by Tracy March
Lindsey did the same, relieved that they were back on track. “Got any more of that story? I mean, it’d be nice to hear how pleasant things once were—that the two families could get along.”
He looked at her curiously and she swallowed hard, paranoid that even a twinge in her tone would have him suspecting that there was more to her questions than just research for the museum.
“You sure you want to hear it?”
She sighed. “I’ve got an exhibit to piece together. I need all the facts I can get.”
Carden took a bite of his sandwich, nodding. “Delicious.”
Lindsey second-guessed the timing of this conversation. Waiting for answers between bites was killing her.
“I don’t know how many facts you’re going to get,” he said. “But you’ll get plenty of hearsay.”
She lifted her cup toward him. “Then hit me with your hearsay.”
“Let’s see.” He raised his eyes to the sky and they glimmered even bluer. “My great-great-grandmother was a young nurse who took care of Irma Karlsson—Brooks Karlsson’s wife who nearly died the first winter after they settled in Thistle Bend. She stayed at Irma Karlsson’s side day and night. Totally dedicated. That’s when the families got close.” He dipped another chip and ate it.
Lindsey took a bite of her sandwich, pleased that the trio of salty ham, creamy brie, and sweet apples was nearly as tasty as Milly and Merri’s fare. She hoped Carden would take her mouthful as a cue to keep on talking.
“Then Warner Montgomery put the land up for sale,” he said, and Lindsey kept chewing, relieved that her tactic had worked. “The Crenshaws outbid the Karlssons, and the Karlssons have been pissed ever since.” He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “You’ll need to put that more tactfully in the exhibit, but that’s what happened.”
Lindsey’s pulse thrummed. Carden and her aunt Tansy had declared their versions of what should go in the exhibit, but neither had offered any supporting evidence.
“That was brief and to the point,” she teased, and popped a salsa-laden chip into her mouth.
Carden shrugged. “That’s the story. And this is how it turned out.” His lips turned up at one corner. “From there”—he pointed toward a bald-topped mountain at the left of the panoramic view and swept his arm all the way to the right—“to there. That’s the Crenshaw land.”
Lindsey froze, mid-chew. She covered her mouth with her fingers. “Really?” she asked, dazed by the vastness of the land. She chewed thoughtfully, considering the gain for the Crenshaws, the loss for her family.
Heavyhearted, she asked, “Who actually bought the land? Brooks Karlsson was the bidder for ou—” Lindsey clamped her mouth shut. She’d been one syllable away from saying “our side.” Heat rose in her face. “His side,” she said quickly. “But who was the bidder for yours?” She sucked in a deep breath, the air suddenly thinner.
“My great-great-great-grandfather.”
“Whoa. That’s pretty great,” Lindsey teased, determined to divert attention from her stumble. “Was that the nurse’s dad?”
He nodded. “Her father did the bidding, but he deeded the land to her.”
“Was she an only child?”
“She had a couple older brothers. One stayed in Denver when the Crenshaws came to Thistle Bend.”
“She must’ve been daddy’s little girl.”
He lifted one shoulder. “Sure seems like it.”
“So she was R. E. Crenshaw?”
“That was her.” He lifted his cup toward the soaring peaks along the horizon. “Here’s to Grandma Ruby Eileen.” He turned to Lindsey. Her stomach clenched, but she raised her cup, brushed it against his, and took a traitorous sip of her wine. She probably deserved to choke on it.
Carden leaned toward her, balancing on one hip. For a second, she thought he was coming in for a kiss, but he reached in his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and sat straight again. He flipped open his wallet and tugged a card from one of its slots. It glinted in the sun as he handed it to her.
