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

by Cindy Caldwell

  She crossed over to him, her eyes flashing. “You have no idea what you’re getting into, boy,” she said, her face pinched. “Your Pa would be ashamed—”

  He turned toward her, the blood heating in his veins and held up his hands. “Don’t bring Pa into this. He’d never have treated anyone the way you and Aunt Dorothy do. Not for a second,” he said quietly, and so fiercely that his mother’s eyebrows flew up and she took a step backward.

  “Ma, I know it’s been hard since Pa died, but you’ve got things all wrong, you and Aunt Dorothy. I don’t want to talk to you about Carol ever again,” he said as he put on his hat and headed out to the blacksmith shop.

  Chapter 26

  Will had knocked off early at the shop. He’d come home to work on his drawings for Mr. Archer and had managed to avoid his mother. He leaned back in his chair and lifted his arms high, welcoming the stretch in his aching muscles as he heard the grandfather clock downstairs strike five.

  The desk in his room was covered in pencil shavings, and he swept them into his hand. Several pieces of paper were stacked to his side and he picked them up, opening the window and letting the pencil shavings flutter in the warm breeze.

  As he pulled his head back in the window, he glanced out to the horizon. The sun hadn't quite begun to set, but as it reached the top of the mountains to the west he noticed a glint of red in the lone tree in his yard. The green leaves rustled in the breeze and parted for a moment. He narrowed his eyes looking for the flash of red that had caught his eye.

  His lips turned up as he spotted the robin, its red breast puffed out. He glanced from the robin down to the picture on top of the stack in his hand and held it up, looking from the robin to the picture.

  He’d captured a pretty good likeness, he thought, at least from what he recollected. The thought crossed his mind that the robin in the tree might actually be Charlie. There weren’t too many robins in Tombstone, only a few, so it just could be.

  He shut the thought out of his head and turned back to his room. He didn't have much time to get over to the Occidental and he grabbed some clean clothes out of his wardrobe. He had a couple drawings for Mr. Archer, at least something that he thought Mrs. Allen might like. He knew she liked books and he’d had the thought that maybe some bookends might be nice. But when he went to draw them, all he ended up drawing was birds. Carol's bird. After a time, however, he settled on something that he thought Mr. Archer might like but he glanced over at the pictures of Charlie that he’d done, wondering if Carol might like them.

  He splashed water on his face and shook his head quickly as he reached for a towel. Carol’s suitor was coming and he supposed it didn't really matter if she wanted the picture or not.

  He'd seen the look of excitement in her eyes when Andy had told her that he was coming, and although the thought of her with another man made his stomach churn, he really just wanted her to be happy. But the feelings he was having certainly belied what he’d told his mother—that he and Carol were just friends. For him, anyway.

  He dressed quickly and tried to scoot out the door as fast as he could, hoping he wouldn't run into his ma and pleased that he didn’t. He hitched up the small buggy, drove into town, and as he neared the Occidental he felt in his inside pocket to make sure that he’d grabbed the pictures to show Mr. Archer. He truly did hope that he'd like them.

  "Good to see you, son," Mr. Archer said as Will hopped up the boardwalk steps to the door of the Occidental. "Hope you got some good ideas in there for me, because I sure haven't had any." Mr. Archer frowned as he held the door open for Will.

  "I think I do, Mr. Archer. I'm looking forward to showing them to you." Will stepped into the Occidental, his boots padding softly on the oriental carpet. He hadn't been to the Occidental for quite a while, and he was happy to see that it was so busy. Tripp and Sadie had done a great job and it had become one of the most popular restaurants in Tombstone. He glanced at the long mahogany bar and nodded at Sam, Mrs. Allen’s son and the bartender at the Occidental. He was rewarded with a wave as Sam looked up from polishing the bar that he kept gleaming and clean.

  He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the darkened interior. The mahogany paneled walls reached twelve feet, and he looked up at the light glinting off the copper tiles on the ceiling. It was truly a beautiful building, one of the nicest in Tombstone.

