Breathless

by Beverly Jenkins

  From there they talked about her gown which Luz Salinas one of the best seamstresses in the territory would be making. They’d be calling upon friends to help supply all the food that would be needed to feed the multitude of people expected to attend.

  Eddy said, “And Portia, since you’re the bride, your sister, the ladies, and I will take over the planning.”

  Portia opened her mouth to protest only to have Eddy wag a finger. “Now, now. If I survived that anniversary party, you can survive this.”

  “But this is my wedding. I should have some say.”

  “You’ll have plenty of say, honey, but you won’t be doing any of the work, so just sit back and enjoy your day.”

  Amused, Portia asked, “Why does that sound familiar?”

  Eddy replied, “I think I may have heard that phrase before, too, somewhere.”

  Portia sighed and smiled, “Okay. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, I suppose.”

  “Exactly.”

  Sylvie weighed in. “Oliver and I want to pay for your honeymoon. Do you and Kent have a place in mind?”

  “We haven’t talked about it, but the women’s convention is in San Francisco during the week after the wedding, so I’m hoping he’ll agree to have it there. If he prefers not to, we’ll pick someplace else after the convention and let you know.” Although, in Portia’s mind, the choice made good sense. The convention encompassed only one day, and they could stay over a bit longer and take in the sights.

  Eddy added, “Oh, and, Portia, Rhine and I want to give you and Kent the Blanchard property as a wedding gift.”

  Portia’s eyes went wide.

  “So until you get a house built, we’re offering you the bridal cottage out back.”

  Portia’s brain was still stuck on the first offer. “I thought Uncle Rhine had other uses in mind for that property.”

  “He did, but now the use will be up to you and Kent to decide.”

  Still stunned, Portia glanced at Regan who smiled.

  Portia was silent for so long, Eddy prodded her, “Well, do you want the use of the cottage after the wedding or not?”

  “Yes.” Newly married guests sometimes used the hotel as a honeymoon destination and were given the well-furnished one-bedroom cottage on the outer edge of the property. Not only was it furnished but it offered beautiful mountain views and complete privacy. She couldn’t see Kent turning down the offer. For sure, neither of them wanted to use their assigned bedrooms in the family wing as their chief domicile, not even temporarily. Deciding she’d sort it all out later, she said, “Thank you so much, Aunt Eddy, and thank you especially for the land.”

  “You’re welcome. Rhine and I will do whatever is needed to get you and Kent into your new place as soon as possible.”

  Portia hugged her tightly. Ideally, the role Eddy was playing belonged to her mother, Corinne, but since she’d abandoned her claim, Eddy was all she needed. “Thank you.” She’d told Eddy at least a thousand times how grateful she was for the way she saved her life, and she felt as if, even if she said it a thousand times a day for as long as she lived, it would never be enough.

  “You’re welcome.”

  When Kent and Rhine returned, they shared what they’d found.

  Eddy said, “How ironic that he may have died from the same fire.”

  Portia agreed. She didn’t have it in her heart to mourn Parnell’s passing, but she was glad he wouldn’t be around to hurt anyone else.

  Once the conversation was over, Kent wanted to get cleaned up, so Portia walked with him. He asked her, “Did you know Rhine was going to give us the Blanchard land?”

  She hooked her arm in his. “No, Eddy surprised me with the news earlier. I think it’s wonderful. We’ll have our own place.”

  “Have to have a house built first.”

  “I know, but in the meantime, she says we can live in the honeymoon cottage out back.”

  “There’s a honeymoon cottage?”

  “Yes. We can see it after you’re done. Also, Sylvia and your father want to pay for our honeymoon.”

  “That’s nice of them. Do you know where you’d like to go?”

  “San Francisco.” And she explained about the convention.

  “If that’s what you want to do on the honeymoon, it’s fine with me, as long as you don’t get so worked up at the convention you decide you don’t want to be married anymore.”

  They were now standing in the shadowy hallway of the family wing.

  She laughed, “You’re stuck with me now, cowboy.”

  “Good.”

  As Portia had been hoping, he eased her close and kissed her so thoroughly she was left spinning.

  “Been looking forward to that since we rode out at sunup,” he said afterwards. “Once we’re married it’ll be nice to be able to kiss you every morning to start the day.”

  She agreed.

  “Be nice to do other things every morning, too,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

  “I’m looking forward to that, too.”

  He gave her another short kiss. “I’ll see you soon as I’m done.”

  She returned to the living area where Rhine was still talking with Eddy and the others, so she asked him, “Can I speak with you in your office for just a moment?”

  “Sure.”

  He kissed Eddy on her forehead, which Portia found endearing, and they left.

  Inside he said, “Take a seat. What can I do for you?”

  She sat and, thinking about his generosity, emotion welled up inside her with such potency she felt the sting of tears. “I just want to say thank you, for the land, for raising me and Regan—for all you’ve done for us these past fifteen years—for everything.”

  He looked at her with wonder. “Portia, are you crying?”

  She dashed away her tears and chuckled. “No.”

