by Merry Farmer
“I should have spoken up years ago,” Howard said.
“You should have kept your mouth shut,” Ginny countered.
“It only really got bad last summer,” Franklin mumbled. “After Mother left.”
The silence that enveloped the table after that comment was of a different sort entirely. It hung like the thick black fabric of Alice’s mourning clothes.
At length, Alice cleared her throat and asked, “Where are the deeds?”
“The deeds?” Franklin perked up.
“To the ranches,” Alice said. “The original deeds defining the boundaries of the property.”
“There are none,” Ginny confessed.
“No deeds?” Jarvis frowned.
“There’s one deed,” Howard said. “From when we originally claimed the property. A single deed in my name and Cyrus’s name was filed with the land office. We divided the original property between the two of us when Cyrus and Ginny married.”
“So there are no official records at all?” Jarvis asked. “No legal documents spelling out the boundary as it was divided at that time?”
“No,” Howard and Ginny answered at the same time, then both tensed into identical looks of irritation.
“Well, that settles it then,” Alice said.
All eyes flew to her. Jarvis frowned. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “The land was purchased by Howard and this Cyrus Piedmont. I take it that Mr. Piedmont has passed on.”
“He has, God rest his soul,” Ginny said with more than a little genuine emotion.
“Therefore the only remaining owner of the entire parcel is Mr. Haskell,” Alice finished. “Mr. Haskell has the right to declare the property line.”
Howard burst into a self-satisfied smile, puffing his chest. “I knew it was a good idea for you to bring this lovely woman to us, Franklin,” he praised his son.
“Not so fast there,” Jarvis objected. He turned to Ginny. “Did you and Cyrus have any children?”
Ginny lowered her eyes. “Sadly, no. We were not blessed that way. My darling Cyrus died only three years after we were wed, and we were a little long in the tooth to begin with.”
“I’m sorry,” Jarvis said. He laid a hand on hers at the corner of the table, then went on. “So since Cyrus didn’t have any heirs, his wife inherited his property, right? Which means Ginny owns the land. And since it was a gift, she should decide where the boundary lies.”
“Smart man,” Ginny said, turning her palm up and squeezing Jarvis’s hand.
“Balderdash,” Howard rumbled. “Inheritance doesn’t work like that.”
“Doesn’t it?” Ginny snapped.
“What is the law in Wyoming?” Alice asked. She looked from Howard to Franklin, then down the table to Jarvis and Ginny, but no one seemed to know.
“Law in these parts can be a bit… tricky,” Franklin said. “There’s no law that says women can’t own property, but I don’t know about inheriting it.”
“Did Cyrus leave a will?” Alice asked.
“No,” Ginny and Howard answered together, then glared at each other.
“He was taken from us suddenly,” Ginny said. “Struck by lightning while working. He didn’t expect to die, so no will.”
“That’s not much help,” Jarvis muttered.
“No,” Alice agreed.
They stared at each other, and again there was silence. It was broken only by the sound of forks tapping against plates as everyone at the table finished their pie.
At last, Howard said, “Well, none of this is going to be solved tonight.
“I’ll say,” Ginny snorted.
Howard glared at her, then pushed his chair back and stood. “Since we’re not going to iron out anything, I suggest we give it up and call it a night.”
“We could at least try to work things through,” Ginny protested.
Jarvis was reasonably sure she didn’t want to sit there for hours any more than he did, and that she was only protesting for the sake of protest.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Piedmont,” he said, standing and offering Ginny a hand up. “We’ll get it sorted tomorrow.”
Ginny smiled at him and took his hand to stand.
“Call me Ginny, young man. None of this Mrs. Piedmont stuff.” She winked at him, but her mischief slowly dropped. “And I don’t think we have a lion’s chance in the ocean of sorting this one out tomorrow.”
Chapter Nine
The sound of more than a dozen people pushing chairs back from Howard’s supper table was jarring for Alice. As far as she was concerned, not only had nothing been settled, more problems had been created. Why couldn’t Jarvis see how simple the dispute should be to solve?
