With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel

by Amanda Cabot

  “The chef is famous for his wild game dishes,” Jason told Elizabeth after the waiter presented them with menus.

  She wrinkled her nose. “No venison for me tonight,” she said, her eyes darting to the upper wall where an impressive ten point buck’s head looked down on the diners. “I don’t think I’d enjoy a single bite.”

  “I’m not so squeamish.” Jason matched his actions to his words and ordered the roast venison while Elizabeth contented herself with baked trout.

  It was the finest meal Elizabeth had ever eaten, made so by a combination of faultless service and exquisitely prepared food. But what set the evening apart was sharing it with Jason. Unlike the first day he’d accompanied her on her walk home, when Elizabeth had found herself searching for a neutral topic, tonight it seemed as if they had an inexhaustible supply of subjects to discuss, everything from music and books to Harrison’s plans to start a horse ranch.

  “Gwen said the site is beautiful,” Elizabeth told Jason.

  He nodded as he chewed a bite of the perfectly roasted potatoes that had accompanied both of their entrees. “If she approved it, I imagine Harrison will proceed with the purchase. I know he wanted her and Rose to see it before he signed the agreement.” Jason cut another piece of venison, then laid his knife back on the plate. “It’s amazing what two people can do with a plot of land out here. I visited one of my clients a few days ago. He raises sheep,” Jason explained, “even though a number of people advised him not to. Despite everything, he’s prospering. The ranch isn’t huge, but what impressed me was that he and his wife built everything themselves. Most folks hire help.”

  “You sound surprised.” The surprise, Elizabeth was willing to bet, was that the client’s wife had had such an active role.

  “I was. I never really thought of women doing things like roofing a barn.”

  Had another man made the same comment, Elizabeth might have taken offense, but this was Jason, and she knew he was simply being honest. “Be careful.” Her tone was light, almost mocking, as she cautioned him. “You’re starting to sound like Doc Worland. Next thing I know, you’ll refer to us as the weaker sex. Women are stronger than you realize.”

  Jason shook his head. “You don’t need to convince me. You’ve shown me that a woman—at least one woman—can do anything she sets her mind to. I think what surprised me was that a woman would want to haul around lumber and nail on a roof.”

  Though his confidence in her was appealing, Elizabeth couldn’t let Jason continue to believe she was a paragon of skills. She wasn’t. The truth was, she was lacking in what many men would consider basic womanly talents. Her sewing consisted of the ability to do basic mending, nothing more. As for cooking . . . “I’ve never hauled lumber or laid a roof. I never had the need, but I suspect it would be easier than learning to cook. I’m a dismal failure at that.”

  Jason blinked in surprise. “You can’t cook?”

  “Not well. I can make staples like oatmeal, and I can stew a chicken, but I seem to burn every roast I put in a pan, and my biscuits and bread verge on inedible.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you’d eaten one of my meals. There’s a reason my sister convinced Gwen to stay in the apartment. Charlotte didn’t want me to starve.”

  Elizabeth watched Jason closely, wondering how he would react to her revelation. She doubted it was what he’d expected. Most men seemed to think that girls were born knowing how to cook, clean, sew, and raise children. He gave her a long look, his expression as solemn as if he were facing a jury. And then he laughed.

  “At last!” There was an unmistakable note of triumph in his voice. “I found something you can’t do perfectly.” Jason’s grin broadened. “You don’t know how that reassures me. Everyone needs to have failings.”

  He’d reacted more positively than Elizabeth had expected. “Cooking is a big failing. If I ever have a house of my own, I won’t be able to invite guests for dinner.”

  “You’d find a way.”

  Jason’s assurance warmed her. “I suppose I could hire a cook.” That was what Miriam had done.

  “Or maybe your husband would help.” Jason chuckled at the sight of her disbelief. “Don’t look so surprised. The same client shocked me when he came to the door wearing an apron. He’s a widower now, but he said he used to help his wife cook and clean and do laundry. He called their marriage a partnership.”

