by Renee Ryan
Pete, the groom, provided Garrick with Gypsy, the excellent bay mare he’d ridden the day before, and he was soon on his way. The road into town was as straight as London’s Pall Mall, just the sort of stretch that invited a full-out, mind-clearing gallop. But Pete had warned him that these cow-ponies weren’t bred for long distance runs, so he settled for alternating between an easy canter and a brisk trot. Gypsy seemed to enjoy being out, and Garrick tried to do the same. After all, he’d made a firm decision about the hotel, so he should be pleased to have that door shut, even if he’d always count it as a failure.
He sent up a prayer for wisdom about his next move, ever mindful that Helena’s future came before his own ambitions. He must find an occupation in which he could make enough money to provide a respectable dowry, even if said occupation gave him no personal satisfaction. Nothing came to mind. Who in London would hire him after he’d botched this endeavor?
As his emotions dipped lower, a large blue-gray crane burst into flight from the swampy area that ran beside of the road. Gypsy started briefly, then resumed her pace. Garrick wished he could sprout wings and fly away from all of the mess he’d made of the hotel project. Not really. Better to be like Gypsy and quickly overcome this bit of adversity. The idea cheered him. With one door shut, surely God would open another one. Garrick simply must look for it.
Rosamond’s beautiful but resolute face came to mind, accompanied by a strange grief-like longing that sent his heart plummeting again. What could they have accomplished if she weren’t so intractable? If she hadn’t dashed all of his dreams? He doubted he’d ever answer those questions.
*
With her friend out at least until dinnertime, Rosamond unpacked some of her textbooks and carried them to Father’s office to work on lesson plans for the fall. She always worked ahead on her responsibilities, and she’d need all summer to prepare a year’s worth of lessons for three subjects: history, literature and composition.
She opened Goodrich’s A History of the United States of America and took a sheet of paper from Father’s desk to make notes. Indentations marred the stationery. Maybe someone, probably Tolley, had used it for padding rather than write directly on the desktop. Father really needed a new blotter to write on.
Curious, and perhaps a bit nosey, to see what her younger brother had written, she held the page up to the light. She made out the words Dear Uncle, failure, rejection, disappointment and return home as soon as possible.
Tolley hadn’t written this. Garrick had.
A dull ache formed in Rosamond’s chest. Garrick Wakefield felt like a failure, and it was all her doing. She could have, should have, been kinder to him from the outset. Could have tried to compromise. If he hadn’t been so arrogant and dismissive of all that she loved, maybe she would have felt more inclined to do so. No, that wasn’t right. No matter how he behaved, no matter what silly ideas he proposed for the hotel, she should do the right thing. She should at least try to understand him.
She heard the front door open and shut, and then the sound of Beryl’s and Percy’s laughter wafted into the office. If Garrick left, Percy would leave with him. That might break Beryl’s heart. Somehow Rosamond must find a way to work with Garrick so he’d stay.
But that didn’t mean she must agree to pretentious Palladian architecture sticking out like a sore thumb smack in the middle of Esperanza. Did it?
Chapter Five
Once he reached Esperanza, Garrick located the livery stable and left Gypsy with Ben, the man in charge. “Just put her in there.” He nodded to an empty stall.
“You’re a busy man.” Chafing at the man’s curt order, Garrick led Gypsy into the space and closed the gate.
“Yep.” Ben exited the other stall. “Sure could use a regular helper, but this time of year most local boys work in the fields or with the herds up in the mountains.” He eyed Garrick. “Any of the hands out at Four Stones free?”
Why would the man think he knew such a thing? “I’ve no idea.”
“Well, send ’em to me if you hear of one.”
Garrick strode out of the stable. It was enough that he’d put his own horse in the stall, beyond enough to be expected to find an employee for the man. At home, even after he’d lost his expectations, Uncle’s servants always showed him proper respect.
He marched up the street toward the mercantile, where a sign on the door read Post Office. His energetic walk cooled his temper. He must remember these Americans had different customs regarding, well, just about everything. Exhibit A: Miss Rosamond Northam and her quickly concocted plans for a Western-style hotel. But he was through with all of that and wouldn’t think about her.
