Saffron
Bride of Archer Ranch
Cindy Caldwell
Prickly Pear Press
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright © 2016 by Cindy Caldwell
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
My deepest, heartfelt thanks must go to Marlene Larson for sharing with me the story of the real Carol and her brothers, and encouraging me to give them all another happy ending. Thank you for trusting me with a life so sweet as Carol’s.
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Chapter 1
Saffron Archer threw open the etched mahogany front door of the white adobe house, startled by the clear, blue sky and warm breeze that brushed over her cheeks. Somehow, winter had turned to spring at Archer Ranch and she’d missed it.
The wool hat she’d yanked on over her brown hair would be too hot, and she pulled it off, resting it on the hook by the door. The lighter calico bonnet rustled in the breeze as she pulled it on and tied its strings loosely under her chin. If it were up to her, she’d wear no hat all and let the early spring breeze blow through her hair.
The chirp of a robin outside the window of the parlor stopped her in her tracks. It had been one of her mother’s favorite sounds, and since she died, Saffron always stopped and relished the sound when she was able. Closing her eyes, she smiled as she remembered her mother and how happy she would be had she lived to see her three eldest children marry. She welcomed the warm glow that the memory always brought her—her smile, the light smell of rose water whenever she entered a room, her love of cooking and the joy she felt when people enjoyed what she’d made. Her heart swelled knowing that her mother would have approved of each wedding that had taken place all in the space of one year.
Her stomach grumbled as the aroma of Maria’s empanadas baking tickled her nose and she made a mental note to find where Maria had hidden them when she got back from the mercantile. She’d spent the morning with Maria preparing extra Mexican turnovers for a library fundraiser, and Saffron knew that Maria would hide them from her father and her three younger sisters—the only way to ensure that any would be left by the time they needed to take them.
It wasn’t often that she was alone in this room or any other of the sprawling ranch home she shared with her father and her three younger sisters, but it did happen a bit more frequently now that her older brother and two older sisters had married and left for Tombstone. Her eyes flew open when Maria’s sharp cry of surprise came from the kitchen.
Maria’s fists rested on her wide hips as she shook her head. “What are you doing standing there, silly girl? The apples for the empanadas won’t walk over from the mercantile by themselves. You could have been back by now.”
Saffron smiled at the woman who had been their housekeeper for as long as she could remember. It had to have been at least thirty years since Maria had come to help, as Saffron and her twin sister, Sage, would be twenty-one this year, and Maria had been with the Archer family since shortly after her older brother Hank had come along.
Maria wiped her hands on her apron as she went back to the kitchen, tsking as she turned. “Careful not to get lost in one of your daydreams, little one. One of these days you’re going to get lost in that head of yours and nobody will ever find you.”
“All right. I’m going if I really have to.”
“Yes, you do. We need the apples and you need to go outside. Be with people. It’s not good for you to stay here all the time, shy or not.”
“I’m not shy,” Saffron said, her chin firm. “I just like to be by myself.”
“Call it whatever you want, but go to the mercantile and come back with apples.”
Saffron sighed as Maria closed the door behind her. As she stepped off the porch, she turned her face up toward the sun, letting its rays soak into her skin. How had she missed that it was spring?
Her steps quickened as she walked toward the herb garden she and her twin sister Sage had tended since their mother died. She let out a sigh of relief when she arrived and poked the toe of her black leather boot into the soil—it was still a little hard. They hadn’t missed the time to clean up the garden and re-seed.
In fact, out of the corner of her eye she spotted tender green sprouts in several areas and made a note to herself to mention it to Sage when she got back. She glanced up to the house, hoping that Maria hadn’t seen her dawdling again.
She lifted her skirts and climbed into the buggy the ranch hand Ben had hitched up for her. She could have done it herself, but it was nice that Ben had been thoughtful and done it for her.
Early spring had brought a bit of rain with it, but in between rain puddles, dust from the road that the horse’s hooves kicked up hung in the air as she passed under the iron Archer Ranch sign and guided the horses toward town.
As she pulled up to the mercantile, she shook her head, casting out the thoughts of what she’d help Maria with when she got back to the kitchen—which couldn’t be soon enough for her. She was perfectly content there, helping to feed the family, baking every chance she got, and loved bringing their baked goods into the mercantile and even selling some to her friend, Sadie, who owned the Occidental Restaurant next door. The empanadas they were making—apple turnovers, really, but Maria insisted she call them by their Mexican name—were for the Occidental’s weekday sales to the miners in town. And there sure were a lot of those.
“Saffron, it’s so good to see you.” Suzanne threw a blonde braid over her shoulder and came around the counter in the mercantile, wrapping Saffron in a hug. “It’s been such a long time.”
