Saffron: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Wild West Frontier Brides Book 5)

by Cindy Caldwell

Saffron looked down at her empty hands and gasped, turning and running toward the house.

  Chapter 6

  How could she possibly have forgotten the apples? She’d left Suzanne to pick up the twins just to give Suzanne time to get them ready. And then she’d walked out without a thing.

  Just as she put her hand on the latch, the door opened. She jumped back a step and her heart beat even faster as she looked up into the eyes of her father, Beau Archer. She braced herself for a dressing down, but remembered how happy he’d been lately, even though three of his children had married and left home in the past year.

  “Papa...” she started, ready to explain, and her eyes grew wide at the sound of his laughter.

  “Good grief, Saffron. Have you been wrestling with pigs?” He stuck his thumbs in the pockets of his satin vest and smiled down at her.

  She tilted her head and took a closer look at him. Yes, his eyes were actually twinkling, something that had been missing for quite some time. Since their mother died.

  “No, I haven’t been wrestling pigs. Who would do such a thing?” she said as she stepped over the threshold and into the house.

  “I’ve seen it done many a time, my dear, but never by a lady.” He laughed once more and placed his hands on her shoulders, guiding her toward the old beveled mirror over the brick fireplace. “Have you seen yourself?”

  Saffron gasped and her hand flew to her mouth as her father stopped her in front of the mirror, his broad grin behind her in the reflection of the mirror. Not only was her apron colored dark brown, but her face was as well. She remembered wiping mud from her eye, but had never imagined what it might look like once it had dried. She almost looked like some of the pictures she’d seen of Indians with war paint on.

  She shook her head and laughed. “No, I had no idea it was that bad. I got splashed in town today—after I’d sunk into a mud puddle on my own.”

  “My dear, you need to pay better attention. It appears it’s dangerous in that pretty head of yours,” he said as he reached for his best hat, pulling it snugly on and actually taking a peek at himself in the mirror. He straightened his tie and pulled at the cuffs of his white shirt.

  “Well, we make quite a pair. Me in mud and you in your finest. Where are you off to?”

  “My finest? Oh, not at all. I’m just going out to a business meeting. And please tell Maria I may not be back for supper. I might visit the Occidental. I enjoy seeing Tripp and Sadie on Friday nights,” he said as he opened the door, kissed her on top of the head and tipped his hat in her direction.

  Saffron frowned at his odd behavior. He rarely went out at night, but lately had taken to visiting the Occidental on Fridays—which, she remembered, was the night that Meg and Sam performed for the dining crowd. How sweet that he wanted to see his daughter sing.

  She headed toward the kitchen, ready to take her lumps for not having come home with the apples. She hoped Maria would at least let her get cleaned up before she headed back into town. Her face needed a good scrubbing.

  She pushed through the swinging door and hoped for the best. Maria looked up, her hands flying in the air and the pot she was drying skittering across the wooden floor. “What happened to you? You look like the Day of the Dead. Oh, and your mother’s apron...”

  “I know, Maria, isn’t it awful? It was a terrifying experience. I sunk into a mud puddle and then was splashed all over by a buggy, and I was so upset that I—”

  Maria leaned back against the counter, her arms folded over her chest. “You don’t have any apples, do you?”

  Saffron dropped her eyes. “No, I don’t, but I was too upset to—”

  “Don’t you lie to me, Saffron Archer. I’ve hardly ever seen you upset your whole life. I have, though, seen you forget many, many things.”

  “No, really, I was terribly shaken.”

  Maria pushed away from the counter and let out a big sigh. “You’re not fooling me, young lady. You just forgot. And you’re lucky...it’s okay because I ran out of flour. Tomorrow morning, you can go back to the mercantile and bring both of those things home. If you’re not terribly upset or shaken.” She raised an eyebrow at Saffron and smiled. She tossed a dish towel at Saffron.

  Saffron caught it and set it on the kitchen table. “No, I’m fine. I will be fine. I can get whatever you want tomorrow in town. I truly am sorry that I forgot today.” She reached behind her and untied her apron, slipping it over her head. She held it in her hands, wondering how she could ever get it clean again.

