by Gina Welborn
Isaak swallowed his first response. Jakob had said winning over this young man was going to be nigh impossible, but the only way to do it was by treating him with honest respect. Good advice Isaak intended to follow, no matter how difficult Nico made it. “I’m not wearing this suit to make you forgive me but because it’s what a gentleman wears to pay important social calls.”
“You saying I’m an important social call?” Nico made it sound like an insult.
“I am.”
“Why?”
Isaak lowered his chin so Nico could look him straight in the eye. “As Miss de Fleur’s only family member, I should have come to you to declare my intention of courting her before asking her to marry me.”
Nico’s eyes widened for an instant before sliding back into narrow suspicion.
“May I have your permission to court your sister?” Isaak held the young man’s stare.
Seconds ticked by.
Nico didn’t move.
Isaak barely breathed.
“What if I say no?”
Isaak’s heart pounded. This was the crucible. Unlike with Jakob, if Nico said he wouldn’t give Zoe up, there was no going around him. “Then I’ll honor your wishes.”
“You will?” Nico’s voice pitched an octave higher, a reminder that he was a boy on the verge of manhood. He coughed and said in an exaggerated bass voice, “I mean, of course you will.”
The temptation to laugh at his attempt to appear older and wiser than his years was tempered by the seriousness of the topic. Isaak gripped his hat so hard, he was certain the brim would have permanent imprints of his fingers.
Nico shifted his weight from his right foot to his left. Stared. Shifted his weight back. Stared some more. “If I say yes, you’ll just take her from me.”
Isaak inhaled. This was the crux of the matter for Nico. Zoe once said he called her his sister because he had no other family. To win Zoe, Isaak needed to expand his future to include not only a wife but an imp of a brother-in-law who thought nothing of lying, stealing, and living in a brothel with a madam as a surrogate mother.
Nico would also defend his sister to his last breath.
Isaak could deal with that.
“I give you my word as a”—he revised his usual promise—“as the gentleman I hope to become that, should I be fortunate enough to win your sister’s heart, you will always be a member of our family.”
After a flickering glance at the door to the hallway that presumably led to Madame Lestraude’s office, Nico said, “All right. You can court her.”
Isaak took his first deep breath since seeing Jakob’s proposal six hours earlier. “Thank you, Nico. I’ll do my best to deserve the faith you’re putting in me.”
“You figured out how you’re going to win her heart? Because you made her angry, and I mean an-gry.”
Isaak cringed. “She has every right to be, which brings me to my second request.”
“Go on.”
“I need your help.”
Nico stood taller. “You want me to help you court Zoe? You and me together?”
It wasn’t exactly what Isaak was picturing, but he’d do whatever it took. “Sure. We’ll court her together.”
Nico beamed. “She likes surprises.”
“And sunrises.”
Nico looked impressed. “How’d you know that?”
“She mentioned it the first time she was in my home for dinner.” Isaak winced, remembering his behavior that day. If he was lucky enough to win her love, he’d spend the rest of his life living up to the grace she’d extended to him that day . . . and the weeks that followed when, in his arrogance, he’d refused to believe his initial impression of her was wrong.
“We could tell her you’re dying.”
Isaak snapped his attention to Nico.
“Or that you’ll hang yourself if she doesn’t marry you.”
The boy’s line of suggestions needed to stop. Isaak searched for a gentle way to say it. “Your sister doesn’t like lying.”
Nico’s expression soured. “It got her here, didn’t it?”
“You lied to get her here?”
“She needed to get out of New York.”
There was more to the story but pressing for details might make the boy change his mind about helping to woo Zoe, so Isaak remained silent.
Nico crossed his arms over his chest. “She can’t read English too good, so I pointed at the advertisement for a mail-order bride and pretended it was for a cook instead. When she found out what I’d done, she asked that Archer lady about the man looking for a wife. She saw your brother’s smiley eyes and decided to come here even though I told her it was a mistake.”