  Tripp’s wife, Sadie, came over to greet them with menus in her hand. From the looks of it, Will thought, she should be having that baby any time. It seemed to him just like yesterday that she’d come to town to help Tripp with the restaurant and her broad smile told him that she was happy. He hadn't thought much about getting married ever, first that it made you happy—or miserable—but from what he could see, Sadie and Tripp were on the happy side.

  "It's so nice to see you, Mr. Archer," Sadie said as she gave him a peck on the cheek.

  "And Will, we haven't seen you here in quite some time. Glad to see you out and about." She nodded to them both and gestured for them to follow her.

  "Awfully nice to see you, too, Sadie," Will said as he took off his hat and held it in front of him, following her to the table.

  They took their seats and Will set his hat on the chair next to them. He was anxious to show Mr. Archer his drawings, and he pulled them from his pocket. He laid them in front of them and unrolled them, smoothing out the creases.

  Mr. Archer set his menu aside and leaned forward as Will turned the drawings toward him. He squinted at them and rapped his knuckles on the table.

  “Well, look at that. I don’t even think I told you that she likes birds. But she sure does. What are those? Statues?”

  Will took the first picture and placed it at the bottom of the pile, holding the next picture out for Mr. Archer to see. “I suppose you could think of them as statues, but I actually thought that since Mrs. Allen loves books they might be better as bookends. If you like any of these drawings, I’m sure that Joe and I can figure out how to make them.” He flipped through several drawings, holding them all up for Mr. Archer. His heart hitched as he came to the next picture in the stack and realized that he hadn’t left Carol’s picture of Charlie at home as he thought he had.

  “What’s that one?” Mr. Archer said as he leaned forward again. “That looks like a robin. The other ones looked more like swans.”

  Will squirmed in his seat for a moment, not exactly sure how much he should tell Mr. Archer. He looked up into the older man’s eyes and a wave of sadness washed over him. If it had been his own pa, he would’ve told him in a second.

  He hesitated for a moment but his longing for an older man to talk to got the better of him. “Carol Benson told me the story about a bird that she’d saved and nursed back to health. She described it to me and I got a quick look at it once. And for some reason, while I was drawing your swans Charlie kept popping into my head.”

  Mr. Archer sat back in his chair and took a long look at Will. “Let me ask you something, son. Was it really the bird popping into your head or was it the girl who told you the story about the bird that you kept thinking of?”

  Will’s ears heated and he wished he could put his hat back on as they were likely turning red. He’d asked himself the same question several times during the day and Mr. Archer might be right.

  “That thought occurred to me, too, Mr. Archer. Unfortunately, Carol has a suitor coming in from Chicago. Nothing to be done about it now.”

  Mr. Archer sighed and looked over toward the door. “Well, speak of the devil. Might that be him with her now?”

  The heat in Will’s ears traveled all the way down to his neck before he could bring himself to look toward the door. He put the picture of Charlie back on the bottom of the stack and looked up. He tried to look away but couldn’t. It was all he could do to stay in his seat as he watched the tall man in the top hat and suit pull Carol’s chair with wheels into the restaurant. He wondered why she wasn’t using the poles he’d made for her, and his heart sunk as the man p
ushed her toward the table, bumping into it and tipping over the water glasses.

  “Hmm, I guess it must be him.”

  Will tried to pay attention to Mr. Archer for the time they spent having supper, but it was all he could do not to stare at Carol. She laughed many times, and the man seemed to be having a wonderful time, also. He couldn’t help but think that this might be a good match for Carol—someone equally friendly and talkative. But the thought didn’t sit well with him and he could barely eat his supper.

  Mr. Archer had been quite gracious, and after Sadie had brought their bill and left with the coins Mr. Archer had laid on the tray, Mr. Archer cleared his throat and looked over at Carol’s table. Will had been trying not to look but hadn’t been very successful. This Dennis person had been talking almost the entire time, he’d noticed, and Carol had mostly been smiling and nodding, and sometimes laughing. He pulled his attention back to Mr. Archer.

