Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (26 page)

The train chugged into Esperanza and slowed to a screeching stop, puffing out great blasts of gray-white steam. At the sound, Beryl twitched nervously.

“Shall we go?” Rosamond stood and gathered her bag and parasol.

“Can we wait until the crowd disperses?” Beryl gazed up at her, eyes brimming.

Rosamond sat. “All right.” But not for long. She'd already spied her younger brother, Tolley, standing with two of the Eberly sisters. My, he'd grown tall over the past two and a half years, towering over Laurie and Georgia. She couldn't wait to get back home with her beloved family and friends.

“Dear ladies, may we assist you in any way?” The blond man stopped by their seat.

Rosamond smiled. “Thank you, but we need another moment.”

“Of course.” The dark-haired gentleman bowed. “We'll wait outside to help you down.”

“That would be very kind.” What had changed his attitude?

“We'll be waiting just outside,” the blond man repeated. He and his friend walked toward the front of the car.

“Everyone's gone.” Rosamond stood and gripped her tapestry bag. “We must go.” She was bursting with excitement even as she ached for Beryl.

As promised, the two men awaited them. The blond man helped Beryl down, his solicitous smile warming Rosamond's heart. The dark-haired man offered her no smile, only his gloved hand. When she took it, she felt the strength that went into knocking the outlaw senseless.

“Thank you,” she managed to say over an odd little lump in her throat.

“Well, now.” A familiar bass voice sounded across the platform. “I see you young folks have met.”

“Father!” Rosamond dropped her bag and flung herself into his outstretched arms. “Oh, it's so good to be home.”

“My darling girl, you've grown even more beautiful since last fall.” Father placed a kiss on her cheek and then held her at arms' length. “How was your trip?”

“See here.” Mother pushed herself into the mix to embrace Rosamond, her fragrant rosewater perfume sweetening her welcome. “I want my hug before we talk about the trip.”

One by one, her brothers, Nate, Rand and Tolley, greeted her with eager embraces and teasing words. The crowded platform grew chaotic as other passengers connected with loved ones and gathered luggage. Lifting a prayer for Beryl, Rosamond waved to her friend, who was whisked away by two of her four sisters.

“Colonel Northam, I presume.” The dark-haired Englishman approached Father, hand extended.

“Garrick Wakefield.” Father pumped the man's hand with enthusiasm. “Welcome to Esperanza. I see you've met my daughter.” He brought Mother forward. “Charlotte, may I present Mr. Wakefield, Lord Westbourne's nephew and representative?”

An indescribable sensation charged through Rosamond. What on earth was happening? Had the haughty Englishmen come to see Father? To do some sort of business with him? She glanced toward her brothers, but only Tolley looked her way, edging closer and putting an arm around her waist.

“Who's the dandy?” The annoyance in his voice echoed her own feelings, and she responded with a shrug.

“Mrs. Northam.” Mr. Wakefield, all deferential now, kissed Mother's hand and then brought his blond friend forward. “Mrs. Northam, Colonel Northam, may I present Percy Morrow, my cousin. He accompanied me to your beautiful country.”

So now it was a beautiful country, not a wasteland? While the blond man spoke pleasantries to her parents, Rosamond rolled her eyes. Tolley snickered. How interesting that friendly Mr. Morrow was stuffy Mr. Wakefield's cousin. The two couldn't be more different.

“How did you and Rosamond meet?” Father put an arm around Mr. Wakefield's shoulder as he would Nate or Rand. The Englishman squirmed a little.

“Actually, sir—”

“Gracious, Father.” She leaned into her younger brother's comforting shoulder. “I haven't met this gentleman. With no one to introduce us, propriety prevented our meeting.”

Her two older brothers howled with laughter.

“My, my,” Rand said. “Our little cowgirl's become all sophisticated.”

“Do you suppose she's forgotten where she came from after two and a half years in that highfalutin eastern school?” Nate, the oldest, nudged Rand. “We'll have to remind her.”

“Never you mind.” Rosamond would enjoy their teasing much more if Mr. Wakefield weren't watching with such an interested—or should she say, an
appalled—
expression. “Just wait. You'll see I can still keep up with the likes of you.”

