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

by Cindy Caldwell

  She folded the napkin and set it on her lap. How could she explain to a stranger the challenges she faced? And that more than anything else, she wanted to be independent. At least independent enough to maybe have a family of her own.

  “I’ve been thinking that if I practiced more and got better at it, I could have what I want.”

  She hoped that he didn’t ask what it was that she wanted. She wasn’t completely sure herself, and it was certainly not something she wanted to confide to someone she’d just met—even a handsome, kind one who’d lifted her as if she’d been light as a feather, and helped her at every turn.

  “And what kinds of things do you want?” Will asked as he leaned back in his chair then rubbed the back of his neck. He picked up a spoon and spun it through his fingers.

  Carol smiled. It was something her father had always done when he was thinking.

  "I don't know, exactly," she said. “Before, I’d never once thought about maybe...”

  Will looked up quickly and set the spoon down on the table. "Thought about what?"

  This was the most Carol had ever heard Will speak, but she was still doing most of the talking. “I’m certain you don’t want to hear anything more about me. Why don’t to tell me about yourself?"

  Will held her eyes for a moment, as if making a decision. Carol’s heart sunk when he then signaled for the waitress and turned to look at Carol. "The board on the way in said they have strawberry ice cream on special today. That okay with you?"

  Carol sighed and said, “Strawberry’s my favorite." She cocked her head and looked at Will as he picked up the spoon again, his eyes cast downward. She didn't think she'd ever remembered someone changing the subject quite so smoothly. On both their accounts.

  Chapter 21

  Carol dropped her spoon in her empty bowl, the ice cream having gone down fast and smooth. Ice cream wasn't something that they could get commonly, and they’d all been very excited when the ice cream parlor opened in Tombstone. Will's spoon clattered into his dish as well as he looked past Carol's shoulder and stood. He smiled and nodded at someone behind Carol, and she turned in her chair, looking up into the smiling face of Sage Archer.

  Sage nodded and turned toward Carol. "Carol, how are you?" she said as she rested her hand on Carol’s shoulder.

  “I’m fine, thank you. It's very nice to see you."

  "I hear that the library has been quite a success. People are talking about it all over town."

  "Yes, we've just come from there. Mr. Bailey’s son had his own personal reader." Carol turned toward Will and smiled.

  “Is that right? I thought you were doing the reading," Sage said.

  Will rubbed his hands through his dark brown hair, his cheeks flushing. "Well, Carol was busy and the boy needed to know about Robinson Crusoe."

  Sage laughed, her eyebrows raised as she looked at Will. "That doesn't surprise me, Will. You actually remind me of Robinson Crusoe. In fact, I've just come from our ranch and my father asked if you'd stop by later. He wanted you to look at a latch. Or something like that."

  "All right, then. Did he say when he wanted me to come take a look?"

  Sage pulled up a chair and sat down beside Carol. She turned to Will and frowned. "No, he didn't say. But since the horses are getting out, he’s a little riled about it. I guess the sooner the better."

  Will reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a watch, the golden chain attached to one of his buttons. Carol cocked her head as she looked at him. She’d seen him earlier in the day and his clothes were as dirty as his brother Joe’s. She wondered when he had the time to clean up, but she thought he looked awfully handsome.

  Will flipped the watch closed and dropped it back in his pocket. "I suppose I could go now."

  “That's fine if you'd like to. They're all there at the ranch. In fact, Adam’s there, too, Carol, with the boys and saffron. Something about arrangements for the party this weekend. Adam asked if I could take you home and when I went to the library to look for you and you were gone, I thought I'd check here first. I know how much you like strawberry ice cream."

  Carol squirmed in her chair. She felt bad enough that Will was waiting here with her. She didn’t want to inconvenience anybody else. "I really don't mind waiting here for Adam. He shouldn't be too long out at the ranch, should he?” Carol said as she tugged again at her linen napkin.

  Will looked from Sage to Carol.

  "I really don't mind, Carol. I do have to get over to the doctor’s, though, so if I'm going to take you we should get a move on."