  “So, son, I’m going to tell you something. It can’t be a big secret to you that you have feelings for Carol. No other reason you’ve been at the library so much. She’s a charming and caring woman—beautiful, too. Have you told her how you feel? Suitor or not?”

  Will glanced over at Carol, her infectious laughter tugging at his heart. “She looks pretty happy to me, Mr. Archer. What do I have to offer her? I hear this man’s a rich banker, and they were in love once. I’m just a blacksmith in a small town.”

  Mr. Archer slapped the table, and the remaining silverware bounced loudly. He reached for the drawings and held them up to Will. “Just a blacksmith? You’re much more than that, Will. You can see things other people can’t. You draw like no one I’ve ever met. You can fix anything I’ve ever found on God’s green earth. Don’t talk like that. I might have to smack you, just like your pa would have. And even though you haven’t asked, I think your pa would say you should tell her. No matter what. Nothing to lose, son.”

  Will smiled at the memory of his father and Mr. Archer out on the porch many nights. It had been so long that he’d forgotten they’d been good friends. He was grateful for Mr. Archer’s advice, but couldn’t see how Carol might see him that way. And he’d never once told her how he felt about her and he could kick himself now.

  “I’ll need to go introduce myself and confirm the date for tomorrow for the party for him. Wish I hadn’t offered, now that I know what I know. Would you like to join me?”

  Will shook his head quickly. “No, thank you, sir. I think I’ve seen enough.”

  He thanked Mr. Archer for the meal and the advice and set a date to deliver the bookends for Mrs. Allen. He stood and took up his hat, pulling it snugly on his head as he made a bee-line for the door, his heart sinking as Carol didn’t even look away from the man across the table from her as he left.

  Chapter 27

  She hadn’t expected Dennis to arrive so suddenly. She’d known he was coming, but spending time at the library—and with Will—had taken up all of her attention and she’d truly forgotten all about it. Carol’s stomach had been in knots since she’d heard the news and felt like she’d barely slept a wink for the excitement and anticipation. Butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach and she’d read each and every one of Dennis’s letters once again before she’d turned off the lamp.

  It had been a long day, and she’d left word at the hotel where Dennis was staying that she’d meet him at the Occidental for supper. She’d stayed as busy as she could, working in the afternoon at the library to help pass the time, and with Saffron’s help, she’d chosen to wear the dress that everyone said accentuated her blue eyes. As Adam and Saffron drove her to the restaurant and she finally met the man she’d loved and dreamt about for so long, her anticipation had almost gotten the best of her.

  As they turned down Allen Street and the Occidental came into view, Saffron laid her hand over Carol’s and squeezed gently. “Are you all right?” she whispered as she leaned over toward Carol.

  Carol squeezed Saffron’s hand and looked up at her, tugging at the ties of her bonnet. “I think so. I’m a little nervous and not sure I can eat anything.”

  Adam leaned forward and looked around at Carol. “Are you certain you don’t want us to stay with you? It might make it easier.”

  Carol shook her head as they reached the restaurant and Adam pulled the buggy up beside the boardwalk.

  “I do appreciate your offer, but I think this is something I need to do on my own.”

  Her stomach lurched as she caught sight of the man in the picture she’d kept in her nightstand all this time, his strong jaw and top hat impossible to miss.

  Adam followed her gaze. “Is that him?”

  Dennis Price was quite an imposing figure. His banker’s suit fell in crisp lines and his shiny black shoes had no hint of the dust of Tombstone. He reached in the pocket of his satin vest and pulled out a watch, the gold chain attached to one of his buttons. He opened it and frowned, peering up and down the street as he paced in front of the door.

  “Yes,” she said as Adam lifted her chair out of the back of the buggy and carried it onto the boardwalk. Her heart fluttered as she watched Adam introduce himself, smiling up at Dennis as he turned to her and nodded.

  After Adam had settled her into her chair, she looked up at Dennis from under her lashes, awash in shyness and nerves. “Hello, Dennis. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said quietly as Adam and Saffron stepped behind her.

