Dear Miss Cucinotta

by Kit Morgan

  They pulled up to the house and were greeted by Jefferson Cooke. “Howdy, folks. Coffee’s on if anyone wants some.”

  Harlan set the brake and climbed down. “Jefferson!”

  “Harlan!” The old man made his way down the porch steps. They embraced, patting each other on the back. “Is this all of them?”

  “Nope. I’ve got fourteen more at home.

  “Well, I’ll be. You married into a whole town!”

  Dallan and Melvale dismounted while the other men helped the women and children out of the wagons. “Mr. Cooke,” Dallan declared. “Good to see you.”

  “Good to see you too, Mac.” He looked at Shona and smiled. “I hear you folks are looking for August Bennett’s rooster.”

  Dallan smiled. “It’s a long story, but … aye, we are.”

  Jefferson smiled in return. “Humor me.” He took one look at Melvale and blanched. “Ya brought a friend, I see.”

  “Aye. I believe introductions are in order.”

  Jefferson nodded. “But over coffee. Everythin’s better with a hot cup in your hand.”

  “Amen to that,” Shona said as she joined her husband. “Hello, Mr. Cooke.”

  Jefferson smiled and gave her a big hug. “The boys’ll be here any minute. They had a little work to finish up this mornin’.” He smiled at the Weavers. “C’mon inside and set a spell. Edith made a few pies for the occasion.”

  “Don’t mind if we do, Mr. Cooke!” Calvin said happily. Everyone began to file into the house.

  Except Rufi. She stood next to the wagon, eyes on Melvale, who was last in line to go inside. He stopped when he reached the door and noticed her lagging behind. “Coming, Miss Cucinotta?” he said without turning around.

  She stared at his back. He was so tall, broad and handsome she almost couldn’t stand it. Yet she didn’t feel as excited around him as she thought she would. She was finally getting to spend a little time with the magnificent man – shouldn’t she be more … giddy?

  “Miss Cucinotta?” he prompted, sounding impatient.

  She brushed at her skirt, patted her hair and headed toward him. He never did turn around, but he did wait until she was in the house before he closed the door and headed for the kitchen. Had he been here before? He seemed to know where to go.

  A woman with brown hair set a pot of coffee on the table, spotted Melvale and froze. “Oh my word.”

  “Sadie,” Jefferson said. “This here’s a friend of Mr. MacDonald’s and …” He looked at Rufi, “… she belong to you, Harlan, or to him?”

  Harlan helped himself to a slice of pie. “She’s mine.”

  “Rufi, come here.” Ma waved her to the table. “Meet the Cookes.”

  Rufi’s heart beat fast. For some reason she felt overwhelmed. But it wasn’t like she hadn’t been meeting all sorts of people since she’d come to Clear Creek. Why would these be any different? Or was it Melvale’s presence? Maybe her attraction to him wasn’t dampened, she was just reacting differently.

  The introductions started and she and the rest of her family met the wives of the Cooke brothers, including Edith, Jefferson’s third wife. They’d heard he was a widower when he met Honoria Cooke and came west. She passed away and he took Edith to wife a few years later. Rufi hoped to only marry once. But the old man looked happy, so who was she to judge?

  There was a commotion at the kitchen’s back door. It burst open and the Cooke brothers came into the room. “Whoopee!” Calvin yelped. “At long last!”

  Then C.J. stepped inside and Rufi’s jaw slackened. What was he doing here? She glanced at Melvale (who was sitting in a corner talking quietly to the Duchess Cozette) and back.

  C.J. cut through the room to stand before her. “Hello, Rufi. Fancy meeting you here.”

  Rufi stared at him and said nothing. So much for getting to spend the day with Melvale. And now her heart was beating even faster.

  Chapter Fourteen

  C.J. couldn’t believe his luck. The Weavers were here! He thought it might be days before he saw Rufi again, yet here she was. But then, so was Melvale, sitting in the corner of the kitchen with the duchess. It seemed everyone was there – Mr. MacDonald, Melvale, the Weavers, the Cookes … “I don’t see Mrs. MacDonald,” he mentioned, just to get a conversation going.

