He sat in a chair at the kitchen table and dropped his face in his hands, trying to get control of his errant thoughts. Emma was nothing like Violet. Emma was tall and imposing, with a personality more like a force of nature. There was nothing retiring about her. Quite the opposite. He couldn’t imagine Violet ever standing up to a man like Frank the way Emma did last night. He’d often wondered if Violet had even considered shooting those men that fateful day. She was such a gentle soul that she didn’t understand she needed to be prepared to face trouble if he wasn’t there to protect her. Violet was the kind of person who would turn the other cheek. She’d never been exposed to killers like Culpepper and Taggart. No matter how much he tried to make her understand not all men could be trusted, it seemed beyond her comprehension such evil walked the earth. Clay felt he’d failed her in that.
Emma wasn’t the kind of woman who would hesitate to do what needed to be done. He could see her going toe to toe with men like Culpepper and Taggart. Why was he comparing his Violet to Emma? He shook his head at his own question. He couldn’t survive another loss like he did four years ago. Maybe he was a coward, but he couldn’t take a chance like that. Never again.
Chapter Seven
Emma was sitting at the kitchen table with Granny and Rose the next morning when she finally broached the subject that had been on her mind. “I want you two to tell me everything Frank has done.”
Granny knew this particular conversation would take place as soon as Morgan left the breakfast table. “I’m sorry I had to send such bad news in my last letter, but we didn’t want you to come home and find out about your brothers from someone else.”
“Are you certain Frank killed Stevie?” Emma still could hardly fathom her eldest brother killed her youngest brother.
“I was there. The house was on fire, and Frank wouldn’t let me go inside to see if Stevie was there. We don’t know for sure if Frank killed Stevie, or if he died in the fire, but Stevie had to be incapacitated in some way not to leave the burning building,” Rose said.
“Emma, you can’t trust Frank, no matter what he says. If you see him when you are alone, get away from him. He’s very dangerous, so never be alone with him,” Granny warned.
Emma nodded. “I doubt I will even see him again. What do you think happened to make him this way?”
“I don’t think Frank has been right in the head for many years, if he ever was,” Granny said.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own memories of Frank.
“Emma, tell us about this prince who may be coming to America to court you,” Rose said.
Emma looked at Rose, but her mind was on the letter she’d shoved in her reticule the day she arrived in Denver. “Oh, no! I haven’t opened the letter.”
“What letter?” Granny asked.
“The day I arrived a clerk gave me a letter. I shoved it in my reticule and forgot all about it.” She jumped up from the table and ran to her bedroom.
When she came back downstairs she was holding the letter. She sat back down and looked at the envelope and immediately recognized the seal. “It’s from Henri.”
“Henri?” Rose repeated.
“Prince Henri d’Evereux.” Emma opened the letter and started reading. She couldn’t believe what she was reading. Henri was in America! He said he couldn’t wait another year to see her again. He was in St. Louis, heading for Denver when he’d written this letter. He was coming to see her with the intention of courting her. Her eyes darted back to the date at the top of the letter. She mentally counted off the days. He could be in Denver any day now. She’d never expected he was so serious in his declaration of affection that he would actually follow her to Colorado. She couldn’t deny he was handsome and charming, but he was a prince for heaven’s sake. His world was light-years from hers, his background totally different from hers. She’d seen his lifestyle: servants seeing to his every need, guards surrounding him at all times, changing clothes ten times a day for whatever event was taking place. It all seemed so—unnecessary.
She’d dined with him several times before they’d left Europe, and the prince asked her to stay in France longer. But Andre had already arranged their tour schedule, and she didn’t want to cancel any performances. If she had cancelled some of the performances, she wouldn’t have stayed in Europe, she would have returned to Whispering Pines.
