True Heart's Desire

by Caroline Fyffe

  News? Articles? Stunned, Lavinia glanced around. Is that so bad? Why is everyone acting so strange? There must be more to this story than that . . .

  “I’ve had a peek at them. There is a level of private information about all of us that is shocking.” She cast her gaze to the window, where nightfall was not far off. In the ranch yard, the bunkhouse windows glowed cozily.

  “What?” Emma’s eyes darted around the room. “What kind of private information? You’re being too vague.”

  With her handkerchief, Mavis blotted her forehead. “That you, Emma, had feelings for both of your employer’s sons at the wool shop. Tim and Cooper. At the same time. That to you, choosing between the two of them would be impossible, like picking cake over icing. That they are the handsomest men in the world, and kind.”

  Emma gasped. All color drained from her face, and she turned away. “No! I’m so ashamed. I pray Mrs. Gamble never hears of this. She’s a private person. She’d never forgive me.”

  “What else?” Katie blurted. “What about me?”

  “You’ll get to read them yourselves,” Blake said, and then gave his youngest sister-in-law a consoling gaze. “Mr. Laughlin told Clint and Henry about their existence the day of the wedding.”

  “Finding information on the author, Harlow Lennington, is proving difficult,” Henry said. “But I’ve really only just begun. Just like everything else, this will take some time.”

  “Apparently, these articles were tremendously popular,” Blake said to Henry. “We’d like to know if any other newspapers have picked up the stories. The author would know that, or the publisher in San Francisco.”

  “You’ve known since the wedding? I want to read them!” Lavinia stood and held out her hand. A sickening awareness seeped through her as she thought of all the possibilities that could be written about her. “Who would do such a thing?” Her stomach tightened into a knot. “And who would know so much about us to begin with? My heart is shattered at the betrayal.”

  “We don’t know,” Henry said. “That’s the problem.” His gaze tracked over to the library doors, and she wondered why. Henry, for all intents and purposes, had stepped in as their father figure after the death of John Brinkman. His steadiness, his integrity, his concern, made him all things good. The sisters loved him dearly.

  “Could it be Mr. Laughlin himself?” Lavinia hoped it wasn’t true. She thought of his eyes, and the endearing smile she’d seen a time or two. The way his gaze seemed to reach deep into her heart. A flutter in her tummy made her hands clench. They might have gotten off to a rocky start, but the warmth that infused her cheeks whenever she thought of him wouldn’t let her believe he was that much of a scoundrel. Remember how he misled you about being a doctor, and again at the Spanish Trail Cantina? He acted as if he’d never been inside before, a little voice said.

  Mavis shook her head. “There was a recounting of the Crowdaires as well. Quite detailed. I don’t know how we’ll ever live everything down.” She glanced at Belle. “You smoking at the Bomann’s party.” She turned to Lavinia. “You swimming naked in the lake.”

  “No one was there!” Lavinia protested, blushing to think that Rhett, Henry, Clint, and Blake all knew she’d acted so brazenly. She’d been a good swimmer since she was a girl. They’d swum often, for Lara’s parents owned a cottage by a lake. “It was bloody hot, and I knew the last person had left the building because I stood watch until they did. I can’t believe this has happened.”

  “But a groundskeeper returned,” Emma mumbled. “Velma and Vernon were upset.”

  “That’s so mean,” Katie wailed. “Is it illegal, Henry, to write about someone without their permission?”

  “Only if the things they claim aren’t true. That would be libel. If what the articles claim is true, it’s considered news. Since your father was wealthy, and known by many, it’s thought of as a good-fortune story, something people can’t resist. Now, if any of the things that have been printed are lies, we’ll have a solid case for defamation, and we’ll bring a lawsuit like none the newspaper and journalist have ever seen. But only you girls can tell us what is true and what is false. Only you can be the judges. You’ll have to read and let me know.”

  He drew the newspapers from his satchel and held them out. “These belong to Mr. Laughlin. Clint had permission to bring them out.”

