Cleve beamed at her. “You’ll have all that and more,” he promised. “Brewster Industries foresees a lot of business here in Colorado just as soon as the Indians are corralled. We’re shipping boxcars of kitchenware and a bunch of plows have already been sent to that Meeker fellow.”
Keso made a rude noise and kept his eyes on the road ahead. “He’ll never turn the Utes into farmers, no matter how many plows Brewster Industries ships in.”
“Oh, hush, Keso.” She smiled back at Cleve, admiring the polished, well-dressed gentleman. He was the man of the future from a civilized place where there was no need to be able to handle a gun or defend oneself with fists. Her marriage was going to be full of excitement and costume balls. Beside Cleve, Keso looked like a rough, uncouth frontiersman.
Keso glanced over at Wannie as they drove, watching her pretty face as she admired the expensive bracelets and put them on. How could he compete with Cleve Brewster? His spirit sank to his boots, knowing he didn’t stand a chance by comparison. Wannie was dazzled by the big city boy and she’d never believe that Cleve was such a cheating scoundrel.
Cleve smiled to himself as he watched Wannie ooh and ah over the jewelry while Keso sat watching her. She must be blind not to realize the lout was in love with her; or maybe since Keso had been reared as her brother, the thought never occurred to that pretty, naive miss. As long as Wannie was so dazzled by style and fine possessions, she’d never notice that big masculine ox who was so awkward on a dance floor and looked as if he’d dressed from a missionary basket. Still, Cleve was afraid to count Keso out. He wouldn’t draw an easy breath until he got her away from Colorado and Keso.
The buggy clipped along through the streets of Denver, heading out of town.
“Tell me,” Cleve said, “is it true there’s still lots of gold and silver that no one has laid claim to?”
Wannie laughed. “Sure, over in the San Juans and maybe throughout the Ute country, but why would you care? The Brewsters certainly have plenty.”
“My dear,” Cleve said, “one of the first things I learned was that no one ever has enough money.” His stipend at Brewster Industries was not enough to cover his women and his gambling debts. He wanted his own wealth that his strict father didn’t control.
Keso grunted. “A man can only eat three meals a day and live in one house.”
“Very simplistic,” Cleve said. “What will power the great American dream is to get the public wanting more of everything: two buggies when they now only have one, more clothes than they can wear, and a bigger house than their neighbor’s.”
“Yes, Keso,” Wannie agreed, “didn’t you see the Brewster estate? Someday I’ll be mistress of all that.”
“You certainly will, my dear,” Cleve agreed, “and the queen of back-East society. Other women will envy you.”
Wannie sighed. “My mother would have been so proud.”
Keso frowned and didn’t say anything. I can’t compete with that, he thought as he drove toward the Evanses’ cabin. He would lay down his life for Wannie, fight to protect her, do anything in the world to please her, but he couldn’t give her the kind of lifestyle Cleve Brewster could give her—and that meant so much to Wannie. “Won’t you miss Silver and Cherokee?”
“Yes, I will,” Wannie said, sounding regretful. “Cleve, maybe we could build a summer home in Denver and then my family could come visit us anytime they wanted.”
“Uh, of course,” Cleve said but the thought appalled him. He didn’t want that big savage hanging around where Cleve would have to introduce him to society people. The Injun lout probably didn’t even own a silk cravat or a proper formal coat. “However, my dear, I doubt we’d be spending much time in Denver—and anyway, in our social set, you’ll have so much to do with charity balls, luncheons for society ladies, the opera. You’ll hardly have a minute to call your own.”
Keso snorted. “That’s the way rich people live? Sounds pretty grim.”
“Wannie will love it,” Cleve said. What did he care if Wannie was happy or not? It wasn’t her job to be happy—she would do what was expected of her as his mother did. Cleve expected to breed her every year, so she would be busy. Father would be so pleased if Cleve presented him with a bunch of grandchildren that the old man might loosen the purse strings a little. His mother was certainly proud that he was marrying into royalty and could hardly wait to introduce everyone she knew to her new daughter-in-law. In the meantime, there was Maureen and business was expanding here on the frontier, which might mean a raise for Cleve.