  He stood and came around to where she was sitting and opened his arms. She stepped into the embrace and as they hugged each other tightly, she savored how much he meant to her, too. Just like she’d done with Eddy, she whispered, “Thank you, Uncle Rhine. Thank you so much.”

  He finally leaned back and held her eyes. “Eddy and I were never blessed with children so I always considered you and your sister as mine. Whatever I can do to make you happy makes me happy as well.”

  When she first arrived in Virginia City, their initial relationship had been rocky but once she learned to trust him, she’d given him her heart.

  “And I’ll be letting Kent know that if he puts even one minute of sadness in your life, I’ll be taking a bullwhip to him.”

  He handed her his handkerchief and she blew her nose through her smile. “I love him very much.”

  “Good to know. He’s the younger brother I never had, and he’s grown into quite a man.”

  “He told me about the Mexican prison.”

  “He was filled with hubris back then.”

  “He called it stupidity.”

  “That too.” Rhine pulled her close again and kissed her brow. “I’m so glad you found someone worthy enough to give your heart to.”

  “I am, too.”

  They spent a few more minutes talking about Rhine getting together with her and Kent to draw up plans for their new house and where they might find a carpentry crew to get it built. “We can talk about it all after the wedding,” he said.

  “I’d like that. I’ll let you get back to Aunt Eddy. Thank you again, Uncle.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  At dinner that evening, Ruth announced that she would be taking the train home in the morning. Everyone voiced their disappointment. “I’m due back at school soon even though my students would probably love for me to stay away longer.”

  “Someone here can take you to the station,” Eddy pointed out. “Just let us know when you’d like to leave.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve already made arrangements. James has offered to take me.”

  “Well, now,” Regan teased in a knowing
voice, and Ruth dropped her eyes and smiled.

  “Portia, I want to thank you for introducing us. We’re going to be writing. His father is coming to Chicago later in the year for a church convention and James will be accompanying him. He’s a very nice man.”

  “I was hoping you’d like each other.”

  “We do. Quite a bit.”

  Portia was pleased.

  “I’m sorry I’ll miss the wedding though.”

  Sylvia said, “Who knows, maybe there’s a wedding in your future.”

  Ruth didn’t respond but she did smile.

  Eddy asked Sylvia, “What about you and Oliver? You two aren’t leaving right after the wedding are you?”

  “We’ll see how Oliver feels,” she said.

  Portia wondered if the Randolphs had shared Oliver’s prognosis. It wasn’t her place to ask, so she didn’t.

  Oliver said, “I definitely want to stand up with my son.”

  Kent looked pleased and raised his wineglass in his father’s direction.

  “Portia’s going to be good for you, Kenton.”

  Kent glanced over at Portia and the love in his eyes was reflected in his reply. “I know.”

  After the dinner cleanup, Portia and Kent slipped away to see the cottage. When they walked in Kent took a look around. “It’s much larger than I imagined.”

  The front parlor was lavishly furnished with a sofa and a few comfortable-looking upholstered chairs. There was artwork on the walls and a fireplace served as the focal point. There were fine rugs scattered about that pulled on the colors in the drapes on the two French doors that led outside. There was a small kitchen off the parlor. The lone bedroom with its adjoining washroom was at the back of the house. The four-poster brass bed was large and covered with fine linens.

  “Now this is a bed,” Kent said, pressing his hand into the mattress to test its give. There was a large armoire, a chest of drawers, and a vanity table with an attached mirror. She waited while he stepped into the washroom. “I think this tub will fit two.”

  She laughed, “I believe that is why my aunt and uncle purchased it.”

  He walked back out and looked around again and said suggestively, “The things I’m going to do to you in here. Good thing we’re not near the hotel. I don’t want Rhine running in with his gun drawn when he hears you screaming.”

  The heat in his eyes seared her, setting off a familiar tightening that made her want to move into the space and share the big bed with him as soon as possible. She also wanted to ask him to teach her how to please him, but she wasn’t sure she had the courage to broach the subject, at least not yet.

  He walked to her and gently lifted her chin so their eyes would meet. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  “I want to learn to make you scream, too.” There, she’d said it.

  He traced her lips in the silence. “Do you?”

  She nodded.

  He kissed her gently. “Then we’ll put that on the list.”

  “Thank you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, they all said good-bye to Ruth. She and James drove off in his buggy, accompanied by a small contingent of armed riders that included his father and some of the men from the church. Geronimo and his followers were still at large, and although the army and the hastily cobbled-together posses were frantically crisscrossing the territory, he managed to elude them. Numerous sightings both real and imagined continued, and to have the newspapers tell it, he and his band were often seen in various places at once. People did their best to go about their normal lives but they kept their weapons close and remained vigilant.

  After Ruth’s departure, Kent and Portia, accompanied by Rhine, Matt, and Cal, rode out to the Blanchard place to get a feel for where they might want to build the new house and how large or small it and the outbuildings would be.

  “I think I’d like the house built a bit more to the west,” Kent said. “That way the horse paddock can be larger and give us better access to the pond.”

  Portia agreed. It would also allow the house to be on higher ground and less likely to be affected by flash flooding from the rains. They were discussing the placement of the barn when Matt said quietly, “We got company.”

