“She’s keeping her maiden name,” Joshua said.
“How odd.” Cora pursed her lips. “Well, I suppose actresses do the same. I guess for an unmarried professional woman, well-known by a certain surname, retaining that name makes sense.”
“Or for a woman with a distinguished family name.” Andre tapped the table. “Perhaps, Delia, you should consider reverting to your maiden name. Then all this confusion about two Mrs. Reverend Nortons wouldn’t exist.”
Delia obviously fought not to smile and lost. “Oh, Papa.” She shook her head. “As if I’d do any such thing.”
Andre sent a glance of mock woe to Rose. “See how I’m disrespected in my own home?”
With raised eyebrows Rose leaned forward. “I distinctly recall you saying yesterday that this wasn’t your house, you were merely a hanger-on.” She pretended to keep her expression curious, although she wanted to dissolve into giggles like a girl.
They all burst into laughter.
“Rose has you there, Papa,” Delia chortled.
Joshua stood. “Once I bring the boys back, I’ll be at the parsonage. Father and I must strategize how to best handle the needs of posse members and their families.” He glanced at Andre. “Yesterday, the sheriff was a bit preoccupied. So, I don’t think she had a chance to tell you that although Mrs. McCurdy will retain ownership of their ranch, some of the McCurdys and gang’s possessions and livestock were confiscated. Those will be used to pay for Deputy Rodda’s funeral expenses and headstone as well as Horace Hatter’s doctor bill. Any stolen livestock or goods that we can identify will be returned to the rightful owners.”
With a nod, Andre settled back in his chair. “I was prepared to pay those bills. However Sheriff Granger’s solution serves justice.” He smiled at Rose. “Shall I meet you at the conservatory door in ten minutes, or do you need more time?”
“Ten minutes is fine. I’ll get my hat and coat.” Rose stood, smiled a good-bye to everyone, and left to go to her bedroom. As she climbed the stairs at a ladylike pace, she firmly tampered her excitement at spending time alone with Andre.
No girlish eagerness allowed.
Still, she hurriedly used the bathroom then donned her coat, gloves, and second-best hat in preparation to go out.
Downstairs, Andre waited at the glass conservatory door, looking dapper in a bowler and well-cut coat. Last night after the wedding, he’d shown Rose and Cora around the house, and they’d both admired the elegant, glassed-in room and the display of colorful blooms.
With a tender smile, Andre extended an elbow. “I’m glad to see you rested and eager to face your new life.”
I’m not sure I’d describe myself as eager. Rose slid a hand around his arm, the gesture so familiar her throat tightened.
Inside the conservatory, she slowed to inhale the scent of flowers. “I’m amazed some are still blooming at this time of year.”
“I baby my rose bushes, and they reward me. All except this one—the recalcitrant Empress Red.” He leaned to touch a leaf. “Hasn’t bloomed yet. I’m so frustrated, one of these days I’ll take the pruning shears and cut her down. Then dig up the roots and scatter everything on the compost pile.”
“Well, in another couple months, you’ll prune the bushes anyway. Might as well give the poor thing another chance. She might just be a late bloomer.”
“A late-blooming rose. Very well, Rose Collier. I’ll give the empress another chance.”
With a slight tug to get them moving again, Andre escorted her out the back doors of the conservatory and through the large garden along a winding path of Sioux quartzite bricks, which led to the lacy, iron gate in a low brick wall. The whole while he talked about his plans.
In the distance, Rose saw men clustered in one area, and others scattered throughout the park. There were too many to count, but she supposed between twenty and thirty. She also saw a row of tents, reminding her of the photos of an army encampment. “Where will everyone sleep when the winter comes?”
“Hopefully by then, we’ll have the enclosed shell of at least part of the building. We’ll add a stove, and some men can live there. The remainder can move into the hotel. Then, too, much of what is needed will be made off-site in the workshops of various craftsmen—stair-rails, molding, bookshelves, etc.”
