Carol Cox (8 page)

Her quick agreement took Caleb off guard. Could it be the hard work was beginning to take its toll, and she was losing interest in becoming a storekeeper? He tried not to let his sudden spurt of optimism show.

“Yes,” she continued with a decisive nod. “If we’re going to make a success of this joint endeavor, it’s imperative that I learn more about the people we serve. I’ll just get my shawl and be on my way.”

Caleb watched her go upstairs, his brief hope fading as quickly as it had been born. That didn’t sound like the statement of a person who was ready to give up.

M
elanie smoothed her skirts, looped the strings of her reticule over her left arm, and stepped out into a perfect spring day. Cottony clouds floated in a brilliant blue sky. Even the light breeze that caressed her cheeks seemed to celebrate the joy of spring, carrying the hint of apple blossoms mingled with the scents of the high desert. The fresh, clean tang did wonders to dispel the heavy weight that had settled on her shoulders ever since she’d first stepped through the doors of the mercantile.

She stood on the boardwalk and drew in a lungful of the invigorating western air. Other than sweeping off the stoop behind the store and the boardwalk out front, she had barely set foot outside since her arrival. Caleb was right. She had been spending too much time indoors. If she intended to make Cedar Ridge her new home, she needed to become more a part of it. And if she hoped to improve business at the mercantile, she had to get acquainted with the people in the area. Knowing their customers would be a key to making the store a success.

Which way to go? She scanned the length of Lincoln Street. From the limited time she’d spent outdoors, she had already seen the businesses directly opposite the mercantile and the saloon to the left.

To the right, then. She set off briskly, taking note of each building she passed. Next door to the mercantile was the freight office, Rafe Sutton, proprietor. Melanie sniffed as she walked past. The sight of the building brought back the memory of her arduous trip over the rutted trail from Fort Verde to Cedar Ridge, perched beside a scraggly-bearded driver who seemed compelled to launch a stream of tobacco juice at every bush they passed. Their journey was an event she—and her aching backside—would long remember.

A little farther down the street she came to a dressmaker’s shop, a neat little establishment with a sign in the window reading
By appointment only
. That was more like it. Melanie cupped her hand around her eyes and peered through the window. A smile lit her face as she took in the array of fabric and notions. She had already seen copies of
Godey’s Lady’s Book
in the mercantile. She would study them carefully for clues as to what the dressmaker might need, as well as the ladies in the community who didn’t avail themselves of the seamstress’s services.

As she passed the bakery, she grinned and dug in her reticule for a pencil and scrap of paper. She’d better start making notes. Ideas were coming fast and furious, and she’d never be able to remember them all. She licked the tip of the pencil and began to write.

A small clapboard building was next, set back a little way from the boardwalk. Above the door hung a wooden placard bearing the words
Jonas Mills, M.D.

Melanie’s brow furrowed. Doctors needed medicine, of course, along with some very specialized equipment. Apart from the patent medicines she’d seen on the shelves, did they carry anything of that sort in the mercantile? She made a note to ask Caleb.

The doors of the plaster building that housed the bank stood wide open to the fresh air. Behind the teller’s window stood Mr. Henderson, the young man she had seen on the day of her arrival. Melanie tapped her pencil against the paper. What kinds of things could they keep in stock for babies and children? That opened up a whole new array of items to explore. She scribbled a quick note and walked on by.

She reached the end of Lincoln Street and stepped off the boardwalk onto the hard-packed tan dirt, so different than the black, loamy soil she had been accustomed to in Ohio. She stood for a moment gazing to her right, then to her left. It appeared that Lincoln Street comprised the full extent of Cedar Ridge’s business district. Little more lay beyond, save for a few scattered houses. And in the distance . . .
Oh, my!

Beyond the edge of town lay a vast landscape dotted with the sprawling cedars that must have given the town its name. Farther out, a line of trees bearing darker foliage meandered off in an undulating line. And behind those trees hung a backdrop of tawny hills. Some of the pale brown slopes were adorned with more cedars, while others, streaked with pinkish layers, rose up in sheer cliffs surmounted by a ridge of barren rocks. The effect was absolutely breathtaking.

Melanie pressed one hand against her throat and stared in wonder.
Is this the place where I’m going to live out the rest of my days?
The scene before her couldn’t have been more
different from the one she’d grown up with. There were no tree-lined streets, no lush green lawns with carefully tended shrubs. This was raw. Rugged. Wild.

And yet a sense of rightness washed over her, a feeling of coming home.

She swept her gaze over the landscape, letting its beauty fill her senses, before circling around to the other side of the street. She strolled past a good-sized home made of bricks the same color as the sandy soil, its neat yard surrounded by a white picket fence. The door opened, and a familiar-looking figure wandered down the front walk.

Melanie smiled, recognizing Mrs. Fetterman. The plump woman didn’t seem to notice Melanie until she’d nearly walked into her.

Mrs. Fetterman squeaked an apology and squinted up at Melanie, recognition dawning on her face. “Ah, the nice young lady from the mercantile!” A smile wreathed her weathered cheeks. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

Melanie returned her smile. “I’m glad you’re pleased, because you’ll be seeing a lot more of me. Right now, I’m just taking some time to learn my way around town.”

Mrs. Fetterman beamed with pleasure. “I was on my way to the mercantile, but I’m not in any rush. Would you like to come in and try some of my scones? I just took them out of the oven.”

Melanie wavered, remembering the mix-up with the horse tonic. “Thank you, but perhaps another time.”

Mrs. Fetterman patted her arm. “Not to worry. Since you’re planning to stay, we’ll have plenty of chances to visit.”