  Rufi glanced around. “I don’t know. She was here a moment ago.”

  “Well, never mind her. What do you think of the Triple-C?”

  “How can I think anything of it? I just got here. But what little I’ve seen is nice. What does it matter to you?”

  He shrugged. Wow, she wasn’t going to make this easy. Or she was just in a bad mood from yesterday. “It’s just that this is the nicest place in the area. Usually everyone falls daffy in love with it and there’s not much they have to compare it to.”

  “Really?” She stood a little straighter, her nose slightly in the air. “Our farm is quite beautiful too. Much different from this.” She waved at their surroundings.

  “Yes, I heard Charity telling Sally at the hotel about your farm and the apple orchards. It must be beautiful indeed.”

  “Beyond compare. But I do like the rolling prairie and flowers here. It’s just that there are so few trees.”

  “It’s heavily wooded where you are?”

  “Oh yes – even beside the orchards, and those go on forever. There’s apple, pear, walnut, cherry, piñon pine …”

  “You’re making me hungry.”

  She smiled, and his heart swelled. “Would you like some coffee?”

  No sooner had she offered than Belle Cooke brought them each a cup. “I’m sorry I missed you earlier, but the kitchen’s quite full. You can go into the parlor if you’d like.”

  C.J. looked for Calvin and Benjamin and found them staring wide-eyed at the three Cooke brothers, who in turn were speaking with Harlan. “Your brothers-in-law look awestruck.”

  Rufi followed his gaze and smiled. “They’ve been listening to Sheriff Turner’s stories about this family for years. It’s like a dream come true for them.”

  “We should stay long enough to watch this,” he suggested.

  “Good idea.”

  Duncan finally turned to the Weavers. “You’re all here. Jolly good. Harrison, Colin, may I introduce to you Benjamin and Calvin Weaver.”

  “Hello there.” Harrison smiled and extended a hand to Benjamin, who quickly took it and gave it a healthy shake. “I say, you two are astoundingly identical.”

  Colin stepped forward and stared at the twins. “How does anyone tell the difference?”

  C.J. chuckled to himself. He knew, but let them figure it out.

  “Yeah,” Calvin said. “Not even our ma can tell us apart at times.”

  “But there’s a secret to it!” Ma called from the other end of the kitchen table.

  “Well, it bloody well eludes me.” Harrison laughed. “Good to meet you. Tom’s told us all about you.”

  “It seems Tom has told everyone about everyone,” Belle commented, setting the coffee pot on the stove. “Has everybody got a slice of pie?” Most of the people in the kitchen nodded as Calvin and Benjamin continued to stare at the Cooke brothers.

  “Maybe now would be a good time for us to slip into the parlor?” C.J. told Rufi quietly.

  She looked at the corner where Melvale had been, but he and the duchess were gone. Were they with Mrs. MacDonald now?

  C.J. frowned. It figured she’d be looking for Melvale. “Rufi?”

  “Yes, it’s too crowded in here.”

  He led her into the parlor and they sat, she on a settee, he in a nearby wing chair. “There, it’s much quieter in here. Easier on the nerves.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “No, but you looked it.”

  She took a sip of coffee. “I’m nothing of the kind.”

  Bell popped into the parlor with two plates of pie. “Here you go. I’m sorry I didn’t get these to you earlier.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Cooke,” C.J. said.
>
  “Did you men get the fencing done?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “And with time to spare. Now we have plenty of time to visit – or in the Bandons’ case, to go back to the camp for a nap.”

  Belle offered Rufi a hand. “It’s very nice to meet you. The children will be in soon. I’m afraid Honoria, Harrison’s oldest, isn’t feeling well today and is resting upstairs.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Rufi said.

  “Don’t worry. Mrs. MacDonald is upstairs with her. She always concocts something to make us feel better.”

  “So I’ve heard,” C.J. said. “How long have you known them?” He was curious, and not just because he was with Rufi.

  “My goodness, let’s see … they first showed up in town back in ’58, I think it was.”

  “Over twenty years?” Rufi said in surprise.

  “That’s a long time,” C.J. said. “The way everyone talks, you all had some grand adventures together.”