They strolled through the acreage, and he pointed out where the fishpond would go. Then came a Chinese pergola, an arbor—where there’d be a wide sweep of lawn, and the vegetable garden. As they approached, the sounds of digging in the library basement grew louder.
“We’ll have maples for fall color. A walled garden with some apple, pear, and cherry trees—the fruit available to any community member in need. Mischievous boys will sneak over the walls to steal a treat.”
She squeezed his arm. “Maybe a girl or two, as well.”
“Absolutely.”
“The gardeners will plant trees—well, saplings now—exotic ones from all over the world capable of growing in our climate. Imagine—” He waved a hand across the vivid blue sky “—in a hundred years from now, how large and majestic they’ll be.”
“You’re creating an arboretum.” Rose tracked Andre’s hand, imagining the towering trees, thick trunks measuring their many years of life. “Those trees will witness a lot of history. Children playing, growing up, courting, having their own families….”
He beamed at her. “My thoughts exactly. My great-great grandchildren…I can almost see them playing a game of hide and seek among the thick trunks.”
“Willows will surround the pond.”
She looked around. “I don’t see a pond.”
He tapped his temple. “Use your imagination. A tiny stream runs through here that we can dam, along with some springs, including hot ones. Perhaps a spa—a place to soak or swim. I’ll pay gardeners, of course, but I’m also hoping for community volunteers.”
They reached the “library.” The phantom walls outlined by stakes surrounded the men digging in the muddy holes and trenches.
Andre guided them along the perimeter, talking and waving his arms and describing various rooms. From time to time, he’d call out greetings to the workmen, knowing them all by name.
Seeing the boundaries made Rose realize, even better than when viewing the blueprints, how large this library would be. From Andre’s descriptions and from the plans she’d studied, she could tell he already had a fully formed building in his mind. She couldn’t wait to see the reality.
Once again, possessiveness surged through her. My library. Mine!
After circling the whole perimeter, Andre led her in the direction of a covered bandstand before suddenly stopping. “This is where the fountain is going.” He pointed to a big circle of stakes. “I’ve played with several ideas about the kind of statue I’d like, almost settled on a curled-up dragon, long tail wrapped around the body.” He made a large waving motion.
“You always were fascinated with dragons.” As soon as she uttered the statement, Rose pressed her lips together, wishing the words unsaid. So much for ignoring our past bond.
Andre smiled down at her, the fond look in his eyes, obviously remembering. “But this is the West—no place for the fantasies of mythological creatures. Montana is the land of the horse.”
Grateful he didn’t acknowledge her mention of their shared past, she reminded herself to stay in the present.
“The race at the Harvest Festival fired my imagination. I visualized several racing horses thundering through the water, their manes and tails waving….” He made a sound, half-laugh, half-grunt. “I’d forgotten that idea until just now.” His expression sobered. “The robbery happened during the race. That’s why no one knew, and the gang could get away.”
“That must have been so—” she couldn’t even think of a word that fit the shock and horror and settled for something that sounded mundane “—dreadful.”
“The initial reaction was greatly impacted by our fears that Joshua’s father, who’d been in the bank most of t
he day receiving the donations, had been harmed or killed by the robbers.”
“You all must have been terribly relieved he was unhurt.”
“Among so many other feelings.” His jaw firmed, then he let out a deep breath. “Reverend and Mrs. Norton are still shaken, but I only know their state of mind because Joshua confided in me his concern for them. To look at them doing their duties around town, you’d never know how disturbed they were. Those two are the most admirable couple I know. I suppose—” he thought for a moment “—I’d describe them as strong in their faith, yet good and…and kind in their attitude toward others.”
“Your daughter is very blessed in her in-laws.”
Andre stopped abruptly, let out a breath, and looked at Rose, his admiring gaze studying her face.
Heat crept into her cheeks, and she wondered if he noticed the wrinkles and gray hairs.