Melanie watched the woman move along the boardwalk toward the opposite end of town. Did any of their catalogs
offer spectacles that might be stronger than the ones Mrs. Fetterman was wearing? It might be worthwhile to find out.

She waited a moment before starting on toward the unattractive wooden building ahead. Its unpainted boards lent the structure a dreary air, and the walls didn’t seem to be quite at right angles with the roof. Melanie noted the sign hanging over the boardwalk and quivered like a hound on the scent when she saw the name:
O’Shea’s Emporium
. What a perfect opportunity to get to know their competition!

Tucking her pencil and paper back into her reticule, she pushed open the door and entered the store. No bell jingled a welcome as she stepped into the dimly lit interior and peered around. Her first impression was that it seemed much smaller than the mercantile, making it feel almost cramped in comparison. A quick perusal told her the store carried only basic items—certainly nothing to compare with Ross-Nelson’s selection of goods. She moved along a set of rough shelves, noting several brands of coffee, bags of beans, and a scattering of canned goods.

The emporium’s general appearance wasn’t as clean as the mercantile’s, either. She ran her finger along a shelf surreptitiously and wrinkled her nose when she inspected her fingertip. Dusty. Just as she’d expected.

The scrawny man who slouched behind the counter paring his fingernails with a pocketknife matched the unkempt look of the store. He rubbed his thumb across one fingernail and sent an indifferent glance in Melanie’s direction. “If you see something you want, let me know.”

Melanie murmured a noncommittal response and moved back toward the exit, holding her skirt close to her in an effort to keep it clean. There was no point in staying any
longer—she had seen everything she needed to. She emerged back out on Lincoln Street with a sigh of relief. She had no need to worry about their competition. From what she’d seen during her brief foray, it was a miracle the other store stayed in business.

She went on her way with a lighter step. The sign on the next building proclaimed it to be the Verde Valley Land Company. And the building just beyond . . . Melanie couldn’t hold back her grin when she saw that it was the marshal’s office. She chuckled, remembering Caleb’s reaction when she threatened to take up her case with the lawman. Despite her brave words to the contrary, she had little confidence in claiming any legal right to the store, but she wasn’t about to let Caleb know that.

The door swung open as she passed. Melanie caught her breath and turned, expecting to meet the marshal face-to-face. Instead, Will Blake, the rancher she’d met on the day of her arrival, stepped out. A broad grin spread across his face when he saw her.

“Morning, Miss Ross. This beautiful day just got even prettier.”

Melanie felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “Good morning, Mr. Blake. I’m surprised to see you in town again so soon. I had the impression you spent most of your time in the company of your cows.”

The corners of his lips quirked up. “Cattle tend to take care of themselves. They don’t need me nursemaiding them every second.” He fell into step beside her as though they were longtime friends. “I had some business with the marshal. I rounded up a few strays with brands I didn’t recognize, and I needed to let him know so he can put the word out and
locate the rightful owners. But I also had other business that brought me to town today, and I need to thank you.”

Melanie laughed. “I don’t know what you have to thank me for, but whatever it is, you’re welcome.”

His smile deepened. “You saved me making a stop at the mercantile to ask Caleb where I might find you.”

She drew back and looked up at the rancher, puzzled. “You were looking for me?”

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “You haven’t been out of my thoughts since I met you last week. It isn’t often we see a fresh face around Cedar Ridge, and it’s even more special when that face is as pretty as yours.”

Once again, Melanie felt the warmth of blood rushing to her face. When was the last time a man had complimented her like that? After spending the past few days feeling like little more than a nuisance, Will’s words of admiration made her feel as if she were floating along with those bright clouds overhead.

“I know things are taken more slowly back east,” he said, “but I’d like to get to know you better, if you’re agreeable.” Seeming to take her stunned silence for consent, he went on. “Where might I find you if I wanted to come calling?”

Melanie’s heart raced, and she waved her hand to fan her flushed cheeks. “Why . . . I’m afraid you’ll still have to come to the mercantile.” His look of surprise brought forth a genuine laugh that suddenly put her at ease. “George Ross was my cousin,” she explained. “I came out to work in the mercantile.”

A frown creased Will Blake’s forehead. “But your cousin is . . .”

“Yes, I know.” She took a deep breath and forged ahead.
“He left all his belongings to me—which includes his share of the store.” She waited for Will’s reaction, hoping the story sounded convincing. If people around Cedar Ridge began to accept her as part of the town, it might help persuade Caleb she ought to stay.

“Well, what do you know?” Will shook his head and grinned. “I always liked George, but he never spoke much about his family. I knew he had a cousin, but I never expected it to be anyone as intriguing as you.”

Melanie fluttered her hand again and let her breath out in a sigh of relief. Will had accepted her explanation without question. If only Caleb would credit it as readily!

Will pushed his Stetson farther back on his head. “That sun is getting a mite warm. How would you like to continue our conversation someplace where it’s a little shadier. . . . Unless you were heading straight back to the store.”

The hope in his eyes made Melanie want to giggle. A chat with someone as genial as Will Blake sounded like the perfect way to set her day aright. “Actually, I’m taking a little break and enjoying a few minutes to myself. I realized I’ve been spending all my time in the mercantile, and I haven’t gotten to see much of the town.”

Will glanced up at the sun as though checking its position in the sky. “It’s a little early to have lunch. Why don’t you let me escort you over to the bakery and treat you to some of the finest doughnuts in the territory?”

Melanie’s sunny mood grew even brighter. “Thank you. I’d like that.” She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and smiled up at him. “I would like that very much.”