  Maria wrapped her arm around Saffron’s shoulder and squeezed, taking the apron out of her hands. “Let me take care of this. It’ll be good as new.”

  Saffron’s shoulders relaxed—both because Maria wasn’t angry and she would help with returning her mother’s apron to its original condition. She was much better at the sort of thing than Saffron and she was grateful for the help.

  “You run off and change your clothes. I’ll warm some water for you to wash up.”

  Saffron nodded and picked up the washrag from the table. She gave Maria a quick hug, the older woman chuckling as she did. She headed to her room, her stockinged feet sliding over the polished wood floor, the scent of her mother’s flower garden surrounding her as she passed the open window.

  She closed the door of her room and sat at her vanity, shaking her head again at the sight of her. As she inspected herself, she realized she even had mud in her ears. No washrag was going to help this, and she realized she’d need a bath.

  She eased her dress off, hoping there were no more balls of mud threatening to fall off. As she laid the dress carefully on the bed, the red breast of a cardinal on the branch outside her window caught her eye. She leaned her elbows on the windowsill, her chin in her hands. What would it be like to fly? She couldn’t help but wonder, and was startled when the cardinal took flight. She watched until she couldn’t see it any longer and sighed. Here she was wondering what it was like to fly, and this poor girl couldn’t even walk. She looked down at her feet and wiggled her toes, grateful for something she’d never thought about before.

  Chapter 7

  Saffron’s brother Hank took a step back and laughed when she walked into the stable and ran straight into him. He pushed his hat back up a bit on his forehead, his eyes twinkling. “It’d be better if you’d watch where you’re going, little sister. You almost ran us over.”

  She looked up, annoyed that she’d gotten lost in thought again and her eyes grew wide as she stood directly in front of her brother—and Adam Benson, the man she’d met the day before.

  “Oh,” Saffron said, her face heating.

  “Saffron, I’d like you to meet my new farrier, Adam Benson. Adam, this is my sister—well, one of them, anyway. Saffron.”

  Adam nodded, smiling at Saffron. “You look a mite different today,” Adam said as he tipped his black hat up.

  “What? You two have already met?” Hank folded his arms across his chest and looked from Saffron to Adam.

  Saffron hesitated a moment, certain Hank would make fun of her when he heard she’d fallen into a mud puddle. “Oh, I was walking to the schoolhouse in town and I—”

  Adam stood from the wooden barrel he’d been sitting on and cut her off. “Unfortunately for Miss Saffron, I was not able to move away from that side of the road and splashed her pretty good with mud. I appreciate the opportunity to apologize once more for that.”

  She searched his eyes for any sign he was mocking her, but she found none. She sighed and looked from Adam to Hank. Grateful to him for sparing her from extra embarrassment with Hank, she nodded at him and smiled. “No harm, Mr. Benson.”

  “Please, call me Adam—well, if that’s all right,” he said, glancing at Hank.

  “Certainly, it’s all right,” she said, narrowing her eyes at her brother as he smiled at her. “You don’t need to ask him.”

  “No, certainly don’t ask me. What the heck do I know?” he teased as he hitched the small buggy to the horses he’d bridled.
>
  “Thank you, Hank. I won’t be long in town. Just picking some things for Maria for Sunday dinner tomorrow.”

  Hank turned to Adam. “Hey, you’re new in town. Why don’t you join us tomorrow? More the merrier. Maria always cooks enough for an army on Sundays. Bring your family.”

  Saffron watched as Adam stiffened and pulled his hat down. “That’s mighty kind of you, Hank, but I really can’t. We’re—we’ve got plans. Maybe some other time.”

  “Well, any time. You just let me know,” Hank said as he held his hand out for Saffron. “Ready for you to go, Saffron.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she took his hand and lifted her skirts to step up in the buggy. She turned to Adam and said, “I do hope you will join us some time. I’d love to meet your family.”

  Her heart pounded as she flicked the reins and turned down the drive toward town. She really would like to meet his family—especially his sister.