  “What an intriguing idea. My parents’ marriage was a happy one, but it wasn’t like that. They each had their own responsibilities. I can’t ever recall Papa being in the kitchen, and Mama would never have presumed to help him with his sermons.”

  “It was a new concept for me too, but I have to admit that Kevin’s stories got me thinking.”

  “And what do you think?”

  Jason wrinkled his nose. “That I’d hate doing laundry.”

  All too soon, the evening was over, and Elizabeth was back in her room, brushing her hair and preparing for sleep. She had told Gwen about the meal and about the people who’d stopped by their table to greet Jason. What she hadn’t told Gwen was that she had added tonight to the images she’d been collecting.

  Her mother had had a memory box, a small cedar box that housed mementos. Mama had treasured locks of her daughters’ hair, a seashell she had found on the beach the one time Papa had taken her to the ocean, a pressed flower from her wedding bouquet. Elizabeth’s treasures were less tangible. She collected memories. Memories of walking with Jason, riding with Jason, sharing one of Mr. Ellis’s cakes with Jason. Tonight she’d added the memory of sharing a meal, of laughing at the smell of lye soap, of discussing marriage as a partnership. It was an evening Elizabeth knew she’d never forget. But then she couldn’t forget Jason.

  She cherished the memory of his hand on hers while they walked, the warmth of his arm next to hers as they rode in his carriage, and the butterfly-light brush of his fingers across her cheek when he’d settled her cloak over her shoulders.

  Never before had a man captured her thoughts the way Jason had. What she felt for him was bright and new, as shiny as freshly fallen snow, as beautiful as a sunrise. How fortunate she was that Jason Nordling was part of her life.

  “I heard you’re courting Elizabeth.” Harrison settled into one of the chairs in front of Jason’s desk, making himself comfortable while he waited for Jason’s response. Though he had ostensibly come to review the terms of the ranch purchase, it was clear he had other things on his mind.

  Jason gave a noncommittal shrug. “Could be.” Inside, he rejoiced at the fact that the ugly rumors about Elizabeth had been replaced with more acceptable ones. Richard had been right. This temporary courtship was a good idea. It was protecting Elizabeth, and it had added a new dimension to Jason’s life. The time he spent with Elizabeth had quickly become the highlight of his days.

  Harrison let out a sigh. “I figured I’d be a bachelor all my life. Now all I can think about is marriage.”

  “Have you told her how you feel?”

  Harrison crossed his ankles, then uncrossed them, putting his feet flat on the floor. A second later, he stretched his legs out again, crossing the ankles. No doubt about it, the man was nervous.

  “I’m scared,” Harrison admitted. “What will I do if she refuses me?”

  “She won’t.” Gwen would be crazy if she did. It was clear that Harrison was hat over boots in love with her, and the looks she had given Harrison the night Jason had joined them for supper told him the feelings were reciprocated. Even Rose had seemed to approve of Harrison. There was absolutely no reason Jason could imagine that Gwen would refuse Harrison’s offer of marriage.

  “I wish I were that confident. I tell you, Jason, I’ve never felt like this before. I can talk a customer into buying things he didn’t even know he needed, but I can’t figure out how to tell Gwen that I want to marry her.”

  “You ought to court her. What do you think about a picnic in Minnehaha Park with Eli
zabeth and me?”

  Harrison looked thoughtful. “It would be a treat for Gwen if she didn’t have to cook.”

  “And Rose would have a place to play . . .”

  Harrison grinned. “While I sweet-talked her ma. Perfect. You’re a genius, Jason.”

  Or a man searching for ways to spend more time with Cheyenne’s lady doctor.

  17

  I can’t go on this way any longer.”