Inside the mercantile, several people he’d seen at church gave Garrick pleasant greetings. Two young girls eyed him with obvious admiration, giggling until the matron with them shushed their silliness. If Rosamond were of a different temperament, he wouldn’t mind such admiring looks from her, but he doubted she would ever view him favorably.
The proprietress greeted him warmly and assured him his letter would go out on the morning train. He paid the pricey postage and walked back out into the sunshine, his mood anything but bright. Uncle wouldn’t receive the bad news for weeks. Several more would pass before he responded. How could Garrick endure the endless days before he received permission to return home? How could he go back to Four Stones and face Rosamond for a good part of the summer? If only he could contact Uncle more quickly.
The telegraph. He should have thought of that first. Though the expense would cut into his funds, he’d send the wire: Hotel project failed. Request permission to return to England straightaway, thus reducing a two-page letter to ten words.
Buoyed by the thought, he strode down the dusty streets. Ahead he saw Adam Starling speaking to a man, who waved him away. The boy approached another person, who also spurned him. Was he begging? Had no one met the family after they arrived? Garrick lifted a hand to hail the lad.
“Adam.”
He turned lethargically, and Garrick reached him just as he fell forward. Garrick caught him in his arms.
“Easy now, lad.” Garrick looked around indignantly. Why hadn’t anyone helped this needy boy?
Adam swiped a grimy hand over his eyes. “Oh, it’s you, sir. From the train.” His voice weak, he struggled to stand on his own.
“Yes.” With considerable difficulty, Garrick subdued his emotions. “I’m Wakefield. Where’s your mother? Where’s Jack?”
“Over yonder.” Adam pointed to the rear of the train station.
Garrick saw only a makeshift canvas tent.
“She’s pretty wrung out,” Adam said. “Probably sleeping.”
In the distance, the whistle of the morning train pierced the air. Bile rose in Garrick’s throat. If Adam’s mother was sleeping, would Jack wander off again?
“Come along.” To help the boy walk, Garrick put an arm around his waist, feeling gaunt ribs through the tattered cotton shirt. He urged him over the tracks to the tent. “Mrs. Starling, are you there?”
Adam lifted the canvas side to reveal a heartbreaking sight. Garrick needn’t have feared Jack would get away from her again, for the child lay limp in his mother’s arms. Beside them sat the little sister, her round blue eyes staring at nothing.
“Right.” Garrick ground his teeth. Where was the man of this family? Where was the compassion in this town? He doubted Rosamond would stand for this, considering the charitable way she cared for her friend. “Come with me.”
Mrs. Starling blinked and shaded her eyes. “Will you help us?”
The plaintive tone in her voice deeply moved Garrick. With her children’s lives at stake, she couldn’t afford to be proud. “Yes. Come along now.” He knew he sounded cross, but he could barely speak over the emotions clogging his throat.
Not caring what the provincials on the street thought, Garrick half carried, half herded the little family to Williams’s Café next to the mercantile. Once he explained the family’s dile
mma to the proprietress, Miss Pam expressed great dismay.
“Why, I had no idea. My Charlie’s the telegraph operator, and he’s usually right there at the train station. But he’s been checking the wires between here and Del Norte for the past several days. Otherwise, he’d have brought them here to me.” She instructed her waitress to bring four bowls of chicken and dumplings. “Are you hungry, too?” she asked Garrick.
Until that moment, he hadn’t been, but the aroma of the food generated an embarrassing growl in his stomach. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
“Make that five bowls, Leah,” she called to the waitress.
He gave her a wry grin, and she chuckled on her way to the kitchen. The woman’s goodness stirred more unruly emotions in Garrick. He forced his attention to Mrs. Starling, who sat across from him with Jack in her lap. Beside her, Adam held the little girl, Molly. Just the promise of food seemed to give them strength to sit up and await their dinner.
Garrick marveled at God’s hand in the day. The Almighty was using him, perhaps not to build a hotel, but to save a family. While it didn’t redeem his own future, or Helena’s, it was good. It was right.