“This outing has been good for me. Having you and Cora here. Knowing everyone’s safe. That the bad guys are taken care of. The money for the church is returned. I feel a thousand times better. It’s been a truly awful…horrible week. I can’t even put into words how bad…. Why now, I could almost kick up my heels.”
Rose laughed and held up her hands. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“Alas.” He pulled a mock frown, but his eyes danced. “I’m a respectable businessman. A staid father and grandfather. Best not mar my dignity with improper displays of high jinx.”
For the second time that day, Rose had to fight giggles. She’d forgotten how much Andre made her laugh. The memory caused her to straighten, edge away a few inches, and look around for a change of subject. “The architect comes to town in a few days? I can’t remember his name.”
“Elton Reid, and yes, you shall meet with him.”
“I’d like that.” She was careful to keep her smile polite and distant.
He didn’t seem to notice, holding out an elbow to escort her. “So, Miss Librarian. What shall we do next?”
“I suppose start cataloguing the books. I need to know what you have, what all I’ve brought, and go from there.” She took his arm.
“That sounds like a good beginning. And once you’ve finished that task, we will start talking to people about donations—of either books or money for books.”
Rose wasn’t sure she liked that idea. Thinking of trying to coax money from strangers made her want to retreat to her room and hide. I’ll just have to don the librarian role I use in social situations. “Do you think many people will contribute?”
“For starters, I happen to know one family with boxes of books in their barn.”
She gasped. “In their barn?”
“Well, perhaps not in the barn anymore. When Trudy Flanigan came here as a mail-order bride, her father had just remarried and combined households with his new wife, giving Trudy all the extras, including a piano. She brought a lot of book boxes with her.”
“I thought mail-order brides were just in dime novels. I can’t imagine having the courage to marry a stranger.” Rose shuddered. Traveling across the country to live with a former beau for the sake of a job is bad enough.
“We have several such intrepid women both here and in Morgan’s Crossing. Surprisingly, their marriages seem to be thriving. None of them live in town, so I don’t know when you’ll meet them.”
“Tell me more about Mrs. Flanigan.”
“The story goes, about ten years ago, Trudy arrived with a whole household of furniture and crates of belongings, including boxes. At the time, Seth Flanigan had a small home, so most of her possessions ended up in the barn. Now they’ve built a bigger house, although I’ve not been there. So maybe the books are no longer stored in the barn.”
Rose couldn’t wait to meet the woman and hear more of her story.
“Did Delia tell you she’s organizing a tea party tomorrow after church to introduce you and Cora to some of the ladies?”
“Oh. So soon,” Rose said, letting her reluctance show. She’d hoped to have time to mentally prepare for meeting a group of women. “I vaguely recall her mentioning something in passing.” Just the idea made her cringe. Although on good terms with the library patrons, Rose was comfortable with only a very small social circle. She nodded at a workman walking past carrying a shovel.
“We started talking about the tea party while you were upstairs getting your coat.”
“If you recall—” her voice trembled “—I’m rather reserved.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything.” He placed a hand over hers. “Perhaps the experience will be uncomfortable at times. However, I have confidence you’ll weather the tea party with complete aplomb.”
Andre always was more certain of me than I was of myself.
CHAPTER TEN
That night, after Micah had gone to bed and Joshua’s parents, who’d come for dinner, had left for the parsonage, the adults sat in the parlor, talking about their day and the plans for tomorrow.
The air was cool enough to warrant heating the room, but instead of turning on the radiators, Joshua had opted for the coziness of a wood-burning fire, which Rose thought a wise choice.
A faint smell of smoke wafted through the air. The cheerful flames flickered in the background, the pops and crackles a pleasant accompaniment to their conversation.
“Who will be coming to the tea party tomorrow?” Cora looked from Andre to Delia to Joshua. “Is there anyone my age?”
Delia cocked her head and appeared to think through a list. “I don’t know. The women your age are already married and most don’t live in town. All depends if they drive to town for Sunday service. That’s not a certainty for those who live several hours or more away.”
Cora wrinkled her nose, obviously not pleased about the dearth of companionship.
