Outside, they could hear him unloading the trunks beside the front door, then speaking lowly to the horse. Eventually, the wagon creaked away, presumably en route to the barn.
"That's so sad! Where did the children go?"
"To an aunt in Boston. They're all right. And we paid them well for the land. It will see them into adulthood and beyond." He reached out to caress her shoulder. "What do you think of the cabin?"
"It's snug, warm, comforting." She looked about. Shelves with canned goods and sacks of coffee, sugar, and flour lined the wall near the fireplace, along with a few other blackened pots of various sizes. On the other side was a rocking chair, and behind them, two beds, with a curtain strung between them, but pushed back. Both were neatly made. She rose and reached out to touch the one nearest them. "Is that a bear skin?"
"Grizzly," he said, suddenly beside her. "My father shot it in the Sangres a few years ago."
"It's massive."
"Grizzlies are about the biggest bear out there." He set down his bowl and took hers from her hands. His eyes were warm, full of passion, desire. His hands moved to her hair and began pulling the pins from it, letting one coil drop and then the next. He was terribly, wonderfully close to her, and yet not touching anything but her hair. He moved slowly, clearly appreciating the moment as much as she, dragging out his seduction. Odessa closed her eyes. The cabin smelled of wood smoke and cedar and must and coffee ... and her husband.
Backstage, after Moira changed back into her own clothes again, she rushed to the door, intent on getting back before she was missed, but then paused. No, she couldn't ignore the pull of the theater, and finally turned and went down one hallway and then the next until she emerged into what would soon be the completed lobby. Metalsmiths were fitting the ceiling with copper tiles while a host of painters lacquered the raw wood in a rich obsidian black. A team of seamstresses moved among three rows of chairs, installing cushions. The opera house was taking shape nicely; this would soon be a grand room, a lovely room where people like the Palmers and the Brennans, among others, would see and be seen.
General Palmer had told her that there would be fine people from as far away as Denver and even Santa Fe to take part in the opening-night ceremonies. Reporters, dignitaries, politicians ... it was perfect, simply perfect!
She moved through the big room, past the workers, the acrid smell of paint hanging in the air. In the back, she pretended to stop and speak with one imaginary couple and then another, gracious, holding herself just so.... She held out her hand, as if accepting a gentleman's kiss, and then she heard it. A real man clearing his throat. Moira whirled.
"I believed rehearsal was over, but here you are, still preparing for the big night."
It was Jesse McCourt, tall and slender, with that lovely mustache and deep sideburns that accentuated his handsome face. And when the man sang ... when the man sang, all Moira wanted to do was close her eyes and listen for hours to the notes that left his mouth. It was enough to make her want to ask the director to double the length of their rehearsals.
"You have me at a disadvantage, Jesse," Moira said. "It is never proper to spy upon a woman without announcing your presence first."
"I beg your pardon," he said regally, bowing low at the hip. He rose. "I intended to announce my presence, but I was captivated by your performance."
"Jesse, really," she said dismissively. She well knew that he was laughing at her expense. "Have you no shame?"
"Little, if any," he said dryly.
"Well, I really must be off now."
"Good day, Miss Moira," he said, tipping his head a bit toward her. "I shall very much look forward to your performances tomorrow, be they on or off the stage."
She tried to come up with a retort, failed, and whirled, rushing off. Behind her, she heard his deep, baritone laugh filling the room.
Odessa awakened beneath a bear skin, her nose nearly frozen, but the rest of her body warm and relaxed. She squinted and opened one eye, took in a swift look about the cabin, and closed her eye again. It was all real. She was Mrs. McAllan. She lived on a ranch. And for now in a snug little cabin that her husband apparently liked to keep at Arctic temperatures. He was over by the stove.
"If it's this cold now, what are the winters like?" she asked.
He laughed, a warm and welcoming sound. "Good mornin', Wife. We'll find a way to fend off the cold."
She smiled and watched him take a pot from the stove and pour. She sniffed. Coffee. She squirmed with pleasure.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. "It will go best for us if we play by the sanatorium's rules. Lots of fresh air."
"Absence of dust?" she teased. In the light of morning, she could see a thin layer covered every surface.
"That's a battle out here on the range. But in the new house, it will be a bit easier. I'm building with dust and wind in mind."
"Lots of physical exertion ... that won't be difficult here, I'd wager.
"No." He reached out and touched her cheek. "I have to go out with Tabito. But I'll be back in a few hours and we can look at the house together and have some lunch. Will you be all right here, making yourself at home?"
"I'll be fine." She sat up.
He paused, staring at her. "You are a vision, Odessa. God has blessed me."
"And me as well."
They smiled into each other's eyes for a long moment. "Hate to leave you, but I must," he said with chagrin as he rose. "Rifle is locked and loaded, right above the door there. I want you to lock the door behind me. Two of the boys will be nearby and on alert."
Odessa frowned. "Bryce, don't you think it's a bit much? As you said, we'd see anyone coming for miles."
"They'd have to be pretty dedicated to come this way. Chances are, they'll move on to other ... opportunities now that we're out from under their noses. But as you said, they knew Sam lived just down this valley."
