Carol: Sweet Western Historical Romance (Brides of Archer Ranch Book 2)

by Cindy Caldwell

  Luke set Carol gently down on the chair at the kitchen table and took his own place next to her. "I think she looks as beautiful and happy as she always does," he said.

  Her family felt like a warm, safe blanket to her, and the vibrant aroma of breakfast, the soft breeze through the window and her brothers’ unending support had her heart swelling with comfort.

  Saffron set the plate of scrambled eggs on the table and wiped her hands on her mother's white apron. She looked up at Carol, raising an eyebrow. "Well?"

  "Yeah. Well?" her brother Adam said as he swept into the room, shrugging his coat over his shoulders. Saffron's eyes grew bright and her face was lit with a smile as she turned toward Adam. "Are you off in a hurry today?"

  Adam reached for a piece of bread and took a quick bite. "Yes. I have to be out at Archer Ranch first thing this morning. Hank’s waiting for me to come and trim some of the horses’ hooves that are leaving the ranch today." He leaned in and pecked Saffron on her cheek and Carol looked down as she saw her sister-in-law's skin flame. Luke laughed and Carol shoved her elbow in his ribs.

  Adam turned and looked at his brother and sister, his own ears tinged with pink. He cleared his throat and reached for his hat next to the back door. “All right, everybody. Nothing to see here. I'll be back for supper and when I get home, I want to hear all about the letter, Carol.

  Carol waited until Adam passed through the gates at the end of the drive, the wooden gate closing behind him. Saffron mercifully set about washing the dishes, and she slowly wiped the crumbs from the bread into her hand and onto a plate.

  Luke stood, reaching for the plates and setting them on the counter by Saffron. He cleared his throat and looked back at Carol. "I don't want to be late for school. Come on, Andy, let's go."

  "What? Why is everybody so quiet? Carol's going to read us the letter, isn't she?" Andy said as he stood and reached for his school books.

  Carol looked up quickly, her hand tightening over the letter in her pocket. She hadn't read it, even still, and had decided that she'd read it with Saffron. She wasn't at all sure that she wanted her younger brothers, kind as they were, to be part of the unveiling. She had no idea what Dennis wanted or why he'd contacted her.

  Her original plan was to not read it at all, burn it in the fireplace, maybe, later in the evening. She’d given him her heart, and after the accident it had been all she could do to take it back—and give him his. But it was the right thing to do, she knew, and she'd gotten used to the idea of living her life alone—well, with her family, but she'd put aside any dreams she had of having her own family, her own life.

  "Run along, Andy," Saffron said as she shooed him out of the room, rustling her hand through his hair as she handed Luke a canvas bag with the lunch she'd prepared for them.

  "Aww, that's not fair." He turned as he reached the door and raised his eyebrows at Carol.

  Luke grabbed Andy's elbow and pulled him out the door as he rolled his eyes. "Come on. It's none of our business. There's too much grown-up love stuff around here, anyway. Let's scoot."

  "Yeah, Saffron and Adam make enough gooey eyes for everybody. You're right," Andy said as he ran off behind Luke.

  Carol let out her breath as they rounded the gate, speeding up as the school bell rang. "That was lucky. Good thing they were going to be late."

  Carol pulled the letter out of her pocket and looked up at Saffron. She set it on the counter and smoothed out the paper, once again the familiar handwriting making her breath hitch.

  "You didn't read it, I see," Saffron said as she dried her hands on the gingham dishtowel and hung it on the hook beside the sink. Saffron sat down beside Carol and folded her hands on the table.

  Carol took a deep breath and turned the letter over. "No, I couldn't. But I also couldn't sleep all night."

  Saffron laughed. "I don't imagine so. I bet the letter mocked you all night long. How can you stand not to know?"

  Carol gazed out the window. "I can't imagine that it could be anything good after all this time. We broke it off. I thought I heard he'd taken up with another, and I was actually pleased that he's happy. Has a family. Has a life."

  "How can you know that? It could have been a rumor. Maybe his heart never healed, never closed to you. You'll never know if you don't open it."