“That's enough foolishness.” Father beckoned to her and draped his arm around her shoulder. “Rosamond, may I present Mr. Garrick Wakefield. I met his uncle, Lord Westbourne, when your mother and I were in Italy last year. The earl's sent Garrick to build that hotel Esperanza's needed. Since this will be a joint business venture, you'll be working alongside Garrick to see everything's done right.”

She heard Father order her brothers to collect her trunks. Heard Mother chattering about a special supper at the ranch. But Rosamond could only stare at Mr. Wakefield while he stared back at her, obviously every bit as shocked as she was over Father's unexpected announcement. Work alongside this pompous Englishman? Never in a million years. But when Father gave an order, not one of his children ever succeeded in dissuading him from his purpose.

Chapter Two

T
o Garrick's shock, Miss Northam's horrified expression conveyed only disdain for him. While Colonel Northam walked away to welcome the lawman who'd traveled with them, Garrick scrambled to recall any way by which he might have offended the young lady. Perhaps Percy could help him.

Percy, however, had located their valets and, with the help of the three Northam brothers, was seeing to their luggage. Each cowboy effortlessly carried a trunk to a nearby wagon, an impressive feat. Or should he refer to them as ranchers instead of cowboys, since they were sons of a landowner? In England, such an erroneous form of address could cause severe embarrassment, even censure if a person of influence took offense at the misnomer. No doubt these Americans had a similar custom, even in their uncivilized land.

Ah, that was it. In the Denver train station, Miss Northam must have overheard him disparaging her country. Even before meeting her, he'd destroyed every chance of obtaining her good opinion. And her father expected him to work alongside her, to actually consult with her? With her aloof disposition and his plans already well-formed, that would be disastrous.

Apparently unaware of his daughter's or Garrick's chagrin, Colonel Northam sent his son Nate to show the lawman around the town. Equally unaware, Mrs. Northam gave instructions as to which conveyance each person should ride in to the ranch. Rand drove the box wagon with Garrick's valet beside him and Percy's valet perched precariously on a trunk. A third brother, whose name Garrick couldn't recall, rode on horseback. Colonel and Mrs. Northam took the front seat of a surrey while Miss Northam squeezed in between Garrick and Percy in back.

Glancing around, Garrick observed the nearly empty station platform. Only the harried mother from Denver remained with her children. She and Adam appeared to be searching for someone. Garrick prayed their person would arrive soon so the poor woman could get some assistance. Again, circumstances prevented him from helping, but Adam held little Jack's hand firmly, so Garrick dismissed his fears.

They drove down the street—a lofty term for these dusty roads—with Colonel Northam pointing out various establishments: the general store, the new jail, the bank, a café. “And that's the site of the hotel.” He swung out one arm in a grand gesture, as though showing off an elegant manor house.

All Garrick saw was a large, roped off plot of grassless land, large stacks of wood and what appeared to be building supplies under canvas tarpaulins. “Ah, very good, sir.” At least the plot was a decent size. With no close buildings to limit expansion, perhaps they could purchase more property nearby. After all, they'd need outbuildings such as a stable and a laundry—mundane things Garrick had never thought of before Uncle handed him this assignment.

The Colonel's tour over, he turned the horses down a southbound highway and began to speak quietly to his wife.

The cozy seating arrangement would have been decidedly pleasant if not for Miss Northam's stiff posture and the firm line of her full lips. Again she reminded Garrick of his formidable governess. But should they come into conflict over the hotel, he would not defer to this American miss as he had to Miss Shaw. Perhaps, now that they'd met, he should take a reading of her amenability by engaging her in chitchat.

Percy spoke first. “I say, Miss Northam, do you suppose your friend is well?”

She scolded him with a frown and a quick shake of her head and then spoke in a bright tone. “Indeed she is. Her sisters brought her mare so they could race home. She always finds a brisk ride exhilarating.”

“Ah, very good.” Percy relaxed. “I enjoy a brisk ride, as well.” He gazed off thoughtfully, and Garrick could well imagine he was devising a plan to see her. “Would it be impertinent of me to ask her name?”

Miss Northam hesitated before saying, “Not impertinent at all. Beryl Eberly. The Eberly family owns the ranch west of ours.”

“Beryl Eberly.” Percy spoke the name reverently, as Romeo might say
Juliet
. “Lovely. And just a short walk away.”

Miss Northam smiled. “A short ride. An impossible walk. I'll take you there tomorrow and introduce you.”