Then there was the fact that she wasn’t ready to develop a serious relationship with anyone at this point in her life. It wasn’t fame she sought. Most of the time she wished she wasn’t recognized. Before all of the fanfare of her concert tour in Europe, few men had shown much of an interest in her. She’d always thought it was her height, or her off-putting direct manner that intimidated most men. But now, men seemed to be coming out of the woodwork to shower her with attention, and it made her uncomfortable. They didn’t really know her on a personal level—they only knew her talent—and their sudden interest made her suspicious of their motives. Were they interested in her, or her fame? She had yet to figure out how she was to know the answer to that question. It was difficult for her to imagine that a prince wanted to court her, but at least she knew he was not interested in her fame.
She looked up from the letter to the questioning eyes of Rose and Granny. “He could be in Denver any day. He was in St. Louis when the letter was written.”
“How exciting,” Rose said. “Can you imagine a real prince coming here to see you?”
Emma shook her head. “I really don’t know why he is wasting his time on me. I thought I made it clear to him I wasn’t interested in marrying.”
“Perhaps being a prince, he is not accustomed to a woman rejecting him,” Granny replied.
“Are you not interested in marrying, or just not interested in marrying him?” Rose asked.
“I’ve never been in love, and while I like Henri, and naturally I’m flattered that he has an interest in courting me, I can’t see what purpose it would serve.” She explained her doubts about the sudden attention given that she was now considered famous. “Men weren’t exactly beating down my door before my name became well-known.”
“Maybe you didn’t give them a chance. You are so self-sufficient that many men may be intimidated. I should think it would take more than an accomplished woman to intimidate a prince,” Rose said.
“But I don’t want to live in France,” Emma said.
“Good,” Rose said. She saw Granny glance her way, so she explained her feelings. “I’m sorry if that sounds selfish, but I want Emma to come home to live in Whispering Pines. I want her to have her babies here, so we can all be together and our children grow up together.”
Emma laughed. “I may not marry and have babies, but it’s been my plan to buy a ranch and live in Whispering Pines when the time is right. I have a nice nest egg now, and if I sing a few more years, I will have a secure future.”
“Wouldn’t you need a partner if you own a ranch?” Granny asked.
“I can hire a foreman,” Emma said.
“I know Morgan would gladly help you,” Rose said.
“I’m counting on it.” Emma folded Henri’s letter and stuck it in her pocket.
“Your prince is going to be disappointed to come all this way for naught,” Granny said.
“I tried to make myself clear in Paris.” Emma knew she had taken care not to do or say anything that might offer Henri encouragement. She specifically remembered telling him she planned to live in Whispering Pines when she stopped singing.
“There will be plenty of suitors in Whispering Pines when you are ready to settle down,” Granny said.
Emma waggled her finger at Granny. “Don’t go matchmaking. Anyway, we both know Rose and Addie already hooked the two most handsome men in Whispering Pines.”
“They were fine catches, no doubt about it. But Clay might have given them a run for their money if given a chance.” Granny remembered Morgan was jealous when he thought Clay had an interest in Rose. “Mark my words. You
’ll have men courting you if put out the right signals.”
“I’m not interested in signals. I will sing for a while longer before I settle down.”
A knock on the back door interrupted Granny’s impending speech about Emma having children. Seeing her chance to put an end to Granny’s schemes, Emma jumped up to answer the door.
“Good morning,” Clay said when the door swung open and he saw Emma standing there.
Emma didn’t know who she expected on their front porch so early in the morning, but it certainly wasn’t the good pastor. “Good morning.” Emma figured he wasn’t there to see her, so she stepped aside and invited him into the kitchen. Her traitorous dog came running to him as though he were welcoming a long-lost friend.
Clay greeted Sweetie with an ear rub. “How’s the big guy doing this morning?”
Granny was already out of her chair and grabbing a cup for coffee. “Clay, what brings you out here so early?”
“I came to apologize for getting sidetracked last night, and not saying good-bye to all of you. I didn’t want you to add rudeness to my list of faults.” Clay hung his coat and hat on the hook inside the door.
