“Maybelle sent me to tell you Barley’s not feeling well. It’s nothing serious, but he—” Dutch glanced toward Miss Wynott. “He’s feeling a bit peculiar. Excuse me, miss.”
“Heavens!” Miss Wynott exclaimed. “I’m not a complete innocent. My grandparents lived with us, so I understand the ills of the body. I’m quite concerned.”
“Well, he’s not going far from the privy.”
“Oh dear.” Miss Wynott had the class to remain worried which made Stone wish he’d at least tried to hide his amusement.
“You go on with your meal,” Dutch told them, setting his hat back on the permanent line circling his head. “Maybelle says to stop in later and settle up your bill.”
“Of course. Let them know we’ll be bringing food back,” Miss Wynott told him. “There’s no way we’ll eat even a quarter of it.”
Considering how much Stone’s mouth was watering, he wasn’t so sure there’d be any left. “Thanks, Dutch. Sorry you had to come all the way out here to tell us.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Besides, even an old man like me appreciates a little romance once in a while.”
“Romance?” Miss Wynott protested, her hand to her throat. “I hardly think so. We barely know one another.”
“Well, here’s your chance.”
Stone averted his face but didn’t miss the grin as Dutch turned his horse for home. Did the old bachelor think this had all been set up? The truth was Stone wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Barley had planned it this way.
Miss Wynott was over at the picnic cloth now, packing away the dishes. She’d worn her thick dark hair free and it tumbled across her back as she leaned over the blanket.
“Hold on. Ignore what he said. There’s no reason to waste a picnic. Not here by the canyon.”
“You’re right,” she agreed, clearly disappointed.
He settled on the blanket and removed the dishes of food, handing them to her. “Barley and Mrs. Bunch can have a nice meal with the leftovers.”
She sat across from him. “I’ll fix your plate.” First a cold chicken breast, then one of the cheese sandwiches. “After that first day, I never thought we’d be sharing a meal.” She speared a dill pickle and maneuvered it on to his plate. “Here you go."
Stone went for the pickle.
Then she served herself. “I’ll always want to come back. Bring my grandchildren and show them this place.”
Stone stopped chewing. He grinned. “This particular place?”
“The whole area. The views, the buildings. Especially Hermit’s Rest. I can say I met the builder.”
Stone swallowed quickly to answer. “Miss Colter will go on to do many buildings for the company, and, with your talents, you may be along for the duration.”
“I meant you.”
The soft, demure way she said it surprised him.
Too bad Barley had the runs—if he did—but this was quite cozy.
She wiped her mouth. “I was so interested in the design I hardly considered the skill to execute it. It can’t have been easy.”
“No, but easy is not what it’s about.” Yet he’d made it into something more than just doing his best. He’d made it the altar on which he could worship his success despite—or in spite of—his family.
They ate in silence for a while, and Stone tried not to study his companion. “I appreciate your concern for me upon the news of my father’s health. If you haven’t figured it out, we are not on the best of terms.”
Miss Wynott filled his cup with the cold, sugared tea. “Which is the best reason to return now, while you can. Your mother must need you.”
Only if she’d decided to stay sober. “I’m going. Very soon, But I promised your uncle I’d watch out for you.”
“Under duress.”
“Don’t think ill of me.”
She searched his face with all sincerity. “I don’t. It’s difficult to want different things than what’s expected. I defied my uncle enough that he finally arranged this trip. He was sure I wasn’t cut out for it, but…”
“But you were going to prove him wrong.”’
“Yes.” She pulled her collar up around her neck, and gathered her hair in her hand, tossing it back again. The breeze strengthened, reminding them it was February and the strong midday sunshine was moody and subject to fail them at any moment.
“I have every confidence in you.”
“And I have none,” she replied. “But don’t you dare tell Uncle William I said so.” She stabbed a slice of pickle and held it aloft. “I’m sure your father expected you to follow him at the bank.”
He nodded and their conversation lagged.
Once finished with the meal, Stone wiped his hands. “Are you in a hurry to go back to the hotel?”
Her gaze dropped, but not quick enough to hide her pleasure. “No. I have nothing to do this afternoon. Do you?”
“Nothing better than this. I’m enjoying your company.”
“I feel the same way.”
He stood and offered his hand. “Let’s walk a bit before we pack up. That will warm us. I do hate to cut into the birthday cake.”
“Oh, no. I agree. We’ll leave it for Barley. So, do you think they’ll marry?” She placed her hand in his.
He pulled her up. “Barley and Mrs. Bunch? I hope they do, now that you mention it.” Stone maneuvered her arm through his. She didn’t resist. “I’m enjoying our truce, Miss Wynott. Do you think it would last through a dinner together, as well?”
“We could give it a try.”
At the next clearing, she headed toward the rim.
He stopped, unable to take another step closer.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him. “It must be awful.”
Her words held no challenge, but it took him a minute to answer. “Only when I work on rooftops and ladders.” Stone risked a glance at her face. “You think you will someday tell your grandchildren that the builder was afraid to go on the roof?”
“Maybe.” She nudged him. “When I realized it, I thought it would prove useful information someday.”