He wondered if he might be able to get his hands on some of the Evanses’ gold and silver claims? If they were as simple and unsophisticated as Wannie’s brother, it shouldn’t be that difficult.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Wannie said.
If you only knew, Cleve thought, if you only knew. He reached over to take her small hand and kiss it. The huge diamond that he had charged to Father’s account at the best store in New York sparkled in the sun. “Just thinking how pleased I am that you’re going to be my bride.”
“You say the sweetest things,” Wannie cooed and he thought how naive and beautiful she was—the perfect society wife. Wannie was so trusting, he could probably get her to believe anything. It was that foster brother of hers who was going to be the stumbling block.
The trip home was rather strained, Wannie thought with annoyance, and Keso certainly didn’t do anything to ease the tension. It was with relief that they rounded the bend of the trail and she saw the cabin in the clearing ahead as dusk settled in. “Here we are. Oh, Cleve, you’ll just love Silver and Cherokee.”
“This is it?” His tone made her turn around and look back at him. His handsome face mirrored dismay.
“It may not be as grand as you’re used to, dear,” Wannie found herself apologizing for the log cabin that she’d always thought so warm and cozy, “but it suits Silver and Cherokee.”
“They must be a bit eccentric to live up here if they can afford a fine place in Denver,” Cleve said.
Keso looked annoyed. “We like it up here, don’t we, Wannie?”
She didn’t want to be disloyal to her adopted family, but she didn’t want Cleve to think she was a hick not worthy of his bloodline. “Perhaps later they’ll consider moving to town.”
“I doubt that,” Keso snorted.
Wannie strained her eyes, peering into the growing twilight. “Oh, look, they’re coming out to meet us.”
Several mongrel dogs bounded across the porch, barking a welcome. Then Cherokee and Silver came out, waving.
Keso topped the rise and pulled in before the cabin. “Here we are.”
“Hello there!” Cherokee strode down the steps. “What kept you?”
“There was a little trouble in town,” Keso said.
“Oh?” Cherokee looked concerned. “You didn’t get our guest into anything, did you?”
Wannie’s face burned as Keso hesitated, then said, “No, Cleve wasn’t in any danger at all.”
She felt a sense of relief. Well, at least the ruffian hadn’t told them what happened. Cherokee was just like Keso—he would have waded in swinging both fists.
Cleve got down and helped her out as the older couple came to the buggy. “Silver, Cherokee, this is my fiance, Cleve Brewster, Jr.”
For a moment, their faces seemed to mirror dismay as they looked her fiance over, or maybe she only imagined it. Then they seemed to recover. “We’re right proud to know you, young fellow.” Cherokee pumped his hand enthusiastically.
Anxiety made her hold her breath as she watched Cleve’s handsome face. For a split second, she thought she saw shock in his pale blue eyes. “I’m delighted to meet you two,” he said, bowing to Silver, “Wannie’s told me so much about you.”
“And she’s told us so much about you,” Silver said.
“Matter of fact,” Keso said laconically, “she’s hardly talked about anything else.”
“How wonderful,” Cleve said, obviously decidin
g to ignore his sarcasm.
“I’ve got dinner in the warming oven, just waiting,” Silver said. “Cherokee shot a couple of rabbits.”
“Oh, good,” Wannie said and turned to Cleve, “you’ll love what she does with rabbit.”
“Rabbit?” Cleve looked a little disconcerted.
“With wild turnips,” Cherokee said.
“My favorite,” Keso said, “let’s eat!”
At least the introductions were over, Wannie thought with relief as they started up the steps.
“Hey, Cleve,” Keso called after them, “you forgot your luggage.”
Cleve stopped and looked at the older couple. “I’m used to servants handling that.”
“I’m sorry,” Cherokee said, “we don’t have any, but Keso will bring your bags, won’t you, son?”
“Did you see how much stuff be brought?” Keso complained. “Kitchenware samples and tons of clothes. I don’t know where he thinks he’s going to wear all this.”