Regardless of whether Zoe agreed to marry him, Isaak would never think of her coming to Helena as a mistake. She’d enriched his life, humbled his pride, and made him a better man. At least he hoped he’d be a better one from now on. “I’m glad she came, but I don’t think lying to her now is our best plan.”
Nico remained stony for a long moment before wilting. “Yeah. You’re right.”
Isaak waited for the boy to come up with another suggestion.
Silence.
Outside of lying, it appeared he didn’t have any ideas. Isaak didn’t offer any of his own, though, because it was important for Nico to take the lead.
He shifted his gaze between his feet and Isaak. “Way I see it, the problem is that Zoe doesn’t get involved in what’s not her business.”
Isaak nodded. An idea struck. “What if we do things together that aren’t her business, but we make sure she sees us together.”
Nico nodded. “She’ll get so curious, she’ll have to come around to figure out what we’re doing. I think this might work, but . . .” His expression grew serious.
“What is it?” Isaak curled his fingers into fists as he waited for another objection.
Nico’s gaze flickered at the door to Madame Lestraude’s office. “Miss Lester told me something, and I don’t want to tell Zoe about it.”
“Why not?”
“She’s a girl,” he said as though it explained everything. Nico shifted from balancing on his left foot to his right. “When I went to check on her after you’d humiliated her, Mrs. Deal said she knew a place where me and Zoe could disappear. It sounded funny, so I asked Miss Lester about it. She said the Deals sometimes sell women and children—even boys—into prostitution.”
Isaak’s jaw fell open. “Why hasn’t she told her son?”
“She just found out about it.” Nico’s brow furrowed. “If I can get Mr. or Mrs. Deal to tell me the address of these friends in Idaho they’re sending us to, do you think Sheriff McCall could arrest them?”
“No, but he could send the information to a sheriff in Idaho. Great idea!”
The boy beamed.
“But Nico . . . ?” Isaak waited until he had the boy’s full attention. “While I understand wanting to keep Zoe from feeling betrayed by the Deals, sometimes we men assume”—in benevolent arrogance—“that we know what’s best for the people we love.”
“Yeah. So?”
Pa was right. All men, even those on the cusp of manhood, were filled with pride. A lesson Nico needed to learn over time as Isaak had. “If our plan to woo Zoe fails, promise me you’ll tell her about the Deals. No lying to protect her.”
Nico’s posture relaxed. “Because people who love each other trust them with the truth.”
Out of the mouth of babes . . . and young men.
“And we both”—Isaak pointed a finger at himself then at Nico—“love her very much.”
Nico pivoted on his heel. “Let me tell Miss Lester I’m going with you.” He opened the door and was almost through when he leaned back to add, “You and me courting Zoe together is good and all, but you might have to spend some time alone with her.”
Isaak placed a hand over his heart. “I shall endeavor to make the sacrifice.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next morning
&
nbsp; Zoe grabbed the quilt from her bed and then slipped out onto the boardinghouse’s wrap-around balcony, careful not to make any noise to wake her fellow boarders. When she had first settled into her room almost two months before, she and Janet Deal had been the only females. Now nine ladies stayed one and two to a room. Zoe would be surprised if her room was not let by the time her last piece of luggage was removed.
Someone had turned her favorite wicker rocker to face the direction of The Resale Company fire. She adjusted it to face east, then unfolded the quilt and draped it over the rocker. Once settled in, she wrapped the edges over her head and around her amethyst traveling suit, leaving only her face to endure the nippy morning breeze.
Zoe closed her eyes and waited for what was sure to come.
Crickets chirped.
Horses clomped on the dirt-hardened street.
A dog barked from somewhere in the distance.
Finally . . . what she had been listening for happened: a rooster crowed. She smiled. Other roosters joined in.
How they knew it was dawn never ceased to amaze her. The first rays of light had yet to grace the Earth. The underbellies of the clouds had yet been lit to a glow.