“Nonsense. No need for you to apologize about anything. Please sit down,” Rose said. “Can we offer you some breakfast?”
Clay smiled. “I don’t smell flapjacks, so I guess not.”
Rose and Granny laughed, but Emma didn’t understand the joke.
Granny glanced at Emma, and explained, “The last time Clay had breakfast with us Morgan challenged him to a flapjack-eating contest.”
“Now, Granny, in all fairness, I didn’t know it was a contest,” Clay said.
“Morgan knew. That was all that mattered.” Granny placed the cup of coffee in front of him. “He thought you were interested in Rose, and he wasn’t about to let you get the better of him.”
“Oh, Granny, Morgan thought no such thing,” Rose said.
Clay and Granny chuckled at Rose’s innocence. Rose had been completely unaware of what was happening that morning.
“Morgan was simply hungry that morning. If I recall correctly, he’d already been up for hours working on the ranch,” Rose added.
Granny patted Rose on the shoulder before she sat back down. “You ask him about it sometime.”
“How did the meeting go with Mrs. King?” Emma asked coolly.
On his ride to the ranch, Clay told himself he was coming to express his apology for being rude last night. He didn’t come all this way to see Emma, yet he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. “I think it went well. She was delighted I invited her to church, and said if she is still in town, she will certainly join us.”
Emma gave him a dubious look. “Did she mention if my outlaw brother would be joining her?” Emma knew her tone was sharp, but she intended to let him know she was still angry with him. Morgan had gone out of his way to take them back to church last night even though everyone was tired. They all agreed they wanted to show support for Clay. To Emma’s way of thinking, he didn’t seem to appreciate their effort. That was what angered her, not that he left them to talk to a beautiful young woman.
Clay could tell by Emma’s tone that she wasn’t pleased with him. He’d already seen for himself that she didn’t hold back when she had something on her mind. “No, ma’am. She didn’t mention Frank, nor did I.”
“What was she like?” Granny asked. “Do you think she is the kind of woman who would plan a robbery with Frank?”
“No, Granny, I don’t. She was a delightful young woman, extremely well-spoken and mannerly. Though she had been married for a short period of time, I believe she is quite naïve.”
Emma almost snorted. She figured he was politely criticizing her for speaking her mind. Well, the devil with him. “Men are easily fooled by a pretty face. She left the judge when Frank came along. I wouldn’t call that naïve.”
Rose and Granny were surprised by Emma’s harsh words, but they both remained quiet.
Clay ground his teeth together. He didn’t want to say something to offend Granny’s granddaughter. “I don’t intend to pass judgment. I’ve always found it important to look at one’s heart.”
“So you could see her heart in such a short period of time?” Emma asked sweetly.
Clay took a sip of his coffee while he thought of a diplomatic response. “I think I could.” Clay did think Leigh was a sweet, young woman. He thought Frank probably deceived her about his past, and being a trusting soul, she believed him.
“Do you think she didn’t know what she was doing traveling alone with a man who wasn’t her husband?” Emma continued. She wasn’t buying Leigh King’s innocent act for a minute.
Clay held his palms in the air. “I just asked her to join us at church. That’s all. We didn’t discuss her personal life.” He didn’t understand why Emma was grilling him. He’d come here to apologize, so he gulped back his coffee and stood. “I just wanted to say I didn’t intend to be rude last night.”
Emma bit her tongue to keep from saying he may not have intended to be rude, but he was rude.
“Don’t worry about it, Clay. We didn’t give it a second thought.” Granny shot Emma a warning look, one of those looks she used to give her when she was a child, to let her know she’d overstepped her bounds. “It was nice of you to ask Mrs. King to church. If I see her again before Sunday, I will tell her she’s welcome to sit with us.”
Emma remained quiet. Granny had a way of making her point.
“Well, I must be on my way.” Clay nodded to Rose and Granny before he left the table. “I’ll see you Sunday.”