  All the way to the mercantile, Saffron wondered why Adam had been so quick to refuse Hank’s invitation. He hadn’t been in town long, so it might be that he didn’t know the Archers had people over for supper on Sundays and that it was a tradition in their family to invite anyone, new friends and old. She’d been disappointed that she wouldn’t be meeting his sister, and wondered if there were some way she could.

  Would his sister be nice? She’d never met someone before who couldn’t walk, and she supposed that they might be rather unhappy. She certainly would be, she supposed, if she had no means to get around.

  Maybe he was embarrassed—no, that wouldn’t be. His younger brothers spoke very highly of her and were anxious to see her. She must be kind, then. Maybe the next time she saw Adam she could ask...what? What would she ask. Can I meet your sister? Why don’t you want to come to dinner? She shook her head as all of those ideas seemed absurd.

  She’d stopped close to a buckboard and as she walked between it and her buggy, she passed a lovely girl sitting in the back, her blonde hair in long braids to the middle of her back and her ice blue eyes smiling directly at Saffron.

  “Hello,” Saffron said, positive she’d not seen her before, and her greeting was returned as she walked up the steps of the mercantile.

  “Saffron,” Suzanne called as she entered the mercantile, holding up the bag of apples she’d left without the day before, grinning from ear to ear. Saffron wished it was the first time she’d left something behind, but it wasn’t. And Suzanne mercilessly teased her each time she did it.

  “I know, I know.” Saffron hung her head in mock shame as Suzanne laughed. “I...”

  “You forgot.” Suzanne handed her the bag when Saffron reached the counter.

  “Suzanne, how much are these?”

  Suzanne turned toward her husband, James, at the other end of the counter. He held up three cAndy sticks, the two eager boys in front of him waiting for her response as they each placed two coins on the counter. Saffron recognized them from the day before—they were Adam’s brothers. What were their names? She couldn’t remember.

  The taller one—oh, Luke was his name—put his hand on his younger brother’s shoulders. “We’ve been saving up and they’re for our sister, Carol. They’re her favorite.”

  Suzanne lifted up on her tiptoes looking down at the coins they’d placed there. “Well, that’s exactly how much they are. Perfect.”

  James’s eyes softened at his wife and he smiled. “Guess you have the perfect amount, boys. Hope Carol enjoys them.” He handed over the sweets and the boys’ grins just about reached from ear to ear.

  “Thank you, sir, ma’am.” Luke tipped his hat at them both as he and his brother turned to leave.

  “They sure are sweet, those boys,” Suzanne said as the door closed behind them.

  James walked over and put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “That was kind of you. It was about half what they cost and you know it.”

  Suzanne turned and looked out the window. “Yes, but how could we not do that? The poor girl doesn’t get to come out but once a week, and some pleasure would do her good. And it sure pleases the boys to make her happy.”

  “I ‘ve heard that. Adam was with Hank when I left. I suppose he’ll be the new farrier for him,” Saffron said as she looked around the mercantile, trying to remember what else she was to fetch besides apples. Oh, flour.

  “Oh, that’s nice to hear,” Suzanne said. “Trying to raise those kids on his own can’t be easy. Nice to see him getting more business.”

  “You need anything else today, Saffron?”

  “Yes, I do. Flour for Maria’s empanadas.”

  James clapped his hands. “My favorite. Her apple empanadas are the best I’ve ever had.”

  Suzanne laughed and pinched his elbow. “You’d never even heard of empanadas before we got her, but apple pie was your favorite from the bakery in Chicago. No surprise that you’d like the Mexican version just as much.”

  Saffron laughed as she took the sack of apples and turned toward the door. “Are you coming tomorrow for supper? Maria asked me to find out.”

  “We can’t tomorrow, Saffron. Please extend our apologizes.”

  James looked at his wife, aghast. “What? Why?”

  Suzanne shook her head. “We told Sadie we’d come to the restaurant. Tripp’s doing something special for the girls. Remember?”

  “Ahh, right,” he said, hanging his head.

  He looked so dejected that Saffron almost laughed, but said, “I’ll bring you some empanadas, James. I promise.”

