Uncharted Promises (The Uncharted Series Book 8)

by Keely Brooke Keith

  Sybil hadn’t meant to cause alarm. She held up a palm. “No, no. I was just curious about the overseers. No one tells me anything. Well, sometimes Eva relays tidbits of news she hears while she’s serving dinner.”

  Bailey’s expression lightened. “Oh, okay. Well, if I hear anything that I can pass on, I’ll let you know.” She started to chew her pinkie nail. “Honestly though, I’m kind of tired of all the outside world and security team talk. That’s one reason I’m eager to start this job, getting the greenhouse going,” she grinned again, “finding out what handsome traders have been wooing you and your sister.”

  Sybil laughed, then pictured a few of the traders who frequently came through the inn and laughed again. “No handsome traders here. At all. Besides, Eva is smitten with Solo.”

  “They’re pretty serious, huh?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  Bailey tilted her head a degree and a strand of hair dropped in front of one eye. “How about you? Do any guys have your attention?”

  Heat rushed to Sybil’s cheeks. Eva was the only person who knew about her feelings for Isaac, and maybe Claudia had caught on. Sybil had never confided in anyone outside of her family, but after Bailey’s last stay here, she felt like family.

  Sybil scanned the hallway, and when she looked back, Bailey’s grin had blossomed into an elated smile.

  “Oh, man! There is someone.” Bailey lowered her satchel to the floor and plunked herself down in a dinette chair. “I have to hear about this. Who is he? What’s he like?”

  “Shh,” Sybil hushed as she sat across from her.

  Bailey’s eye widened. “Is he here?”

  “Not here, as in, inside the inn right now, but he lives here at Falls Creek.” She thought of the terrible situation her father had put Isaac in by making him compete for the job that was rightfully his. “For the next three months anyhow.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Isaac Owens.”

  “Is he hot?”

  Sybil glanced across the kitchen at the window over the sink. Though it was a mild early winter day, cold wind blew through the leafless branches outside the window. “Probably not. I think he’s working outside, mending fences down past the creek today. I guess he could be hot though—it’s physical work.”

  Bailey laughed. “You’re adorable.”

  “Um, thank you.”

  “I was asking if he’s really attractive, you know…” She flexed her arms like a man showing off his muscles. “Is he ripped? Buff? Sexy?”

  Sybil’s confusion swirled with embarrassment as Bailey tossed out words she would never use to describe a person, at least not out loud. She gave in to the girlish giggle waiting in her throat. “He’s all those things.”

  Bailey shrugged out of her coat and let it hang on the back of the chair. “Cool. So are you dating or courting or whatever?”

  “Only in my dreams. He doesn’t know I’m intrigued with him.”

  “Intrigued.” Bailey hummed. “It sounds like you’re crushing hard on this guy.”

  “I fell in love with him the moment I saw him. He’s handsome and charming and thoughtful. He visited the inn months ago to interview. I counted the days till he came back. He’s only been here a week now, a week yesterday.”

  “Wow, love at first sight, huh?”

  “For me. Not him, I guess.”

  “He isn’t giving you any clues? Flirting? Moonlit carriage rides or whatever you guys do here?”

  Sybil chuckled at the outsider’s interesting take on their lifestyle. No matter how oddly Bailey spoke, she was fun to talk to, and it felt like they were old friends. Sybil relaxed into the seat a little and folded her arms on the table. “He says he likes my cooking.”

  Bailey turned her hand palm up. “He’d be crazy not to.”

  “He stops in the doorway to thank me after every meal.”

  “And so he should. What else?”

  “That’s it.”

  “That’s it?” Bailey leaned back in her chair and looked at the ceiling. “Why are men so think-headed?”

  “Are they?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Bailey held up a finger. “Okay, here’s what you do. Invite him to eat dinner in here with you tonight.”

  Sybil almost jumped out of her seat. “What? No! I couldn’t possibly.”

  “Too forward for you?”

  “Too forward indeed! He’d either say no and I’d be devastated or he’d say yes and everyone would see us and know what was going on. Either way, I’d be mortified.”