“Here, let me help you.” Franklin rushed behind his father and around to Alice’s side of the table, grabbing her chair and holding it out of her way as she stood.
It was a pointless gesture, since she was already halfway to her feet, but when she caught the way Jarvis glowered from the other end of the table, she smiled at Franklin and said, “Thank you, that’s very kind.”
“It’s still a little light outside,” Franklin went on, offering her his arm. “We could go outside and I’ll show you the stables, the barn.”
Most of the farm hands and Hattie had rushed out of the room as soon as they were up from the table. Franklin escorted Alice toward the hall and the front door, but Jarvis blocked their way before they could get too far.
“We’ve had a tiring day,” he said. “Maybe it would be best if Alice could sit down and put her feet up.”
“It’s not that much of a walk,” Franklin protested.
“Besides,” Jarvis ignored him, eyes set on Alice’s, “I’ve got a few things I’d like to discuss with Alice.”
“I’m not sure that I have anything to discuss with you,” Alice said. Her face flamed pink, and she couldn’t maintain eye contact. She knew exactly what he wanted to talk about—their kiss. The only problem was that if they were alone when they talked about it, Alice wasn’t sure they could avoid a repeat.
“We could talk as we walked around the house,” Franklin suggested. Judging by the tightness of his smile, he wanted to come along so that nothing serious could be discussed at all.
Gracious sakes. Alice couldn’t remember the last time she was caught between two men who wanted her attention. She wasn’t in the mood to be caught between them now.
“Why don’t you and Mrs. Porter come stay at my house,” Ginny offered as she joined their small group. “I’ve got plenty of rooms, and it’s just me over there with the workers in the bunk house. I could do with some company.”
“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Jarvis said. He smiled at Ginny, then at Alice, then sent a sharp look of victory Franklin’s way.
“We have plenty of rooms here,” Franklin argued.
“True,” Jarvis said, “but I hate the idea of Mrs. Piedmont staying all alone in her house when she doesn’t have to. Come on, Alice.”
His words sounded so much like an order that Alice snapped her eyes wide. “I beg your pardon.”
“No begging necessary,” Ginny said, though she looked askance at Jarvis as she did. “My house is open to you any time.”
“What’s all this?” Howard joined the conversation.
“Aunt Virginia has offered to have Mr. Flint and Mrs. Porter stay with her,” Franklin reported with a sulk.
“Nonsense,” Howard blustered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his vest. “Franklin brought them here, so here is where they should stay.”
“Over my dead—”
“Please.” Alice held up her hands to stop yet another argument from breaking out. She hid her burst of annoyance with a polite smile and turned to Howard. “Thank you, Mr. Haskell. I would be pleased to accept your invitation to stay here.” She peeked at Jarvis to see what he thought.
Jarvis blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. In the short time Alice had known him, she had never seen him look so annoyed.
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“I think it would be more appropriate for us to stay with Mrs. Piedmont.”
“Ginny,” Ginny corrected him. She sent a sly glance between Jarvis and Alice. “And I say let Mrs. Porter stay in this flea trap with Howard if she wants to. You and I can have a good time without them.”
Alice caught her breath at those words. Ginny was old enough to be Jarvis’s mother. Surely she couldn’t mean anything inappropriate.
No, as she watched Ginny, she was certain that the woman didn’t have anything even remotely inappropriate in mind. But she was up to something.
“I don’t see why you can’t go with Ginny while I stay here with Howard,” Alice said, daring to use their given names.
“I do,” Jarvis muttered, glancing to Franklin.
“Oh pooh.” Ginny swatted his arm. “Franklin’s no threat. He’s just a boy.”
“Aunt Ginny,” Franklin said through clenched teeth.
“Now let’s get moving before the sun goes down. It’s twice as hard to find your way home in the dark.” Ginny turned to go, tugging on Jarvis’s arm.
