“Not on hand, but I know where I can get some. What do you need it for?”
“We're going to build beehives,” Marzda announced proudly.
“Beehives! There'll be plenty of bees around when summer gets here.”
“They're already here,” Marzda said. “They built a hive in the Gentlemen Only Salon.”
“Inside?” Andy said, his brows bouncing up near his hair line.
“Yeah.” Marzda looked up at Brody. “And we're going to catch 'em and move 'em into our hive.”
Andy glanced at Brody as if for confirmation. “It's a money-making project for the women at the salon,” he said. “Ophelia's turning it into a shelter for women.”
“A women's shelter?” Andy chuckled. “I thought that's what we men were for.”
“In Wildcat Ridge, there aren't enough men to go around.” Marzda looked annoyed.
“That's true.” Andy held up his hands. “I was only joking. I know there are plenty of women here who still aren't married.”
“Why haven't you gotten hooked up with one?” Brody asked, grinning at the man's discomfort.
“I'm taking my time. When do you need these boxes?”
“Soon,” the girl said.
Again, Andy glanced to Brody for an answer.
“No big hurry,” Brody said. “Marzda here can tell you how to build them.”
She glowered at them. “Is it because I'm young that you don't trust me or because I'm a girl?”
“Whoa there,” Brody held up a hand. “We aren't criticizing or doubting you. I'm counting on you to show Andy how to build our hives.”
She didn't appear convinced, but said, “Do you have paper and a pencil?”
Andy fetched the materials and she sketched out how the boxes should be made. “Using white pine. And paint the outsides white but not the insides.”
“Okay,” Andy said and gave Brody a nod. “How many do you need?”
Brody peered questioningly at Marzda, who answered, “Three to start.”
After leaving the mortuary they stopped at the bakery. Brody had them box up some pastries and they headed home.
In the kitchen, they found several jars of jam and jelly lined up on the table.
“Wonder what all this is for,” Brody said, picking up a bottle of gooseberry jam. He'd never eaten gooseberries and was about to open the jar to try a taste when Ophelia came in.
“Go ahead and open it,” she said. “The ladies in town donated these so we can see what kind of jam we want to make.”
“Oh, goody.” Marzda bounced on her toes in excitement. “Do we have any biscuits to put them on? Or can I use the pastries we brought home?”
“Pastries?” Ophelia queried.
Brody handed her the box. She opened them and groaned with pleasure. “These look delicious, but let's save them for desert. Between the frosting and the jam and cream fillings we won't get an undiluted taste of the jam. Besides, I have biscuits baking.”
Ophelia tied an apron on over her dress, picked up a pair of towels to protect her hands and opened the oven. The smell of fresh, hot bread filled the air.
She set the pan on the table and laid out several butter knives. “Start opening them, Brody. I have a knife here for each type of jam. We want to know we're tasting pure chokecherry or raspberry. No mixing them together.” It felt good to do such a simple thing for the people she loved.
“Got it.” Brody opened a jar and the taste-feast began.
Mrs. Dobbs arrived in time to help. In the end, they couldn't agree on only one.
“I like the elderberry best,” Marzda said.
“Um. It's good.” Brody licked a bit of raspberry off his lower lip. “But this one is the tastiest.”
“No,” the girl insisted. “The elderberry.”
Mrs. Dobbs laughed. “You've never made berry jam, Marzda. Elderberries are tiny and a lot of work. Raspberry is my choice.”
Ophelia dabbed a bit of jam on a biscuit and bit into it. “Maybe we should mix them together.”
“That would be one idea,” Brody said.
“I'm stuffed.” Marzda rubbed her tummy. “Can I go out and look for Splash?”
“Who or what is Splash?” Brody asked.
“That wild black and white cat that's been hanging around here.” Ophelia gave the girl an accusing look. “Mostly because Marzda feeds it.”
“I love cats.” The girl's lower lip formed a pout. “I want one of my own.”
“We'll see,” Ophelia said. “You'd have to find someone who has a new litter if you want a kitten. And you'll have to be responsible for it.”