Saffron squeezed back, welcoming the opportunity to see her friend.
“It has been. I’m not sure how that happened, that it’s been so long.”
Suzanne patted Saffron’s cheek, her eyes twinkling. “We’ve been seeing quite a bit of Sage, but not you. How is everything at Archer Ranch with all the changes?”
“Changes? Oh, you mean weddings?” Saffron set her basket down on the counter of the mercantile and untied her bonnet. “I think things have settled down. Everybody’s back in a rhythm, even with Meg and Rose living here in town. At least Hank and Clara live at the ranch.”
“Ah, tha
t should make it better, I suppose. What can I help you with today?”
Saffron blinked a couple of times before she said, “Oh, apples. We’re making empanadas.”
“Four dozen for us, right?”
“Four dozen for you, and a couple dozen for us at home. They’re Papa’s favorite—well, everyone else’s, too. Maria has to hide them so they don’t get eaten all in one day.”
Suzanne laughed, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m not surprised. They sell out here in about an hour. I wish you’d consider making more, rather than just what you can do in your spare time.”
So far, Saffron had been content baking with Maria—or, more recently, on her own as Maria had been spending a little more time in town. She’d learned from her mother when she was very young, and it didn’t matter to her if she was on her own. She liked being alone, in fact. Maybe a result of having been a twin and a little too much togetherness.
Saffron turned her brown eyes up toward Suzanne. “Do you ever get tired of being around people all day? And then taking care of your own twins and husband? Do you ever just want to be alone?”
Suzanne’s eyebrows rose and she crossed her arms. “I suppose I just don’t think about it. There’s always been a lot of things going on in my life, and I suppose I’m used to it. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maria said I’m always lost in my thoughts, and I suppose I am. Happy to be.”
Suzanne threw her arm around Saffron’s shoulder and squeezed. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. For now, anyway. I’m sure someday some nice young man will come along and you’ll change your mind.”
Saffron took a step back, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t imagine so. Meg and Rose both wanted to get married, and it happened pretty quickly. I never even see anybody at the ranch, so that would be very unusual, don’t you think?”
“Why don’t you try to change that? School’s just out and I was going to walk over and get the twins, bring them back here. Would you like to go do that while I fetch your apples? They’re in the cellar and it might take a minute.”
Saffron would rather have waited for the apples and then gone straight back to the ranch to make more empanadas, but she hadn’t seen Suzanne’s darling twin daughters, Lucy and Lily, since Christmas, and she could also say hello to Rose and Michael. She tied her bonnet and smiled at Suzanne.
“I’d be happy to. Haven’t seen them in a very long time, and I’ll say hello to Michael and Rose while I’m there.”
“Thank you. Take your time if you like,” Suzanne said as she headed toward the cellar.
The bells of the door jingled behind Saffron as she stepped out onto the boardwalk. Leaning forward, she peered down the dirt road toward the schoolhouse at the end. It looked like most of the children were gone and she was relieved. She’d never liked to be around too many people at once, something not easily avoided in a family as large as hers.
She inhaled deeply, and set out toward the schoolhouse, happy to fetch the twins, say hello to her sister and be back to the mercantile—and back home—as quickly as possible.
Chapter 2
Wet, cold mud seeped into Saffron’s leather boots as they squished in the puddle at the bottom of the boardwalk. With one foot on the boardwalk and one foot almost ankle deep, the hem of her skirt soaked up the remaining water of the puddle she’d stumbled into. She grabbed the post behind her and pulled. She looked down at her boot and groaned at the sucking noise.
She’d never been one to care much about clothes and jewelry and hair combs. The blue cotton day dress now had a black band of mud around the hem and she shuddered with relief that the mud hadn’t reached the one article of clothing that she actually did care about—her mother’s apron. She looped the white cotton cloth over her head most days, smiling as she tied the apron strings behind her. It was then that she felt her mother’s presence, and believed that it helped her cook all the better. She knew people thought her silly, but it was the only thing of her mother’s that she’d really wanted, that she really cared about.
“Miss, look out,” came too late. As she smoothed out the apron over her skirt, she gasped as a spray of cold, dirty water splashed over the white cotton.
She lifted the corner of the apron and wiped at the mud that had splattered in her eye, wincing as the grains of dirt scratched her skin.
“Oh, miss, are you all right?”
She opened her right eye, still wiping at her left, to see a tall man not much older than herself bounding up the stairs of the boardwalk, hat in hand.
“I...I think so.” Saffron blinked several times. Her hands instinctively went to smooth the apron over her skirts, but she caught herself in time. That would only make it worse.