Garrick wished her smile were aimed at him, but he supposed that was too much to ask. In any event, from the way she issued orders with a mere frown, he could see Miss Northam and he were utterly incompatible.

“I shall hold you to it, Miss Northam.” Percy beamed in his boyish way, in spite of his twenty-four years. How uncomplicated his life was.

“Please call me Rosamond. We're not formal out here.”

Vacillating once again in his feelings toward her, Garrick wanted to ask if the invitation were open to him, as well. The words stuck in his throat. After all, in England one only used Christian names with family or very close friends, and certainly not with new acquaintances. And now that he'd considered this entire situation, he wondered whether Uncle had made a serious error in judgment. If Colonel Northam possessed sufficient wealth to enter a business arrangement such as the hotel, why hadn't his servants managed the baggage instead of his sons? Garrick would have to ascertain how much the Northams were investing in the project before he committed any of Uncle's funds. If the Colonel had taken advantage of his trusting nature, Garrick would put an end to such duplicity.

* * *

She shouldn't have promised to introduce Percy to Beryl. Shouldn't have said anything about her friend's preferences. But she needed an excuse to check on Beryl rather than waiting to see her in church on Sunday. For now, she found being seated in between the two Englishmen a grand metaphor for the tight spot Father had put her in. This evening she must speak to him privately and remind him about her plans to build a high school, plans he'd agreed to months ago. Once she began her own work, she'd be too busy to help Mr. Wakefield with the hotel.

Yet even as she tried to divert her thoughts, ideas came unbidden to her mind. The Walsenburg hotel, where the train passengers had laid over last night, was a pleasant establishment with sufficient amenities to satisfy people passing through. But she could envision something on a grander scale, such as Boston's Parker House, only with a Western theme. Miss Pam Williams's rolls were every bit as delicious as Parker House rolls. They could hire her to manage the restaurant and cook her special Western recipes for the guests.

Rosamond would find ways to make visitors at the hotel feel at home while they took one- or two-day trips to the various wonders around the San Luis Valley: the sand dunes, Raspberry Gulch, La Garita Arch, the recently discovered Indian wall paintings. They could go fishing on the Rio Grande or swimming in San Luis Lake. Memories of childhood excursions filled her mind. So many opportunities for tourists to enjoy. Maybe one of her brothers could establish a guide business to work out of the hotel.

The top story of her family's ranch house came into view, and all such plans vanished. Home! What a wonderful, beautiful place. After two and a half years away, she felt a lump rising in her throat.

Father turned the buggy down Four Stones Lane and drove to the front door, probably because of their guests. Unless the family was holding a special event, everyone around here always came to the kitchen door, the neighborly thing to do. Rand did drive the wagon around back to carry the trunks up the back stairs. Tolley had ridden ahead to alert the household, so upon the travelers' arrival, Rosamond's sisters-in-law and their sweet babies poured out of the house to greet them.

As always with her family, chaos reigned, especially when the dogs raced over from the barn to join the melee. She gave each family member an enthusiastic hug, cooing over her four-year-old niece, Lizzy, and eighteen-month-old nephew, Nate Jr., nicknamed Natty. Her newest nephew, Randy, melted her heart when he offered a smile that revealed one tiny tooth.

The two Englishmen bore up fairly well, greeting Nate's wife, Susanna, and Marybeth with impeccable manners. Mr. Wakefield—she didn't want to call him Garrick because it suggested a friendliness she didn't feel—rose slightly in her estimation when he knelt down to greet Lizzy and Natty. He seemed used to children, perhaps even liked them, if his charming smile and silly chatter were any indication. He even acknowledged Randy with a few nonsense words and a gentle touch on the baby's tiny hand.

After the chaotic introductions, Mother bustled everyone into the main parlor and gave room assignments. She sent Percy to one of the newer rooms over the ballroom, with the two valets sharing a room next to him. Mr. Wakefield—oh, bother; if she called Percy by his first name, she must do the same with Garrick—would stay in Nate's old room two doors down from hers. Like Nate, Rand now had his own home, so Tolley roomed alone.

After Rosamond greeted everyone, she dashed upstairs to her bedroom. Nothing had changed. The pink-and-blue patchwork quilt still covered her four-poster bed. Her blue velvet chair sat by the open window where white ruffled curtains fluttered in the afternoon breeze. On the bedside table, two pink roses graced her cut-glass vase, an heirloom from her late grandmother.