“I still think you should come stay at Ginny’s house,” Jarvis said over his shoulder, even as he was pulled out.
“Thank you for your concern, but you’re not actually responsible for me,” Alice told him, staying right where she was.
As Ginny yanked him to the corner leading into the hall, Jarvis gave Alice a look that told her the discussion wasn’t over. And blast it if Alice didn’t get a shiver of anticipation at the thought.
Jarvis and Ginny disappeared around the corner, and a moment later, the front door opened and shut. That was that.
“Now, why don’t we go for that walk?” Franklin asked with a smile, as pleased as punch.
“Oh.” Alice cleared her throat. “Actually, I am rather tired,” she began.
“Franklin, stop your mooning,” Howard said. “You’ve been gone for days, and as far as I know, no one’s been doing your chores while you’ve been gone. Don’t you think you should see to those first?”
The light of protest didn’t last long in Franklin’s eyes before he let out a breath and slumped in defeat. “Yes, Father.” He turned to go, practically dragging his feet as he headed out the way Jarvis and Ginny had gone.
That left Howard and Alice alone.
“If he becomes a serious nuisance, let me know and I’ll give him a good talking to,” Howard said.
The fatherly concern with which he said it filled Alice with warmth. Even if he did look like General Lee.
“Thank you.” She smiled, convinced she’d made the right choice in staying.
“Now.” Howard perked up, patted his stomach, and started toward the other end of the dining room. “Let’s see if we can’t find a nice room for you to rest your pretty head for the night. And maybe some new clothes. Is that the only dress you brought?”
Alice jumped to keep up with him, dodging around a doorway as they crossed from the dining room to a huge great room with a fire crackling away in a fireplace at the far end.
“As a matter of fact, it is the only dress I brought,” she said. “I did bring a few changes of—” Well, there was no sense in being modest with a man who was old enough to be her father “—of underclothes. And I’ll confess, I’m wearing a pair of your son’s trousers under my skirt.”
Her confession prompted a raucous laugh from Howard. “My dear, whatever for?”
His laughter was contagious. Alice grinned from ear to ear and confessed, “For riding. I had to learn all of a sudden yesterday. But I enjoyed it. Even when Thunder galloped off this morning. Maybe especially when Thunder galloped off.”
They reached a staircase, and Howard patted Alice’s shoulder as they started up.
“You sound like—” He stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. “You sound like my daughter.”
Somehow Alice knew that wasn’t who he’d been about to compare her to.
“Franklin said your daughter and your wife were in Cincinnati?” she said.
“Yes,” Howard answered, but that was it.
They reached the top of the stairs, and he pushed open a door.
“This is my daughter Lucy’s room. You can stay here.”
“It’s lovely,” Alice said, and she meant it. The room was larger than her room in New York. The walls were painted a cozy shade of light green. The canopy bed was made up with a comfy green quilt and hangings. Across from it stood a white-painted bureau, and beside that, a vanity with an oval mirror. A tall white wardrobe finished out the furnishings. Howard crossed to the wardrobe and threw it open.
“You look to be about the same size as Lucy,” he said. “While you’re here, cast off those dull, black things and put some color on.”
“Oh.” Alice glanced down at her dress and smoothed her hands over her skirt. “I’m in mourning.”
“Not while you’re here, you not,” Howard said as though it was rock-solid fact instead of a suggestion. “You’re too young, and that black washes you out. See, here’s a pretty blue dress that will work with your hair. Mind you, you’ll have to do something with your hair too so that it doesn’t look like corn silk on a scarecrow, but I’m sure Lucy left behind some hair things in her vanity there.”
Alice was too overwhelmed by the speech to know what to say besides, “Thank you.”
“I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable here,” Howard went on. “I’ve built this house to have every modern convenience you’d find back east, no matter what the cost to get it that way. Why Elizabeth refuses to—”
Alice clasped her hands in front of her and lowered her eyes as Howard’s expression pinched.
“Is Elizabeth your wife?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “She is. She says she prefers cities, silly woman. Says she never liked it here. I said she could go stay with her mother for a while. That was nearly two years ago.”