  “Ah, Carol, I have looked forward to this for some time. Thank you for welcoming me to Tombstone,” he said as he looked from her face to her chair and then quickly away, scanning the Allen Street. “I’ve heard that this is a booming town—lots of silver, lots of money.”

  Saffron rested her hand on Carol’s shoulder and gave her a light squeeze. She leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Are you sure?”

  Carol thought she heard a tinge of concern but she was determined to do this on her own. “I’m fine,” she whispered before she looked up at Adam, his eyes intent on Dennis and she noticed a slight frown that hadn’t been there moments before.

  “Yes. It’s a booming town,” he said. “Growing faster than we can keep up with, I’d say.”

  “Ah, so I’ve heard,” Dennis said as he turned his attention back to the Bensons. He looked Adam up and down and then turned to Carol, bowing slightly as he said, “Shall we? We have quite a bit to catch up on. I have many questions about Tombstone and—well, I mean I’d like to hear all about you.”

  She’d bid goodbye to Adam and Saffron, Dennis having agreed to have them come for her in two hours as he hadn’t a buggy to take her home. He’d seemed grateful at their offer, and Carol was, too. Adam and Saffron had sat in the buggy, and Carol gave them a weak smile as Dennis struggled to move her chair up to the table and tipped over the water glasses. She’d hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in not having them stay.

  The remainder of the evening had gone well, she thought, Carol answering Dennis’s many questions about Tombstone, its banks and silver yield, its businesses and theaters. His eyes had lit up especially when she’d introduced him to Mr. Archer when he stopped by the table, and he seemed very eager and appreciative to attend the party in his honor the following evening at Archer Ranch.

  And when she’d been settled in bed afterward, she had a difficult time falling asleep, the anticipation and excitement still flooding her.

  At least she’d thought it was excitement. But when she had slept, expecting to see happy visions of the man in the picture she kept with the letters tied in the blue satin ribbon—the one she’d just spent the evening with—it wasn’t what she had expected. She’d dreamt of a different photograph that shook her to her core and she’d awakened in a cold sweat.

  She hadn’t been sitting beside the banker in the picture—or the one she’d just met—his black top hat tipped slightly and his striped business suit crisp, his thumbs resting in the pockets of his satin vest.

  It hadn’t been him beside her in her beautiful blue dress, the one
covered in sequins. It hadn’t been him beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder as she smiled at the camera. It hadn’t been him that she’d dreamt of—it wasn’t his hands gently stroking her long blonde hair or commenting on how beautiful it was as it fell over her shoulders, his smile coaxing her own.

  And it hadn’t been him smiling gently toward her, his hand reaching out for hers as he softly stroked her cheek. Her hand rose to her face as she closed her eyes and could almost smell the familiar scent of the man in her dream, and when in her dream she’d looked up at the man she had felt such comfort from, such joy to be with and such safety, she’d looked straight up into the deep, brown eyes of Will.

  She knew what she had to do, whether or not Will felt the same way about her. She pulled herself up and leaned back against the oak headboard, reaching for paper and her inkwell.

  She wrote quickly, her sense of urgency rising as the words poured out. As she finished, she held the paper up, blowing gently on the ink and hoping that Dennis would understand. He needed to move on to San Diego and she needed to stay right here in Tombstone with her family—her old one as she dared not allow herself to think that she might have a new one with Will.

  As the last of the ink dried and she set the letter to her side, she heard a soft rap on the door.

  “Come in,” she said as she turned the letter face down and Saffron walked in, sitting down beside her on the bed.

  Saffron smiled but Carol frowned at the concern she read in her eyes. “What is it, Saffron?”

  Carol’s kind sister-in-law reached for one of her hands and looked down at the bedspread. “I’m not exactly sure how to say this. I was hoping we’d have breakfast and you could tell me all about your wonderful evening.”

  “Oh, it was very nice,” Carol said as her hand rested on the letter beside her. “But I’ve written a letter to Dennis explaining that he should leave for San Diego and that it was lovely to meet him, but I’m not interested in anything more than a friendship.”