“I can do that.” Marzda headed for the back door.
“Be careful,” Brody called after her.
The bell at the check-in desk tinkled and Mrs. Dobbs hurried out.
Alone in the kitchen, Brody looked at Ophelia. “You have some jelly on your chin.”
“Oh?” She reached for a cloth to wipe it away.
“No need for that,” he said and proceeded to lick her.
“Brody,” she objected.
“You taste better than all this berry goo.” He drew her into his arms. “Besides, you've been naughty. I think you need a tongue-lashing.”
Laughing, she tried to stop him. He captured her wrists, backed her against the wall and lowered his lips to hers.
Pressing his tongue along the seam of her lips, they parted, and he dipped inside, dueling with her tongue and laving her inner cheeks. He moaned. She tasted sweet from the samples she'd eaten. “Delicious.”
She pulled back to peer up at him. “This is not wise, Brody.”
“Hell, woman, wise or not, you taste better than the fanciest dessert the Sugar and Spice Bakery could come up with. Better even than pecan pie with ice cream. I could become addicted to this.”
“My, such high praise. Pecan pie, even.” She chuckled, then sobered, her hands on his chest, keeping him at a small distance. “Someone could see and get the wrong idea.”
“Who says it's a wrong idea? I can't think of anything I'd rather do than kiss you. And I don't care who sees or knows.”
“I'm a married woman. Remember?”
“That is a mere formality. You're getting a divorce. Remember that?”
“Ophelia,” a voice called from the lobby. “Are you here?”
“Oh, no. That's Hester. I'd better see what she wants.” Ophelia hurried out.
Brody stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, hands on his hips. Empty hands that longed to touch Ophelia again. He wanted her with a desperation he'd never known before, even when he had been with her in Creede. In the past weeks he'd fallen in love with her all over again and more deeply than ever.
“Hester, these quilts are gorgeous. I've never seen any prettier.” Ophelia refolded one, laid it over the desk, and shook out another one. “When do you have time to do these?”
“In the evening mostly and weekends. Owen is so good to me. He loves to cook, you know, so he's completely relieved me of that chore, and he hired a girl to help clean.” She glanced around then leaned closer. “I'll let you in on a little secret. I have a quilt frame set up in the conference room next to the courtroom. I work while I'm at work.”
“Hester, you naughty girl.” Ophelia put a hand on the woman's arm. They were acting like two old ladies gossiping over a fence, but she didn't care. It felt so good to have a friend. And this one, she suspected, knew all about her. After all, Owen knew, and he wasn't the type of man to keep secrets from his wife. A month ago, Ophelia would have panicked at the thought. Wildcat Ridge was changing her. She felt new here, safer, welcomed and—her thoughts flew to Brody and she put her fingers to her lips, savoring his kiss all over again.
“Ophelia?” Hester prompted.
Heat flared in her cheeks and neck as if the mayor could divine her thoughts. “Sorry, my mind wandered.”
“I hope it chose somewhere special to sneak off to.” Hester stacked the folded quilts on the check-in desk. “Now, I'll take these
back home…” She peered at Ophelia questioningly. “Unless you'd like to choose one for your bed?”
Her heart did a flip. She's always wanted a quilt as nice as these. Hester's choices of fabrics, stitches and designs outdid all others Ophelia had ever seen. “You'd give me one? Oh, Hester, they're too beautiful. I wouldn't know which one to choose.”
“Well, then, I'll take them all home.” Hester watched her out of the side of her eye.
Ophelia laughed. “No, you don't. Here, I want this one. I love purple and blue together. This is exactly what I've dreamed of having for years.”
“Maybe I should teach you to quilt.”
“Oh, heavens. I'd make a mess of it for sure. I've never been any good at sewing. All thumbs.”
“Nonsense. Sewing comes naturally to women. You come to my office tomorrow and I'll show you.”
“You'll be sorry.”
“No, I won't. See you then.” Packing up her quilts, except for the one Ophelia had chosen, Hester waltzed out the door.
What a lucky woman. Hester had landed a particularly spectacular husband, not only in looks but in kindness as well. And she had a lovely family.
