“What is it?” Eva asked as she turned the page in the inventory book to check the farm supply figures. The hardware list hadn’t been updated in months. She would see to it after lunch, unless Claudia needed help with the housekeeping chores.
She looked up at her father, who hadn’t answered her yet. He was staring out the window toward the front yard. She followed her father’s line of sight. The inn’s shadow darkened the south lawn. The equinox would begin Earth’s tilt away from the sun. Soon the Antarctic winds would creep across the hills, whistle through the window shutters, and frost the panes.
But it wasn’t the weather that was on her father’s mind when he stared out at the road like that. It was Mother.
Zeke handed Eva his slate, breaking her thoughts. “Mama, can I go outside with Leonard now?”
“It’s may I go. And yes, you may. Be careful!”
He tore out of the room like any young boy freed from schoolwork.
Eva held up his slate to show her father Zeke’s work. “It’s a good thing he is a quick learner because he won’t sit still for long lessons.”
Frederick jolted from his reverie when the screen door slammed. “That boy is just like Revel.”
“No, he isn’t.” The betrayal of Revel leaving her to manage the inn made any comparison of her son to her brother unacceptable. “Little Zeke is just like his father. Ezekiel never would have abandoned his responsibilities.”
Her father gave her a look and patted the air. “Calm down, Peach. I meant Zeke reminds me of Revel when he was that age. He just wanted to get gone.”
“Wanting to be out-of-doors is not the same as…” Eva stood, hoping it would urge her father to forget about his prodigal son and remember his business so she could work on the inventory lists. “What did you want to tell me, Father?”
He pressed his lips together. “Can’t remember now.”
“It will come to you.” She picked up the ledger. “I have to go over the pantry list with Sybil before she gets too busy.”
Frederick didn’t budge from the doorway. He hooked a thumb in his suspenders and mumbled, “I think it had something to do with the horses.”
“Let me know when you remember.”
“Or a guest room…”
“Maybe if you walk out to the stable block and back it will jog your memory.”
He shifted his weight and grimaced. “My knees can’t take any extra walking today.”
She lowered her volume even though no guests were in the house at the moment. “Please, look over the reference letters for the man from Southpoint. I think he would manage the farm just fine and so does his former employer. Then, you and Leonard could split the stable work until we find a second man.”
Frederick snapped his face toward her, the green of his eyes glowing resolutely. “This is still my inn, Peach, and I say who we hire and when. As long as I have a son out there,” he jabbed a crooked finger at the window, “who will inherit all this, I’m waiting for him to come home.”
Though he was her father, some days it was more like talking to a child than a parent. Eva took a slow breath to keep her emotions from entering her voice. “Even if Revel returns to the inn soon, you still need to hire one more man. Leonard’s back aches as much as your knees do. He requires more and more help with the farming every month. We can’t keep asking more traders to stay extra days to do all the work. We need to hire a permanent man to take over for Leonard.”
Frederick rapidly shook his head. “Whoever we hire will work alongside Revel his whole life, just like Leonard has worked with me. That’s why Revel should have a say in this.”
Eva hugged the inventory book to her chest. Revel might never come back, but she didn’t have the heart to tell her father that anymore. His son had left. His wife had left. Her husband had died. No one needed reminding, but he did need to face the truth just like she’d had to long ago. “Father, I want Revel to return as much as you do. But for now, we need to hire two men so we can keep this place running.”
* * *
Solomon Cotter clicked at his Shire stallion, encouraging the brawny horse to pull the wagon up another hill. “Almost there, King. Keep going, boy!”
The draft horse snorted as if this steep hill were nothing to him, just like the hill before it.
Solo chuckled. “Maybe it isn’t difficult for you, but most horses tucker out climbing away from the river valley.”
The dirt road’s wheel tracks disappeared over the hill ahead. Golden-topped grasses waved along the side of the road. The open country out here in the middle of the Land was the kind of place a man could be himself, free of routine and ridicule and tyrannical ranch bosses who made their employees miserable.