Alice swallowed. She knew loss when she saw it. People lost the ones they loved in all sorts of ways.
“Have you asked her to come back?” she risked questioning him.
He blinked at her as if he might fly into a rage, then lost all of his energy.
“Yes,” he said. “She refuses. That’s that.”
“I’m so sorry. You must feel very lonely.” She regretted it the moment the words were past her lips.
Howard glared at her. “I have Franklin. I have a dozen farm hands and Hattie running about. Why should I be lonely?”
With her head still lowered, she glanced up at him. “My Harry was killed in the war almost a year ago. I’ve been surrounded by people since, nearly every moment of the day until recently. I’ve never felt more alone in my life.”
Immediately, Howard’s expression melted to fatherly compassion. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
A silence fell between them that was rich with shared grief. Then Howard cleared his throat and stood straighter.
“You’d better give Franklin’s trousers to me to send to the wash before he gets them back,” he said. “I know the look on that boy’s face, and he’s like as not to use them as a pillow and never wash them again after you’ve worn them.”
In spite of herself, Alice laughed out loud. It felt good. Very good.
“Lucy left a few of her riding outfits in the wardrobe. If you’d like to ride, I suggest wearing those,” Howard went on.
“Thank you,” Alice said with a wide, genuine smile.
“Well, I’ll leave you to get cleaned up and rested.” Howard turned to leave the room.
Alice stopped him. “We’ll help you settle this dispute with your sister, I know we will.”
Howard huffed. “I’m not sure that’s in your power. The only one who can make things right between Ginny and I is Ginny.”
“The only way this dispute is going to be solved is if Howard comes to his senses and stops acting like a fool,” Ginny said an hour later as she escorted Jarvis into her house. “He’s being a bull-headed fool, and I have no idea why.
”
“He thinks his territory has been usurped,” Jarvis said, following her through the sturdy front door of her house and into the front hall.
“My, those are a fine set of extravagant words for a handsome militiaman to be spouting,” Ginny exclaimed.
Jarvis laughed and lowered his head. “My father made certain that all of his children were very well educated, no matter what we chose to do with our lives.” He had a vision of books open in the parlor as their tutor drilled them, ruler in hand for when they made mistakes. By the age of ten, Jarvis didn’t think he would ever feel his knuckles again.
Ginny seemed to read his thoughts through his expression, or perhaps by the way he rubbed his knuckles. “Still, you learned. I’d venture to guess you learned a few unintended lessons too.” She patted his arm.
A single lamp had been left burning low on a table in the parlor. Ginny stepped aside to turn up the flame, and to light a taper from it that she used to light a few other lamps. The growing light let Jarvis see a few more details of the house. It was smaller than Howard’s by half, but it was cozy. The rooms were richly decorated and paneled with rose-hued wood and light wallpaper. It had a sturdy feel to it while still being feminine.
“I suppose it’s too late to make a fire in the parlor and chat,” Ginny said, taking one of the lamps she’d lit and giving another to Jarvis.
“I’ll stay up if you want to,” he said, even though every muscle and bone in his body screamed in protest when he did.
“No.” Ginny waved his kindness off and led him up a wide staircase. “You look half done in, and I’ll confess that I would rather converse with my bed than anyone else.”
Jarvis chuckled. He’d never met a woman who was so strong in her opinions or free in expressing herself. Most of the women he’d grown up around, including his sisters, had been trained to be models of virtue and modesty. He knew his sisters had spirit somewhere under their refinement, but they would rather have died than bring it out in mixed company.
The memory of Alice riding, wild and free, on Thunder that morning hit him square in the chest. She had been so full of joy, full of life when he’d pulled up beside her. His lips would never forget that kiss she gave him. It sent pulses of excitement through his groin even now. That was the true Alice. She may have put on mourning, but the woman underneath all that was as vivid and colorful as Ginny Piedmont. If only he could help her to see that.