  He perked up and picked up the bag of flour to take it to her buggy. “Ah, thank you, my dear. Much appreciated.”

  As she reached for the door, she stepped back as it opened and two older ladies stepped in. One said to the other, “Isn’t she just the dearest little creature?”

  Saffron stiffened at the sound of the Widow Samson’s grating voice. “Dear creature? However could you say so? Truly, she shouldn’t be out in public in that condition. It’s shocking.

  The other lady smiled and responded, “She is most charming. And friendly. It’s lovely to speak with her on Saturdays. Such a tragedy she can’t walk. True shame.” She clucked her tongue as she looked up and saw Saffron.

  “Oh, excuse us, dear. We didn’t see you.” She glanced at the Widow Samson from the corner of her eye and lowered her voice. “Some people just have no actual kindness or compassion.”

  Saffron smiled and held the door for James. “Of course,” she said as she smiled at the ladies and avoided Mrs. Samson.

  James hoisted the bag of flour in the back of the buggy and helped Saffron up.

  She settled herself on the bench seat, smoothing her skirts. “Were the ladies talking about Luke and Andy’s sister, James?”

  “I imagine so. She certainly is charming, and rides in with her brothers on Saturdays. They seem to adore her, and I think it’s the only time she gets out. Everybody loves to talk to her.” James pushed away from the buggy and pointed down the road.

  “You mean...” Saffron turned and looked toward where he was pointing, her stomach fluttering as she spotted Luke and Andy’s buckboard, with the young woman sitting in the back.

  “Yep, that’s her. Pretty little thing, and sweet as all get out.”

  She sighed as James waved before he stepped back into the mercantile. She’d missed her chance. She’d spoken to the girl and hadn’t even known it.

  Chapter 8

  The breeze picked up a bit as Adam finished up with the horses Hank pointed out to him as needing their hooves trimmed. He’d heard that Tombstone was warm, and he closed his eyes and took off his hat, letting the warm early spring breeze blow some of the day’s dust off. He untied the bandanna from his neck and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He’d been a farrier so long he thought maybe he could do it in his sleep, but that wasn’t to say it wasn’t a bit of a physical challenge, picking up horses hooves all day and hoping that they agreed with the decision they needed a clipping.

  He’d only been
here a month with Carol, Luke and Andy, but he could already tell he liked it better than South Dakota. Aside from the mesquite trees surrounding the ranch house here at Archer Ranch, the view was vast, mountains to the east and the west, dotted with cactus for a ways, those giving way to small pines as the mountains got taller.

  The breeze finished drying him off and he tied his neckerchief back on, glad that it was a defense against sun here, not defense against snow and bitter wind as it would have been if they were in South Dakota. He wondered if the others were as happy here in Tombstone, but he was sure they were all happy about the snow. The lack of it, at least.

  Happy. He hadn’t allowed himself to even ask them if they were happy. He had a pretty good sense that the boys were, but that they were worried about Carol. Her life had changed most when Ma and Pa died. Her outings with Ma to the mercantile, dress store or even church had ended so abruptly that none of them had had the time to get used to the changes there, let alone the change that came with moving across the country.

  He hadn’t even considered Hank’s offer to come for supper. He wasn’t quite sure why. It was daunting to get Carol places, yes, but that wasn’t the reason for his quick negative response. The thought of going to such a large gathering, with people they didn’t know just seemed—well, impossible. They needed more time to adapt, to get used to their new home. It really was best if Carol stayed there as much as possible.

  Still, it would have been nice to meet some new people, maybe get to know Saffron a little better. He hadn’t been able to spend much time being social even before the accident, but afterward—well, it was impossible. He never dared allow himself to think that he might be able to meet someone, settle down, have a family. And truth be told, he’d rarely even thought about it.

  Something about Saffron, though, definitely turned his head. He’d been startled today when she’d come in the stable while he and Hank were talking. Luke had been right—she was pretty. Very pretty. But beyond that, she had a gentle way about her that reminded him of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. And today, her skin glowed pink, her brown eyes sparkling. He even thought maybe he saw a twinge of disappointment when he’d said they couldn’t come for supper.