  How horrifying. To have so many strangers know all the private little details about one’s life. Lavinia wondered what else was included about her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Exerting many lungfuls of energy as if fighting an invisible opponent, Rhett ascended the rise behind Eden in the light of the full moon, feeling his heart thump against his chest. The sensation grounded him, pushed him onward, upward. Golden light extended over the meadow he’d just crossed and into the more forested area. Puffs of chilly evening air wrapped around his thoughts as he pushed himself to the top of the slope. He’d felt a need to get away from the town, the people.

  Dallas roamed ahead and was a speck in the distance, almost impossible to see. Was the dog looking for ghosts from the past, as he was? With no heart to call him back just yet, Rhett let him run. He’d been obedient, for the most part. Giving Dallas some freedom was the least he could do after taking his master from him.

  Rhett stopped and closed his eyes. Sucking in deep breaths, he imagined the sound of the wind in the tall trees was the sound of the ocean, the roll of the waves, their crash against the rocks.

  That brought a swift punch to his gut. A vision of Shawn running on the docks, being hit by the falling crates, then plunging into the sea almost made him gulp in a mouthful of air.

  Rhett hadn’t seen it, but the recounting was horrific enough that he’d never forget.

  Gasping for breath, he hunched over, his hands resting on his knees. As if moved by a force from within, he straightened and let out a tormented howl of anguish, crying up to the moon. It went on and on until suddenly Dallas was at his side, circling, whining, his dark eyes assessing, troubled, scared.

  I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It should have been me, it should have been me. I’d readily switch places if I could. I’m sorry. I’m sorry . . .

  Turning a full circle, the night suddenly felt too big. The mountains, and trees, the few stars visible over the light of the full moon. Rhett crumpled to the earth, scents of grass and dirt filling his senses. He wrapped himself into a ball and wept until he had no more tears, Dallas’s comforting warmth at his side.

  As boys, he and Shawn had grown up on the cold shores of San Francisco and surrounding towns, with the sand between their toes and the cries of gulls in their ears. The fog and chilly temperature were second nature to them. Memories of his kid brother tagging along behind him to explore damp, dark ocean caves when the tide was out. Shawn had been cautious, always wanting to leave quickly and climb back to safety before they’d be trapped. But not Rhett. Oh no, he liked to push life to the limit. He’d laugh at Shawn’s wide eyes and tell him to toughen up.

  More guilt, more tears, more crushing despair.

  Then as young men, extended days on the docks had inspired Rhett, as long as there was plenty of hot coffee and food to go around. He’d liked the ribald talk of his companions, the stories that came in on the ships from different parts of the world, the physical aspect of the work, the sharp bite of whiskey. And the money was decent enough. Rhett worked hard and saved his money, content with continuing there for the rest of his life. But not Shawn; he’d always known he wanted to give up the life as soon as he was able and open a restaurant, be a chef.

  Rhett missed his father too. A simple man. A laborer, humble and kind. After Shawn’s death, he’d tried to comfort Rhett, but the truth was always there, lurking in his eyes. He blamed Rhett. And who wouldn’t? When Rhett shared his plan to leave California for Colorado, pain had crossed his father’s face, but relief too. Seeing Rhett was a constant reminder of Shawn, and his absence in their lives. As much as his father tried to refute the tr
uth, Rhett’s leaving was best for all considered, so he’d given his oldest son, his only son, his blessing.

  Taking a deep breath of mountain air into his lungs, Rhett finally sat up and wiped his eyes, tasting the saltiness of his tears on his tongue.

  Dallas, only inches away, climbed to his feet and stared at him as if expecting some kind of declaration.

  “Thanks, boy,” Rhett finally said and pushed to his feet. He strode through the trees. Kept pushing farther until he emerged into a smaller, hidden meadow. Tall, golden grass swayed softly in the moonlight. An owl startled off a high branch, swooped away across the moon, and then sailed back toward town, bringing thoughts of Lavinia and her sisters.

