Colorado Dreams (Rocky Mountain Romances Book 7)

by Heather Horrocks

  “Joseph,” he said. “If we are to be brother and sister.”

  Good. He obviously wasn’t feeling the same attraction she was, which was very good, as she didn’t want to get involved with any man, and this particular man was much too attractive.

  “Then you must call me Emily, brother.”

  Did he wince at that? Surely she’d just rephrased what he’d said.

  They worked side by side for a while, and then he asked, “Why did you leave home?”

  She stilled, fear rising in her heart. Should she tell him? Well, why not? She would tell all three tonight, anyway. “Because I could no longer stay. My father was planning to marry me off to a man twenty years my senior and four times my weight, though we were the same height,” she said wryly.

  “A rich man, then.” It wasn’t a question.

  “A toady, repulsive man who forced kisses upon me and took liberties that weren’t his to take.” She shuddered as she remembered the invasive feeling of his fleshy mouth on hers.

  He scowled and clenched his fists. “What is this repulsive man’s name?”

  “Oh, no. If I give it to you, you — as my brother — would have to avenge my honor. I won’t have you going to jail on my account.”

  He caught her gaze. “If he ever comes in here, you are to tell me. I will not let him take liberties again.”

  Finally, she nodded. “I will.”

  After he relaxed his fists, she said, “What brought you to Colorado Springs?”

  “I was born and raised in Kansas. My parents still live in America City. But I met your brother and Henry on a trip to Denver, and Henry told us about a mine he had the option to buy but didn’t have the money to do on his own, and we decided to go in as partners.”

  “Have you found any gold?” She wasn’t asking to be polite; she really wanted to know. If they had, then her future would be more secure, though she felt a bit selfish thinking of it in those terms. Still, it was her reality.

  “A little, but nothing more than gold dust. That’s why we opened the store.”

  “Fool’s gold?”

  “No it was real gold dust. Just not much of it.”

  “So you could use my help if I can bring customers through the door, and boost sales while I’m at it?” she asked, hoping it was true.

  He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Yes, definitely.”

  What Is That Smell?

  NEARLY A WEEK OF WORKING around Emily Maxwell was driving Joseph crazy.

  So crazy that he stopped by the Easterwood home that evening, and asked Mrs. Easterwood if her husband was available for a brief talk.

  She’d brought him in, fed him a slice of apple pie, and then taken him back to her husband’s study.

  Pastor Easterwood’s desk was covered in papers, which he was shuffling through. “Ruth, I can’t find the notes you made to add into my sermon.”

  She deftly plucked three pages from the center of the desk and handed them to him. “Oh, right. Thank you, dear,” he said as he glanced at his guest. “Have a seat, Joseph.”

  Uncomfortable, Joseph slid into the leather seat situated in front of the pastor’s desk and fidgeted with his hat.

  The pastor looked at him expectantly, then when he didn’t speak within a few moments, prodded, “Ruth said you wished to talk to me.”

  “Yes.”

  After another long silence, the pastor raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to guess the topic, or are you going to tell me yourself?”

  Embarrassed, Joseph admitted, “I have a romance problem.”

  “Really.” The pastor sounded far too interested. “What kind of romance problem?”

  “I am very interested in courting a young lady.”

  Pastor Easterwood smiled. “Why, that’s wonderful.”

  “It would be more so if the young lady were approachable.”

  “Why is she not?”

  Joseph sighed deeply. “The woman I want to court is my partner’s sister.”

  “The Miss Emily Maxwell that my wife has gone on so much about this week and that the entire town is talking about?”

  “That’s her.”

  “What’s the problem exactly?”

  “She thinks of me as a brother. She’s living with us as though we were her brothers, and I don’t know how to proceed. I’ve never been talkative around women, though heaven knows she’s gotten me talking more than I usually do, and I just can’t seem to say the right words. Then there’s the matter of our living situation. It’s completely proper now, or at least as proper as things get, but if I were to court her…”

  “Ask her to dinner.”

  Joseph sat still. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. It takes thirty seconds of courage, and then you’ve done it.”

  “Thirty seconds of courage, huh?”

  “It works.” The pastor nodded. “And for heaven’s sake, make sure you wash up and change into clean clothes when you take her to dinner.”

  “But what about our living situation? I don’t want to compromise her reputation. She’s a fine lady.”

  The pastor sat back in his chair and stroked his chin, thinking. “If we were back east, the situation would be unacceptable. For that matter, the current arrangement would be scandalous. But this isn’t back east, and needs must. This is a land of necessity and survival, and such things as social restrictions and mores simply can’t always be upheld, and are often unrealistic. Therefore, it’s up to us to do the right thing because it’s the right thing—not because it’s a rule.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “I don’t say this lightly, but I believe you to be a good man. Move forward with caution and good sense, and, I recommend, with her brother’s blessing.”

  Three days later, it was Joseph’s turn in the store with Emily again.

  By this time, she had gotten the three of them to move most of the displays around and had added some feminine touches. The three men had initially scoffed — as if miners wanted feminine touches. But they’d let her make the changes, giving in to her every wish in an effort to please her.