Lindsey squinted, turned the card away from the glare, and focused on a laminated old black-and-white photograph of a strikingly beautiful woman seated on the side of a chair. One of her arms was propped on the back of the chair, the other in her lap, as if she might spring up from her seat at any moment. Straight-backed, she wore a black, long-sleeved dress—lace peeking from the cuffs—that buttoned up past the curve of her narrow waist, all the way to a Victorian collar. A dark lace sash fell low across her hips. Ornate earrings dangled from her ears, complementing a fancy necklace with a large pendant. Her dark hair was pulled up beneath a smart hat with one side of the brim turned down, the other up. Clearly she was a woman of means and exquisite taste, energetic and determined.
“Ruby Eileen?” Lindsey asked.
Carden nodded. “She opened up all this possibility for the Crenshaws.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the rugged peaks in the distance.
Lindsey glanced from his handsome face to the lovely one in the picture. Ruby Eileen’s skin was creamy, her lips caught just before a smile. And her eyes…light and piercing and deep.
“She’s gorgeous,” Lindsey said.
“And smart, and shrewd,” Carden said. “She made courageous business decisions and formed loyal partnerships. Speculated. Opened mines. Employed people.”
“I’ve read how R. E. Crenshaw laid the bedrock of Thistle Bend,” Lindsey said. “But I just recently figured out that she was a woman.”
“Family lore says she wanted it that way. Back then, men conducted business with men. Word didn’t travel like it does now. Unless they’d met her or happened to hear about her, people assumed she was a man.” Carden shook his head, gazing at the view. “Don’t know if that contributed to her success, but her strategy worked. I keep her picture in my wallet to remind me what’s possible.”
“She’s an inspiration, that’s for sure.” Lindsey took a last glance at the photograph and handed it back to Carden. “Thanks for showing me her picture. It’d be ideal for the museum. Think we can have it reproduced and enlarged?”
“I think we could.” Carden looked pleased and it struck Lindsey how badly she wanted him to be—with the exhibit, with her. But she wanted Aunt Tansy, Uncle Oscar, and the rest of the Karlssons to be happy, too. She balled up the wax paper from the sandwiches and squeezed it in her fist. How had she allowed herself to become so conflicted?
Despite her battling allegiances, she was happy to have gotten some answers about Ruby Eileen, but the full mystery of the land deal was nowhere near solved.
Carden slipped the picture into his wallet, and put it back in his pocket. He took her hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it.
Lindsey’s stomach fluttered.
“What about your family?” he asked. “You got any interesting great-great-grandmothers’ pictures in your wallet?”
Lindsey’s stomach clenched at the mention of her family and distant relations. “I don’t know a lot about my genealogy, but I do have a really spry grandmother back in Virginia. I used to drive her 1970 Cadillac DeVille back in high school.”
He drew his head back. “Really? I just can’t see it. I imagine you in a—”
“Beat-up U-Haul?” she quipped.
“No way.” He skimmed his thumb back and forth over her fingers. “That was a one-off, for sure. I picture you in a high-end SUV for everyday driving, and in a classic Mustang for fun.”
Lindsey couldn’t afford even one of those vehicles, much less both. “I like the way you think. But remind me not to take you along when I go car shopping.” She squeezed his hand. “Your imagination is way beyond my budget.”
“Thinking of getting a car soon?”
She liked the idea of the freedom she’d have with a car, but not the expense. Besides, it would just be a liability when she moved back to D.C. “I’m okay without one right now. Everything in Thistle Bend is within walking distance, and I have my bike. That’s the lifestyle
I like. Everything else is different here—no crowds or subways or sprawl—but living without a car is something I’m used to.”
He seemed to listen intently, something Hopper had rarely done unless the subject was himself. “What does your family think about you moving here?” Carden asked.
She lifted one shoulder. “My parents weren’t thrilled about the distance between here and Richmond, but they understood why I wanted to come. They’ve always encouraged me to take chances and experience new things—meet new people. I won’t get to see them nearly as much as I did when I lived in D.C. We’ll miss each other, but we’ll make it work.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
She shook her head. “I’m the Lone Ranger. My parents had trouble having children, so they adopted me. They said they wanted to stay within their means, and give me the best life they could, so it’s just me and them.”
“That’s a sweet story,” he said.
