She dropped her gaze to the boards beneath his feet. The evening was cool. A host of night sounds broke the silence around them. The hoot of an owl. A coyote serenading the moon. He fought not to look at her. Now, in order to help her son, she’d have to tell a stranger about meeting John and the few days they’d spent together. Pity grew in his belly. Raising her child on her own couldn’t have been easy. Why he should care so much had him a bit mystified, except that she might have meant something to John. What kind of a woman was Elizabeth Smith—a name he was sure she’d made up to cover her true identity in case things didn’t go as she hoped?
“Mrs. Smith?”
“Yes, I heard you. I knew that I’d eventually have to explain everything if I came to Eden. I don’t blame you, Mr. Glass; it’s just a bit private, if you can understand. Please don’t feel bad about having asked. You want to know when and where I met John, and how Johnny came to be.”
“That’s right. Since John never mentioned you, I have to be skeptical. My position demands it.”
They both took a breath and sat for a moment looking at each other.
“What you say will be kept in the strictest confidence. You can trust me.”
She nodded. “It was five years ago April. I came to Denver with my longtime employers as the nanny to their three children. Each day, for several hours, I’d take the children and tour the parks, the museums, or for a carriage ride around the city. My employers were very wealthy. Any expense was not too much for the children.”
“You’re a nanny?”
In the dim lantern light, he watched as her cheeks grew rosy. He hadn’t meant to cause her embarrassment. Her direct gaze and the way she held her chin made it difficult for him to believe she was lying.
“I was a nanny. And I loved my job. Since leaving, I’ve taken in sewing to survive. I’ve never before said this much to anyone, Mr. Glass.”
He nodded.
“Mrs. Masters, my employer, knows a small portion of the truth. I had to tell her something when my condition began to show. She insisted Mr. Masters needn’t know the details of my leaving their employ, which I’d been in for ten years. First in service and then as a nanny. After I moved and got set up as a widow in Denver, she wanted to help. Insisted on sending a small stipend. I want you to know, Mr. Glass, I’ve kept track of every cent, intending to pay her back. Without her help, I don’t know what we would have done.”
He rubbed a palm across his mouth, admiring her bravery. Not everyone would admit to such a past and risk ridicule and expulsion. He reminded himself to stay introspective. She hadn’t yet proved her story.
“How did you and John meet?”
“Five years has softened the pain, but speaking about John is still difficult. We didn’t know each other long—two ships passing in the night, you might say—but those few days were wonderful. A time I’ll never forget.” She took a breath. “We first met at the Denver Park. I had my little ones, ages three to eight, gathered around, and we were watching two small white bunnies hiding under a hedge. Every few minutes one would gather the courage needed to dash out, hop around on the lush green grass for a few moments, and then race back to his spot of safety in the blackthorn hedgerow, causing the children to laugh uncontrollably. John had been walking on a trail and heard us. He came to see what was going on.”
Henry kept any expression off his face.
“He wore a pair of tan slacks, a midlength coat that was much too warm for the day, and a brown cowboy hat. The children were only too happy to answer his questions, and he seemed in no hurry to move on. As a matter of fact, he stayed with us for the rest of the day, walking and talking. He said he was a rancher, but didn’t say where—or if he did, I didn’t hear him. I had to keep a close eye on Leanne, the youngest of my charges, who was enthralled with a pair of mallards. I didn’t want her to slip into the pond.”
She looked off into the darkness and then back into his face. “What can I say? John and I liked each other. He was funny and kind. After hours spent caring for the children, speaking with an adult who was interested in my thoughts and opinions was nice. We held similar views on many topics.”
Henry could understand that well enough.