The man twisted his wide-brimmed straw hat in his hands. Saffron looked up into his face and was met with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow. She thought she knew almost everyone in Tombstone, but this man was not familiar.
“I thought you’d see me coming and maybe step back on the boardwalk. There were two buggies coming the other way on the road and I couldn’t...I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined your dress.” The man reached forward as if to wipe off some of the mud but stiffened and pulled his hand back.
“I suppose I should have been paying closer attention.” Saffron laughed as she looked down at her dress and apron and wiggled the toe of her boot that was stiffening as the mud dried.
“As should I have been,” the man said as he lowered his head.
When he looked back up at Saffron, she stiffened at the sight of his ice blue eyes and wavy blond hair the color of wheat. No, she would definitely have remembered if she’d ever met this man.
“Are you here alone?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
Saffron thought it an odd question. “Why do you ask?”
He took a step back. “I...I was just wondering if I could give you a ride somewhere. It’s the least I could do after—well, after...”
“After covering me with mud?” Saffron smiled as she looked down at her apron once more. “No need. I’m just walking over to the schoolhouse to fetch my friend’s daughters. It’s not far.” She peered over the steps of the boardwalk at the puddle of mud she’d not noticed earlier. “And now that I know that’s there, I can avoid it.”
The man turned to the puddle, frowning and rubbing his hand over his forehead. “How the heck did you miss that? It’s as big as a water trough.”
Saffron’s cheeks blazed. The true answer was that she’d been lost in her thoughts, and when she was, these kinds of things happened fairly often. She just needed to pay more attention.
She fiddled with the ties of her bonnet. “I don’t know, actually. It does seem rather large now.”
“I’m going to the schoolhouse myself to fetch my brothers. May as well take you there with me. If, of course, you would like a ride.”
He jumped off the side of the boardwalk in between his buggy and the planks and held out his hand. His blue eyes twinkled as he lifted his eyebrows. “Well?”
“I suppose if you’ll have me, covered in mud, it would be foolish to decline.” She set her hand in his and allowed him to hold her steady as she reached her foot out onto the step.
They traveled to the schoolhouse in silence, Saffron still brushing the mud from her apron as her chauffeur kept his eyes straight ahead. When they reached their destination, he hopped down and tied the reins to the post, coming over to her side to help her down.
“Saffron!” She turned quickly as Lucy and Lily ran over to her, stopping short just before wrapping their arms around her skirts.
Lily took a step backward and looked up at Saffron. “What happened to you? You’re dirty.”
“Well, yes I am,” Saffron said as she smiled and looked up. She’d been so intent on cleaning her apron they’d not even exchanged names.
“Oh, that’s completely my fault,” he said, taking his hat off once again and holding it over his chest. “I...I’m afraid I hit
a puddle of mud in the buggy and she—” He stopped and shot a quizzical glance at Saffron. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Saffron! We just said that, Mr. Benson,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “You don’t know each other?”
Mr. Benson tipped his hat at Saffron. “We didn’t...don’t know each other. My name is Adam Benson, ma’am—I mean Miss...”
“Archer. Saffron Archer.” Saffron looked at Rose, flushing at the amusement she saw in her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Two young boys ran out of the schoolhouse and over to Adam. “Hey, boys, slow down,” Rose’s husband, Michael, shouted from inside the schoolhouse.
“Sorry, Mr. Tate,” the older boy said. He looked to Saffron to be around twelve years old, and the younger boy, about ten, was clearly his brother.
“Luke, Andy, this is Miss Archer.”
“I’d be happy to take you back to the mercantile.” He turned toward Saffron as he placed his hat on. “Are you sure you’re all right, ma’am?” He frowned and looked down at her dress.
“Of course. I’m fine. We appreciate the offer, but I imagine the twins could use the walk.”
“It’s been very nice to meet you, Miss Archer, and I do apologize for what happened to your dress.”
Chapter 3
Saffron smiled as Adam tipped his hat and guided the buggy toward the center of town, avoiding the puddle he’d ridden through on his way in. She laughed as the two young boys squirmed on the bench and Adam stopped the buggy until they quieted, starting again slowly when they had.
Her father had been just as kind—and stern—when they’d been younger. It couldn’t have been easy to raise six daughters and one son. And once Mama died—well, it certainly didn’t get any easier.
The whistle at the mine on the other side of town pierced the air and she wondered if Adam worked there. Or if he was a farmer, or raised chickens or...well, it didn’t matter, really. She’d likely not see him again.
Saffron: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Wild West Frontier Brides Book 5) Page 1