The wagon bumped and rattled on the rocky road despite King’s smooth pull, but the three-month-old puppy relaxing against Solo’s leg didn’t care. The little dog was fast asleep as if the wagon bench were a comfy bed.
King’s muscles contracted under his shiny black coat while he pulled the wagon steadily up the hill. Once atop it, he lifted his regal head toward the inn, wordlessly proclaiming their imminent arrival.
Solo cast his gaze across the sweeping landscape and whistled one long note. The sharp noise woke the puppy. It looked up at Solo with its eyes half shut.
Solo stroked the fuzzy fur between the dog’s ears. “It’s beautiful country out here, isn’t it?”
Tree-dotted hills rolled in shades of greens and browns to the western horizon, which was broken in the distance by the stately Inn at Falls Creek. The two-story home’s white clapboard siding shone majestically in the afternoon sunlight, setting it apart from the azure sky and drying grass. Flanked by an L-shaped stable block, the inn stood like a proud general in front of an army of outbuildings, a cottage, and a bunkhouse.
Solo had slept in that bunkhouse more nights than he could count. However, he knew the number of nights’ stay he had saved up. According to Frederick Roberts’ last letter, Solo had accumulated forty nights’ accommodation through extra trade and the successful breeding of King to two of the inn’s mares. Frederick had agreed to Solo’s request to redeem those forty nights consecutively. And Frederick had said he would keep the reason for that long of a stay private.
That was one of the best parts about the inn—Frederick’s fairness and understanding. Sybil’s cooking was a close second. The Roberts family’s generous hospitality made running the Land’s only inn look easy. Romantic almost. Even Frederick’s little grandson, Zeke, was already learning the business.
And Solo was about to make good on a promise to the boy. He took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at the young herding dog lying beside him. “Pup, I have a feeling you’re going to like your new owner.”
King pulled the wagon over the stone bridge that crossed Falls Creek, and Solo’s teeth clattered from the jiggling. Sunlight glinted between the branches of a mature gray leaf tree as Solo drove past. The family had added an iron bench beneath the old tree since his last visit. Must be a nice place to relax in the shade.
A pair of gossiping chickens fluttered off the drive and out of King’s way as he pulled the wagon past the inn and toward the stable block. Solo parked the wagon in front of the stable’s arched opening then jumped down and stretched his stiff legs. The puppy stood on the bench, wagging its white and brown tail.
Solo tied King’s lines to the brake and gave the horse a quick pat. “Good job, boy. I’ll get you unhitched and to the trough in no time.”
“Come on, pup.” He cradled the wiggly dog in the crook of his arm.
Frederick Roberts limped toward Solo from the house. The older man’s gait was a little slower and a lot more labored than the last time Solo had seen him. Frederick squinted as he approached the wagon and he called out, “That you, Solo?”
Solo stepped around the wagon to meet the inn’s owner. “Yes, sir. It’s me.” He shifted the puppy to his left side and stuck out his right hand. “It’s good to see you.”
; Frederick’s handshake hadn’t lost any strength. “Welcome back, son. Still planning on a long stay this time.”
“If that’s still all right with you.”
“It’s fine. Just fine.” He pointed over his shoulder at the inn. “I’ll let Eva know about our arrangement.”
“I thought your daughter knew I was coming.”
“Well, she expected your arrival for the foals’ births, but I forgot to tell her how long you plan to stay.”
Solo was eager to settle in somewhere quiet and start writing. The last thing he needed was a take-charge woman taking charge of his stories. Or worse yet, criticizing him for wanting to write a children’s storybook. He looked at Frederick. “Can we still keep my plans between us… at least until I get into a good stride with my writing? I already have a dozen of the stories outlined, but it will take some concentrating to get them all down on paper in forty days.”
Frederick gave Solo’s back a vigorous pat. “I’ll do my best to protect your privacy, but Eva catches wind of everything around here. Your endeavor won’t go unnoticed for long.”
A young voice shouted in the distance, “Mr. Cotter! Mr. Cotter!” Zeke ran toward him from the barn at full speed, dust swirling in the young boy’s wake. He didn’t stop until he was toe-to-toe with Solo. “Is that your puppy?”