  "I don't mind taking Carol. In fact, I wanted to ask her some more questions about the poles she's been using on the wheelchair. It's on the way to Archer Ranch and I would need to take the buckboard out there, anyway."

  Carol felt even more uncomfortable as she looked around the ice cream parlor. She’d become quite used to her family fetching her and taking her home. And she felt lucky that they would even do so, so that she could work at the library. She did feel, now, that she was putting people out, though, and it didn't feel good.

  "Honestly, I think I should just wait. If it's a while, I could even have some more ice cream." She laughed, hoping that her bright smile would get these two moving on to what they needed to do.

  "Don't be ridiculous," Sage said. "Neither one of us is going to leave you here, and I, for one, am happy to take you."

  Carol drew in a sharp breath as Will stood, reaching for his hat and pulling it on. He signaled to the waitress, handing her some coins when she came over. He turned back to Sage and said, "I'm not about to lose a tug-of-war with you now, Sage Archer. Never have and never will. I'll head over to the blacksmith shop, grab the buckboard and horses and I'll be right back to pick you up, Carol."

  Sage’s hand flew to her chest in mock horror. "Will, if I weren't in a hurry I would challenge you again and I'd win that tug-of-war. As it is, though, I need to get going so I’ll take you up on your offer.” She turned sharply to Carol, her eyebrows raised. "Of course, Carol, if that's all right with you?"

  Carol was surprised at the flutter in her stomach at just the thought of Will picking her up and putting her in the chair again. She was happy at the opportunity to spend a little more time with him, and the buggy ride home would do that. There seemed to be many more things that she wanted to get to know about Will Stanton—but unfortunately, he wouldn’t tell her anything.

  "That's fine with me," she said as she sighed, resigned to the fact that she wasn't going to be able to wait for one of her family members. But if she wasn't going to be able to wait, Will would've been her first choice to spend more time with.

  Will smiled and nodded at Carol, rounding the table. Carol couldn't see the door behind her and she cocked her head at Sage, whose eyes widened as she watched Will leave.

  "Oh, goodness. Don't look now but here comes the widow Samson," Sage whispered to Carol as she leaned forward. "Sure would be nice if we never ever had to run into her."

  Carol tried to turn in her seat but the door was immediately behind her and she still couldn't see who Sage was talking about. She followed Sage’s gaze and out of the corner of her own, she was able to see the Widow Samson. Her black hat with the black plumed feather sticking out of it was unmistakable, and Carol noticed that she was again wearing her mourning brooch filled with her deceased husband's hair. Carol shivered as she wondered where that tradition came from.

  She was surprised to see her with Mrs. Stanton, Will’s mother. He must have just missed them.

  Or maybe he hadn’t. She glanced out the window as Will walked down the boardwalk to the blacksmith shop. He looked back several times, a worried expression cast across his face. Carol hadn't seen him worried before, and she wondered exactly what had given him trouble. She hoped it wasn't the idea of taking her home. She was perfectly willing to make other arrangements if that was the case.

  As Will left her view out the window, Sage stood with what Carol thought might be an artificial smile sprea
d across her face. But the Archer family was nothing if not polite, and Sage smiled and nodded at the two ladies that now sat at the table beside Carol.

  "Mrs. Samson, how good to see you," Sage said. Carol was incredibly impressed at Sage’s ability to hide her feelings and was hoping that she could do the same.

  "Miss Archer, Miss Benson," the widow Samson said as she nodded in Carol's direction.

  Mrs. Stanton smiled, but it was a little bit pinched and Carol's stomach dropped, hoping that she was wrong and that this person wasn't like her friend.

  "Carol, I'd like to introduce you to Mrs. Stanton. She's lived in Tombstone for quite some time, and is Mrs. Samson’s sister." Sage gestured at the new woman and smiled at Carol.

  She wasn't sure why but she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. “We’ve, met, Sage. Hello, Mrs. Stanton.”