Joy bubbled over into laughter as she gazed out the window at Mother pushing Lizzy in a swing hanging from the branch of a cottonwood tree. For over two years, the family had prayed anxiously for Mother's health, and the Lord had answered their prayers.

In her oak wardrobe, Rosamond found a favorite yellow calico dress, left behind because it was deemed too countrified for Boston, and quickly changed from her traveling suit. Her sisters-in-law needed her in the kitchen, and helping to prepare supper was just the thing to work out the kinks from sitting many days in train cars. Going down the back stairs, she sang a cheerful version of John Howard Payne's “Home, Sweet Home.” She flung open the kitchen door, finishing with a resounding last line: “Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home!”

Garrick sat at the kitchen table, his face a study in mortification that matched exactly how she felt. Had her joyful singing broken some British rule of etiquette? Too bad. If he didn't like her music, he needn't listen. She wouldn't let him ruin her happiness.

* * *

Garrick hadn't been in a kitchen since childhood when he and Helena used to pester Uncle's cook for treats. Yet here he sat while Percy and the Northam brothers chatted as if they were in the drawing room of White's Men's Club in London, where Garrick would much prefer to be rather than in this American ranch house. Instead of uniformed footmen serving him high tea or his fellow members inviting him to play a hand of whist, a pretty Mexican girl—the family cook—offered biscuits and coffee. Her smiling demeanor and shared grins with the two young Northam wives indicated a decided lack of propriety for a servant, at least by British standards. He wasn't certain Uncle ever met his cooks, for all communications with below stairs were done through the housekeeper and butler.

Still, he couldn't complain about the American informality. Here in this cozy, crowded room, he could enjoy the aromas of roast beef sizzling in the oven and bread rising on the sideboard. While the biscuits—he supposed he should call them cookies, as the locals did—managed to stave off his hunger, he could well imagine supper would be a satisfying experience.

A sudden glorious sound from the back hallway wafted closer to the kitchen door, a lovely soprano voice lifted in a spirited rendition of the usually melancholy “Home, Sweet Home.” As the song ended in a majestic high note rather than descending into pathos, Miss Northam burst in, her pretty face aglow with happiness. Her eyes focused on Garrick, and her expression turned to shock and then dismay. Now his face felt like a mask reflecting the same feeling. Why did she find the sight of him so troubling? He forced a smile and stood. “Miss Northam.”

Percy jumped to his feet. “Miss Northam.”

The brothers remained seated.

A smile crept over her stunning face, and something struck Garrick's midsection. Must he always feel a jolt when encountering her?

“Good afternoon,
gentlemen
. Howdy, Nate, Rand, Tolley.”

“Hey, now.” Nate stood, urging his brothers to do the same. “We're gentlemen, too.” He approached his sister and hugged her, and his wife followed suit.

Garrick felt a pang in his chest. Issues of propriety aside, the genuine affection among these Northams reminded him of sweet Helena. Somehow he must make Uncle's project work so he could provide his sister with a dowry.

“Do be seated.” Miss Northam took an apron from a hook on the wall and donned it over her pretty yellow frock. “On second thought, you men should vamoose and get your chores done so we ladies can get supper on the table.”

“Look who's giving orders after being home five minutes.” Rand chucked his sister under the chin and brushed his wife's cheek with a kiss on his way toward the back door.

“Say, is
vamoose
proper grammar?” Tolley grabbed a handful of cookies from the serving platter on the table as he headed after Rand. “Or did the Colonel waste his money sending you to that fancy Boston school?”

Nate followed his brothers, beckoning to Garrick and Percy. “Come on, fellas. Let's skedaddle before the hen party begins. We'll show you around the place.”

“I say, that sounds capital.” Percy followed them, giving Garrick no choice but to do the same.

“Not so fast.” Susanna's order stopped them all, and a significant look Garrick couldn't decipher passed between her and Nate. “You can save that for tomorrow. These gentlemen are still in their nice travel clothes.”

“Maybe they'd like to see the house first.” Marybeth gave Rand the same look.

Now the older brothers eyed each other while Tolley huffed in annoyance, apparently eager to do those chores.

“Tomorrow. Right.” Nate seemed to be smothering a grin. “Gentlemen, we'll see you at supper.”