“No.” Solo glanced at Frederick, who was smiling at his grandson. He held the dog out to Zeke. “This is your puppy. We had a deal, remember?”
“Mine?” Zeke’s eyes sparkled as he took the little dog in his arms. His tight hold made it squirm. “What deal?”
“Last time I was here, I told you if you were good for your mama, I would bring you a puppy from the ranch where I work in Riverside.” He pointed at Frederick. “Your grandfather told me in his letter that you have been well-behaved and you help your mama out. Is that still true?”
“Oh yes, sir!” Zeke giggled while the puppy licked his face. “Can I keep her?”
“It’s a boy and he’s all yours. What are you going to name him?”
Zeke gave the dog a hug then set it on the ground, rubbing its fur all the while. “I’ll name him Joshua.”
Solo smiled at Zeke’s quick reply. “Why Joshua?”
“Grandpa told us about Joshua when we had our church time on Sunday. I like the name.”
“Fair enough.” Solo tousled the boy’s hair then stood. “I know you will take good care of him.”
“Yes, sir!” Zeke’s bowl-cut brown hair bounced as he ran to the grassy yard with the puppy yapping at his heels. “Thank you, Mr. Cotter!”
“You’re welcome.” Solo turned to Frederick, who was watching his grandson play with the dog. “I hope his mother doesn’t mind.”
“You’re about to find out.” The older man motioned toward the inn. “Here she comes now.”
Over the years that Solo had been stopping at the inn during his travels for the ranch, the only thing that had changed about Eva was her last name from Roberts to Vestal. She marched toward them wearing the warm smile of a kind neighbor and the determined gaze of a shrewd businesswoman. Loose strands of dark hair blew off her shoulder as if getting out of her way while the getting was good. She may not have changed outwardly, but her fierceness had grown. When she reached the wagon, King shuffled a few inches to the side.
Solo gave his horse a calming pat then offered the inn’s manager a smile. “Afternoon, Eva.”
“Good afternoon, Solo. How was your journey?”
The breeze carried the scents of soap and spice from her skin, briefly distracting him from her question. “It was… peaceful.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.” She lifted her pixie-like chin at the grass beside the barn where Zeke was running with his new dog. “Is that a puppy he’s playing with?”
“Yes, ma’am. I gave it to him.”
She stared at her son and the dog for a moment, her symmetrically arched brows slightly raised.
Solo’s stomach turned. He should have gotten her permission before giving a dog to her son. At the time, telling Frederick in his correspondence seemed like enough, but now standing near Eva, he wasn’t so sure. The woman emitted an authority powerful enough to knock over a mule.
Solo opened his mouth to explain himself but stopped when thin lines curved around Eva’s mouth. A grin broke through her imperial expression. “That was very thoughtful of you. Zeke could use a friend out here.”
Solo almost sighed in relief.
Eva snapped her attention to the contents of his wagon. “You brought more than usual. Is this all for trade?”
“Some of it. The trunk is mine though.”
She gave one brisk nod. “Do you need help to carry it to the bunkhouse?”
Frederick lumbered between them. “Solo will stay in a guest room upstairs during his visit this time.”
The creamy skin of Eva’s forehead furrowed. “I don’t have any single rooms available tonight.”
Frederick shook his head. “He will stay in Room Four.”
“A double? No offense, Solomon.” She glanced at him then at her father. “A single man doesn’t need a double.”
Frederick ignored her and looked at Solo. “The double room on the northeast corner of the inn has the extra space you will need. It should suit you just fine for… how long was it we said?”
“Forty days.”
“That’s right.”
The outer corner of Eva’s left eye twitched. Her voice took on a sharpness that could cut glass. “Forty days?”
Solo wanted away from her before she erupted. He kept his focus on Frederick. “It will suit me fine, sir. Thank you.”
“Father!” Eva crossed her lean arms. “Why so long?”
“He has saved up the payment for a forty-night stay in trade with me.”
“But a single man doesn’t need a double room. Do you, Solomon?” She spit her question with such force he nearly agreed just to stay on her good side.