  "Don't you see? There's nothing in there that could be good. If he does want to see me, it would be a disaster. I'm not who he remembers me to be. I can't walk—and there would be no way to avoid him realizing that, don't you think?" Carol mustered a smile and turned back to Saffron.

  Saffron laughed. "No, I don't imagine he would miss that. But Carol, I've known you for quite a while now. You are kind, warm, charming, funny and quite capable."

  "It is entirely possible that he does not want to see me, also. And I'm not sure which would be worse, to be honest. I'd placed the memory of him in a box in my heart and closed it. I'm not particularly anxious to re-open it, either way."

  Carol reached for the butter on the table and turned sideways, reaching around the back of the chair toward the icebox. As she opened the door, she leaned a bit further and tried to set the plate onto the shelf. She held her breath as it teetered on the shelf and tried to lean a bit further to set it in, but it crashed to the floor. She hung her head as Saffron jumped up and crossed over to it, kneeling and cleaning up the mess she'd created.

  "Is that what you consider quite capable? I can't even help around here. Even when I'm sitting in the exact spot where I should be able to."

  "Oh, stop that. Accidents do happen, you know. To everybody.”

  Saffron reached out and covered Carol's hand with her own, the gesture warming Carol's heart and giving her a little more courage. She stared at the letter as Saffron returned to the chair beside her. Carol reached for the letter and pushed it toward Saffron. She didn’t think she could read it herself, and maybe it would be a little easier if her friend read it first.

  Saffron's eyes grew wide. "You want me to read it?"

  Carol leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. "Well, if it’s going to be read, it seems that's the only way. I don't think I can do it."

  Saffron sighed and looked up at Carol, her eyes misty. "Carol, it doesn't matter what he says. You're a wonderful person, no matter what he has to say."

  A robin out the window caught Carol's eye and her heart fluttered. "Is that Charlie?" She craned her neck to see if the bird had Charlie's tell-tale red breast, absent a patch of feathers. She had seen him a few times since she'd nursed him back to health and released him, and if it was Charlie, that might be a good omen.

  "Oh, yes! It is," Saffron said as she peered out the window. "Charlie wants us to read the letter, don't you think?"

  Carol laughed and leaned forward on the table. "Oh, all right. If Charlie wants us to, then we must."

  Saffron laughed. "Sounds silly, doesn't it? But we may as well just go ahead."

  She tore open the envelope and removed the letter, smoothing it out on the table before her. She looked up at Carol, an eyebrow raised. "Dear Carol..."

  Carol held up her hand to stop Saffron. "Please, can you read it to yourself first?"

  "What? Why?"

  "Maybe just quickly read it over?"

  Saffron frowned, but turned back to the letter, her eyes scanning the words before her.

  Carol's hands unclenched as a slow smile spread across Saffron's face. "I think it's good news. He wants to see you. He'd heard you'd moved to Tombstone and he's passing through on his way to a new job."

  Carol's stomach lurched and she dropped her head in her hands.

  Saffron leaned over and tugged at Carol's blonde braid. "Carol, really, it's good news. What could possibly be the harm in it?"

  Carol turned her crystal blue eyes up toward her friend, and wiped at a falling tear with the back of her hand. "It's a disaster, really. I can't even imagine how it could be worse."

  "I don't understand, Carol. You say you loved him once.
Why wouldn't you want to see him? It could be wonderful, and he's taking the time and trouble to seek you out."

  Carol rubbed her eyes. She pulled the letter toward her and glanced at the neat lines of ink. She turned it over and looked up at Saffron, who looked so positive and hopeful that she almost felt it herself. Things had gotten easier for her as she’d arranged things differently, and the bread she’d made hadn’t turned out half bad.

  “I guess all I can do it try. I’m already a little more independent than when we met, and I can try even harder.”

  Chapter 4

  Carol sat in the buggy, her hands on the rails beside her as it bumped over the rutted road toward town. She always looked forward to Sundays, the days Luke and Andy took her into town after church and she sat outside the mercantile, talking to people as they walked by in their Sunday best. She loved looking at the hats the women wore—so many different colors, and feathers of all kinds, the colors swirling on the boardwalk. She thought maybe someday she'd have one of her own, but for today she'd tied on her blue bonnet.