  And now the Brinkman sisters had something more to be sorry over, since he was the one who’d brought them news of the articles written about them in San Francisco. Clint had stopped by to let him know they were meeting to discuss them tonight. Would not knowing have been better? He wouldn’t like his life on display for all the world to see, and he was sure the women would feel even more so. But this way, they could be on the lookout for unscrupulous opportunists. Still, Lavinia’s face did haunt his memories. He hated to cause her any more grief. Seemed that was all he was good for.

  Crossing the meadow by moonlight, he came upon a place where the grass had been trampled. Deer? A small herd could easily make such a disturbance in a short amount of time.

  He glanced about. No, not deer. Men. At least a few. He found ashes from an old campfire that had been covered over with soil and grass. Whoever had camped here wanted to cover their trail. Why? Hunting was legal. What was going on that wasn’t?

  Glad to feel curiosity overtake his guilt, he tracked over to the nearest stand of trees and discovered where they’d staked their horses. He kicked a pile of manure, finding it dry but not bone-dry. Dallas trotted back and forth, sniffing and whining.

  Rhett searched the area for more clues, finding nothing substantial. The camp was cold. The inhabitants had been gone for a good three to four days. He’d inform Clint tomorrow, and also stay alert. Hiding from a known sheriff was easy, but concealing troubling activity from someone they weren’t aware of was something entirely different. And Rhett had a great spot on Main Street from which to do just that. He’d keep his ears and eyes open and see what he could find out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The men excused themselves, closing the doors to the study with a soft click. Lavinia slowly advanced toward the desk against the wall where the papers were laid out, wondering if she was ready for what was in store. “Is this much different than the obituary Henry sent to the major papers?” she softy asked. “Father was well-known, or should I say parts of his story were. His wealth. His ownership of thousands of acres. The fact that he had estranged daughters. Or at least known to some.” Now at the desk she glanced down, flanked by Emma, Katie, and Belle. Mavis had taken the desk chair. Her usually pretty blue eyes were troubled.

  “It is different,” Mavis said. “And once you begin reading, you’ll see what I mean. Having one’s dirty laundry, as well as their clean, and ragged, hung out for the world to inspect, is unnerving.”

  Katie squeezed in and turned the lantern a little brighter, then bent over the papers. “But these are the only copies in town. It’s not like everyone here knows our deepest, darkest secrets, is it?” She straightened. “Oh!”

  Her face looked like she’d just bitten into a sour lemon. She blinked several times and then resumed her reading.

  Emma gave a small gasp. “Mavis, I didn’t know you lost a Thornton House bank deposit bag filled with hundreds of dollars. You never said a thing.”

  Mavis pulled back. “Why would I? I was reprimanded and almost lost my job. I didn’t want to worry all of you. I was embarrassed.”

  “Did your employer ever recover the funds?” Lavinia asked. Such a serious accusation could ruin a person’s reputation.

  Mavis nodded. “Yes, thankfully.” She brought her hands up and folded them on the desk as she continued reading. “It was in my bottom desk drawer. The only thing I can figure was that Darvid had played a very juvenile prank. But that was the day he’d taken sick and went home before he could tell me.” Her lips wobbled. “It was the start of the illness that led to his death. I’m sure I would have been fired if the money hadn’t been recovered.”

  “But who could have known about that?” Belle asked.

  Belle had been conspicuously quiet as she scanned the sheets. She’d turned the page first, reading the back side of the print by holding it up while the rest of the sisters read the front.

  “Well, Darvid for one. Perhaps Fred, the man who sat to my left, may have seen him do it, or was in on the not-so-funny prank from the start. My boss surely knew. Maybe he told his wife.”

  No, none of them feel right. Something else entirely is going on. “Those are unlikely suspects,” Lavinia said. She pointed to the story. “Those people you mentioned might know about you at work, but would they also know that to pass, Katie had to take her teaching test twice? Or that before moving here, I was totally frightened of cattle and thought of them the same way I would an alligator?”

  Katie actually smiled. “You’ve said that so many times, Lavinia, everyone’s heard you. What about”—she pointed to the paper—“that married man, Mr. Brakchester, who took a shine to you, and who made a pest of himself at the tailor shop? Remember? Your boss finally had to demand he leave you alone?”