He frowned at her. “Oh, that’s it, then?” But who could resist that mischievous grin? “Come on, let’s walk back to the car. You must be cold.” Why had he been so worried about admitting it?
“Does Miss Colter know?” Amber asked, keeping her gaze straight ahead.
“Yes. But I didn’t tell her. My father did. He wrote a note.”
Her reaction was swift. “How awful.”
“What was awful, was watching my grandfather fall from a tall ladder. That’s how he died. He wasn’t afraid. Neither was I.” Stone closed his eyes, the sensation of free fall opened them. “The problem started after that.”
“I’m so sorry.” She placed her hand on his sleeve.
He covered it. “I am too.”
“Thank you for trusting me. Even if it was unfounded. I think you’re quite brave to do what you do. Considering what you just told me.”
His face warmed. “I should argue, but I like the way you’re looking at me.” Her smile made this all much more tolerable. If he kissed her now, would he ruin it? If he told her that he’d never felt this way before would she believe him?
“There is one thing.”
“Yes?”
He squeezed her hand. “I—”
A deep, explosive boom and its rolling echoes stopped him. Over her shoulder rose a tall plume of dark smoke in the direction of the village. “Come on, we’d better go.”
In short time, they’d packed up.
Her eyes were wide with worry. “What do you think it was?”
“I have no idea. But if there’s a fire, they’ll need help.”
Stone maneuvered the Dodge around the worst of the holes. Never had three miles seemed so long. Amber’s hands were clamped on the cake platter she held on her lap.
He parked, and they jumped out, stopping the closest witness—one of the hotel porters. “What happened?”
“Tha
t old wagon blew up. The one parked near the depot? Chunks of wood—some of them burning—landed all over out there. The dry brush by the back door caught fire, but the horse trough was tipped over and the water kept it from spreading.”
A few men worked to smother the areas still smoldering.
“Did anyone see who did it?”
“Not too many people about after the train left.” The porter’s eyes said he knew more than he’d admit.
Amber drew up to Stone’s side. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Not seriously, miss,” the porter replied and continued on his way.
Amber walked with Stone for a closer look. The wagon wasn’t much more than a shell of twisted metal strapping and scattered pieces of unrecognizable, blackened wood.
“Why don’t you go back to the hotel, Amber? The temperature’s dropping.”
“I’m fine,” she replied with little conviction.
“Well I’m not.” He guided her back toward the car. “I should have insisted you leave when your uncle suggested it. Things have been happening and I’ve been ignoring them.” He’d been more concerned with raising his name in the company, than with personal safety. “Miss Colter may not even return once word gets back to headquarters.”
“Do you know might have done this?”
“I have my ideas. The Forest Service has been clamping down on bogus mining claims. There are plenty of them and they’re kept for toe holds on the land. The mines don’t produce enough to justify the labor.”
“And now the hotel and railroad are stepping on those toes. You said it yourself, you hadn’t thought of suggesting Barley as a tour guide.” Amber tugged her collar closer to her neck. “There’s got to be more jobs and better money coming. I don’t see anyone getting rich here.”
He’d be happy to pull her close to his side to keep her warm, but he wasn’t sure what she wanted. “Not everyone wants to get rich. They don’t want to be bullied off the land they’ve scraped a life from.”
“I’ll talk to my uncle. I want to know more about what’s going on and if the railroad has acted unfairly.”
He reached for her arm and slowed her. “Your uncle is not a popular man around here. I’m not sure I should let you out of my sight.” She was less certain of herself today, or he was more certain how he felt.
This time her eyes found his. “You’re going to have to.”
“Only because of propriety, I assure you.”
She kept her eyes lowered.
“I promised to take care of you, Amber, but it’s more than that, now.”
“Oh Stone,” she sighed. “It was a lovely picnic, but…”
The moment dragged on. Stone’s chest ached for air. Just say it. Give me the bad news.
“Be careful what you say,” she finished.
He dipped his head to agree. “Then let’s get this food over to Barley.” He led her back to the car, but stopped short, clutching at her arm. “Teddy!”
“What is it?” Amber looked from his surprised face to the car. “The cake!”
Stone had left his driver’s door open, and the beast stepped out as easily as she’d entered. Cake crumbs and frosting clung to her snout.
Amber covered her mouth but failed to cover her laughter.
Little of the cake was left, other than scraps all over the passenger seat. Stone brushed much of it away and retrieved one of the blankets, placing it across the leather. “I guess I won’t be taking you on another picnic for a few days.”
“It was wonderful, nonetheless.”
“It was.” Stone was pleased to see more color to her face, and the familiar sparkle in her eyes.
“Right. Now, unless Teddy managed to get to the food basket as well, let’s get that dinner over to the mercantile.
Chapter Seven
Level—a tool for determining and adjusting an even plane
Amber slipped past Stone while he held the mercantile’s door open for her, and the awareness of his gaze on her sent her insides into a tizzy. “Mrs. Bunch? You around?”
But it was Dutch who appeared from behind the stockroom’s curtained door. “She went out right after I got back from seeing you. What d’ya need?”