  Bailey patted the air. “All right. So we need something a little more subtle.”

  “A lot more subtle, please.”

  Bailey looked at the yarn skeins piled up on the table then dug into her coat pocket for her knit cap. “You made this for me, and I’ve worn it pretty much every day since.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it, but what does that have to do with Isaac?”

  “What color are Mr. Charming’s eyes?”

  “Blue. Well, a light gray-blue to be exact.”

  Bailey pointed at the yarn. “This one is light blue. Knit him something warm with it. He works outside in the cold all day.”

  Sybil picked up the light blue yarn. “I suppose I could.”

  “Of course, don’t tell him you chose the color to match his eyes. That would just be creepy.”

  “Oh, I see,” she replied, even though she didn’t understand. “The only problem is I make hats and scarves for people fairly often. How will knitting him something let him know I’m interested him?”

  “That’s the beauty of it. If he isn’t interested in you, he’ll just see it as a friendly gesture.” Bailey pushed her cropped hair off her forehead and smiled confidently. “But if he is interested in you, he’ll hope it’s a sign you like him, but he won’t know for sure. It’ll drive him nuts! I guarantee he won’t have a moment’s peace until he finds out how you feel.”

  Chapter Five

  There was still work to do after dinner, and Isaac wasn’t about to let Eddie McIntosh beat him to it. He slid a forkful of baked potato into his mouth, briefly letting his tongue absorb the flavor. With his bread roll he sopped up the last of the gravy on his plate. It was a good thing the farm chores kept him working all day or he’d sprout a belly from Sybil’s scrumptious cooking. He rubbed his satisfied abdomen, just to check. Still flat and firm.

  While Solo explained his plans to turn part of the storage space in the stable block into more living quarters, Isaac sipped at a cup of coffee that was still too hot to drink. Its steam felt good as he breathed it in, especially after a long day of mending fences out in the cold. He’d worn the scarf from Sybil wrapped tightly from his neck to his nose. If it weren’t for that scarf, the wind that sliced across the Land would have aggravated his throat.

  After a long inhale, he scanned the crowded dining room for her.

  Four of the eight overseers who’d arrived yesterday were at a table toward the back of the room. The other four were at the adjacent table with an extra chair squeezed in, its occupant the Riverside overseers’ son. Isaac hadn’t met him yet, but he looked like a bore. Even now, he ate with one hand and held an open book in the other. It was one of those little books too, probably archaic poetry or some such nonsense.

  Across from Isaac, Solo was still talking. He’d first left the chair next to him empty for Eva, but she’d been too busy with all the extra guests to sit and eat, and before the meals were served, a trader from Northcrest took the seat. The trader’s nineteen-year-old son had slinked into the chair beside Isaac, smelling of cabbage and playing with a lady’s brooch under the table.

  Sybil must still be in the kitchen. Poor woman. She slaved away all day in there, mostly alone from what Isaac could tell.

  Frederick, Zeke, Leonard, and Claudia were at their usual table. Eddie had pulled a chair up to sit beside Leonard. Probably trying to talk himself up. That first day here Eddie had seemed too unmotivated for the farm management job, but every day s
ince he’d worked harder and harder. He was giving Isaac an unexpected challenge, which he was up for. Still, he had to eat and dash after every meal to beat Eddie back out to the barn.

  He may have underestimated the gangly young man by far, but all was well. He had a plan.

  While Eddie was enjoying a comfortable dinner at the owner’s table, Isaac was eating, observing, and calculating the rest of his day’s work. He still wanted to speak to Sybil before he raced out to do the evening barn chores. If she didn’t come out of the kitchen soon, he’d have to skip dessert and stop in the kitchen doorway on his way out.

  Solo was still talking. “Will you help me move them?”

  Isaac snapped his attention back to Solo. “Move what?”

  “The shelves. They aren’t heavy, just awkward. It’s a two-man job.”