  Lavinia felt her cheeks heat up. She’d thought Mr. Brakchester so nice, so considerate, always offering to walk with her and carry her belongings. She’d accepted his invitations to pie and coffee three times before she’d learned he was a married man—with a family. “How is a girl to know if a man doesn’t wear a wedding ring? Reprehensible, to say the least.”

  Emma nodded. “Exactly!”

  Troubled, Lavinia paced to the study window and looked out. The men would have to ride back in the dark. By now, Lara would be back in her room, reading or getting ready to retire.

  She turned from the window. “There has to be a common denominator. I’d almost say one of us—but I know that’s not possible. Or Velma Crowdaire. Maybe she and Vernon have run out of money. Could she have sold the information from overseas? That wouldn’t explain how this writer knows the things that have happened here in Eden, though, like Belle’s birthday letter, unless Velma has a spy. To me, that’s the most likely explanation. Or could they’ve returned?”

  “Although that’s not likely, it’s not impossible,” Mavis said. “I just spoke with Henry at length yesterday about the Crowdaires. Communication overseas takes time. His contact working the case hasn’t yet sent a report.”

  Silence filled the room, so Lavinia continued. “It has to be someone who knows us all so well that—”

  She snapped her mouth closed.

  Her sisters stared.

  Suddenly, she didn’t like the direction her thoughts had traveled. It couldn’t be true, wouldn’t be true. There had to be someone else.

  Belle came over and put a steadying arm over her shoulder. “What, Lavinia? Who do you suspect?”

  She shook her head. “No one. Nothing.” She’d say twice as many prayers tonight asking for God’s forgiveness just thinking such a thought. “I have no idea . . .”

  “Don’t be silly,” Mavis added. “We’re all trying to figure this out together. Five heads are better than one. Who do you think has been snitching on us? Someone who knows us as well as we know ourselves, maybe even better.”

  Still standing in the center of the room, Lavinia gripped her trembling hands together in front of her skirt. Her sisters surrounded her. None of them could ever keep a secret from the others for long.

  “Who?” they said in unison.

  “The only person who would know all these facts about each and every one of us, and would have the ability to do something about it, and as much as I can’t believe it’s true, would be . . .”

  Lavinia swallo
wed, not believing what she was about to say.

  “Lara.”

  Her sisters gasped. Accusing Lara was like accusing one of them. Horror and doubt were etched in each and every face.

  “I know. The thought is too horrible to even consider,” Lavinia rushed on. “I have no idea why she came into my head except for the fact I remember telling her about Mr. Brakchester. And that’s not all. I’ve written to her almost every month. But just because she knew those things doesn’t mean she’s the one who passed them on to a paper.”

  “I wrote to her too,” Emma whispered. “Mavis, did you share with her about the deposit?”

  Mavis nodded.

  “And me, of course,” Belle said. “We’ve been close for years. It wasn’t that long after my birthday that I shared the story about Father taking me to the Indians as a newborn.”

  “Noooo . . .” Katie whispered. “Such a claim can’t be true. It just can’t.”

  Her gaze pulled away, and Lavinia could nearly see Katie’s thoughts. She believed the accusations as well, despite her declaration of loyalty.

  “We all wrote to her,” Emma said. “She was there the year I gained so much weight I had to buy a new corset. I can’t believe that fun little fact is listed here.” She nibbled her lips. “I wish the author would have included too that soon after, I started walking each morning before work and fixed the problem. As much as I hate to believe it, I think you’re right, Lavinia. Who else could have known so much about us?”

  Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “Our dear friend has betrayed our confidences.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Flanked by her solemn-faced sisters, Lavinia raised her hand to knock on Lara’s bedroom door. None of them wanted to believe Lara was responsible, Lavinia least of all. But since she’d been the one to voice the thought, she’d insisted on shouldering the task of going to Lara and asking her if their fears were true. Dread that she was making a horrible mistake pushed painfully on her heart. Anything would be better than this.