“Well, bring it in anyway,” Silver said and they trooped into the house, leaving Keso with the luggage.
Inside, Cleve looked around. “It’s so—so quaint.”
“There’s only the four of us, so it’s big enough for our needs,” Cherokee said as Silver began setting the table.
Wannie took a good look around as Cleve Brewster must see the home. She’d always thought of the place as comfy and warm, but Cleve appeared to be inspecting the place as if he were looking at the inside of a dog kennel. She was instantly embarrassed by the simple cabin and then angry with herself for being so disloyal. “Actually, we’d been thinking of building something much grander, but this is so cozy, we thought, why bother?”
Silver paused in setting the table and stared at her in a way that made Wannie ashamed of herself.
Keso entered just then, wrestling with three big carpet bags. “You can share my room, Brewster.”
“Uh, that’ll be fine,” Cleve said, but his blue eyes registered dismay. “Mrs. Evans, your dinner smells delicious! My favorite is really lamb, but rabbit will be, er, unusual.”
“Lamb?” Keso and Cherokee said in unison. “We raise a few cattle, but we don’t eat lamb.”
“Egad, you’ve missed something,” Cleve said with smug superiority. “What kind of wine are we having with dinner?”
“We don’t drink,” Cherokee said. “You can have a cup of coffee or a glass of milk—we keep a cow.”
“Everyone wash up,” Silver said, “supper’s on the table.”
Cleve looked around. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Keso barely contained his amusement. “There’s a pump and a washpan out on the back porch and the, well, you know, is up the path.”
Wannie’s face burned as Cleve looked shocked. “It’s—it’s all outside?”
“Except when you really want to take a bath,” Cherokee nodded, “then we bring a washtub in by the cast iron stove.”
“How—how interesting,” Cleve said, but his voice sounded strained.
Wannie was already beginning to wish she had not invited Cleve up here. She loved this place, but she saw it now as wealthy Cleve Brewster must see it and felt both disloyal and embarrassed.
The men trooped outside to wash and Wannie rushed to help Silver dish up the food. Silver patted her shoulder. “We’ll try not to embarrass you, honey.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “It’s already off to a bad start. Keso took on some big galoot of a soldier who tried to paw me. Cleve thinks the whole town’s a bunch of barbarians.”
“It takes rugged men to tame this frontier,” Silver shrugged. “Where was Cleve when this fight was going on?”
Now she was even more embarrassed. “He—he went to get the law.”
“Very civilized thing to do,” Silver said and Wannie couldn’t tell whether she was merely commenting or if there was the tiniest bit of condemnation in her voice.
Everyone sat down to dinner under the hanging coal oil lamp. Wannie felt very conspicuous as Cleve insisted on pulling out her chair and Silver’s. The dishes were plain, heavy crockery, but Silver had put a cloth on the rough table. They passed the big bowls of food around, along with a steaming basket of hot biscuits.
“Eat all you want, boy,” Cherokee said, “there’s always plenty.”
“Yes,” Keso said, helping himself, “otherwise, we’ll just have to throw it out to the chickens.”
Cleve took a few spoonfuls. “I want to save some room for the next course,” he said.
The others looked at him blankly and Wannie felt her face burn again. “Cleve,” she said softly, “we don’t eat in courses—this is what there is.”
“And you won’t get a dozen forks, either,” Keso cautioned, “so don’t drop that one on the floor. Oww!”
Wannie had kicked him under the table. She’d teach him not to embarrass her in front of company.
Cleve stuck his fork into the steaming stew hesitantly, then put it in his mouth. “Hmm, quite good. Mrs. Evans, our French chef could take lessons from you.”
The others relaxed a little and Wannie finally let out her breath.
Silver got up and went for the coffee pot. “Coffee, Mr. Brewster?”
“Yes, please, and do call me Cleve, since you’ll soon be my mother-in-law.”
Keso made a noise that sounded as if he were choking on a bone.
Cherokee looked over at him. “You all right, boy?” Keso only nodded and returned to wolfing down his food.
Silver poured Cleve a cup of coffee. He looked a little askance.