  Sage whispered, so softly that Carol was positive that only she could hear. "Yes, Carol. Mrs. Stanton. Mrs. Samson’s sister.”

  Chapter 22

  Carol couldn't forget what she’d felt like when widow Samson had accosted her at the circus, accusing her of not being welcome. So she was at present pleasantly surprised that the conversation with the widow Samson and Mrs. Stanton was fairly easy. They asked Sage about the doctor, said that he was quite popular in town, and even asked some pointed questions about the library. By the time Will came back, Carol was feeling a little bit confident that maybe things had turned a corner with the widow Samson, and had had very little indication that her sister was anything like her.

  That all changed as Carol leaned forward and smiled, waving at Will as he tied up the small wagon. Mrs. Stanton followed her gaze out the window, blinking several times as she looked from Carol to Will.

  "Have you met my son?” Mrs. Stanton asked as her lips pursed. She clutched her bag tightly with both hands, and Carol noticed that her knuckles had turned white.

  She looked back to Mrs. Stanton and smiled widely. "Yes, Will has been frequenting the library. He even made poles for me to be able to maneuver my chair on my own."

  Carol reached for the poles that she’d brought inside with her, holding them up so that Will’s mother could see. She was quite proud of them, and was sure that his mother would be, too. It seemed as though he hadn't told her anything about it.

  Sage sighed and stood, crossing over to the door of the ice cream parlor. "Will has always like to fix things, Mrs. Stanton. And you know as well as everybody else that he's the best there is,” Sage said as she opened the door for Will.

  “I wouldn't have been able to do simple things if Will hadn’t made these poles for me." She looked up at Will, frowning as Will looked from his aunt to his mother and back to the aunt again, rubbing the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and took off his hat, holding it against his chest and nodding toward the ladies, as if he needed to gather his strength. The air in the room had suddenly turned icy, even in the early summer.

  "Hello, Ma, Aunt Dorothy.” Mrs. Stanton's fingers gripped her bag even more tightly, her knuckles going even whiter.

  Carol snuck a glance at Sage, who stood behind the ladies. Her eyes were wide as she looked from Will to Carol.

  "Hello, son," Mrs. Stanton said in a voices that sounded as if her throat was closing. She hadn't sounded like that at all before Will had come in, and Carol looked up at Mrs. Samson, whose eyes were as big as saucers.

  "Hello, Will," the widow said in a similar voice to her sister’s. "It's nice to see you. We hear that you've been helping this young lady."

  Will took a deep breath, turned to Carol and smiled. He reached for the poles and said, "I do like to help when I can."

  Mrs. Stanton took a step backward and regarded her son. "Yes, you do like to fix things," she said, her eyes trained on Carol.

  A shiver ran between Carol's shoulder blades, and she realized that she’d just as soon get home. She felt very uncomfortable, for herself and for Will. She certainly hoped she wasn't the cause, and was hoping that when she got them in the wagon alone she could ask. Unfortunately, he wasn't always willing to answer her questions.

  Will reached for the poles and walked them out to the wagon. He hung his head for a moment, leaning over the pine planks and looking toward the horizon. He shoved his hat back on his head, squared his shoulders and turned back into the restaurant.

  "Are you ready to go, Carol?" he said as he crossed over to the chair.

  "Go... Go where?" Mrs. Stanton squeaked.

  "Will has kindly offered to take Carol home, as I couldn't," Sage said as she moved behind Carol’s chair to face Will.

  All Carol knew was that she wanted to go home. It had been a

  long day, and she wasn't sure what was going on with Will and his family, but she had an overwhelming desire to see her own.

  Sage crossed around to the side of the chair, but her laugh was unmistakable as Will swooped in and picked Carol up. Carol gasped at the feel of his arms around her, and she remembered to put her arm around his neck as he’d asked her to do before.

  "You ladies enjoy your ice cream," Will said as he swept Carol out the door and onto the boardwalk. Carol looked up, happy to see him smiling after the altercation, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes.

