by Kit Morgan
C.J. frowned. “Cyrus wants me to go look for a bird with these people?”
“Aye, he does. Says that when ye’re not working on his list of projects for ye, ye can assist the MacDonalds and Melvale there. Besides, he says ye’ll get quite the education working with them.”
C.J. studied the hotel manager, who now appeared to be looking at the trio on the other side of the lobby. He knew Rufi was as well. The only reason she’d volunteered to help him was to be near Melvale. It answered his question as to whether she was marriage-minded – clearly she was. “Very well, if that’s what he wants. I suppose it’ll be no different from hunting pheasants.”
“Only I don’t think ye’re supposed to shoot this bird, Mr. Branson,” Lorcan explained. “They want it alive.”
“What kind of a bird is it?” Rufi asked.
“I’m sure they’ll tell ye,” Lorcan said. “Now I must go …”
“Who’s that?” Lorcan’s daughter, Aideen, asked as she ran into the front lobby.
C.J. smiled. Aideen, who was seven going on seventy, often followed him while he worked in the hotel for Cyrus. The little girl was as smart as a whip and had a curiosity he admired. She was also too bold for her own good.
Like now. Rather than wait for her father to answer, she marched right up to Mr. Melvale and tugged on his trouser leg. “Hello.”
Melvale studied her for a moment, then smiled broadly. “Well, hello.” He dropped to one knee to be at eye level with the child. “You must be Aideen.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You know my name?”
Melvale cocked an eyebrow. “Oh my dear sweet little thing, I know all about you.”
“You do?” She crossed her arms and leaned toward him. “Have you been talking to my da?”
“I’ve been talking to quite a few people. But that’s not why we’re here. I’m looking for a bird. Could you help me?”
“Mama says you’re looking for Mr. Bennett’s rooster.”
“But it’s not actually a rooster,” he corrected and stood.
“Then what is it?” Rufi asked as she approached.
Unable to help himself, C.J. accompanied her. “If we’re going to help you search for it, we need to know what it looks like.”
Melvale gave them a knowing smile. “And right you are, young man.” He offered C.J. his hand.
C.J. stared at it a moment then shook it. “C.J. Branson – pleased to meet you, Mr. Melvale.”
“Just call me Melvale. No need to attach a title to it.”
He heard Rufi gasp, and glanced her way. Did she want to shake the man’s hand too?
“Rufi? What are ya doin’, darlin’?” one of the twins asked as he joined them. It was Calvin – C.J. could tell by the cowlick. That made sense – wasn’t her sister married to him?
“I’m going to help Melvale and Mr. Branson look for the bird,” she gushed.
C.J. noticed that the rest of the Weavers had reached the lobby now. “Bird?” Bella said. “But you’re supposed to be helping with the children – that’s the whole point of your coming, remember?”
“Oh, but I … Mr. Branson asked …” She stuttered and pointed at him.
C.J.’s eyes popped wide. He’d done no such thing.
“Is this true?” Benjamin asked, stepping between C.J. and Rufi. “You want her along?”
“I, um, believe it was suggested by Mr. Brody?” Melvale waved toward the counter. “She’s more than welcome – in fact, we could use all the help we can get.”
The Weavers looked at one another and shifted uncomfortably. “What kind of help are you talking about?” Harlan finally asked.
“Well, the search for such a creature could take days, and we’re not sure where to start other than at Mr. Bennett’s ranch. The more people the better.”
“What would we have to do?” Harlan’s wife asked.
Melvale smiled expansively. “I would suggest you all pair up. I can draw each of you a map of the area, then you could spend a couple of hours each day searching a section of it. How does that sound? I can remunerate you if you so desire.”
The Weavers exchanged the same look of confusion – remunerate? – until Calvin got the idea. “Ya mean pay us?”
“Absolutely,” Melvale replied. “It is a very special bird.”
“What’s so special about it?” C.J. asked, his hands on his hips. He remembered one of them calling the other a fellow explorer. Was it the Scotsman? “Are you people zoologists? Scientists?”
Mr. MacDonald smiled. “After a fashion.” He nodded at Melvale. “He’s the expert who can handle the wee beastie best.”