"I don't want to live in fear."
"Nor do I. It'll be just for a time, Odessa. Until we're sure."
"Until we're sure? How long will that be?"
"We'll know it when the time comes." He put on his hat and pulled on a coat.
She reached for an overdress and pulled it over her shoulders, then rose from bed and padded to stand before him. "This is our new home, Bryce. I'm sure all that is behind us."
"I hope so," he said, stroking her face. "But for today?"
She sighed and then lifted up on tiptoe to kiss him. "For today."
He smiled at her and then was off. She peeked around the door, watched as he met Tabito and two ranch hands. Then she shut the door and placed a worn board over it so it could not be opened from without.
She turned and looked about the room, wondering what to do with herself for the morning. Bread, she decided, and as she waited for the dough to rise, she'd heat water to clean. Tabito had done a good job getting the cabin ready for them, but it needed a woman's touch. She wanted the windows to sparkle and to know that she had washed every surface with her rag, even if it ended up with a layer of dust again by day's end. It would make it hers, somehow. Home.
She smiled.
She was a wife.
She lived on a grand, sprawling ranch beneath picture-perfect mountains.
And she was making her husband something to eat.
If only her parents could know.... Never had she felt this happy in all her days.
Moira was miserable. Absolutely miserable.
"What is wrong with you?" asked Dominic, crossly pulling another misshelved book from its slot and then sliding it into its proper place.
"Nothing is the matter," she said.
But he didn't believe her. "Look, we have just three days before the sale. I need you to concentrate."
She had planned on telling James that Nic needed her here at the store today, which was true, and then telling Nic she had to go to rehearsal-but when she arrived at the store, Nic reminded her she'd promised him the whole day. "There's too much for me to do alone. This will bu
y our freedom, Moira. We'll get the cash from the store now, and soon, the additional funds from the sale of St. Clair Press. But this allows us to immediately pursue our goals. Are you with me?"
Moira had forced a smile and agreed, but all morning long, she wondered how she might escape and avoid the director's wrath for skipping. And tomorrow, there would be no choice but to attend the full-day rehearsal. How on earth might she manage such a feat? Dress rehearsals were only three days away, opening night just a week away. She fiddled with a stack of stationery, straightening it again and again.
It all would be easier if James would simply return home. Concern over Clarion business had called him north to Monument, but he seemed reluctant to leave Moira in the Springs. And she had to admit she enjoyed being with him, appreciated the respect others gave him that reached to cover her, too, when she was on his arm. But his presence complicated things.
She moved to a jar of pencils, putting each of them right-side up so the mark was at the top. The shop was dreadfully slow this morning, with only one customer so far. Where was everyone? The entire town seemed quiet, as if everyone were away, or onto more important tasks.
"Quit fooling with those, Moira, and help me price these books." She walked to the stacks of books that had just arrived in a shipment their father had sent before he died. Reluctantly, she picked up a novel and held it in her hand. "Are we doing the right thing, Nic?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, setting another volume aside and picking up the next. He didn't stop to look at her.
"Selling the shop. You selling the press."
"A third of the profits will make those worries go away, I promise."
She knew he was keeping something else from her, but her head was too full of her own complexities to give it further thought.
Moira sighed. She wished she had gone north with James, who was meeting with three landowners there and to look over a potato farm he was considering purchasing and then subleasing to sharecroppers. If she had been with him, she could've pleaded a headache again, but then how might she have returned home unaccompanied? It was difficult at times, being a woman. She wished she had the freedoms that men held so easily in their hands. Or simply the freedom to decide when and where she would spend her days. How was it that she had to now report to not one, but three men in her life? Her brother. Her beau. Her director.
And then she saw it. Nic was making his own choices. Plowing his own road, making his way to his own glorious future. "Nic, I need to borrow some money."
"For what?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
"To hire my replacement," she said.
"Replacement?"
"Here. You need someone to help you get ready for the closing sale. See through the sale itself. I need James to think I'm here and yet still get to rehearsals."
"When are they?"
"This afternoon. All day tomorrow and so on like that until opening night."
"Why not just come clean with James now? Tell him you're taking the part in the opera whether he wants you to or-"
"No!" She moved over to him and took his hand in hers. "Don't you see? If he finds out I've gone against him, there's no telling how he'll react. If it goes poorly, he might convince the general to force the director to give my understudy the part."
"I don't understand. He might do that as soon as the first show closes. What do you gain?"
"Opening night. One perfect, free night when I can show the world what I'm capable of. There will be critics here from Cheyenne, Denver, and even Santa Fe. Let them hear me, critique me, and I have my start."
Nic sighed. "All right. Maybe the schoolmarm will take some extra hours. She's quick and can double-check my math."
Moira grinned and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Nic."
He shook his head. "Hope you know what you're doing, Sissy. You've entered a high-stakes game."
"Going for broke," she said lightly, over her shoulder.