Delia touched her chin. “Elsie Bailey, the dressmaker’s helper, is younger than you—sixteen, no, she’s turned seventeen, but I’m certain she’ll be here.”
Andre leaned forward. “You’ll like Elsie, Cora. The two of you have similar joie de vivre and lack the usual be-all-end-all focus on matrimony common to most young ladies.”
“Good.” Cora gave a decisive nod. “I can’t abide those empty-headed girls who act like clinging vines around men.” With a stubborn lift of her chin she declared, “A woman should be the mistress of her own destiny.”
Rose smiled, wondering what would happen when her niece finally fell in love. He’d need to be one determined bachelor who’s not deterred by her lack of interest in marriage.
“As for the women in town…. Sheriff Granger’s not typically involved in ladies’ activities.” Delia raised her eyebrows and chuckled. “But now that she’s a mother…we’ll see if she’ll attend in search of some female advice. Alice Cameron, the doctor’s wife—” She pursed her lips. “Well, Alice has a toddler. Guess her attendance depends on whether the doctor is called away or if he can take care of little Craig.”
Confused, Rose tilted her head. “I thought the doctor was with the wounded men?”
Joshua shook his head. “That’s Dr. Angus Cameron. He’s newly come to Sweetwater Springs to join the practice of his brother, Dr. Fergus Cameron, who is married to Alice.”
“Ah. I understand.”
“There’s Hortense Cobb, who with her husband owns the mercantile. Widowed Mrs. Murphy, who runs the boarding house.” Delia hesitated and sent a look of appeal at her husband. “Surely I won’t be gossiping if I give Rose and Cora more information about those two?”
Joshua tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “I suppose if you’re uttering warnings with the best of intentions—for awareness and protection from hurt….”
Andre jerked a thumb in Joshua’s direction. “While our good reverend, here, ponders the religious implications of this conversation, what my daughter is delicately inferring without actually gossiping is Mrs. Cobb and Mrs. Murphy are the most annoying busybodies in this town. Judgmental and sometimes malicious. The two are cronies and likely to spread gossip—t
he more mean-spirited, the better.”
“From time to time, Mrs. Murphy does display a softer heart,” Delia said, one hand turning up. “But then, unfortunately, she hardens again. She probably won’t attend the tea party. Her boarding house is still overflowing with guests.”
“The other difficult person you might encounter is Edith Grayson, sister of Caleb Livingston—” Andre nodded at Rose “—whom I told you owns the hotel. He also owns the bank. Both of them are from Boston and tend to be rather haughty.”
Rose frowned at Andre’s disapproving tone—one unlike him.
“Papa.” Delia sent him a reproving glance. “Both Mrs. Grayson and Mr. Livingston have considerably softened since Maggie Baxter and her baby Charlotte came into their lives.”
“I know, daughter. I cannot like them, though….” Andre shook his head and raised a hand in a placating motion. “Enough said.”
Rose exchanged a puzzled glance with Cora, wondering what father and daughter disagreed on.
Delia looked at Cora and then leaned toward Rose, her eyes alight. “Our most prestigious guest will be Sophia Maxwell. She’s a well-known opera singer. You might have heard of her—the Songbird of Chicago?”
“Why, yes.” Cora clapped her hands together. “She’s supposed to be quite beautiful.”
“She is. Beautiful in face and form.” Andre’s tone was warm with admiration. “Such an incredible voice.”
A stab of jealousy went through Rose, and she had to scold herself away from such futile thinking.
“Sophia was ill a few months ago and is now recovered. Her sister Lily first came West to illustrate Montana’s wildflowers. She ended up settling down with Tyler Dunn, a widowed rancher with a young son. They now have a baby daughter.”
“You have to see Lily’s illustrations.” Delia practically bounced up from the sofa, her movements making her almost appear as young as her stepson. She hurried over to the bookshelves and selected a volume. “Here.” She carried the book to Rose. “Look at the chapter where I’ve placed a bookmark.”
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