  “You have no idea. Now I need to get back to the kitchen. Just let me know if you’d like more pie – I have three more prepared.” Belle left the room.

  C.J. and Rufi smiled, then looked at each other. “Well, here we are alone again,” Rufi commented.

  C.J. took a bite of pie and quickly chewed. He was hungry all of a sudden. “Yes, we are – us and the pie. I think I might take her up on that offer.”

  “So you work here?”

  “On occasion, when they need extra help. One of the hands came to the men’s camp early this morning and fetched me and the Bandon brothers.” He noticed she was poking at her pie. “Not hungry?”

  She leaned towards the door to the dining room they’d just passed through. “Where do you suppose Melvale is?”

  C.J. stopped chewing. “You seem very interested in him.” He probably shouldn’t have said that, and certainly not in that tone of voice, but he was getting very tired of this. What good did it do to pursue someone who was more interested in someone else?

  “Don’t you find him fascinating?”

  He looked her in the eye. “No.”

  She stared at her pie and broke off a piece with her fork, but still didn’t eat any.

  “I didn’t mean to sound rude. He’s … different. And different tends to mean trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Her head came up, her brow creased with worry. “What kind of trouble?”

  “I’m not saying he’s an outlaw or anything, but you don’t see someone like him every day. In fact, no one in town has ever seen anyone like him before. I’ve never seen anyone like him in … anywhere.” Thoughts of London and Paris popped into his head, but he didn’t want to tell her he’d been there. He didn’t want to win her over with a bank account, but by the merits of his own person.

  “He’s … not like anyone I’ve ever seen either.”

  “And that makes me suspicious. What do we know about him? Pretty close to nothing.”

  “The MacDonalds trust him. And everyone here trusts the MacDonalds.”

  “True. But if he’s pulled the wool over the MacDonalds’ eyes …” He left the sentence unfinished.

  “But I don’t know much about you either.”

  There it was, that feistiness of hers that he liked. “Ask me anything. I promise to answer.” It was a risk, but he wanted her to trust him, to more than trust him.

  “Okay. Where do your parents live?”

  Ouch. She had to start with that. “In Heaven now, I’m afraid.”

  She was clearly taken aback. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. My family is just myself and a grandfather in Denver. If I may, what about your folks? Why do you live with your sister and her husband?” He wanted to get to know her too, after all.

  She set her uneaten pie on a nearby table and folded her hands in her lap. “Our mother died years ago. Our father …” She shook her head. “… we don’t know where he is. We don’t care to know. He was a gambler, a wastrel. He cared only for himself.”

  “I see. I’m sorry too.” Well, this hadn’t gone how he hoped. He needed a way to lighten the mood. “Would you like me to show you around the ranch?”

  “Is that allowed?”

  “What do you mean, allowed?” Then he had a sudden flash of Calvin Weaver in his face, warning him away from her. “I suppose we should let people know where we’re off to. Maybe your sister and her husband would like to come along.” He hoped he wasn’t asking for trouble.

  “Calvin will want to visit with the Cooke brothers.”

  “I can understand that – they’re good men.”

  “They’re nothing to me.”

  All right, enough was enough. “Rufi,” he said gently. “What’s wrong?”

  She turned away and covered her eyes. Good grief, was she crying? “I’m sorry. This day just isn’t going as I planned.”

  C.J. sighed and fell against the back of his chair. “Would you rather be alone?” What he really wanted to ask was would you rather be with Melvale?, but he didn’t dare.

  “No. Maybe some fresh air would do me good.” She sighed and stood. “I’m sorry I’m not very good company.”

  So am I, he thought to himself. How can I make it better? “That’s all right. We all have bad days.”

  “Thank you for understanding.” She headed for the door, stopped, then turned to him. “You’re a good man, Mr. Branson.” Then she left.

  C.J. sat staring at the empty space on the settee, rolled his eyes and took another bite of pie. “That went just wonderfully …”

  “Where’s the lass?”

  “Mr. MacDonald!” Good grief, how did the man do that? “You, uh … startled me.”