  Everyone looked up and froze. Apaches. The five riders approached almost silently, moving like specters in the shimmering heat. As they neared, Portia saw the lined brown face of a short man who could only be Geronimo. She’d seen his likeness in the newspapers. Beside him rode a woman in men’s clothing. Lozen. The sister of the great Apache chief Victorio. She was one of her people’s fiercest warriors. Her feats and exploits were the stuff of legends and she was a shaman so powerful, she could supposedly sense the location of the enemy. Her gift of prophecy was said to be one of the reasons Geronimo managed to avoid capture. Her presence sent chills up Portia’s spine.

  For a long moment, the two groups assessed each other silently. Finally, Lozen spoke. “Where’s the old man?”

  Rhine nodded at Portia and she knew he wanted her to respond. Keeping her voice calm, she replied, “He died of old age, but his friends were murdered and his house was burned to the ground.”

  The band murmured angrily and Lozen studied her closely. “Were the killers caught?”

  “No, but the leader is dead.”

  Beside her, Geronimo nodded as if the answer was a satisfying one.

  “He was a friend,” Lozen stated.

  “Mine too.”

  “We came for beef. Our people are hungry. The old man was always generous.”

  Portia thought about the women and children who’d escaped with them and wished she could help. “The murderers ran off the cattle and they haven’t been found. All we can offer is water for your horses.”

  There was no doubt in Portia’s mind that the woman possessed an unearthly power because it emanated from her like charged air before a storm.

  Lozen’s eyes touched the faces of Rhine, Kent, and Matt before focusing again on Portia. She gave Portia a terse nod. The Apache band reined their horses around and walked them to the pond. While the horses drank, Geronimo and the others did, too. They filled their canteens, remounted, and without a backward glance rode off slowly the way they’d come. Only after they were out of sight did Portia realize she’d been holding her breath.

  Cal cracked, “I don’t know about anyone else but I think that’s more than enough excitement for one day.”

  Still focused on the area where Lozen and her band had disappeared, Portia agreed.

  Matt asked, “Do you think they’ll be back?”

  “Probably not,” Portia told him. With Mr. Blanchard gone, she doubted they’d have a reason, and with the army searching for them they couldn’t afford to spend long periods of time anywhere for fear of capture. When she and Regan were young Mr. Blanchard often told them tales about his early days in the territory and how helpful the Apache had been in showing him the best places to hunt and fish. Portia supposed by secretly providing them with beef, he’d been returning the favor.

  A few days before the wedding, a man from Flagstaff stopped in. His name was Frazier Nogales. “I’m here to see Mr. Fontaine,” he told Portia, who’d answered the bell. “David Neal said he’s looking for a good carpenter to build a house?”

  “Yes. Come in, Mr. Nogales. Let me get him.”

  So Rhine, Portia, and Kent met with the man in Rhine’s office and were impressed with his credentials and experience. “Been building houses all my life,” he said. “My brothers and I learned the trade from our father and uncles, who learned from our grandfather and great uncles in Sonora when this territory was still part of Mexico.”

  When told that the house and land would be a wedding present to Portia and Kent, he nodded approvingly. “My daughter was married last year. I built her and her husband a home up near Oracle. I’ll be a grandfather in September,” he added proudly.

  Portia liked him.

  He brought out some plans for them to look at and
they talked about the size, shape, and orientation. He asked to see the land and a trip was arranged. Kent said, “Whatever we decide, the house will need an office on the back with a separate entrance for my wife’s business.”

  Portia went still.

  Mr. Nogales eyed her. “What kind of business?”

  “Bookkeeping.”

  He studied her for a moment then asked about her experience. When she told him she’d attended Oberlin, handled the books for the hotel, and had apprenticed at a bank in San Francisco, he appeared impressed. “My wife keeps my books, but she doesn’t like it and never has. She’s been begging me to find someone to replace her, and now with the new baby on the way, she’s putting her foot down. She doesn’t want to be doing figures when she could be up in Oracle spoiling the grandchild. Are you looking for new customers?”

  Portia held on to her excitement. “I am.”

  “Then let’s get your build under way and we’ll talk about your replacing my Luisa and how much it will cost me. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” She decided then and there that because Kent Randolph always seemed to have her best interests at heart, she’d just become the happiest woman on earth. As they went back to discussing the house plans, she reached over and gave his hand a grateful squeeze and he shot her a wink.

  Later that evening they were sitting outside enjoy the evening breeze and the beautiful sunset.

  “Thank you,” Portia said to him.

  “For what?”

  “For requesting an office be built into the plans. Because you did, I may have my very first client.”

  He eased her closer into his side and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “You’re welcome, but you would’ve thought of the office eventually and found your first client.”

  “But now, I don’t have to wait for eventually.”

  “Have you picked out a name for your business?”

  “Yes. Carmichael Bookkeeping,” she replied proudly.

  “Simple and to the point.”

  “Sort of like me.”

  “Nothing simple about you, Duchess. You’re smart, tough, focused, kind.”

  She drew back to look into his face. “When have I been kind?”