“Very true,” Melvale said. “Though the bird looks harmless, it can do a lot of damage if you get too close. Ask Mrs. Bennett if you don’t believe me.”
“Is it carnivorous, then?” Lorcan asked from behind the counter.
“Can I look for it too?” Aideen asked, pulling on Melvale’s pants leg again.
“Oh stab me!” Melvale grumbled, then turned to Aideen. “Certainly not.” He got down to her eye level again. “He might think you’re a snack. I can’t risk it.”
Aideen gasped and drew back, her hand over her mouth.
Melvale stood again and patted the child on the head. “No, better to leave this to the big boys and girls – as many as are willing.”
C.J. turned back to Rufi Cucinotta. What a wonderful name. Looking at her made him regret learning German instead of Italian in college. He’d come so close to picking the latter too, but German was the language for business …
“Sounds like it might be fun at that,” Harlan said. “What do you think, Ma?”
“Traipsing around the countryside looking for a chicken that isn’t a chicken? I’m sorry, honey, but you’re on your own.”
“I’ll help,” Tom volunteered. He glanced at his deputy, Bran O’Hare.
“I’ll do whatever ye want me to, ye know that,” Bran said.
“What do you think, Charity?” Benjamin asked his wife. “Want to do a little bird hunting?”
“Capturing!” Melvale corrected from across the room.
“Okay, capturing.”
“But what about Sebastian and Truly?” she asked, indicating the children clinging to her skirt.
“Rufi can watch them …” Benjamin caught the look in Rufi’s eye. “… um, then have her turn at the hunt,” he hastily added.
Rufi’s glare softened. “Thank you, Benjamin.”
“And what of Thatcher and Hugh?” Bella asked. “I won’t drag my bambini into the wilderness after some silly bird.”
“Hmm, I see the problem,” Melvale mused. “Why don’t Miss Cucinotta and Mr. Branson do their searching at the end of the day, after everyone else has had a turn? That way they can fulfill their usual responsibilities and still contribute to our, um … project?”
“That works,” Harlan said.
Calvin’s eyes narrowed. “Wait just a doggone minute here – ya mean them two will be searchin’ alone?”
“Oh stab me, no,” Melvale laughed. “I’ll be with them. And if not me, then the MacDonalds, or perhaps the duke and duchess.” He looked at Calvin and Benjamin, waiting for an answer.
Calvin chewed his lower lip and narrowed his eyes at C.J. “Well, so long as they ain’t alone. Wouldn’t be proper.”
“Of course,” Melvale quickly agreed. “Now, I’ll draw you each a detailed map with a circle around the section you’re to search, and give them to you in the morning.” He turned to Rufi and C.J. “Why don’t the two of you join me when I talk to the Bennetts?”
“But she has to watch the children,” Bella protested. Rufi managed a weak smile and a wince.
“Of course, yes. Well, she could always bring them along – a field trip, as it were.” He studied Bella more closely. “Where did you get that stunning dress?”
“Melvale,” Mr. MacDonald warned.
Melvale frowned at him and sighed. “You can tell me later.” He leaned toward Bella and lowered
his voice. “But it’s fabulous!”
“Is he some sort of tailor too?” Ma whispered to Harlan. He could only shrug.
Melvale continued to talk about the search as C.J. watched. His mannerisms were those of a big-city dandy, though he looked so different from the ones he’d known in Maryland. The Scot, despite his simple work clothes, looked like a Highland warrior out of an illustration for Ivanhoe – he seemed like he could cleave someone in two without blinking an eye. Maybe helping them search for some rare species of bird wasn’t such a good idea. If it was worth a lot of money, were other people after it – bad people, perhaps?
He looked at Rufi, who was staring dreamily at Melvale as he continued instructing his audience on the finer points of bird collection, and frowned.
“… And that’s what you’re to do,” Melvale finished with a flourish. “Just locate the creature – I’ll do the rest.”
“Sounds easy enough to me,” Harlan said. “Fun, too.”
“I’ll ride out to the Triple-C with Duncan tomorrow and let them know ‘bout it,” Tom said. “Colin and Harrison might wanna have a go.”
“You do that, Sheriff,” Melvale said with a knowing smile.