  Adam had kissed Saffron when they thought nobody was looking as Carol, Andy and Luke left the house. She'd nudged Andy in the ribs when he'd giggled and turned red. They’d all left for church together, but afterward Adam and Saffron went home to prepare Sunday dinner while the others went to the mercantile to get their weekly supplies. It was a good day for her to get out of the house, but it was also a good day to give Adam and Saffron some privacy. They were newlyweds, after all, and she smiled as Andy and Luke blushed and looked away. They'd understand when they were older.

  When Saffron and Adam shared their “newlywed looks” for each other, Carol was always glad for them—both of them. They’d fought hard to be together and the happiness they shared was a lovely sight to see. She couldn’t help an occasional twang of envy, though, wondering if she would ever have that joy herself—the joy of a husband who truly knew her, appreciated her and loved her as Adam did Saffron, and to be able to give love by the buckets as Saffron did for Adam.

  She turned her thoughts back to the mercantile and her anticipation of seeing fresh faces, new and old.

  "Oh, there's Mrs. Carpenter,” Carol exclaimed as they turned the corner onto Allen Street. She waved excitedly and received the same in return. “Her mother in Chicago passed away, poor thing.”

  “I heard she was planning to visit but didn’t make it in time,” Andy said as he smiled toward Mrs. Carpenter.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t heard that. What a shame,” Carol said as her eyes darted about the busy street. "Oh, and there's Mrs. McCarthy. She just had a new baby. Doesn't she look wonderful?" She waved again and was met with a big smile from Mrs. McCarthy as she held up a pink, swaddled bundle, pulling the blanket away from the face of a beautiful baby. "Oh, it's a girl!" Carol exclaimed as she waved.

  "How the heck do you know everybody?" Luke said as he eased the horses up next to the mercantile.

  "I don't know. I just love to talk to people and they tell me things.” Carol lifted up the brim of her bonnet and surveyed the mercantile. She'd been coming every Sunday and had sat in the buggy while the boys gathered the supplies Adam had asked for, and people just stopped and talked. About everything and anything—the weather, the schoolhouse, the saloons, the bank robberies. And she loved every second of it. It made her feel most alive, these Sundays. It was the perfect joy to her, to come here after church, and visit.

  Sometimes they even went to the ice cream parlor Saffron had taken her to on one of their very first visits into town. She loved the strawberry ice cream best—it reminded her of her step-mother. It had been her favorite, too. So Sundays were the day she got to be out and remember her parents, and—well, just be joyful.

  Luke tied the reins to the hitching post outside the mercantile and Andy hopped down. "You want to come in?" he said as he looked up at Carol. She smiled at his sweet face. He asked her every time, and every time she said no. She didn't want him to have to carry her inside, and she'd just be in the way, anyway. She was perfectly content to sit outside, feeling the warm sun on her skin and talking to passersby.

  "No, thank you, Andy. I'd like to enjoy the sun, if you don't mind." She gave him a wide smile and he trotted inside the mercantile behind his brother.

  She breathed in deeply and looked up at the sky, pushing the brim of her bonnet up a bit so that the warmth could soak into her skin. She closed her eyes for a moment as the warm, early summer breeze rustled the ties of her bonnet.

  Her eyes flew open as nearby, someone cleared their throat. Not sure who it was, she looked left and right, then realized she was high up in the buggy. She looked down and into the warmest brown eyes she'd ever seen, set in the most handsome face she'd ever seen as well.

  She thought that he looked vaguely familiar. She knew she hadn't seen him up close before, and certainly that he’d never spoken to her before now. She would've remembered.

  She paused a moment as a memory flitted through her. She had seen him before—sat next to him, actually, at Saffron and Adam’s wedding. She’d thought the same then, that he was very handsome, but hadn’t seen him since. And she’d thought it odd at the time that while they’d sat next to each other, they hadn’t spoken. Well, maybe he’d said hello, but nothing beyond that and she’d felt his discomfort and not pried.