Brody popped back into her mind. He would make a wonderful husband and father. He was honest, fair, and good with children. She loved watching him with Marzda. The child related to him so well, and obviously loved Brody. And he adored her.
Ophelia wondered what it would be like to be married to him. To wake up beside him in the morning and crawl in bed with him at night. To watch him grow old and share all the days of their lives together. Her heart turned to liquid at the notion. If she didn't watch out, she'd fall in love with him.
Except, she feared the warning came too late. Two decades ago, Brody had stolen her heart and he held it prisoner still, a willing captive. What would happen once she was free of Mortimer? Would Brody ever think of marrying? Ophelia had found herself thinking of it more and more of late. She had enjoyed marriage, except for the man she'd been tied to.
Had Mortimer received the divorce papers yet? For all she knew, he could be on his way to Wildcat Ridge at that very minute.
She cradled her new quilt in her arms like a baby and returned to the kitchen. Brody sat the table with a cup of coffee.
“Is she gone?” he asked.
“Yes. She brought some quilts to show me. Look how beautiful this is. She gave it to me.” She flung the bed covering so that it nearly covered the table, careful not to spill his coffee.
“It is pretty.” He fingered the fabric. “She must be a talented seamstress.”
“She is,” she said, sitting down. “She thinks the women at the shelter should make quilts as well as tend bees.”
“So…” Brody smiled. “Bees in summer, bottling jam in the fall and quilting in winter. What will they do in the spring?”
Ophelia laughed. “We'll find something.”
“I love hearing you laugh. When you first came here, you never laughed, but it’s a sound I hear a more of lately, and I love it.”
“I'm happy, Brody. Happier than I've ever been.”
He pulled her chair closer and leaned toward her. “Am I any part of that new happiness?”
She looked at him, letting her fingers drift down his cheek and over his mustache. “Yes.”
“Honestly?”
“You make me laugh, just like you did in Creede. It was one of the things I loved about you then and—”
Realizing what she'd just said, she shut her mouth.
“Go ahead,” he prompted. “And…?”
Her pulse raced, and she felt a churning low in her belly. She wanted to kiss him. Wanted it badly.
“Ophelia,” he whispered. “You said you loved me in Creede. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“I loved you too. I want to kiss you.”
“Please.”
He dragged her onto his lap and planted his mouth on hers, kissing her with a passion that bordered on desperation. Framing his face with her hands, she kissed him back, knowing this was what she'd hoped for the instant she realized he was Deuce, her Deuce. She'd lied to herself. A part of her, deep inside, had known who he was. It frightened her, how much she wanted him to be Deuce, so she'd tried to convince herself it couldn't be. Life wouldn't be that kind to her.
“Are you gonna get married?” Marzda asked from behind them.
They broke apart guiltily, and Ophelia scooted onto her own chair as if his lap had suddenly caught fire.
“Marzda, what are you doing up?” Ophelia kept her face turned so the girl wouldn't see her high color.
“I was thirsty. You were kissing. Do you love each other? If you get married, can you adopt me?”
Brody began laughing, nervously at first then harder and more freely. Ophelia laughed with him. They'd been caught out and were being held for ransom. The ransom being to adopt Marzda. The idea didn't sound bad at all.
“You, little girl,” Brody stood and pretended to chase Marzda, “are a naughty snoop.”
Giggling, she ran and hid behind Ophelia. He seized them both in a huge hug. Like a family hug, Ophelia thought.
Her heart expanded until she thought it would burst with joy. Instead, tears rolled down her cheeks, despite the laughter still rumbling out of her.
“Here, here.” Brody moved back and wiped away her tears with his hand. “What's this for? We were happy a moment ago.”
She forced a smile. “I'm still happy. So happy, I don't know how to handle it, Brody. It scares me.”
Breaking away from him, she flew from the room, up the stairs and into her room.
“Go after her, Brody,” Marzda pleaded. “Ask her to marry you.”