“The next day, John was there again, waiting for us to arrive, with a large basket of food and a blanket. He’d brought a kite, a ball, and numerous other toys. He had such a wonderful way with the children. I found myself hanging on his every word, but I was still cautious, not knowing any of his history or where he was from. I didn’t want to appear forward, so I didn’t question him. The week passed with each day the same. We grew closer. That scared me. I’m an orphan. I’d been single all my life. It wasn’t as if he was holding back about himself; we just found other things to talk about. Then one day, after hours spent sightseeing, he invited me to have supper with him after the children were put to bed and I had time to myself. I didn’t know what to do. I struggled with whether I should encourage the budding relationship because of how we’d feel when we parted. Because parting was inevitable. I lived in Virginia with my employer’s family. John hadn’t even hinted at anything more.”
If she was making this up, she’d done a good job with the details. She described John true to form. He enjoyed the small things in life, like fried chicken on a blanket, laughter, the feel of rain on his skin. She’d perfectly described his clothing and mannerisms. Was Johnny Smith really Johnny Brinkman? The thought brought Henry great excitement.
“That evening, after dinner, he invited me to his hotel.” She looked Henry straight in the eye in challenge. “I’m not a loose woman, Mr. Glass, and I was thirty years old. Hardly a girl. I went because I wanted to, asking nothing from John in return.”
He gave a slight nod but didn’t say anything.
“Late that night, back in my hotel, I was awakened by Mrs. Masters. Practically in hysterics, she told me to pack the children’s things. She’d ordered a carriage that would arrive any moment to take us to the train station. Because of the sensitivity of the subject, I won’t share why she ran off without her husband’s knowledge except to say he had broken her heart. I wanted to leave a note for John but didn’t have time. I believed I’d be able to send a telegram to him later, to his hotel, after we arrived wherever we were going, but he’d checked out as well. I didn’t know where to find him.”
Poor John. Two women lost to him. One intentionally, the other by mistake. Henry wondered if that was really the case. “You said earlier that you’d seen an announcement about John in a paper?”
She nodded.
“Which one?” He’d supplied the obituary along with a photograph for halftones to several publications. John was an important figure in Colorado.
“The Rocky Mountain News.”
Correct. “What did you say you do for a living now?”
“Alterations in a tailor shop. That’s where I saw the paper. A customer left the copy behind after a fitting. I was stunned to see John’s face after all those years.”
Henry studied the sentiment that had just thundered across her face. Either she’s a darned good actress or she’s truly moved.
The timeline worked.
A few feet over, Sebastian stepped out the front door. He looked at them a few moments before saying, “Your boy’s woke up. He’s calling for ya.”
Elizabeth surged to her feet. “Thank you.”
Sebastian nodded and disappeared inside.
She turned back to Henry.
“Are you all right staying here while I look into your statements?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Don’t worry about the board. I’ll take care of that. Can you give me a few weeks? I know that sounds like a long time, but I can’t see it happening any sooner.”
She nodded and hurried away.
Henry remained on the porch alone, thinking of his life since coming to Eden to do work for the railroads. That felt like a lifetime ago. Caught up in his work, he hadn’t been lonely. Not so no
w. His chest pushed in with thoughts of going home to his quiet rooms above the mercantile instead of to a wife and family. He glanced at the door Elizabeth had gone through not two minutes before.
How will all this turn out? He was staring his most challenging case to date in the face—the face of a small boy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
In the quiet darkness of the morning, a wagon pulled up to the bunkhouse. Blake blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Maverick Daves, the livery owner, held the lines of his team. Belle was at his side, Emma and Lavinia squished in next to her. They wore men’s clothes, much as Belle had been in for her few days on the ranch.
“Well, what’a we have here?” he said, unable to hide his delight at seeing Belle back on the ranch so soon. He’d pretty much thought about her the whole ride from town and then most of the night, robbing himself of much-needed rest for the day ahead. John’s dream of having his girls on the ranch meant a lot to him. But that didn’t matter right now. He had the cattle to worry about.
