“I suppose your truck is around here somewhere,” Min said, “but we can still caravan home.”
“Not tonight, Aunt Min. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Mom.” Michelle touched Min’s elbow. “Clearly there’s a banquet tonight, and based on how Drew is dressed, I’d say he’s cooking.”
“They’ll have to get along without him. I will not stand for this defiance.”
Drew angled slightly toward Jillian, catching her eyes and then Nolan’s before speaking again. “Aunt Min, I’m a grown man and a very good chef. I’ve made a commitment to help with this evening. It’s important to my new friends. I’m staying.”
“What about what is important to your family?”
“What difference can one evening make, or a couple of days, at this point? Michelle will be with you at home.”
“Drew’s right, Mom,” Michelle said. “Why don’t I just take you home as we planned?”
Min shirked off her daughter’s touch. “If he’s not leaving, then neither am I.”
Dressed for the evening, Nia nudged her way past Nolan. “You’re Drew’s family. Can I help you?”
“Ah, the innkeeper.” Min stroked her bobbed gray hair. “I suppose this shindig is your doing.”
“It’s a community effort,” Nia said, “and we’re grateful for Drew’s help tonight. He’s been a lifesaver.”
“He has no business being here.”
“We seem to be in the way,” Michelle said. “We’ll go sort ourselves out somewhere.”
“We’ll leave when Drew is ready to come with us,” Min said.
Drew inhaled slowly through his nose. “Aunt Min, I love you dearly. You taught me everything I know about the ranch, a place I love with every fiber of my being. But I’m not going home tonight.”
“Young man.” Min’s tone warned.
“I have soup on the stove that will be spoiled if I stand here and argue with you,” Drew said, his posture erect as he pivoted and grazed Jillian’s hand as he walked past.
Nolan wanted to whoop and cheer.
“Let’s go, Mom,” Michelle said.
“Nonsense,” Nia said. “The first seating for dinner is not far off. We’ll squeeze you in.”
“The first seating?” Michelle echoed.
“That’s right. Drew and Nolan are working their magic three times tonight. So you can see, we really can’t lose him now. But you may as well enjoy the meal.”
Flushed with embarrassment, Michelle fumbled for a response. “That sounds like it could be a late evening.”
“It’s no trouble,” Nia said. “Since I knew I would be busy tonight, I purposely kept some of my rooms open so I wouldn’t be too distracted with guests. If you don’t mind fending for yourself, you’re welcome to one of the rooms to freshen up. Stay the night if you like.”
Michelle bypassed glancing at her mother this time. “That would be lovely. Late-night driving is not my favorite task.”
Nia turned to Jillian. “Would you mind laying the extra places while I show our guests to a room?”
“Of course,” Jillian said.
Nolan smiled and rubbed his palms together. “We have plenty of food, and Drew has been making it better and better.”
“When things are quieter,” Jillian said, “I think you’ll be interested to hear about our time with Drew these last few days. It’s been so nice having him here.”
Min’s brow furrowed in suspicion.
“This way,” Nia said. “I hope the stairs are not a problem.”
Nia led the travelers upstairs, and Nolan and Jillian withdrew into the dining room.
“With so many tables set, I don’t have a clue where any extra dishes are.” Jillian clamped a hand over her mouth, but Nolan saw her green eyes dancing in amusement.
“The evening certainly has taken a turn,” Nolan said. “But our Drew did well. We just have to get him through the evening.”
Our Drew.
“I’ve got this, Dad. I’ve been wanting to talk to you and Drew, but everything’s been too busy. But it’s going to be all right.”
Nolan exhaled. “I’m sorry I’ve put off hearing what you found.”
“Try to come out of the kitchen when I give my talk,” she said. “And bring Drew.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
April 2, 1910
Outside Pueblo, Colorado
The elk looked familiar. A few pounds heavier, perhaps, but that was to be expected coming out of the winter and the herd migrating to summer ranges. As food became plentiful, all the animals would grow more robust. When he lifted his head from the ground, he swept his neck in a distinctive arc she’d come to recognize. And if Ela was not mistaken, the bull’s antlers were not as firmly fixed as the last time she watched him forage in the scrub oak and forbs of the ranch. Perhaps the next time she walked the property, companioned only by her introspection, she would find shed antlers on the path, and his doleful eyes would stare at her across wide yardage above his shoulders in a new unencumbered stance. Seeing the elk, and others like him, united with the herd would bring her some comfort. The ranch was not home for transitory elk or mule deer or antelope. Stately and wondrous, they would pass through for a few weeks as they had in the fall in the opposite direction.
With a hefty mortgage, the ranch was only beginning to support cattle—its true purpose—and might not be profitable for years. A handful of calves would birth in the next few weeks, but buying open land and turning it into a working ranch was a slow proposition. Chicken coops. Milking barns. Corrals. Outbuildings. They had a long way to go.
But the land.
The sheer lustrous wonderment.
The Wet Mountains in one direction and the San Isabels in another.
The chattering birds and skittering wildlife.
The creek beds to catch and hold water in the spring runoff, which had already begun even though the locals assured her they were not yet clear of the season’s last potential for blizzard.