  Joseph wanted to make her happy.

  It had taken him three hours to try to work up the nerve to tell her he was interested in her. Paster Easterwood’s words kept running through his mind.

  Finally, he told himself this was ridiculous. Just thirty seconds of courage.

  He walked over to Emily.

  When she looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes, he faltered.

  Thirty seconds. Just thirty seconds.

  “Miss Maxwell—”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Emily.”

  He found himself turning his hat in his hands. “Emily, I need to tell you something. Confess something, actually, and ask you a question. I told you I would treat you as a brother treats his sister, but the truth is that I don’t consider you my sister. I’m interested in taking you to dinner.”

  “Dinner?” she asked, flummoxed.

  He nodded, then added, “Just you and me.”

  “Oh.” Emily looked up and caught his gaze. “I’m not interested in romance. Not after the experience I had with Mr. Lloyd.”

  “But surely that will fade with time and you can get on with your life.”

  “I am getting on with my life. I’m here, and I’m changing everything about my life.”

  “Surely you’ll want to get married at some point,” Joseph pointed out.

  She shook her head. “No. I’m never getting married.”

  “So you won’t even consider going to dinner with me?”

  After a long pause, Emily sighed. “It wouldn’t be fair to you, Joseph. Not when I’ve no intention of taking it anywhere.”

  Stunned, he went into the back room, ostensibly to grab some supplies, but it was more to regain his composure.

  So much for Pastor Easterwood’s advice.

  The stupid cat meowed from its blanket bed and he turned to see Emily lean over and pet the creature.

  He’d n
ever wanted to court a woman like he wanted to court Emily. He definitely did not think of her as a sister.

  He also didn’t believe that she would never want romance. He would give her time and wait, and surely she’d work through things. Then he’d have a chance.

  He had to believe that.

  The rest of the day was uncomfortable for Emily, ever since Joseph had declared his intention to romance her.

  Her overwhelming feeling was regret. Regret that he’d said anything. Regret that she hadn’t said yes. But she couldn’t. She didn’t dare involve herself with any man.

  Even though Joseph was attractive, she had no intention of giving up her freedom for marriage.

  She moved and winced. She still had her jewels sewn into her clothing and it wasn’t always comfortable. She really needed to take them to the bank, or at least part of them.

  She glanced over at Joseph. He was out on the sidewalk, talking to a customer as he helped load his supplies onto his wagon.

  Her father and Mr. Lloyd had ruined her for marriage. She had been violated on that balcony, and she didn’t know how to get past it.

  After dinner, Emily helped wash up the dishes. It was the least she could do to help. The men took turns cooking their meals.

  Henry and Joseph had gone out for a stroll, but Emily had stayed behind with her brother.

  “You know, Robert, I have so many exciting ideas to implement in your store. I feel like I can be a real asset to you.”

  “What kind of ideas?”

  “I think you need to bring in supplies that will attract women shoppers.”

  Robert took her hand and pulled her down to a chair at the table. “We don’t have a lot of extra money to buy supplies with. You need to know that we’re struggling a little right now.”

  “You’re struggling?” Panic hit her. If their store didn’t make it, what would become of them? Of her? Would she have to go back to New York? To her father? To Mr. Lloyd?

  She sank down into the chair and put her head on the table.

  Robert sat beside her. “Hey, it’s all right. We’re all right.” He put a hand on her arm. “I just wanted you to know why we can’t pay you anything for your help in the store. Not yet. You’ll just have to accept room and board.”

  She lifted her head and tried to smile. “Such as it is.”

  “Yes.” He pushed an errant curl off her forehead. “I will take care of you, Sis. No matter what happens with the store. I have a little money saved.”

  And she still had the jewels and cash. The panic ebbed.

  “Okay. We’ll be all right.”

  “Yes. You don’t have to go back to your father.”

  “Good.” She steeled herself. “Then I’m going to start making changes to the store that don’t cost much.”

  “More changes?”

  “Yes. I’m going to paint a new sign for you. The one you have is drab. You need something more colorful. Something that catches the eye of the passersby.”

  “All right.”

  “And I’m going to order something that will bring in some women.”

  “We don’t need women. We need miners.”

  “You need women, too. Why do you think the other mercantile shop is doing so well? Because they cater to women shoppers.”

  Robert laughed. “You might be right, sister.”

  “I know I am.”

  “What are you doing?” Joseph asked, studying the wood Emily was painting.

  “I am using my art talent to improve the place.”

  “Oh.” He stood there a moment, and then said, “It looks like a blob.”

  She set down the paintbrush and put her hands on her hips. “I’m just painting the background so the lettering will stand out more.”

  His lips quirked, and she wondered if he’d been teasing her all along. She frowned at him. “Don’t you have stock to put out? Inventory to check? Packages to post?”

  He leaned against the nearest counter and drawled, “I’ve done my work this morning, Miss Maxwell. Apparently, I just need to supervise the painting of our new sign.”