Yet the roosters crowed.
Their hearts told them it was time.
. . . you slipped under my skin and into my soul.
Stop! No more reliving Isaak’s proposal.
But if his brother had not proposed and The Resale Company not burned and the moment had been absent several hundred bystanders, she would have said yes.
She might have said yes.
She certainly would have taken a moment to relish the thought of saying yes and all the wonders that would come with it. A kiss.
Zoe pressed her eyes tighter. No sense dreaming about what she could have had with Isaak. This would be her last Montana sunrise. She would enjoy it to the fullest. She would enjoy it without regrets. Just as she had enjoyed watching last night’s sunset after finishing letters of farewell to the people she was too cowardly to visit in person. Her own heartbreak hurt enough. She refused to live with the images of their tearstained faces as they looked upon her own tearstained face.
“I cry too much,” she muttered before focusing on what she needed to do today before she and Nico could start a new life somewhere exciting.
Sunrise.
Breakfast with Nico.
Load belongings into Deal’s wagon.
Bank.
See Jakob, despite the Deals’ recommendation she avoid him. Ending the contract personally was the right thing to do.
Board train and—
Oh! Sensing the moment she had been waiting for, she opened her eyes. The blue-black of night eased up, a gentle escape from the approaching sun minutes from breaking dawn.
“Shhh.”
After a second, louder “shhh,” Zoe stood and looked over the balcony at the single-story home directly east of the boardinghouse. She leaned forward, squinted, blinked. Only one person in Helena wore a flattened beige derby and a brown corduroy coat. Nico! But why was he sitting on the top ridge of the slanted roof? Who was that sitting to the right of—
The man in the black suit and bowler looked over his shoulder up at the boardinghouse balcony.
Isaak?
Her chest tightened. What was he doing with Nico?
With the back of his hand, Isaak tapped Nico’s shoulder and said something, all the while never looking away from Zoe.
Nico turned around. He smiled and waved . . . and then elbowed Isaak. He waved, too.
Zoe lifted her hand, but the quilt hindered her from waving back, so she smiled. At least she thought it was a smile. It may have been more of a toothy, what-are-you-doing-on-a-roof-at-this-time-of-the-morning gaping mouth.
She waited for an explanation, but both Isaak and Nico turned back to watch the sunrise.
Why?
She specifically remembered Jakob saying Isaak needed a good hour in silence and two cups of sweetened tea along with a hefty breakfast before he became tolerable. Nico, she knew, could put on a good and false show of morning joviality. Never had Isaak or Nico expressed interest in admiring the sun during any time of day. Not to her anyway.
Zoe worried her bottom lip. How did Isaak know where to find Nico? Unless Nico found him first. But why would Nico want to find Isaak?
Shadows inched west as the sun peeked over the horizon.
As Isaak and Nico sat watching.
As the rising sun cast a golden glow about them.
As Zoe leaned over the balcony and waited and waited for them to do something.
And then . . . both released a heavy breath, their broad shoulders rising and falling. Nico patted Isaak’s back. They took turns climbing over the ridge, easing down to the eaves, and descending the ladder that rested against the house’s west wall.
Unable to fathom what was going on, Zoe looked to where the sun had warmed the sky and turned the clouds into pink spun sugar. She growled softly. In her concern for why Nico and Isaak were together, she had missed what she had risen early to see. She dashed around the rocker and to the front balcony railing, looked down, and saw no one.
Where had they disappeared to?
Breakfast!
After ridding herself of her quilt cocoon, Zoe hurried into her room, ignoring her black traveling bonnet and the clothes on her bed that she had yet to pack, and scurried down the stairs to the dining room.
The empty dining room.
She walked to the parlor. Also empty.
She peeked inside the kitchen and found Mrs. Deal cooking.
Zoe returned to the front of the boardinghouse. Upon looking outside, she saw neither Nico nor Isaak or the ladder against the house next door. What were they about?