“We’ve brought the rest of the picnic food.”
“I’ll see they get it.”
She placed the basket on the counter. “And I’d like to settle my bill.”
Dutch lacked his usual energy and appeared old and tired today. “I think you’re good for it.”
“What happened out there?” Stone asked, more serious than she’d ever seen him.
“I’m not the one to ask.”
Stone glanced her way before addressing Dutch. “Are you sure no one was hurt?”
He shrugged.
Stone persevered. “What’s going on?”
She kept quiet, appreciating how direct he could be.
Dutch glanced between the two of them. She suspected he’d say more if she wasn’t around. “I’ll wait outside.”
Stone joined her shortly thereafter. “It will be fine, Miss Wynott.”
“Are we back to that now?” she asked, searching his face.
He grinned like they shared a secret. “In public.”
Perhaps they did. “Very well. I enjoyed the afternoon, Mr. Morrison, but I should get back to the hotel and send a wire off to Uncle William before he hears of the fire.” She looked around. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“Not with that kind of explosion. But it could have been worse. A fire at night would destroy half of the village.”
She stepped off the boardwalk, following him. “I never thought about the lack of water.”
“It comes in by train every day to supplement what’s stored in tanks. A fellow named Mr. Rowe has a well, and barters for its use. Water’s more precious than copper.” The drive took all of two minutes. “Now you know what kind of people live here. They aren’t about to give up and hand over their land claims to the government.”
“Did Dutch tell you anything useful?”
“Just that Barley and Mrs. Bunch were out when it happened.”
She stared at him. “You don’t think they’re involved, do you?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
Her stomach tightened into a knot, and yet she hated to see their afternoon end. “Are you returning to Hermit’s Rest tonight?”
“No.” Stone pivoted suddenly and grasped her upper arm. “In fact, I won’t be able to meet you for dinner. But I want you to promise me you’ll stay in the hotel.”
What wasn’t he telling her? “I’m sure I can take care of myself.”
The set of his mouth said he wanted to argue. He didn’t. “It doesn’t stop me from being concerned.”
“What were you going to tell me? Before the explosion?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he answered, his voice, and yes his eyes held such sincerity. “There are things I need to figure out.” He took her hand. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Amber.”
“Stop. You’re making me worry. I don’t want to worry. I should go with you.”
“No. I’ll be on horseback and I may not be back until after dark.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
He grinned. “I’ll be fine. I have to keep my word to your uncle.”
She took his other hand.
Stone glanced around. “People will talk.”
The thought of it warmed her. “About us? Is that so bad?”
“Not a bit,” he said, but nevertheless released her. “Not for me but you might want to reconsider.”
For the first time, he appeared unsure of himself.
Maybe, just maybe, this feeling whirling in her chest was mutual.
When he got out and opened her door, the late afternoon chill hurried them toward the hotel. They kept a more respectable distance apart. Up the wide steps, into the foyer, and then they paused at the foot of the stairway to say good evening. Though they were both going to the
ir rooms, it wouldn’t do to ascend the stairs together.
It didn’t stop her from watching. His head appeared over the rotunda’s railing. He waved.
“Yesterday’s paper, Miss Wynott?”
Amber turned with a start.
“Would you like to read it?” offered the young manager of the dining room. “I’ll bring you some tea in the lounge.”
“That would be nice.”
“They’re to fly an airplane from Los Angeles to San Francisco. Can you imagine?” His thin, pale face bore two pink spots of excitement. “I’m glad they’re not flying over us,” he added as she walked away.
Amber sunk into a big leather chair by the fire but soon regretted her decision to read the news. Germany had blockaded Britain. Mexico City was divided with fear. She was lost in thought when Stone came down, dressed in his work clothes and heavy coat. He didn’t stop, but kept his gaze on her as he passed her.
“Be careful, Mr. Morrison.”
Oh dear Lord. Keep him safe.
It’d be so much easier if he was just another attractive man with a callous attitude and a family name to protect him.
He wasn’t.
~
“Whoa, girl.”
Stone urged the mare to stop and extracted the latest telegram from his coat. According to his lawyer, Father had lost use of his left side and was dependent on assistance.
A curl of chimney smoke pinpointed Joe Bunch’s place.
Once in sight, it wasn’t much more than a sprawl of rooms added on over time. A place too cold in the winter for Stone, but then he’d grown up with a coal stove in his room and someone else to tend it.
He tied up the horse, and knocked once.
Joe’s oldest daughter opened the door. “Pa? We got company.”
“Who is it?” Joe asked even as he entered the room and faced Stone.
He didn’t expect a warm welcome. Joe was a bear of a man, and Stone knew enough not to poke at a bear.
Joe stepped forward. “Is it my ma?”
“No. She’s not here then?” Apparently not. “There was an explosion and fire by the depot this afternoon. Did you hear about it?”
Maybelle Bunch’s son narrowed his eyes and in so doing, proved the family resemblance. “What’s that got to do with me, that you’d ride out this late in the day?”
Why Not (A Valentine Matchmaker novella) Page 6