  Phoebe lowered her eyes, trying to mask the emotions that Nelson’s declaration evoked. He was seated next to her on the settee in her boudoir, his hands clasped in his lap. Her own hands threatened to tremble, but she willed them to remain steady as she forced a calm expression onto her face. Despite her determination to keep everything businesslike, Nelson had managed to slip beneath her armor, and somehow during the two years since his first visit he’d developed into more than a paying customer. Phoebe welcomed his visits, not simply because of the generous gifts that he gave her in addition to her normal fee. Over the course of the years, he’d become, first a pleasant companion, next a friend, then the one man who touched her heart. But now that she had finally admitted to herself how deeply she cared for him, he was leaving.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, proud that her voice did not quaver. “I’ll miss our times together, but I understand your reasons.” Tabitha must have learned about his visits and objected to them. Phoebe had no illusions about her importance in Nelson’s life. She was a diversion, nothing more. Some wives might turn a blind eye, pretending they didn’t know where their husbands spent their evenings, but from what Phoebe had heard, Tabitha Chadwick was not one to forgive a peccadillo. Another man might insist that he had a right to physical pleasure, but not Nelson. He would do anything to placate his young wife.

  “I’m sorry.” Phoebe repeated the words that only hinted at her true feelings.

  To her surprise, Nelson’s brown eyes glinted with what appeared to be gratitude. “So you do care—at least a little. I always wondered whether it was all pretense.”

  Of course it had been pretense at the beginning, but Phoebe wouldn’t tell him that. No man wanted to hear that a woman cared only for the money he gave her. A good whore knew that and made each man feel special, pretending that her heart was engaged, when reality was, all she cared about were the coins she would earn. Phoebe couldn’t explain why or even when her feelings had changed, but they had. Nelson was no longer simply a customer.

  She gave him a gentle smile as she said, “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care for you . . . at least a little.” Unwilling to reveal her true feelings, Phoebe forced her smile to turn mocking as she repeated his words. “Very few men have ever entered this suite, and you’re the only one who has a key.” She extended her left hand, palm up. “Under the circumstances, you’d best return it. You wouldn’t want your wife to find it and ask awkward questions.”

  “Tabitha wouldn’t care.” Bitterness tinged Nelson’s voice. “Furthermore, I don’t care if she learns about my visits here. In a few months, she’ll have no reason to complain.” Phoebe’s expression must have revealed her confusion, for Nelson let out a short mirthless laugh. “I can see that you don’t understand. I’m not proposing to end my time with you. What I am going to end is my marriage. I can’t bear it any longer.”

  Phoebe didn’t bother to hide her shock. Men in Nelson’s position did not leave their young and beautiful wives. “You’re going to divorce your wife?” Phoebe’s voice rose with disbelief. “Do you have grounds?”

  As Nelson shook his head, Phoebe noticed that he needed a haircut. If she’d had any doubt how disturbed he was, that would have quenched it. The Nelson she knew was always impeccably groomed.

  “I have no proof that Tabitha’s been unfaithful, but it’s no secret that she’s unhappy. If I offer her enough money, she’ll agree to a divorce. That’s all she ever wanted: my money.”

  Though Phoebe suspected that Tabitha had also been attracted by Nelson’s social standing, now was not the time to mention that. “Are you certain you want to do this?” Phoebe had long thought Nelson would be happier if he hadn’t married Tabitha, but she’d never considered that he would reach this point.

  He turned so that he was facing her, and his eyes filled with pain. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m not happy, and neither is Tabitha. Just being with her is turning into an ordeal. The only things she wants to talk about are clothes and jewelry. If I mention the company, all she wants to know is how much profit I’m making.” Nelson let out a sigh. “You’re the only one who listens to me.”

  Phoebe recalled the nights when he had sat right here, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as he spoke of plans for his lumber company. He’d been in no hurry to enter her bedroom but had insisted on spending his time talking. Those were the nights Phoebe cherished. Nelson might not remember it, but it was after the first of those nights that she had given him the key to her suite.

  She cared for this man. Oh yes, she did. And because she cared, she had to do what was best for him, regardless of how it affected her.

  “Have you told Tabitha you’re unhappy?” When Nelson gave her a look that suggested he’d rather be flayed alive than admit his vulnerability to his wife, Phoebe continued, “Marriage vows are sacred. You can’t just walk away.”