As she ate, Mrs. Starling told her story. Her husband had worked on this leg of the railroad and wanted to settle in Esperanza. He sent money for their fare from St. Louis, but when they arrived, no one knew anything about Bob Starling, and her money ran out.
“I need a job.” Tears reddened her eyes. “Any decent job.”
“Me, too.” Adam’s pallor lessened with each bite of food.
Garrick felt better himself. This might not be French cuisine, but at least he now understood Rosamond’s preference for Miss Pam becoming the hotel chef. Perhaps the idea had merit. Or perhaps they could offer both European and American cuisine. On the wall, next to a lovely painting of a snow-capped mountain, a menu listed venison, beef, pork, duck, turkey and chicken dishes, along with a variety of desserts. While limited and somewhat plain, the bill of fare would satisfy hungry travelers. Perhaps—
“You know of any jobs, sir?” Adam recaptured Garrick’s attention.
He’d been offended by the livery stable owner’s request, yet now God’s plan became clear. “Have you worked with horses?”
Adam’s brown eyes lit up. “Yessir. I’ve got a way with ’em, don’t I, Ma?”
She spooned a fluffy bite of dumpling into Jack’s mouth. “You sure do.”
“Brilliant. The livery stable owner requires an assistant. I shall take you there after we finish eating.” Even if Ben had already found someone, Garrick would find a way to employ the boy. Anything to keep Garrick busy and away from Four Stones, away from the lovely, maddening Rosamond Northam.
Other customers now filled the restaurant, giving Garrick a moment of unease. What would his friends back in London think if they saw him eating with this ragtag family? The look of gratitude in Mrs. Starling’s eyes and the sweet grins from Molly, Adam and Jack dispelled all such thoughts. When God was at work, what difference did other people’s thoughts make? Now, what should he do next to help the Starling family?
Miss Pam brought several slices of apple pie and a small pitcher of thick cream. “You gonna take these folks out to Four Stones?”
“Hmm.” Garrick mulled the question over briefly. He mustn’t assume the Northams would welcome unexpected guests, especially now that he and Rosamond were at odds. And, of course, Adam should live closer to the livery stable. “I believe lodgings in town would serve better. Do you know of any for rent?”
Her warm brown eyes twinkled, and the smile permanently etched in her kind face beamed brighter. “I do.”
*
When Garrick didn’t return for the noon meal, Rosamond fretted until she remembered his appointment with Reverend Thomas. Maybe he and the minister had eaten dinner at Williams’s Café. She chuckled to herself. After tasting Miss Pam’s cooking, maybe he’d change his mind about bringing a chef all the way from France.
After the meal, she sent Beryl, Percy and Mother away and stayed to help Rita clean up the kitchen. She enjoyed being back in the routine of the ranch. Of course before she went to Boston, no valet tried to shoo her from the kitchen and take over her duties.
“Please, Miss Rosamond, do let me help Rita.” Roberts took a freshly washed dish from her and dried it with a tea towel. “You must have more important things to do.”
The hopeful look in Rita’s eyes was all the reason Rosamond needed to make her exit. Two romances were blossoming right under her nose, and she’d do all she could to encourage them both. And she did have something important to do: figure out how to manage Garrick and his impossible plans. Maybe if he understood how short summers in the Valley were and how winters sometimes made building impossible, he’d realize they couldn’t wait until workmen arrived from England. And since Father had already provided much of the building materials, they could get to work right away.
With much more to ponder, she took a writing tablet from Father’s desk and made her way to the front porch. Beryl and Percy sat on the swing, deep in conversation, so Rosamond turned to go back inside.
“Rosamond, wait.” Beryl beckoned her to a nearby chair. “I want you to hear something.” While Rosamond obeyed, Beryl nudged Percy. “Tell her.”
“Oh, well…” He tugged at his collar. “Don’t really want to tell tales out of school.”
“It’s not gossip,” Beryl said. “I think she needs to know.”
Rosamond’s curiosity was piqued. “Is this about Garrick?” And why he’s so arrogant?