“Emma will see you out.” Granny fixed her eyes on Emma and inclined her head to let her know she should get out of her seat and see Clay to the door.
Emma jumped up and nearly ran to the door. She reached for Clay’s coat from the hook and threw it at him. She couldn’t believe Granny thought she would be interested in him. It was obvious he was looking for a younger, more attractive woman—exactly like Leigh King. As soon as he got a look at Mrs. King last night in the restaurant, he’d stared at her through the entire meal. While Clay was buttoning his coat, Emma stood there tapping her toe, trying to hurry him along.
Last button fastened, Clay reached for his hat at the same time Emma snagged it from the hook. His hand covered hers and he yanked it back as though she’d stuck him with a hot poker. “Sorry.”
Emma shoved his hat into his stomach, smashing it in the process. “No problem.” She opened the door and nearly shoved him onto the porch. “Have a nice ride back to town.” She tried to sound pleasant for Granny’s benefit since she knew she was listening. All the while she was thinking, I hope you freeze. She slammed the door behind him.
Outside in the cold air, Clay took a deep breath, wondering what had just happened.
He’d intended to make amends this morning for his behavior last night. Morgan had invited him to dinner and he’d failed to say thank you. So much for good intentions. That woman—Emma—he’d thought about her all night. Why he was fool enough to do that, he didn’t know. He walked down the stairs, stopped—and looked back at the closed door—shook his head, and turned to his horse. He reached for the reins wrapped around the post—but stopped. He turned back around and marched to the door. Frustrating woman. He rapped on the door with his fist.
Within seconds Emma opened the door again and glared at him. “Did you forget something?”
He hesitated. Why had he knocked on that door again? He was an idiot if he thought this woman had an interest in him. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I did.”
“What? I gave you your hat and coat,” she said impatiently.
He cleared his throat again. Maybe he was catching a cold. “Yes.”
Silently Emma waited.
Hearing her toe tapping again, he took his hat off, bidding for more time to think through what he was about to say. “I thought—I’d invite you to dinner tomorrow night in town.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open, and no
quick retort came to mind.
Clay almost smiled. Her toe tapping came to an abrupt halt. He doubted this formidable woman had been rendered speechless in her entire life. He didn’t wait for a response. “I’ll pick you up at five o’clock.”
Sweetie nosed his way around Emma and jumped on Clay, and Clay rubbed his ears. “Bye, Sweetie.” He turned around, walked down the stairs, reached for his reins, leapt in the saddle, and rode away. Never once did he look back, but he was confident she was still standing on the porch watching him.
Chapter Eight
By the time Clay arrived home he’d almost talked himself into turning around and heading back out to Morgan’s ranch. He wanted to cancel the date he’d just made. What in the world had possessed him to do something so completely out of character? He hadn’t invited a woman to dinner in years. Morgan and Jack both told him it was time for him to get on with living, but he shouldn’t have listened to them. Why he’d decided to invite Emma, of all women, was a mystery to him. It wasn’t as though she had given him any indication she was attracted to him. As a matter of fact, it seemed to him she went out of her way to be cool to him. He certainly didn’t want to be attracted to her. On the other hand, he didn’t want one of Granny’s granddaughters to dislike him. He hadn’t intended to ask her out; all he wanted to do was apologize for being rude last night. He didn’t know what happened. One moment, he was thankful he got out of there with his skin intact—she seemed determined to flay him for some reason—and the next minute he was inviting her to dinner. She’d gotten under his skin, and he didn’t understand why he didn’t simply ignore her.
Tired of thinking about what to do, he made some coffee, walked into the small parlor, and sat down. The woman gave him a headache. She wouldn’t allow him to apologize, and she accused him of being rude when she was the one being rude. He finished his coffee, leaned back, and closed his eyes. He had to call on some of his parishioners this afternoon, but he felt as if his head were about to explode. He told himself he would relax for a few minutes and leave as soon as his head stopped throbbing.
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