he’d brought to Sam over the past year. He’d read them all, but he’d never picked out what Sam had. Perhaps he’d have to reread a few of them.

  “Even the Bible’s full of stories about women getting what they want,” Sam added, moments before he entered the cave.

  His screeched “I’ll open those!” had Clay picking up his pace. He turned the corner just in time to see Sam pull a long knife from Kit’s hand as the kid repeated, “I’ll open those.”

  Clay stopped in the archway and leaned against the wooden frame built on the inside, where Sam attached a door during the winter months. How had a kid of seventeen figured out more about life and women than Clay had in his twenty-eight years? Sam lived in a cave, but knew exactly what he wanted.

  Whereas Clay didn’t live anywhere. He slept in his office, because he’d believed a woman when she said if he built an opera house she’d move to Nevadaville. At first Miranda had wanted him to move to Denver. Convincing her he couldn’t and still run his mines and mills, she’d finally conceded to moving—with conditions. And then, after he’d built the opera house, and a home he thought she’d be infatuated with, she’d told him she was going to Paris. That was it. Going to Paris to perform with the Royal Troupe, without ever seeing the opera house or the home he’d built for them—him and her.

  “You growing roots there, Hoffman?”

  Clay glanced up. “No,” he answered. Keeping his gaze off Kit, he turned and followed Sam to the fire. Sam had an account Oscar had set up for him, and it held more than enough money to buy traps and supplies, build a cabin, too, if that’s what he wanted.

  “Sam,” Clay started. “I’ve told you before, about the money Oscar left you. There’s enough—”

  “Nope,” Sam interrupted.


  “You could—”

  “No.” Sam kicked down the fire and set an iron grate across the coals. “I’ve told you before. I don’t want it that way.” He placed the pan of beans on the grate. “Right now you have to oversee every dime I spend. I don’t want a partner. When I set up my rendezvous, I want it my way. Then there’s no one to blame if it don’t pan out, and no one to divvy up the profits when it does.”

  Clay held in the sigh building in his chest. The account was set up so every transaction had to be approved by him, and the will was ironclad.

  “Why’s she here?” Sam asked, stirring the beans with a long spoon as thoroughly as his words invaded Clay’s ponderings.

  “She wanted to meet you,” he answered, crouching down beside the kid.

  “Is she gonna move out here?”

  Once more, Clay’s heart took to racing. He had no idea what her plans were now that she knew the truth. The thought of her leaving had something coiling inside his stomach. “You’ll have to ask her,” he finally said.

  “Me?” Sam shook his head. “Didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Clay dug deep, but couldn’t come up with an excuse. “It’s none of my business,” he finally said halfheartedly.

  Sam laughed. “There’s nothing in Nevadaville that ain’t your business. You own the entire town, and a good portion of Center City and Black Hawk to boot.”

  He couldn’t deny his ownership of many businesses and properties, but could refute his interest in nonpublic issues. “I don’t involve myself with people’s private affairs.”

  The look Sam shot his way said more than any words could, and the kid knew it. “You’re her guardian, same as mine.”

  Clay’s teeth clamped together. “Yeah. I know,” he admitted. “I know.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Lunch went well. The siblings talked between themselves. Kit asked Sam about his home and with unique pride Sam shared his trials and errors of building the cave into a dwelling. When the conversation turned to Sam’s childhood. Clay excused himself, giving the siblings time to share things privately.