Tom nodded and strode out of the hotel.
“Is there anything else we need to know?” Rufi asked Melvale.
C.J. grimaced as his gut tightened. Egads, why did he have to be so attracted to her? But then, what man wouldn’t be? Except for Melvale, who was more interested in Bella Weaver’s dress than her beauty. And he hadn’t given Rufi a second glance. Was he married? There was no ring on his finger. Was he … just not interested in women? C.J. had known a few fellows like that back east, so it was possible.
Regardless, Rufi was enthralled with the man, and the thought of searching for some rare bird with him and Rufi was torture. Just watching her made his heart beat so fast he could barely breathe. It wasn’t like he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her – no, this went beyond that. He couldn’t explain how, only that the longer he was in Rufi’s company, the harder it was to be out of it. Like having a warm blanket wrapped around him on a cold day, to shed it meant freezing again, and he didn’t look forward to it.
He backed toward the doors as the Weavers began checking into the hotel. If he had to relinquish the blanket and start shivering, he might as well get it over w–
“Going so soon, laddie?”
Startled, C.J. looked at the big Scotsman. “I’d best get back to the men’s camp.”
“I’ve heard of it. Know a man that used to stay there.”
“Amon Cotter, right?”
“Aye. He lives with the duke and duchess now, helps with the estate and such.”
C.J. nodded as he continued toward the doors. “Well, I’d better go.”
“She’s a mighty fine lass, is she no?”
“Who?”
The Scot arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “The one ye’ve been staring at since ye stepped in here.”
C.J. glanced at Rufi and back. “Yes, she is,” he replied in resignation.
“But I can see ye’re a gentleman. So her brother in-law has no need to worry should ye find yerselves alone on the prairie, aye?”
C.J. stared at him. What did he … oh, so that’s what this was about. He nodded. “You needn’t worry about that. Her virtue is safe with me.” Good grief, he’d expected this from Calvin Weaver or his brother, but not this man.
The big Scot leaned toward him. “See that it is.”
C.J. bristled. “Sir, do you insult me?”
“Nay, lad. I’m looking out for ye.” He walked across the lobby and disappeared down the hall toward Cyrus’s private quarters and office. Cyrus and Polly lived in the hotel now, being too old to run their small farm outside of town. They were thinking of selling it.
“Everything all right, Mr. Branson?”
C.J. jumped and spun to find Lorcan with a smile on his face, his sightless eyes fixed on him. “Oh, um, fine. You know, if there’s nothing Cyrus needs, I’ll be heading back to the men’s camp.
“Rosie fixed ye a basket.” Lorcan held it up.
C.J. smiled. Rosie Comfort was as good a cook at Mrs. Upton, the hotel’s main cook, and on a par with Irene Dunnigan. “Tell her thank you. I don’t have much out there.”
“No, I imagine not,” Lorcan said. “Too bad the others moved on just before ye got here.”
C.J. took the basket from him. “Yes, it does get a little lonely. And the Bandons aren’t much company.” The Bandon brothers’ idea of a fun evening was throwing knives at a tree and seeing who could pass wind the longest.
“Ye’re welcome to stay and have supper with me family and me.”
“Oh no, not if Rosie went to the trouble to fix me a basket of food.”
“Suit yerself. Be here first thing in the morning to accompany Sheriff Tom.”
“What? Why?”
Lorcan smiled. “Because that’s what Cyrus wants. Ye going to argue with the man?”
C.J. let his mouth hang open, knowing Lorcan couldn’t see it. “You mean I’m going out to the Triple-C?”
“Aye.”
C.J. scratched his head. This was an odd request. Why would Cyrus want him to go with Sheriff Tom out to see the Cookes? “Does Cyrus want me to take a message to them?”
“He wants ye to help Mr. Melvale and his friends find that bird.”
C.J. backed up a step, bumping into the hotel doors. He glanced around the lobby, spotted Melvale in deep conversation with Mrs. MacDonald … and had a strange idea. “Lorcan … does Cyrus want me to be the one who finds it, for some reason?”
“He wouldn’t mind if ye did, I suppose. The MacDonalds are good friends of his, see. He’ll do what he can to help them.”