Frederick lifted a hand, halting his daughter’s protest. “Solo and I have an arrangement, Peach.” He motioned to the back of the wagon. “Take your trunk upstairs, son. Eva will get you the key to Room Four.” Then he turned to the paddock and rubbed his abdomen. “Where in blazes did it go?”
Eva uncrossed her arms and concern changed her expression. “Where did what go, Father?”
“The outhouse.” Frederick pointed vaguely at the pasture. “It used to be right over there. Who moved it? Where did it go? I can’t go back into the house with dirty boots or Mother will yell at me.”
Eva moved close to her father’s side and whispered. “You can go into the house. It’s all right.” She flashed a worried glance at Solo then gently took Frederick’s arm. “Come on, Father. I’ll take you inside.”
* * *
The inviting aroma of slow-roasted venison filled the inn as Eva carried dinner plates into the bustling dining hall. She slid the full plates onto the table in front of the guests. Steam rose from the buttery mashed potatoes, and pan gravy ran around the hunks of tender meat and garlicky green beans. Her sister’s cooking made her mouth water.
Zeke sat next to Frederick and across from Leonard and Claudia at the family’s table in the corner of the room. Her son’s hungry gaze seared the meat on their plates better than any skillet would have. “Mama,” he whined impatiently.
The sooner he learned that guests come first the better. She held up a finger to him. “I’ll be right back with yours and Grandpa’s plates.”
Leonard snapped open his napkin and tucked it into his collar. His back hunched, making his chin protrude over his plate. Claudia folded her hands, waiting for everyone to have food before she picked up her fork. Leonard took Claudia’s hand and gazed at her sweetly, his weathered fingers caressing her swollen knuckles. They had spent fifty years working at the inn—Leonard as the inn’s farmer and Claudia as the housekeeper. Now approaching their seventies, they seemed more in love with each other every year.
That was the life Eva wa
s supposed to have with her late husband. The shock of losing him had faded in the seven years since his death, its edges dulled and less likely to slice her heart open, but the old ache never left. Claudia always said it was because grief was fueled by love, and since she’d loved Ezekiel with all her heart, her whole heart was scarred by his death.
Frederick put his arm over the back of Zeke’s chair. “Your mama serves us last, but we get the biggest portions.” He winked at Eva. “Isn’t that right, Peach?”
It wasn’t right. It was an odd thing for her father to say, but such comments were coming from him more often of late. Eva tried to ignore the dread building in her chest. She put on her public smile. “Sure, so long as you wash dishes to pay for your keep.”
A few of the men at the next table laughed. Solomon Cotter forked potatoes into his mouth and gave Eva a closed-lip grin as she passed his table. He wiggled his eyebrows as if trying to get an extra smile out of her. He’d already gotten a double room and a long-term stay. He wasn’t getting special attention too.
She took a quick second look at the scar that divided Solo’s left eyebrow vertically, then dashed into the kitchen to get more plates from the countertop. Sybil Roberts was ladling gravy on a hefty portion of meat. “This should make sixteen plates. Is that all, Eva?”
“Don’t forget yours and mine.”
Her sister nodded and took two more pewter plates off the shelf above the countertop. She blew a stray brown curl off her forehead as she fished chunks of roast out of the stove pot. “Full house?”
“I’ll say. Two of the single rooms will have men sleeping on cots tonight.”
Sybil frowned. “I always feel sorry for the men who sleep on cots.”
“Most of them don’t mind. They have been on the road, sleeping on the ground or in the back of a wagon for so long that they are just happy to be indoors.” She picked up the last two plates. “Everyone is complimenting your roast. After I serve Zeke and Father, I’ll come sit in here with you.”
When Eva walked back into the dining hall, her little Zeke was telling everyone at his table and the table next to him about his new puppy. He had half the room’s attention. “And he likes to chew sticks and I named him Joshua and I’m going to make him a red collar.” He looked at Claudia. “Do you have any red fabric I can use for his collar?”
Uncharted Hope (The Uncharted Series Book 5) Page 17