“I don't think that would be wise right now,” he said, staring at the doorway Ophelia had ran through. “She needs some space to deal with her feelings. She'll be fine tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
He wasn't, but he lied. “Yes, I'm sure.”
Chapter Nine
“What do you mean, my wife's come to join me?” Mortimer Crane demanded, his jaw quivering with rage. “My wife is in Salt Lake City!”
“Afraid not, Mr. Crane.” His mine foreman backed up a space, accustomed to his employer's hot temper. He didn't want to be in the way of a flying hammer or pick. “That man you sent to Wildcat Ridge to keep an eye on what's happening with the union at the Arrastra Mine showed up a few minutes ago and says your wife is there.”
“You mean Arkansas. Where is he now?”
“The mine office.”
Mortimer pushed the foreman aside and stomped out of the mine, heading for the office. The door crashed into the wall with the force of his entry.
Arkansas jumped up from the chair he'd been occupying. “Mr. Crane.”
“You expected someone else?” Mortimer grabbed the man by the collar and jerked him up close. “Like my wife maybe? What's this nonsense you been spouting to my foreman?”
“It's true, sir.” Arkansas put his hand on Mortimer's and, using his superior strength, forced him to let go of his shirt. “I saw her myself. Everybody there has seen her. It's like she's taking over the place. Acts like she owns the whole town.”
Mortimer yanked his chair out from under the desk and sat down. “That damned woman. What the hell does she think she's doing, going to one of my towns without letting me know?”
No sooner had he sat down than he leaped up again. Ranting foul words under his breath, he marched around the room. “Gotten too big for her britches, that's what. She needs a lesson in respecting her husband's orders. I told her never to come to my mine without my permission.”
He stopped beside Arkansas and poked him in the chest. “I want you to go back there and bring her here, you hear me? I'll show her who's boss in this family.”
“Yes, sir. She's been cozying up to the new manager at your hotel. Want me to bring him too?”
Mortimer stared at him. “What new manager?”
“His name is Brody Duvall
.”
Rubbing his forehead, his gaze on the floor, Mortimer said, “Oh, yeah, I told Owen Vaile to hire some guy he recommended. He won't be doing much cozying once you bring Ophelia here.”
Damn. Mortimer rubbed his head again. What was it with the women he cared about? Seemed like, every time he turned around, some man was trying to steal what belonged to him. That bastard, Garrick Brant, had escaped his wrath and ran off with Cady Biggler, the maid Mortimer had hired and hoped to make his mistress. Mortimer still wanted to kill Brant for that.
Now, someone was after his wife? Some man named Brody…
Brody Duvall. The name suddenly clicked in his memory. In Creede, Colorado, twenty years ago, Brody had been known as Deuce. He'd been after Ophelia then too and had a head start on Mortimer who had just arrived in town. The minute Mortimer laid eyes on Ophelia, he'd known he had to have her, not for an hour or two in bed, but forever. He'd paid a couple of toughs to capture Deuce and haul him to a mine in New Mexico that was offering good money for men to work it.
He'd had no idea when Owen contacted him about hiring a new manager that he'd been talking about Brody. So, he hadn't died in that mine. Unfortunate. And now, he had come back to try to steal Ophelia. That could not be allowed to happen. Mortimer wasn't sure how much affection he still felt for his wife, but she was his. No one else's. He'd make sure it stayed that way.
“Never mind about bringing my wife here,” he told Arkansas. “I'll take care of her myself. What I want you to do is rid of the manager… permanently.”
“All right, boss. I'll take care of it.” Arkansas clomped out of the office and jumped on his horse.
As Mortimer watched from the doorway, a smile formed on his face. No man would ever again take a woman away from him.
Ophelia and Marzda set the wooden beehive on the floor of the storeroom that the bees had taken over. Andy had delivered the first one that morning.
“There, that should do it.” Ophelia stepped away from the hive and watched the bees buzzing around frantically. They didn't like being disturbed. “I'm certainly thankful for this gauze. If we didn't have it, we'd be one huge bee sting.”
“If we had hats to hold the gauze farther from our faces, it would be better,” the girl answered.
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