Rubbing a hand over his unshaven face, he wrestled with inner conflict. It is John’s quest I’m concerned about, isn’t it? Just because seeing Belle now had his heart feeling light didn’t mean a thing, and he wouldn’t waver. Losing Ann and Marcia darn near killed me. Giving your heart could be deadly, a risk he never intended to take again. That pain had cut him at his knees. He’d never forget the day Ann went into labor—only to die hours later, along with his tiny daughter.
What about the conversation with Belle outside the Eden Hotel? So many feelings I’d thought dead.
KT stepped from the bunkhouse porch, followed by Tank. Both men helped the sisters to the ground. Blake had dwelled on their conversation last night for hours as he went about dressing, tacking up, and handing out orders. So what if Belle had hung on every word? She was starving for knowledge of her father, nothing more. Still, he couldn’t deny he’d been moved by the wonder in her eyes and the way the sentiment made him feel.
Maverick stayed on the wagon seat. “I’m headin’ back straightaway. As soon as I drop this gear at the house.” A trunk and two carpetbags sat in the back of the wagon. “You have anything to go to town?”
The liveryman had an extra smile in his voice, and Blake knew why. He’d just spent a nice forty-five-minute drive talking with Belle and her sisters. “Naw. Thanks, though,” Blake called as the smithy turned the jangling rig around. “Thanks for bringin’ ’em out.” The three young women were lined up and ready for orders, the ever-changing hat Lavinia wore so often nowhere to be seen. He narrowed his eyes. “I think.”
Belle stepped forward. The wounded side of her he’d seen last night had been replaced with tenacity. She’d done some soul-searching—and maybe a little healing too. She had plans to show him what she was made of. “You have any complaints, Harding?” she asked playfully.
“Not a one.”
She nodded. “Good. You and your men will be sufficiently pleased we decided to help. Don’t you forget—we’re Brinkmans.” She puffed out her chest and looked around at the waning darkness. A few crickets still chirped in the dew-wet grass.
“So you’ve come to help with the roundup? All of you?”
She gave him a snappy look. “That’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
“Now that you mention it, I guess you’re right.” He liked pulling her leg. “Does this mean you’re staying the six months?” Blake dared to ask, serious now, and totally uncertain of what her answer might be.
She shook her head. “No. Just that we didn’t feel right leaving you high and dry. From what you’ve implied, there’s a lot of work to be done. We’ve put off everything, like drawing our businesses, until the roundup is over. We may be inexperienced women, but there’re things we can do to lighten your load. I’ll help with the cattle, and Emma and Lavinia will assist with meal preparations. Just point them in the right direction . . .”
“Whaaa?” Trevor stepped out the bunkhouse door, pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders. He looked between the three with delight. “I thought I heard girlie voices out here. Did you change your mind about helping, Belle? You were getting pretty good in that Western saddle a few days ago.”
“Maybe. Can I ride Gunner?”
Trevor’s face fell. Like a child, he cut his gaze to Blake and then back to Belle. “He’s my best horse. I have a couple others you might like. A smaller mount might suit you better.”
Belle flounced over to the sound of a few chuckles and put her arm through Trevor’s. “But I like Gunner. He and I are friends.”
He actually lowered his head. “Sure, go on ahead. I don’t mind.”
“Mind much,” Tank said with a laugh. “He thinks more of that gelding than he does his ma. If he says you can ride him, you’re pretty high in his book.”
Trevor pointed to the row of saddled horses on the far end of the bunkhouse. “He’s over there, all ready to go. You’re welcome to him.”
She followed Trevor’s gaze. When she spotted the horse, a small smile pulled her lips.
“How shall we proceed?” Emma asked.
“Tank put on a side of beef early this morning,” Blake replied.
Lavinia gasped. “Earlier than this?”
Tank’s lopsided grin made Blake laugh. “Just after midnight. Moses is inside packing the saddlebags. He’s moving slow with his bandaged ribs, but he’s getting around.”