  Eva returned from the kitchen with a tray of dessert bowls. Isaac checked Eddie, who was still at the back table, working on his dinner and no doubt angling to win the job. It made Isaac’s full stomach tighten. He stretched away from the table. “Sure. Let me know when you need my help.” He stood and pushed his chair in. “I’ll be in the barn.”

  He slipped out of the dining hall and grabbed his coat from the crowded hooks on the wall in the reception room. The thick, warm scarf from Sybil was still tucked under the collar. As he walked through the hallway, he shrugged on his coat and wrapped the scarf snuggly around his neck before he went outside.

  He passed the first doorway to the kitchen so he could look in at Sybil before stopping at the second entry near the side porch. She stood at the sink, scrubbing a pan. Her reflection was only a ghost of a silhouette in the window above the sink. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short, captivated by the sight of her.

  Her brunette hair had been secured in a tight bun earlier in the day, but now several strands had escaped with pins, some skimming her shoulders, some dangling in her face. Each strand waved through its length then spiraled at the end into a perfect curl. A gentle tug and release would make it spring back up again.

  She was slender, especially for a cook, but not too skinny. Neither short nor tall. He straightened his posture as he estimated the top of her head would slide precisely under his chin. Her basic day dress did little to enhance her figure, but the apron strings cinched it in at her trim waist. His hands burned to touch her, so he quickly buttoned his coat to keep them busy. “Sybil?”

  She turned while wiping her sudsy hands on a rag. “Yes?” As soon as her eyes met his, her gaze shot to the dinette table. She gave someone a look then returned her attention to him. “What is it, Isaac?”

  An unfamiliar mix of jealousy and bashfulness flashed in his core. He took one step into the kitchen to see who was with her. “Oh. Hello, Bailey.”

  “Hey. How’s it going?” The new gardener was holding a bread roll, her posture as relaxed as her American way of speaking. She had the cheekbones of an exotic beauty and the muscular arms of a plow hand. He estimated her weight to be just over half of his, yet something about her told him she could take him down in an instant if provoked.

  “It’s going well.” He quickly put her out of his mind and stepped toward Sybil. “Thank you for dinner. It was excellent.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He touched the scarf at his neck. “And thank you for this. Very thoughtful.”

  She smiled sweetly, and a mild blush colored her cheeks, giving him hope. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I do. Very much.” The side door opened and closed. Out of the corner of his eye, Isaac saw Eddie slip outside. He had to go too, but didn’t want to. He gave Sybil’s arm a quick touch. “Thanks, again.”

  He dashed out the door and jumped the three steps from the stoop to the yard, hitting the ground running. If Eddie was already milking the cows when he got out there, he’d grab another bucket and milk faster. No way was that scrawny kid going to take his job.

  Both of the barn doors were closed when he got there, but a lantern was burning atop a stack of hay bales. “Hello?”

  No one answered.

  Eddie must’ve left the lantern out here before dinner, then had forgotten about it. Wherever he was now, he was lucky he hadn’t burned the barn down. The careless twerp had lost this round.

  When Isaac had three of the four cows milked, the barn door opened. He stood from the milking stool, expecting to see Eddie.

  Leonard hobbled in, loosely gripping a bone-handled cane. “I’ll take over there, son, so you can go help Solomon move the whatever-it-is in the stable block.”

  Solo stepped in behind Leonard, whistling. He paused his tune long enough to speak to the older man. “We can handle this, so you can go on home to Claudia. She doesn’t like you working after dark. Too cold for your bones.”

  Leonard leaned his cane against the wall. “Nonsense.”

  Isaac carried the milk pail to the center of the barn and poured the warm milk into a deep bucket. “Only one more to go, and I don’t mind milking her if Solo doesn’t mind waiting.”

  “Don’t mind at all.”

  Leonard pointed a crooked finger at Solo, his knuckles swollen and shaky. “Now, listen here. If you’re ever going to get our Eva to marry you, you’d better spend some time wooing her.” He shooed Isaac away from the bucket. “Here, give me that pail.”

  For once Isaac wished Eddie were here to do the chore so Leonard wouldn’t. “You sure?”