  He tugged off his hat and pulled the pencil from behind his ear. He looked up at her under dark eyelashes and she smiled as he twiddled the pencil in his fingers. She nodded in his direction and said, “Hello. My name is Carol Benson. We met at my brother’s wedding. Well, we sort of met.”

  He looked down at his boots and suddenly she was looking at the top of his black cowboy hat. She frowned, wondering if she shouldn't have said anything at all but everyone in Tombstone had been so friendly up until now that she couldn't help herself.

  He finally looked up, an unsure smile playing around his lips. He looked wholly uncomfortable, but he extended his hand and in a deep, firm voice said, “Nice to meet you, Miss Benson. Again. My name is Will Stanton.”

  She reached out and took his hand, his calluses rubbing softly against her fingers. She suddenly remembered that she’d seen them out in front of the blacksmith shop, sometimes glancing out the window when she passed by and sometimes out front, probably talking to a customer.

  "Oh, you're the blacksmith."

  He looked down again and shuffled his boots in the dirt and she wondered again if she’d done something wrong.

  "Yes, I own the blacksmith shop with my brother, Joe."

  “You're Joe's brother. I've talked to Joe several times here at the mercantile. He's a very nice man, even if a little quiet."

  Will took a step backward. "If you think he's quiet, I can only imagine what you’d think of me."

  Carol laughed and held her hand to her chest. Maybe he was just shy—she certainly hadn’t gotten him to speak at the wedding. But he didn't seem all that quiet to her, at least not at the moment. "Maybe you just haven't found people that you like to talk to yet."

  "No, maybe not," Will said as he cocked his head and gazed at Carol. He cleared his throat then tugged at his leather jacket, looking up at the mercantile at the top of the boardwalk.

  Carol’s gaze followed his and through the window of the mercantile, she noticed the Widow Samson. Her stomach dropped as she recalled their several altercations, and she turned back to Will, whose eyes were glued to the imposing figure dressed in black. “Oh, do you know the Widow Samson?” she asked, trying her best to keep her tone light and cheerful, no matter what she really was feeling. “She is quite busy here in town, it appears. Why, I’ve met her several times and I haven’t even wanted to.”

  She chided herself for prattling on so much so that she’d put her foot in her mouth. What if Will didn’t agree with her? She would have been better off to keep her opinions to herself.

  Will pulled his gaze from the window and looked back up at Carol, tipping his hat up his forehead. The smile that had been
fleeting now arrived in full force and he laughed. “I’ve never heard anyone say exactly that about the Widow Samson. You do speak your mind, don’t you?”

  Of course, Carol did speak her mind, but she did have the sense to consider the company. And she didn’t even know this man and should be a little more careful so as not to insult him. But there was something about his dark and kind eyes that pulled her in and not only did she want to talk to him, but wanted to hear from him, as well.

  “Well, I better get inside. I'm supposed to bring supplies home tonight. Got a list right here," he said as he reached into the pocket of his coat. He tipped his hat and nodded at Carol. "Been very nice to meet you, ma'am. Again.”

  "It was very nice to meet you again, too, Mr. Stanton. Maybe we'll see each other again someday."

  Will's eyes opened wide, and he turned and bounded up the porch steps in two long strides.

  Carol shivered as Will took the steps of the porch in two big strides, nodding briefly at Widow Samson as she came out of the mercantile and he held the door open for her. Before he stepped inside, he looked from Mrs. Samson back to Carol and then down at the planks of the boardwalk before disappearing into the store. The Widow Samson followed his gaze over to where Carol sat in the buggy, and her mouth puckered as she frowned.

  Andy and Luke had begun to load supplies in the buckboard and he noticed Mrs. Samson up at the top of the stairs and tipped his hat back on his head. "Good day, Widow Samson. It's very nice to see you." Andy took a sidelong glance at his brother Luke.

  "Definitely lovely to see you, Widow Samson,” Luke said in an exaggeratedly friendly tone. Carol smiled and nodded at the widow, wondering why she hadn't scurried off already.