C.J.’s earlier suspicions that the animal was rare and valuable went up another notch. If that was the case, others were sure to be after it. Is that what Mr. MacDonald meant when he said he shouldn’t be alone with Rufi out on the prairie? Would they be in danger without safety in numbers? Yes, that had to be it. Cyrus and the others weren’t saying anything because they wouldn’t get anyone to help if the danger was public …
… but then, Cyrus Van Cleet wasn’t the type to put anyone in danger. This still didn’t make sense.
“Well, lad?” Lorcan urged. “Ye’ll be here first thing in the morning?”
C.J. stared into his sightless eyes. “Yes. I’ll be here.” He left, more confused than ever. The only clear thing in his head was to protect Miss Cucinotta from whatever might be lurking because of this feathered prize.
Chapter Six
C.J. lay awake on his cot that night. The men’s camp was a lonely, empty place without anyone to talk to except the Bandons – who were not great conversationalists at the best of times, and tended to doze off shortly after sundown besides. Well, at least they didn’t snore.
He got up, put more wood on the fire at one end of the building, then sat on his cot again. The structure could house a dozen men or more, depending on how close one wanted to be with one’s neighbors. At the other end of the long room was the sitting area, with a fireplace and half a dozen mismatched chairs donated by the townsfolk. A long dining table sat between his cot and the stove, with benches on either side.
He didn’t really need the fire right now – the nights were warm – but it was something to stare at when he couldn’t sleep and was too rattled to read. Besides, he liked his morning coffee and didn’t want to have to wait for the stove to get going. And tomorrow morning, he’d have to leave early to meet Sheriff Turner at the hotel.
He crawled beneath his blanket again and pondered the duke’s arrival. Cyrus must have known of his coming, or did His Grace just like surprising everyone? The Scot and his wife – what was their story? Were they explorers, scientists, zoologists, what? And Melvale, there was a strange fellow. Was he European? His accent was odd – C.J. couldn’t place it, and in addition to all the nations represented in Baltimore, he’d toured Europe with his grandf
ather several summers ago. It was a glorious trip – they had a wonderful time.
Sometimes he wondered if Grandpa Rufus took him on that trip to ease the pain of missing his parents. Of course he’d missed them anyway – not a day went by that he didn’t picture them traveling with him and his grandfather. But Grandpa was considered “new money,” and C.J. knew his mother wouldn’t have taken kindly to being snubbed at some of the more popular places the rich frequented in London and Paris. She didn’t like it when it happened in America. Not that she had to worry about it now … “Ah, Ma, I wish you and Pa were still around.”
He turned to his side as his thoughts switched to Cyrus. The old man was kind, intelligent and a good teacher with keen business sense. He’d learned more from him in a few weeks than he had in four years at Princeton. No wonder Grandpa Rufus sent him here. But he was sent with orders not to reveal who he really was. He was supposed to be just an average fellow working for Cyrus for the summer.
Which brought him around to Miss Cucinotta. He smiled as her face flashed through his mind. Such a beauty … and so not interested in him.
He sighed and flopped onto his back again. If he’d been smart, he’d have found out how long the Weavers were visiting – a week, two weeks? Should he even bother pursuing a woman who breezed into town on the afternoon stage and would just as easily breeze out? And what about her obvious attraction to Melvale? She was obviously mesmerized by him, even more than everyone else was.
Melvale was like a walking, talking confection of manhood that teased the senses of every woman he came across. The word charming didn’t do him justice. Heck, even the men were agog at his charisma. The man couldn’t possibly be real. Yet he’d been in the same room with him, spoke to him, listened to him. If standing next to the man made C.J. feel like he was in a dream, what sort of effect did he have on Rufi? Very strange.
After another hour of tossing and turning, C.J. had made up his mind to at least enjoy Miss Cucinotta’s company while she was in town. He knew Melvale would be leaving as well, as soon as he found that silly bird. And his erstwhile rival had shown no interest in returning Rufi’s attention, so why worry about that? Now that he thought on it, trekking across the prairie with Rufina Cucinotta would be fun. He could listen to her accent, maybe even learn a few words of Italian.