  His jaw dropped in astonishment. “I don’t believe you’re saying that.”

  “Why? Because I run a bordello?” Of course he would think that a woman who sold her own and other women’s bodies would have no regard for marriage vows. That wasn’t the case. When she’d moved to Cheyenne and opened her establishment, Phoebe had decided that no one needed to know what had brought her here. As far as anyone in Wyoming was concerned, she was a single girl, planning to make her fortune by trading on men’s desires. Though she referred to herself as Mrs. Simcoe, most people assumed it was a courtesy title, and Phoebe didn’t bother to enlighten them. There was no reason to reveal her past tonight, and yet this was Nelson, the man she cared for, more than just a little.

  “I was married once,” she said slowly. “I would still be married, only he died and left me penniless.”

  Nelson leaned back and studied her, as if trying to determine whether she was telling the truth. “Surely you could have married again.”

  “There were plenty of men who asked,” Phoebe agreed. “The problem was, I didn’t love them. I figured marrying one of them would be no better than selling myself, so I did exactly that. This way I have more money than I would as a wife, and I’m not beholden to any man.” She had not let another man into her heart since Philip died. Until Nelson.

  “Be careful, Nelson,” she said, laying her hand on top of his. “You don’t want to turn your wife into an enemy.”

  Elizabeth took in a deep breath, reveling in the glorious day. Though not as bright a blue as it had been in August, the October sky was beautiful. Yesterday’s wind had subsided, leaving today calm and warmer than normal. It had been the perfect day to walk to church, and now it was the perfect day for a picnic.

  “Did you order this weather?” she asked Jason as they descended the stairs. Both he and Harrison had come to the apartment. Though it seemed unnecessary, Jason had admitted he and Harrison had been unable to decide which of them would escort the women downstairs. Eventually, they’d realized that the best solution was for both of them to do it.

  Jason looked as if the thought of placing an order for weather amused him. “Not exactly, but I did tell God I’d be grateful for a nice, warm, calm day.”

  “I asked for the blue sky,” Harrison chimed in from behind them.

  “Then we thank you both.” An uncharacteristic giggle accompanied Gwen’s words. Elizabeth smiled. Her friend was more excited today than she’d ever seen her, and the excitement appeared contagious, for Rose had dashed down the steps and was racing back and forth along the boardwalk, her impatience with the adults visible.

  “Horses!” Rose crowed. “Two horses!”

  And two carri
ages. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as she looked at Jason. “You each brought a carriage?”

  He shrugged as if it were of no account. “There’s too much food to fit into one.”

  “I doubt that.” Either one of the carriages could transport several large trunks. A single meal for four adults and a child would not require more space than that. There had to be another reason why Jason and Harrison had decided to bring separate conveyances. An ulterior motive.

  “Are you questioning my veracity?” Jason asked, feigning indignation.

  “I suspect you might have stretched the truth a bit.”

  Gwen and Rose waved at Elizabeth once they were settled in the first buggy. A few seconds later, Harrison flicked the reins, and they headed south on Ferguson, leaving Elizabeth standing next to Jason.

  “The unstretched truth,” he said as he handed her into his carriage, “is that I wanted the pleasure of your company . . . alone.”

  “Oh!” Elizabeth felt warmth rush through her veins. There was no way to respond to a comment like that without blushing, and so she simply smiled.

  “I’m glad you were able to come,” Jason said as he turned onto 17th Street, apparently taking the concept of privacy to a new level. Since Harrison had continued to 16th, Jason and Elizabeth would not see their friends until they all arrived at the park. “I worried that one of your patients would have an emergency and you’d be with her.”

  Though that had yet to happen, emergency calls were part of a physician’s life, just as they were for a minister. Undoubtedly Jason had memories similar to Elizabeth’s of meals and sleep and family activities being disturbed by a parishioner’s needs. Those memories combined with being raised by a housekeeper had formed Jason’s view of marriage and child rearing. They were the reason he would never be more than her friend.