Emma, looking a little unsure, stayed close to Lavinia. Perhaps she’s been talked into this against her will. Blake couldn’t imagine what growing up with four sisters must be like. A moment of sadness pulled at his thoughts as he remembered his brother. Long gone, but not forgotten.
The sun had yet to rise. The fact that Belle and her sisters had gotten out here so early said a lot, the generous gesture not lost on him. Maybe they did have ranching in their blood, like John always said. Blake had thought those words were just wishful thinking, but now he realized perhaps ancestry did play a role in the way people behaved.
Lavinia’s eyes went wide. “Then we should go in and help.” The high, bright-red shoes she’d worn for the last few days had been replaced with ratty work boots.
“He’ll welcome the help,” Blake said. “He may be shy at first, but don’t let that stop you. With the long days, we’ll be especially hungry. By the way, where’d you get the duds?” He glanced at Belle. “I thought you bought up the last. Did the store get a new supply?”
“After our meeting late last night, we sought out Karen Forester.” Lavinia placed her hands on her hips, looking self-assured. “She’s a world of knowledge. She rounded up garments and boots from the townspeople. As soon as we replace them with our own, we’ll give these back.”
Blake nodded. “Fine, then. If your mind’s set. You’ve arrived just in time for our departure. The horses are saddled, and we’re setting out to different pastures as soon as we have our saddlebags packed with grub.” He hitched his head. “I’m sure there’s breakfast left inside if anyone’s hungry.”
Garrett came out of the barn leading his mount and joined the circle, unable to hide his pleasure at seeing the girls.
“That’s right, Garrett,” Blake said, not blaming the ranch hand in the least for the sudden spring in his step. “We’ve got us more help than we figured. Belle’ll ride with me and KT to the south pasture. Garrett, Tank, and Trevor, go north.”
Moses appeared, a cup of coffee in his hands. Blue strips of fabric wrapped his middle and all but covered the shirt of his long johns. A greenish-brown bruise still marred the right side of his face. He hadn’t said anything about Praig, but Blake could tell he was stewing. He was a free man now but had grown up in slavery—and bore the scars to prove it.
“Moses!” Blake chuckled at his friend’s surprise. “Your help has arrived. Lavinia and Emma are at your service. You won’t have to peel that mound of potatoes alone.”
Shocked, Moses took a stumbling step back and sloshed coffee down his front. “Oh no.
” His eyes were large at the prospect. “Nothin’ doin’. I’ll saddle up and help with the doggies.”
Belle, having gotten to know Moses from their supper in the bunkhouse and later on the ranch, dashed up beside him and gave him a fierce hug. Moses’s face screwed up in pain.
Blake coughed into his hand. “Not so hard, Belle. Ease up a little.”
“Oh,” she gasped and pulled back. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“Not too much. I came out to get help luggin’ the saddlebags out. I’ll just go right back in and pack another, being Miss Belle is joining ya.”
Blake stepped onto the porch to follow. “I’ll fetch the others.”
Inside, he stilled his friend’s arm as Moses moved to lift one of the loaded leather bags. “You’re still sore. Let the girls work. This is their ranch. They need to feel connected—unless we want them running back to the city.”
Moses studied him for a good five seconds.
Blake couldn’t take the scrutiny any longer. “What?”
“It’s good to see that look back in your eyes, Blake.” He placed his large, warm palm on Blake’s shoulder. “Been too long. Wasn’t sure if it’d ever return.”
Heat rushed to Blake’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just thinkin’ about all the work there is to do. Cattle to brand, cut, doctor, and no one else to do it but us. I better get my backside in that saddle.”
Moses winked, and then a smile stretched across his sore-looking face. “Just keep tellin’ yourself that. You know I’m right.”
Blake hefted two heavily loaded saddlebags over one shoulder and another two across his arm. He made for the door before Moses had a chance to say anything else.
“Get your bags, boys!” he called, anticipating the day with new fervor. “We’ve work to do.”
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