  Carol closed her eyes at the scent of Will that wafted over her, her stomach fluttering that he still wanted to take her home even after what his mother and his aunt had said. "I don't want to cause any trouble for you, Will. I'm enough trouble as it is." Carol reluctantly removed her hand from around his neck as he set her gently onto the bench of the wagon.

  “You’re not any trouble at all, Carol. Never have been and never will be,” Will said as he loaded the chair into the back of the wagon.

  Chapter 23

  Carol had, in fact, been a little bit rattled after she'd run into the widow Samson and Will's mother. Who would have guessed that they were sisters? The widow had it out for her and now—well, Will’s mother was clearly less than pleased that they were friends.

  She tried not to show it, but when she was nervous she talked even more than she normally did. As the wagon bumped along the dirt road toward her house, she found herself babbling about living in Tombstone, about the accident, and she even told him about how frustrated she had been when she couldn't save the injured bird in the fireplace. The memory brought tears to her eyes, and after she finished explaining to him that Adam had saved the bird and she and the boys and nursed it back to health, she took a deep breath and fell silent.

  Will matched her silence for a few moments as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he guided the wagon to her house. “That’s an awful lot of information to come from one young lady," he said. "What exactly was it that my ma and my aunt did to cause you to be so rattled."

  She wasn't exactly sure what to say about Will's mother. She’d never spoken to her before, really, but she didn't think that her description of what the widow Samson had done to her at the circus was a very kindly thing to share.

  "Oh, we've just had a couple conversations before now. And I know that she wasn't particularly pleased that I might be working in the library."

  Will sat up and pulled the reins, slowing the horses to a halt in front of her house. "My Aunt Dorothy has some pretty definite views on how the world should work."

  He stepped down out of the wagon, not meeting Carol's eyes. He retrieved the chair from the back and carried it up the stairs to the front porch. He stood for a moment, looking from the chair back to Carol. He tugged on his collar for a moment and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  "I sure hope they weren't hurtful to you. Pa wouldn’t have stood for that." Sadness flickered in his eyes and to Carol, it looked familiar. She’d seen the same sadness on her brother’s faces many times since her parents had been lost.

  She watched as he came around the side of the wagon, pushed his hat back on his forehead and reached out for her. Sorrow pooled in his dark brown eyes, and her heart urged her to ask him what had happened. She of all people knew
what that felt like, to lose loved ones, and she also knew that it was better to share those feelings with other people. They never went away for good, and sometimes sharing with someone else could make it a little easier to bear. She hardly knew Will, but she knew him well enough to know that he wasn't one to volunteer information.

  Maybe she knew him better than she thought she did. As she leaned forward and let him take her in his arms, wrapping her arm around his neck, it no longer felt strange. It hadn’t been very long since he’d first done it, which was quite a surprise at the time, but now it somehow felt natural. Will was very easy to be with, quiet as he was, and she hoped that her prattling hadn’t made him uncomfortable. But somehow, as he carried her up the steps she rested her head on his shoulder, she didn't think it had.

  The thought encouraged her and as he carried her through the door and set her on the settee by the window in the parlor, she twisted up her courage a little more. "Would you care for some tea?"

  “Now, how exactly would you do that?" Will said as he sat down beside her. “Can you get around in the kitchen with your chair? The poles?"

  Carol flashed a look down at her hands that were folded in her lap. "Saffron has arranged the kitchen a little bit so that I can reach things. And please don’t mention the cookies.” She looked out the window as she remembered the cookies she’d made. Unable to reach the sugar, she’d just made them without it and the failure had nagged at her ever since. She wondered why Will hadn’t mentioned they were awful, and was grateful he’d just smiled and said thank you.

  Will’s eyes twinkled as he pulled the chair into the parlor. He smiled at her and pushed his hat back on his forehead. “They were some of the best cookies I’ve ever had.”

  Carol stared at him with wide eyes. “Goodness. Your mother must not be the best cook in the world, then. They were horrid. Someone even hid them under the counter so as not to embarrass us all.”