Lindsey smiled, thankful for her parents and all they had done for her. “It definitely has a happily ever after.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her softly, giving her other ideas of happily ever after. “Thank you for a delicious picnic. It was perfect—as long as talking about the Karlssons doesn’t give me heartburn.” He pinched the bill of her cap between his fingers and pulled it down over her eyes.
She flipped it back up, grinning despite what he’d said. She had to play along—or admit the truth. But she needed more information before she could do that…if she ever could. “We still have dessert,” she said.
“Let’s save it for the next stop.”
“Where’s the next stop?” she asked, excited he’d planned even more for their date.
“Right there.” He pointed to the peak on the right side of the panorama, not too far from them.
“What’s over there?”
He took the last swallow of his wine. “A surprise.”
“Hmm…Do I get a hint?”
He leaned in close and whispered, “Royal blue.” His warm breath against her ear sent tingles swirling through her.
She tipped her head to the side as he kissed his way down her neck, stopping at the collar of her fleece pullover. “That’s it?”
Carden pulled back, eyebrows raised. He swept his fingers beneath her chin and turned her face to him, his lips just inches from hers. “You want more?”
Lindsey met his gaze. “Yes,” she said in a breathy voice. “Royal blue is just not enough.” She cupped his scruffy face in her hands and kissed him softly, yielding to his velvety tongue, sweet with the taste of wine. Twining his fingers through her ponytail, he cradled the back of her head, seducing her nearly senseless with a single kiss—on a mountainside covered in wildflowers, under the summer sun and an endless sky.
This was paradise.
He pulled back, yet stayed dangerously close. “That’s all I can give you right now.” He grinned mischievously.
“Guess I’ll have to be patient.” She combed her fingers through his hair, swept them behind his ear, and tugged on his earlobe.
“I guarantee it’ll be worth it.”
Lindsey had no doubt about that.
“But I have to warn you,” he said, his eyes glinting. “The ride’s going to get really bumpy.”
Chapter 17
Carden pushed the Jeep to its limits, exhilarated by the challenging terrain, and eager to impress Lindsey. He loved how she pinched her eyes closed before the blind curves. How she yelped with delight when they splashed through running streams, and how she reached over to squeeze his thigh at the top of steep inclines. She just fit with him—up here four-wheeling in the outback, in town scraping paint at her cabin, in his workshop kissing him in the moonlight…
He’d gotten ahead of himself that night. Now he was trying to take things slow and easy. If he was lucky, they’d have plenty of sexy times together in the moonlight, or simply just together—
Good God, man.
Carden hardly recognized his own thoughts. He was nearly as pathetic as Travis with his wedding-day-countdown calendar—but he’d never let Travis know that.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly, preparing to maneuver the Jeep down a narrow, roller-coaster-worthy, rocks-and-pits incline. Forget about the steep drop-off on Lindsey’s side all the way down, and the blind curve at the bottom. This was the most dangerous stretch of the trail. Taking it would save them a couple hours driving time compared to going the more common route, and even that route had its treachery.
Lindsey had gone wide-eyed, looking truly terrified.
He stopped the Jeep, and smoothed his fingers from her shoulder to her elbow. “It’ll be worth it. Trust me.”
She nodded hesitantly. “The flowers look pretty,” she said about the dense patches of silvery-blue lupine lining the edge of the incline, framing the stunning view beyond. Just like Lindsey to focus on the bright side.
Carden put the Jeep in park, got out, and picked a handful of various wildflowers. He got back in, handed her the bouquet, and kissed her cheek.
“Aw,” she said.
He winked and tugged on her seatbelt, making sure it was secure. He’d waited long enough for a girl like her to come along. No way was he losing her over the side of a mountain.
“Hold on tight.” His pulse raced as he put the Jeep in gear and started down the narrow incline, adrenaline running high.
Lindsey had one white-knuckled fist around the stems of the flowers. Her other hand gripped his thigh with astonishing strength. He wouldn’t be surprised to see five fingerprint-sized bruises there tonight when he took off his jeans.