It is none of my business. That decided, Zoe returned upstairs to her room to pack.
* * *
One hour and fifty-three minutes later
As Zoe gazed through the dining-room window, analyzing the view, she sipped her morning café au lait. She nibbled on a piece of buttered toast. Sipped coffee. Nibbled toast. Sipped. Nibbled.
Directly across the street, Nico and Isaak sat under the covered porch of the shoemaker’s shop, the very place they had been when she sat down in her usual chair at the breakfast table, at her usual time of eight o’clock. Neither wore shoes. Between them was a chess set on a barrel. Not once had either looked in her direction.
Isaak’s socked foot tapped the boardwalk under them as he studied the chessboard.
Nico moved a pawn. Or maybe a rook. From this distance the piece was difficult to discern.
Isaak’s foot continued to tap.
Zoe let out a long breath. Her neck ached from how long she had been staring out the window. She focused on the breakfast in front of her, rested her teacup on its saucer, picked up a knife, heaped marmalade onto the last half of her toast, removed most of the marmalade from her toast, put down her knife, took a bite of bread, and chewed carefully. What Isaak and Nico were doing was none of her business. She had tasks to do before she could, in good conscience, leave Helena.
She had no care why Isaak and Nico were at the shoemaker’s.
Or playing chess.
Or together at all.
Mrs. Deal entered the dining room carrying a coffeepot. She refilled cups at the other table. Someone said something that caused the men to laugh.
Zoe slanted her eyes toward the window.
“My dear, would you care for a refill?”
“No, zank you.” She looked up to see Mrs. Deal’s gaze flicker momentarily to the window, and then she smiled at Zoe.
“Mr. Deal has the wagon ready to load whenever you’re ready.”
“I am almost finished.”
After a “Good, good,” Mrs. Deal returned to the kitchen.
Zoe looked sideways.
Still there.
Isaak replaced one of Nico’s pieces with one of his own.
Nico raised both arms. He pointed to the board and ye
lled something.
Isaak shrugged.
Zoe took another bite of marmalade and bread.
Whatever they were doing at the shoemaker’s was not . . . not . . . not her business. Once finished with her meal, she would go to the bank and close out her account. And then she would make her peace with Jakob. Hearing her side of things, he would understand Isaak was not to blame for the failure of the courtship contract. She must do what she could to help repair the rift between the brothers and give them a more harmonious future.
You are my future whispered across her heart.
How could Isaak say that? How could a person know such a thing about the other?
She looked out the window.
The shoemaker exited his shop with two pairs of black boots. He handed Isaak one, then gave the other to Nico. They pulled on their boots.
Nico paid the man. Isaak did, too.
The shoemaker said something as he took turns shaking hands with them.
And then the new bosom friends walked away.
Zoe released the breath she held and ate the bite of bread. They were gone, and she was delighted to be able to finally finish her breakfast in peace. After the Deals loaded her luggage in the wagon to deliver to the depot, she would go to the bank and then . . .
* * *
Zoe frowned at the teller, a balding gentleman with rosy cheeks and a boyish voice that belied the streaks of gray at his temple. “You are holding my money hostage. Why?”
The man looked left, then right, then leaned closer to the ornate brass separating them. He spoke quietly. “Until we’ve ascertained that none of the greenbacks in the vault are counterfeit, I can only give you the gross of your account in gold coins or a bank check.”
Coins? Her luggage was already loaded into the wagons. There would be no way to stow away her gold without being seen. To carry a bag of gold across town would invite ruffians.
Zoe rested her gloved hand on the marble counter. “Other banks will honor ze check?”
He nodded.
She sighed. “Zen a check, please.”
“Excellent choice. Have a seat while I have one filled out and signed.” He took a step away from the counter and then looked back. “This may take longer than usual. If you don’t want to wait, I can hold the check here for you.”