“What’s the matter?” Wannie asked.
“It’s a little stronger than I’m used to,” Cleve said.
“Westerners like it strong enough to melt the spoon,” Cherokee grinned.
Wannie sipped her glass of milk and watched Cleve squirm as he ate and sipped the strong coffee. Why had she thought the Brewster heir should come to visit? This had really been a bad idea.
They finally began to make small talk as they ate bowls of Silver’s hot berry cobbler.
“Excellent!” Cleve proclaimed, “nothing better at Delmonico’s.”
Silver smiled at him. At least he appeared to be winning her over, Wannie thought. Otherwise, the family seemed to be having a difficult time finding any common ground for conversation with Cleve, but at least, they were trying. That is, Wannie thought with annoyance, Cherokee and Silver were trying. Keso said not a word as he ate three helpings of pie.
“Silver, that was great.” Keso patted his stomach as he finally pushed back his plate. “I was so hungry, my belly thought my throat had been cut.”
“Keso,” Wannie said, “must you be so crude?”
She saw Silver and Cherokee exchange amused glances, then Silver said, “She’s right, Keso. With company in the house, all our manners could use a little sprucing.”
Cleve didn’t say anything for a long moment. “The food was excellent, Mrs. Evans.”
Silver looked over at Wannie. “Where’d you get that gorgeous pin and those bracelets? They look like the sort of thing H.A.W. Tabor would buy.”
“Who’s that?” Cleve paused with his cup halfway to his lips.
“One of our old friends,” Cherokee said, “who was just a poor general store owner until he staked a few prospectors. Now he’s very rich and is the lieutenant governor of this state.”
Cleve’s face brightened. He was clearly impressed. “You know people like that?”
“Of course,” Wannie said, “we know lots of people who’ve grown rich in mining.” She was so glad that something had finally impressed her haughty fiance.
I’d like to meet some of these people,” Cleve said.
“You wouldn’t like them,” Keso shrugged, “they’re mostly rough hicks—money hasn’t changed them much.”
She kicked him under the table, but at least, he didn’t cry out.
Cleve looked around. “Now what do we do?”
“Do?” Cherokee said. “It�
�s dark—we usually go to bed.”
“So early?” Cleve looked startled.
“Long days,” Keso said, “and lots of work around a place like this. You’ll be tired yourself tomorrow night.”
Cleve moved uncomfortably in his chair. “Is there no hired help at all?”
“A few over at the mine,” Cherokee said, “but mostly, we do it all ourselves.”
Wannie patted Cleve’s hand, thinking again how soft and white his hands were. He’d probably never done any real work in his whole life. “They’re just joking, Cleve, dear.”
Silver shook her head. “We don’t expect a guest to work, Cleve. You two can go riding tomorrow and see the sights.”
“Is there anything to see?” Cleve asked.
“Why, miles of snow-capped mountains and beautiful valleys,” Wannie said, puzzled. Of course there was a lot to see. As long as she’d been here in the Rockies, she’d never seen it all and she never got tired of the breathtaking view.
“I’d better go along,” Keso glowered at Cleve, “just in case you run into a bear or a panther.”
Cleve looked absolutely stunned. “Those are roaming around up here?”
“Just a few,” Cherokee admitted, “mostly they don’t bother you if you don’t bother them.”
His admission didn’t seem to be any comfort to Cleve. The young man shifted uncomfortably. “I hope someone told the animals.”
Wannie hadn’t had a moment alone with Cleve since he’d stepped off the train. “Cleve, there’s a swing out on the front porch—we could take the night air and tall.”
He brightened immediately. “Of course.” He got up and came around to pull her chair back.
“Come to think of it, it’s a hot night,” Keso said, “the porch does sound good.”
Oh, he wouldn’t dare! She sent Silver an agonized silent plea with her eyes.
Silver said, “Keso, Cherokee and I are working on the accounts. Why don’t you stay and help us?” She reached out and caught his wrist as he started to get up from his chair.
Warrior's Prize (Panorama of the Old West Book 15) Page 16