The Jeep bounced over the first tier of rocks, Carden accelerating just enough to get them over, then hitting the brakes to keep them from pitching forward too far. And over the edge. He glanced at Lindsey, certain she hadn’t blinked since they started. His stomach seesawed. Surely hers was doing the same.
Carden guided the Jeep over another set of boulders. It lurched and rocked, engine revving. A large boulder slipped from beneath a back tire and the Jeep lumbered forward. He pounded the brakes, straight-legged, but the Jeep skidded toward the edge. His heart hammered. He jerked the wheel hard left, praying the back wouldn’t skid around.
And we’ll roll over.
Teeth clenched, he kept a death grip on the wheel until the Jeep slid to a stop just inches from the ledge, its front and rear passenger-side wheels nestled in wildflowers up to their rims. If Lindsey dared glance to her side, she’d be looking straight down at one hell of a drop-off.
She covered her mouth with her hands, her big eyes blinking in disbelief, flowers left in her lap.
Carden raked his fingers through his hair and clasped them at the back of his head, pressing hard. Working to steady his breath, he reached over and pulled Lindsey as close as he could, considering the seatbelts, and kissed the top of her head. He peered down at the dizzying drop-off, trying not to think about what might’ve happened to her—to both of them. “You okay?”
She clutched his hand, met his eyes, and gave him a small, shaky smile. “When you promise an adventure, you mean it.” She skimmed her fingers over the tops of the blooms nestled by the footboard next to her seat. “So this was your plan to get me up close and personal with the wildflowers?”
Carden couldn’t believe how calm she was acting, but he could see it was just that—an act. Her hand trembled in his. He could relate. His pulse was still firing on all cylinders, his system in overdrive. He glanced behind them at the large pit in the trail where the boulder had slipped. The boulder was propped sideways next to it, looking precariously loose. “We’ll go back the long way.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He put the Jeep in gear and pulled back onto the trail, creeping down toward the blind curve. Once they were around it safely, he exhaled. He did a quick check on Lindsey and she nodded, clutching the flowers, some of the tension seeming to have gone out of her shoulders.
The rest of the way
was smooth compared to the path they’d already traversed. They approached a familiar cutoff flanked by two posts and a metal-bar gate that stood open next to a rustic, wood-burned sign.
Azzuro Star Mine.
“We’re going to a mine?” Lindsey asked, her eyes dancing with excitement.
Carden preferred that to the fear he’d seen in them earlier. He’d finally recovered enough to manage a smile. “Not just any mine,” he said proudly. He turned between the posts and headed up the path, the terrain mostly dirt and stone, with a random burst of wildflowers amid the stark landscape. The Jeep rumbled over the base of a scree field, a landscape of loose rocks left behind by a landslide.
They passed a collection of buildings—a small administration hut, several garages, and a warehouse with a few pickups and work vehicles parked outside. Beyond were several weathered cabins similar to Lindsey’s place in Thistle Bend, only somewhat newer.
“People live up here?” she asked.
“Until the weather chases them away. We’re at about thirteen-thousand feet. Snow buries this place in the winter.”
“Whoa.” She scrunched her face. “Talk about remote.”
Farther up the path, they passed the heavy equipment—giant backhoes and earthmovers, idle since it was Saturday. A familiar thrill stirred in Carden as the massive seam in the mountain came into view, boulders and rocks of varying sizes piled along its edges, glistening in the late afternoon sun. He loved this mine, and couldn’t wait to show it to Lindsey. Couldn’t wait to see if she would like it, too.
Carden stopped the Jeep near the base of the giant seam that climbed up the rocky mountainside like a jagged open zipper. He made his way around to Lindsey’s side of the Jeep, and helped her out. Waving his arm toward the mine he said, “The source of some of the best lapis lazuli in the world.”
Lindsey gazed at it, squinting, lips parted. “No way.”
“Want to go up?”