“Yes, actually.” Percy shifted in his seat, setting the swing in motion. “I was just explaining to Beryl—” he cast an admiring look her way “—why this hotel business is so important to him.”
Rosamond did her best not to gape. Hadn’t she prayed just this morning for a way to understand Garrick? “How interesting. I’d like to know, too.”
*
At Miss Pam’s recommendation, as soon as their meal was finished—with leftovers packed up in a tin pail for later—Garrick took the family to the Chinese laundry, where he paid the proprietor a week’s rent for two upstairs rooms and meals. Mr. Chen even offered Mrs. Starling part-time work ironing shirts. Garrick surveyed the establishment. It was clean and efficient in every respect. Perhaps Rosamond was right about using their services for the hotel.
At the livery stable, Ben was more than pleased to put Adam to work straightaway. Before Garrick left, the boy pumped his hand in gratitude. “You saved our lives, sir.”
“Oh, I may have helped a little.” While his praise was encouraging, Garrick reminded himself that he’d merely done his duty before God. Of course that always lifted his spirits. “Now, you must take care of your mother.”
With all things managed by early afternoon, he rode to the parsonage beside the church. A note on the door bearing his name informed him that Reverend Thomas had had an emergency call. He apologized for missing their meeting and requested another, if convenient, on Thursday. Garrick scrawled an affirmative answer on the page and left it in the door.
This was no doubt best. After all, helping the Starlings had cheered him so much that he might blurt the story to the minister. Once his emotions settled, he’d consider telling the cleric about the Starlings, but only to ask his help in watching over the little family. On the other hand, he wouldn’t tell Rosamond or any of the Northams about what had happened today. The Lord commanded that alms should be done in secret, so such boasting was unseemly.
Still, as he rode south toward the ranch, his heart overflowed with peace and joy. Even his resentment against Rosamond dissipated. He couldn’t comprehend why God brought him over five thousand miles from home just to help Adam’s family, but a sense of satisfaction and trust filled his soul nonetheless.
“Very well, Lord, what’s next?”
Gypsy perked up her ears at his words, and he laughed clear down to his still-full stomach. How very good the laughter felt. So good that a new energy and motivati
on to complete the hotel project swept through him. Was this the Lord’s answer? If not, then why did he have a sudden desire to find a way to please Rosamond? If her ideas about the cook and laundry weren’t unreasonable, which of her other ideas had merit? That exquisite mountain painting in the café might be a sample of some local painter’s work, so perhaps her thoughts about the decor of the rooms might also have worth. Even the carpentry work in the Northams’ ballroom compared well with the furniture in Uncle’s manor house.
But how could he compromise with her without giving way in every decision they must make? Somehow he must try. If young Adam could forge ahead despite difficulties, Garrick could do no less. The moment he returned to the ranch, he’d find Rosamond and attempt to negotiate with her.
The letter! Why had he so hastily sent it? Why had he given up so easily? Now when Uncle received it, he’d lose all confidence in Garrick, all respect for him.
Reining Gypsy around, he urged her to a gallop, his heart dropping lower with every beat of her hooves on the roadway. At Mrs. Winsted’s shop, he leapt from the saddle, lashed the reins around the hitching post and hurried inside.
“Madam—” he gasped for air, for calm, lest he appear like the numbskull he was “—my letter?”
She gave him a maternal smile. “Don’t worry, my boy. I took special care to see that it went out on the noon train.”
*
“So you’re telling me Westbourne can’t bequeath even one of his properties to Garrick?” Rosamond was tempted to chew her thumbnail, a habit she’d overcome with some difficulty only last year. Percy’s revelations about his cousin being replaced as his uncle’s heir stunned her. No wonder Garrick seemed surprised that she and her brothers shared ownership of Four Stones with their parents. Yet in spite of his loss, Garrick was still arrogant. Anyone who grew up expecting to inherit an earldom would surely be devastated, even humbled once he was replaced by his uncle’s direct heir. Perhaps being an aristocrat gave him that attitude of superiority. How very medieval. Still, she felt some sympathy for Garrick, especially after seeing what he had written to his uncle.