  Mr. MacDonald smiled. “I thought ye had company a moment ago.”

  “I thought I did too.”

  “Ah.” The big Highlander strolled around the center table, sat on the settee and examined Rufi’s abandoned slice of pie while C.J. fidgeted in his own seat. “Yer a fine lad, C.J. I like ye.”

  “Funny – Rufi just told me I’m a good man. I wished she’d added that she liked me.”

  “Oh, she does.”

  C.J. was still skeptical. “You could’ve fooled me. She’s much more interested in your friend.”

  “Melvale?” He barked in laughter.

  “What’s so funny about that? You’ve got eyes. What woman wouldn’t like him?”

  “Believe it or not, I can think of a few. But he does have a way about him, I’ll give him that.” He ran his hand along the back of the settee, then began to drum his fingers against it.

  “What’s the matter?” C.J. asked.

  “Weel … as pretty a package as Melvale is, he has a … reputation. I dinna trust the man around my wife, if ye ken my meaning.”

  C.J. came out of his chair. “I think I do ‘ken your meaning’.”

  “Melvale has a way with the lasses.” He leaned toward C.J. “Half my time this trip, I swear, is making sure he doesna have a way with any more o’ them.”

  C.J.’s jaw tightened. “Are you telling me he’s a disreputable rake?”

  “Only when it comes to women. Otherwise …” Mr. MacDonald shrugged.

  C.J. glowered at the dining room door and wondered if Rufi had found Melvale. The man didn’t seem the type – really, he only seemed interested in finding that bird – but if what the Scot said was true … “Are you sure about this?”

  “I tell ye true, lad. If I had to leave my wife alone in a room with either ye or Melvale, weel, the choice would be easy.”

  C.J.’s gut roiled. “Thank you, Mr. MacDonald. You just shed light on some things.”

  Mr. MacDonald smiled. “Then ye’d best go take care of those things.”

  “I shall.” C.J. quickly left the room. If Melvale tried anything with Rufina Cucinotta, it would be a contest between he and Calvin to see who would make the visitor regret it more.

  As soon as C.J. was gone, Melvale slipped into the parlor. “My, what a terrible satyr you have made me out t
o be. I should be ashamed to look in the mirror.”

  Dallan eyed the piece of pie left on the table. “Glad to be of service, ye disreputable rake.”

  “Oh stab me. I wish you had gone into more detail – told him I ravish ladies and whisk them off to faraway lands …”

  “No need,” Dallan assured him. “His imagination will fill that in.”

  “Well, I suppose you are right. Hopefully that will remove my piece from the board, as it were. The boy’s grandfather should be pleased.”

  “It’s Cyrus I care about, to help him keep his word to Rufus Branson. Besides, it was fun telling the lad of yer perversion.”

  “Get that silly smirk off your face,” Melvale scolded. “It is all right for the boy to think that, but what if it spreads?”

  The Scot grinned wider. “Aye, wouldn’t that be a tragedy?”

  Melvale stood. “Not funny. But now I suppose I had better get to stalking my prey, the poor defenseless Miss Cucinotta.”

  “Aye, just don’t play yer part too well.”

  “Stop worrying. It will be fine.”

  “If ye’re not careful, that lass is liable to take ye up on yer supposed fell designs.”

  “What? Do not be silly. The only woman to ever throw herself at me – quite literally, as you will recall – was your wife’s best friend.”

  Dallan chuckled. “Aye, I recall that quite well. Now off ye go, get it over with. Let the lad save the fair lass from your evil hands. But … carefully”

  “Indeed – I wouldn’t want them to try to lynch me. They do that around here, you know.”

  “Aye, because ye yerself told me.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” Melvale said happily. “Well, here I go. Wish me luck.” He headed into the hall. “Oh, Miss Cucinooootta!” He disappeared into the kitchen.

  Dallan rolled his eyes as his wife descended the stairs. “What are you two up to?”

  He smiled. “Oh, just helping love along, that’s all.”

  Shona stopped and leaned over the banister, then glanced down the hallway and back. “Why is Melvale looking for Rufi?”

  “A wee bit of matchmaking, M’eudain, nothing more.”