  “Don’t question me, son. Been doing this since long before you were born.” He lifted his chin at Solo. “He’s all fired up to finish clearing the storage room tonight. Help him out so he can go see his sweetheart before some quick-tongued trader snatches her away.”

  Solo hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “That won’t happen.”

  Leonard carried the empty bucket to the back of the cow stalls and called out over his shoulder. “Get to the stable block, boys. I have a cow to milk.”

  Isaac reluctantly obeyed. As he followed Solo out of the barn, he glanced back to assure himself the older man was fine by himself. “Good night, Leonard.”

  “Good night, son.”

  As they crossed the yard between the barn and the stable block, Solo flipped his collar up against the bitter wind. “I hate when he does that.”

  Cold air stung Isaac’s nostrils. He was grateful for the scarf at his neck. “I like him.”

  “Yeah. Leonard’s a good man. Wise too. Except when it comes to working too much.”

  As Isaac stepped into the warm stable block through its back door, Solo pointed at the scarf and raised his left eyebrow, which was split in two by a vertical scar. “Did Sybil make that for you?”

  Without thinking he touched the soft scarf. “She did.” He let the words hang, hoping Solo would volunteer the answers to all of his questions. Did Sybil knit something for everyone during the winter? Did this mean she had feelings for him?

  If Solo could court one of the owner’s daughters, why couldn’t Isaac court the other?

  Did he want to?

  He hadn’t even asked himself that question, but he knew the answer already. By tradition, courting led to marriage, and he couldn’t plan that far ahead. He had to secure this job first. And how would they court? They lived at Falls Creek, there was nowhere special to take her on a date, and if he asked her father’s permission, the old man would probably later forget and renege on that too.

  He was getting ahead of himself. This was exactly why he didn’t want to think about the future. He was a simple man and already had a complicated life between his family back home and this job situation. He didn’t need to complicate things further with bringing a woman into his life.

  It was warm in the stable block, so he loosened the scarf and let it hang open. “She gave it to me last night after dinner.”

  Solo didn’t respond but kept his questioning eyebrow up.

  Isaac wasn’t sure what to say. “I didn’t ask her to or anything. She just did it.”

  “Sybil is a kindhearted gir
l.” Solo’s stare hardened. “She’s like a kid sister to me. Don’t get any ideas with her.”

  “I won’t.” He had a sister and knew what it felt like every time a new suitor came sniffing around. He put up both hands. “She gave me a scarf. It’s cold out, so I’m wearing it. That’s all.”

  “Good to know.” Solo finally broke his gaze and his expression instantly lightened. He lifted a glowing lantern from a worktable then walked toward the storage area. “Let’s get these shelves moved, so I can build another room in here.”

  As Isaac followed him to the west portion of the building, he looked back at the long row of stable doors in the opposite direction. The stalls were almost full since the overseers and the Northcrest traders and Bailey had all arrived. And his Chloe was all the way at the other end, resting after a hard day out in the cold wind by the creek. He should check on her after he finished helping Solo.

  The lantern only brightened a portion of the empty space. Solo hung it on a hook that jutted out from a wall stud. He pointed to four sets of empty shelves, their tops at least eight feet high. “Frederick has kept these for decades. We don’t need them, but he doesn’t part with anything.” He lifted his chin at the far end of the space. “We’ll move them over there for now.”

  Isaac gave the splintery old shelves one look and dug his work gloves out of his pockets. He lifted one side as Solo picked up the other and led the way. “What kind of room will you build in here?”

  “More living quarters like mine. I’m planning to breed and train horses here. If the business does well, I’ll need a hired hand.”

  Isaac scanned the space. “At least two more one-room apartments could easily fit here and you’d still have a storage area.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Frederick agreed with me. I’m trying to get as much done as I can while I have his permission in case he…”

  “Does to you what he did to me?”

  “To put it bluntly, yes.”

  “I don’t know any other way to put things.” As they walked through the long, dark room to move the second shelf, a horse whinnied from the other side of the stable block and another answered it. Isaac could imagine living out here with just the permanent workers. No traders, no guests. And no girls to tempt him.