Chapter
30
The next day, Bryce remained home with Odessa. He was at ease now that he had laid eyes on the horses, looked in on those that were ailing, and conferred with all his men. There had been cougars sighted near the mountains, and they had lost a few prize mares last year, so they were keeping nearer the stables. Soon, however, they would need to move them up into the high country to find enough grass.
Odessa loved watching the horses move together as a herd. The young colts, now weaned, still didn't venture far from their mothers. She leaned on a railing and rested her chin on her arms. "They're as magnificent as the ranch."
"Yes they are," he agreed.
"Are they for racing?"
"Some are used for racing, most for the finest riding horses available in America."
"Says the breeder."
He grinned. "You'll have to pick one, as yours to ride. Any of them catch your eye?"
Her hand went to her chest. "You mean it?" The mare she'd ridden at the sanatorium, a sturdy, steady, older horse, was dear, but had no spirit. It meant a lot that Bryce had understood without being told, that he was immediately about rectifying that trouble.
"Of course. I'll choose about ten that I think would be a good match for you, then you can take it from there."
"I'd like to watch them for a while."
"Always a good idea," he said. "You'll get a sense of their different personalities soon enough. They'll be in the stable corrals by tomorrow. Come, I must introduce you to the men. And I imagine you'd like to see your new house."
"I'm a little curious. Shame on you, making me wait a day."
He smiled impishly. "I wanted the mason to complete the fireplace before you saw it."
"And he's done now?"
"Near enough. Come." He offered his arm and she took it. They moved down a small hollow, and Odessa spied the big white barn and stables. No wonder the men slept there. It was lovely, a building reminiscent of any gentleman horse farmer's in the East. Clearly, this was where Bryce McAllan had focused his spending. On his horses, of course. And land for them to roam, far and wide.
The man swore and rolled over to his back, handing the telescope to his partner. "McAllan never leaves her alone. If he heads out, he leaves two ranch hands nearby. I don't know how we're supposed to get to her."
"Give it time," said the other, staring through the lens. "They don't know we're here. He's taking precautions, sure, but he's not acting like a man with an enemy at his gates. Few more days, they'll ease up, slip up, give us an opening. Just wait and see." He grinned, eyes still against the scope. "That's a big of house. And over the hill from the stables and barn." He turned to smile at his partner. "A girl might find some trouble in a house that big, and the boys down at the stable might not even hear her cry."
The first man smiled and nodded. "With the wind in the right direction, that just might be true. Give me that," he said, rolling back to his belly and reaching for the telescope. He studied the barn, the stables, the house across the hill, and lifted a wet finger to the stiff breeze. Even now, the wind was in their favor. He smiled. "Oh yes. Oh yes, indeed."
Chapter
31
They crested the hill and Odessa gasped. Their house was far more beautiful in real life than the hurried sketches Bryce had done for her, modest in size but much larger than anything she'd seen in the valley. It was nestled into a grove of aspen, looking out across the ranch land to the mountains above them.
They moved into the house, and Odessa hung back, moving slowly, wanting to memorize every moment of this glory. There was a small front foyer, with a staircase that climbed directly above. Bryce pulled her to the right, into a room that was already large and warm, graced by a massive fireplace. "This will warm the room nicely," he said, running his hand down a new mantle. "And the stone is from our creek out back."
"It's gorgeous, Bryce. Perfect. And they've done so much in so little time!"
On the far side of the room was a large dining hall, already occupied by a table
that could seat fourteen. "Tabito made it. And I was kind of hoping you could feed the boys once a day. We can get you some help," he rushed on. "It's only that they've been eating their own slop for years. They'd think they'd died and gone to heaven if there was some real cooking on this ranch."
"I think that can be arranged," she said with a smile.
They moved from there into the kitchen, a large space, with a big wood-burning stove with six burners. There were cupboards and drawers and larders and big bins of flour and sugar by the back door. "And running water," she said moving to the pump.
"Upstairs and here," he said proudly.
Beyond the kitchen was a small sitting area where she might read or write or perhaps someday entertain other ladies from around the valley. Back up front again was a large room, bright and airy. "A study, don't you think?" he asked. "Where we can see to paperwork and whatnot?"
"Paperwork like novels and whatnot like paintings?"
He grinned. "Fine by me. Along with the occasional ranch ledger."
"Oh, that. Yes, I think we can work it in."
They moved upstairs. There was a water closet, with room for a washtub, and four bedrooms. "Heavens, what will we do with all this space?" she asked.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. "As Tabito said, I hope we can someday fill it with babies."
Odessa took to riding out with Bryce and the men in the mornings, eager to learn how the ranch was run and loving the opportunity to sit back and watch her husband work. He was gentle and easygoing with the men for the most part, and then strong when he needed to be. But by and large, the men clearly respected Bryce and Tabito and deferred to them. It was clear that most had worked with them for years, since much of their work was completed without comment. There were more than three hundred head of horses on the Circle M, half of them bound for export come fall. Every year, Bryce shipped more than fifty head to his father in New York, fifty to a trader in Chicago, and fifty to Denver. All clamored for more, so he had plans to expand the herd, but carefully. Having enough grazing land was a perpetual issue.
Breathe: A Novel of Colorado Page 27