At least they had the house. The winter had given them enough mild days—and they’d been stubborn enough to use even the days that weren’t—to make steady progress toward finishing the remodeling of the ragged structure and make it more than livable. Now it was a cozy white house with green shutters and trim and a porch sheltering two green wicker chairs. She could manage in the kitchen better than she’d ever expected, and a fire took the chill off the main room in the evening as they read and dreamed. Two bedrooms would be enough for now, though she hoped they’d want more later.
Wearying of the palette that greeted her eyes every morning and soothed her spirit each evening was unimaginable. The constant cerulean expanse beyond inspiration. Jumbled russets and golds and browns of fall, frosted alabaster of winter, shimmering spring greens bursting out of the ground in unfathomable shades.
She hooked one foot on the lowest rail of the slip board wooden fence, leaned both elbows on the top rail, and sighed forward.
Staring. Absorbing. Longing.
“Hello, Mrs. Kyp.”
She turned toward the sound of her husband’s voice. “Hello yourself, Mr. Kyp.”
He put an arm around her shoulders and joined the staring.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said. “And so far away.”
“Do you miss her—Lynnelle?”
She angled her head up at him. “I’d feel better if she could see her father. He should have been at the wedding.”
“Maybe in a few more months.”
“I know. After the trial.”
“There will be a trial. It’s on the docket now. It has to be safe for everyone. But it’s okay for you to miss her, Ela. To wish she could see him.”
She nodded. He would give her a different answer if he could.
“What’s the news from Helmi?” She leaned into him, notching her shoulder under his.
“You can read her letters, you know.”
“I do know. But I think
you ought to read them first.”
“They’ll be here on next Saturday’s train.”
“Oh good!”
“They might stay this time.”
“What do you mean, stay?”
“He’s ready to consider settling in Colorado.”
“I thought he couldn’t imagine living anywhere but San Francisco.”
He kissed the top of her head. “You never thought you’d live here either.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
He had a point. Circumstances dictated her initial stay. But marrying Carrick Kyp sealed her future.
“It would be nice to have them close,” she said.
“The ranch is large enough to support two families—or it can be. We could build another house, or add on to ours for the time being.”
Ela chuckled. “I’ve only met Charles a couple of times, but he doesn’t strike me as a rancher.”
“He could still keep his hand in with Pinkerton’s if he wants to. Even in San Francisco he’s part of the Western region.”
“Then we shall have to do our very best to be persuasive.”
“I thought I might see if Geppetto and Caterina might like to explore ranch life.” Carrick tilted a questioning head.
“Geppetto? Here?”
“He’s a good man. If he doesn’t like the ranch, he could always open a hotel in Pueblo.”
“The Parisis are counting on him for Aldo’s future, you know.”
“Geppetto has trained him well. He could stay at the hotel if he wants to. Personally I think the boy should go to school.”
“I guess we could talk to them,” Ela said, “if you really think we could afford to pay someone, and fix up an outbuilding for them to live.”
“It’s something to think about.” He reached into a pocket. “I picked up today’s mail when I went into town. This came for you.”
Ela took the envelope, thick cream stationery with a return address showing a law office in Ohio.
Mrs. Carrick M. Kyp.
She met her husband’s gray eyes. “I don’t understand. Who would …?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s just read it.”
Ela sucked in her lips, ran a finger under the flap of the envelope, and tugged out a sheet of paper matching the color of the envelope.
“Dear Mrs. Kyp,” she read. “This is to inform you of a bequest left to you upon the death of Mr. Warren Bendeure of Cleveland, Ohio.”
Her spine lost its shape, and only the arms of the man she trusted caught her before she met the earth.
“Ela, I’m so sorry.”
Her chest heaved, and she gulped for air. “My greatest fear. My greatest fear.”
He gathered her in his arms, as she keened, her wail as wild and fiercely lonesome as the land around them.
At last she pushed off his chest, swiped at the torrent of tears streaming from her eyes, and returned to the correspondence. The typed letters resisted a straight, focused line, instead waving in the sea of her flooded vision.
“I can’t see the words.” She handed the letter to him.
He cleared his throat. “Although it was unexpected, and I have not before this matter served as Mr. Bendeure’s personal attorney, he came to me some months ago to write a new will, in which he named you as a beneficiary with the additional unusual instruction that I also include the explanation that because he has no surviving children, the bulk of his estate, including Mr. Bendeure’s majority holdings in Bendeure & Company, will go to his grandsons to be held in trust until the time they come of age. This inheritance will hold even under the circumstances of their mother’s recent remarriage, as was our client’s express wish. We prepared, and Mr. Bendeure executed, the new will as required under the laws of the State of Ohio.
“The matter of your bequest is being handled by the firm that has arranged the business proceedings of Bendeure & Company for some years now. My only responsibility is to inform you of the bequest Mr. Bendeure made on your behalf, which I believe you will find generous. The enclosed document outlines the particulars, which will be administered by the executor of the estate and come to you in due time after the estate is settled and all fees and liabilities have been accounted for.
“If I can be of further service, please do not hesitate to contact me.