  “Supervise.” She humphed, picked up the brush, and turned away from him, making the blob bigger.

  She’d barely started again when the door jangled open and she turned to see her brother coming in with Henry. They waved, set down the boxes they were carrying, and came over to examine the sign.

  “When does it start to look like a sign?” Robert asked.

  She brandished the brush at them. “You three are not funny.”

  Henry held up his hands and said, “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yet.”

  Robert touched her shoulder and grinned. “No need to waste the paint, Emily. It’s just that we were running the store just fine before you got here, and so we’re a little skeptical that all these changes you want to make will actually bring in more business.”

  “Besides,” Joseph said, “just having you working here has succeeded in bringing in more business. We’ve increased receipts by ten percent this past week.”

  “But that won’t last. Right now she’s a novelty, but once everybody gets a look at her, things will go back to normal,” Henry said. “I say let Emily make some changes. It can’t hurt.”

  She looked around at the three of them. Three large, rough men who let her do whatever she wanted, even though they grumbled about it.

  She was loving this. In New York, she was a china doll that was only taken off the shelf when her father needed a hostess or wanted to display a valuable possession. Every second of her life was dictated by somebody else. Here, she was free. Free to speak her mind. Free to make her own choices. Free to choose her own husband, if she were ever to decide to get married. Which she wouldn’t.

  Her gaze stopped unwillingly on Joseph.

  No. Not him. Her emotions were too unreliable around him. If she were ever to decide on a husband, it would be safer to choose someone who helped to stabilize her, not someone who set her off-kilter, though he did affect her so strongly that she nearly forgot propriety. And that made her wonder, because she had avoided a marriage precisely because it lacked those things.

  She was too confused to think about marriage with anyone, so she smiled at them. “Thank you.”

  Henry said, “I have one additional change I’d like to suggest. I think it is only fair that, since Emily is living with us, she abide by our rules.”

  She stared at him. “What rules?”

  Henry continued. “I say she has to take a turn cooking.”

  “But I don’t know how to cook,” she said, her heart sinking. If they had to eat her cooking, they’d send her packing within the week.

  Henry smiled gently. “We’ll help you.”

  “You’ll need to,” she murmured. “Because I don’t know how to make one single thing.”

  Joseph snorted. “Apparently we’ll be fasting every fourth day.”

  She scowled at him. “That is not funny.”

  Several days later, Emily laid the background on the wood of the sign and started lettering and drawing. She sketched three miners — who looked, not coincidentally, like Joseph, Robert, and Henry — along with “Miner’s Own Mercantile.” She used bright red letters on a yellow background, a combination sure to catch attention.

  Behind her, Joseph talked with some customers, joking with them about that the price of gold didn’t matter because no one had found any. That made her smile.

  She brushed in the “c” in Mercantile.

  By the time the men left, she’d reached the end of the lettering. With a satisfied smile, she set down the brush and studied the sign. It just needed a few more brushes of color and a finish coat and it would be ready for the men to hang.

  She turned back to find Joseph studying her with a frown. She smiled sweetly. “Do you like it?”

  His frown deepened. “It’s well done.”

  Rather than take offense, she decided to tease him out of his bad mood. She studied the s
ign again. “It is, isn’t it? I bet if we ask the next ten customers what they think, they would also agree.”

  She sneaked a peek at him.

  His lip was quirked up just the slightest bit.

  She walked around behind him to grab a pencil, and, turning back, inadvertently bumped into him. She was so hyperaware of him that she often felt as if her arms and legs were foreign objects. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Keeton. How clumsy of me.”

  He caught her, and gazed down into her eyes, and her breath caught. For a long, long moment, they just stared, not saying anything.

  And then the jingling of the bell over the front door broke the spell. As he released his hold on her arm, which now burned, she jumped back.

  It was a woman.

  She whispered, “I thought you didn’t have female customers.”

  He whispered back, “We don’t.”

  The woman was carrying a pie plate filled with one of the most beautiful golden brown pie crusts Emily had ever seen, with cherries peeking through the slits cut in the top. “Morning, Mr. Keeton. And who is this beautiful young lady?”

  Emily wiped off her hands as Joseph said, “Mrs. Easterwood, this is Robert’s sister and our new helper, Emily Maxwell, come from New York. Miss Maxwell, this is Mrs. Easterwood, our pastor’s wife and the best cook in this county.”

  Cook. That reminded Emily. She’d need to go check on the roast beef in the oven. Henry had helped her put it in, but had not left enough instructions, and she was afraid it might dry out.

  The other woman set the pie plate on the counter and turned to Emily. “I am so delighted to meet you, Miss Maxwell. I’ve been hearing nothing but talk about the pretty young lady helping out at the mercantile.”

  “Thank you. I’ve heard about you and your delicious pies, too.”

  The woman looked speculatively between Emily and Joseph, but smiled and asked, “How are Henry and Robert doing?”

  “They’re doing well,” Joseph responded. “They’re off on an errand.”

  “Well, mind you don’t eat all that pie without sharing.”