“Yours sincerely,
“Franklin Z. Hendricks, Esquire
“Attorney at Law.”
A rabbit scampered past them on the other side of the fence, its rustle the only sound other than Carrick scratching the letter back into the envelope.
“No surviving children,” Ela said. “Is that really what he told people? What he felt?”
“I guess we don’t know what he told people—other than Mr. Hendricks,” Carrick said, “but he made provision for you the best he could.”
“Under the circumstances.” Ela choked on the words. “I came to Colorado because he was not well enough to come himself. It’s not fair that I never got to see him again.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I thought Pinkerton’s agreed he would tell people I fell in love with the West or some such thing.”
“We didn’t specify what he must say so much as what he must not say.” Carrick stroked her cheek. “We did our best to take your letters back and forth safely, carried by Pinkerton operatives.”
“But he was never allowed to keep them, was he?”
Carrick shook his head.
“I know. Not safe.”
“Not for your father. No one wanted to put him in danger. If anyone found evidence he knew where you were—”
“You don’t have to say it.” Ela held up her hands. “And under the circumstances, he could hardly leave the bulk of his estate or any interest at all in the company to a woman whose name no one recognizes or whose relationship he could not explain. That would be asking for the will to be contested. Perhaps even this bequest will find objection.”
Carrick said nothing.
“He never even got to meet you.” Ela’s voice hitched.
“At least he knew about me. He knew you were happy.” He dropped his head to search her eyes. “You are happy, aren’t you? With me?”
Ela met his gaze. “Very. But I will always feel cheated of a moment that now can never be, when the loop would have been closed and what I got on that train to do was accomplished and Papa’s peace of mind was fully restored and we could be together again. Who knows, in time maybe even my brother’s widow would have found her way out of her grief and back to us. Now I don’t suppose I’ll ever have reason to go back to Ohio. I don’t even have the photographs of my brother’s boys. There’s no telling what will have happened to the trunk by the time the trial is resolved.”
The truth, the weight of stones pushing uphill, hung between them.
“Must I really face them, Carrick?” She searched his face. “What have I to gain now? They’ve taken it all.” Some days the thought of Clarice Hollis’s blue eyes in a courtroom, sure to be icy more than friendly now, woke Ela in the night.
“I will be there,” Carrick said. “We will face them together, with the evidence and law on our side.”
She said nothing. She did have one more secret to protect, to keep safe.
“When we get this behind us,” Carrick said, “would you like to have your name back?”
Ela tapped her fingers against the lawyer’s envelope as she considered the suggestion. With today’s mail, she’d already lost the final vestige of her past that mattered to Lynnelle. Under the circumstances. By the time she could reclaim her name, she couldn’t even go back to choose a treasured belonging that had been her father’s. The house would be gone, everything liquidated. She’d have no way to know what had become of his personal possessions. Even her nephews would have a new father, and she doubted their mother would speak of her brother to them more than necessary.
She could only pray that even now she was making the right decision to follow throug
h on the wheels of earthly justice and leave heavenly judgment in the hands of a merciful God. With a deep inhale, she recalled the psalmist’s words. “Justice and judgment are the habitation of thy throne: mercy and truth shall go before thy face.” May God have mercy on the generations to come.
“After all the trouble we went through to lose Lynnelle?” Ela turned back to the scrub oak–spattered pasture. The elk had moved on, but in the distance was a muley, with its big ears. “No. You’ve left Pinkerton’s, and there’s nothing for me at Bendeure & Company or in Ohio. I’m a Colorado rancher’s wife now. Mr. Hendricks is right. The bequest is quite generous. Think of everything we’ll be able to do for the ranch. Papa was always one to look to the future.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Ela tangled her arm around his. “If the baby is a girl, I want to call her after your sister.”
“Excuse me? Baby?”
“But not Helmi. That name should just be for your sister.”
“Baby?” Carrick repeated.
“And I know Willie was just a name the two of you used during your detective escapades. But we could still name her Wilhelmina and call her Mina for short.”
Carrick spun her around and put his hands on her shoulders. That dimple.
“Are we talking about a theoretical future baby?”
“It’s a good thing you’ve given up Pinkerton’s, because I think you’ve lost your touch for detecting.” Ela beamed. “So Wilhelmina’s name, but I’m very much hoping for your dimple.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The chairs were turned toward the small landing where Jillian stood, including the ones repositioned from spaces without clear views of her small podium during the meal. The tables were cleared, and an army of high schoolers, many no doubt earning community service credit for one project or another, were behind the closed kitchen door cleaning dishes while Jillian spoke so tables could be rapidly reset according to the diagram and photos Nia provided.
Jillian blocked out the scraping chairs and clinking dishes in the background. She’d spent the last hour sequestered in Nia’s office behind the main parlor outlining a new talk. Having Min in the audience changed everything. The talk was not meant to be long. Twenty minutes. Not a minute more. Marilyn had been emphatic about that, and Nia and Veronica had left no doubt that the time required to clear the Inn and reset sixty-five place settings, even with a battalion of volunteers, left little flexibility. She scribbled out one point, underlined another, and raised her eyes to get her bearings with the crowd.
When I Meet You Page 24