Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (39 page)

“And more food than you could eat in a year.” Rosamond took a bite of her chicken sandwich and then dabbed her lips with her linen napkin.

As always, her graceful manners held Garrick's attention...until he realized what Beryl had said. “Take the day off? Everyone?” The men already refused to work on Saturdays so they might see to their own properties. How could the hotel be completed on time if the workers constantly took holidays?

* * *

Rosamond set Rita's pies on the long plank dessert table outside the church and then returned to the surrey to bring her own gingerbread cookies and a cake for the cakewalk. She never entered the cooking contests because so many other ladies prepared excellent dishes. With cooks such as Mrs. Foster, Pam Williams and Rita's mother, Angela, vying for the prizes, Rosamond knew better than to waste her efforts in the competition.

When she was younger, however, she'd won a blue ribbon for reciting Longfellow's poem “Paul Revere's Ride.” She could still remember every thrilling word and planned to recite it to her students. The poem wasn't entirely accurate, so she'd give her students a truer account of the events of April 18, 1775, when the British began their assault on their American colonies. But her former anger toward England, generated by a passionate history teacher at the academy, seemed silly now, as did her initial animosity toward Garrick simply because he was English.

Did he find it difficult being so far from home? She could almost forgive him for separating Beryl and Percy, considering that he'd sent Percy on a truly noble mission. She lifted a silent prayer that the search for Mr. Starling would be successful. And be completed very soon.

She scanned the busy churchyard to see if Garrick had come. Would he stay in his room at Mrs. Foster's, finding this holiday offensive? Or had his humorous remarks last week meant he'd dismissed their countries' former animosities, as she had? She couldn't find him right away among the milling crowd, but she did locate her friends.

Beryl was talking with her oldest sister, Maisie, who was married to Doc Henshaw. Maisie seemed to have put on weight since just six weeks ago, especially around the middle. Maybe after five years of marriage, she finally expected a blessed event. But Rosamond's joy for her friend mingled with sorrow that no such event would ever happen to her.

* * *

“Please permit us to carry those, Mrs. Foster.” Garrick nudged Roberts toward one of the large hampers on their landlady's kitchen table, and he picked up the other one. In two short months, he'd grown quite familiar with kitchens, something he'd never be able to confess to friends at home or he'd become a laughingstock.

“Oh, thank you, dear boys.” Mrs. Foster reminded Garrick of Uncle's housekeeper, a spritely, maternal sort who could nonetheless keep Uncle's household running smoothly. “I knew I could count on you.”

“What delicious dishes have you prepared for today's party?” Garrick caught the scent of apples and cinnamon, but the apples on the tree in the yard hadn't yet ripened.

“Dried apple pie, lemon cookies, biscuits, chicken and dumplings, sweet potatoes.” Mrs. Foster looked around the room. “That's everything. Shall we go?”

They exited the house, walked through the front gate and began the two-block trek to the church. Mrs. Foster reached for Garrick's free arm with one hand and Roberts's free arm with the other. Over the little lady's head, Roberts gave Garrick a worried, wide-eyed look and started to protest, but Garrick shook his head. The dear woman had no idea her friendly gesture placed master and valet on equal footing, something that would never be tolerated at home. But then, in this case the valet wore a suit and the master wore cowboy garb. Maybe Garrick should have worn something more suited to his station. Too late to change now.

They drew near the crowded park by the church, and the aroma of roasted beef wafted through the air, further inciting Garrick's appetite. In the center of the park stood a bandstand where a group of surprisingly talented musicians practiced their songs. The bandstand was festooned with red, white and blue bunting, as were most of the buildings in town. Across Main Street in front of the bank, a colorful banner proclaimed, Esperanza, July 4, 1883. The hubbub of music and cheerful voices stirred Garrick's emotions unexpectedly, and he decided to surrender himself to the enjoyments of the day.

After they deposited the hampers on the proper tables, Garrick took his leave of Mrs. Foster and dismissed Roberts to enjoy the day as he wished. Straightaway, Roberts fairly bounded over to another table where the Northams' cook, Rita, was arranging desserts. The girl's happy countenance upon seeing Roberts caused Garrick no small alarm. What would he do if his valet wanted to marry the girl and take her home to England? That would never do for more reasons than Garrick cared to list—not the least of which was that he couldn't afford another servant.

“Wakefield!” Colonel Northam hailed him from across the churchyard. Beside him, Mrs. Northam offered a smile and wave. The Colonel wore a striking brown tweed suit, with a black string tie held in place with a large silver and turquoise tie pin. His brown boots boasted a pair of ornate silver and turquoise spurs. Mrs. Northam was resplendent in a dark green cotton gown and matching sunbonnet. With such handsome parents, no wonder Rosamond was such a beauty.

Garrick returned their waves and strode across the space to greet them. After proper greetings, he asked, “Did Rosamond come, too?” The words were out before he could stop them. Of course she'd be here, and Mrs. Northam's knowing smile proclaimed that she knew exactly why he'd asked.
Bother.
Couldn't a chap keep his feelings hidden any better than that?

“Yes, she's here,” Mrs. Northam said. “She's probably helping to organize the children's games.” She indicated a small field beyond the church. Sure enough, the lady who too often invaded his dreams was directing a group of boys and girls in some sort of activity.

“I see you've taken to wearing Western clothes.” Colonel Northam placed a hand on Garrick's shoulder as he eyed his hat, plaid shirt and new boots. “Makes you fit right in.”

“Thank you, sir.” A warm feeling settled in Garrick's chest. The gentleman was the founder of this community and was respected by everyone who lived here. His public welcome to this event meant a great deal to Garrick.

Tolley stood not ten feet away wearing his usual scowl. “Say, tenderfoot, you gonna ride in the race this morning?”

Garrick glanced at the Colonel before answering. “Is that an invitation?” He injected as much friendliness into his tone as he could, to no avail.

“No. It's a challenge.” Tolley continued to scowl.

“Bartholomew!” The Colonel growled as he sent an identical angry look in his son's direction.

Tolley winced and took a step back.

Bartholomew? Garrick had wondered about Tolley's unusual name.

“Then I accept your challenge.” He just short of chirped his answer to try to smooth over the moment of rancor. He'd probably never understand the younger man's resentment, but he certainly wouldn't stand between father and son.

“Sir, I'll fetch your horse when it's time.” Adam Starling appeared at Garrick's side, as he often did at the building site, no doubt eager to learn any possible news about his father. “I've been exercising her every day, just like you asked.”

“Thank you, Adam.” Garrick turned to the Colonel. “I appreciate your making Gypsy available for my use. May I have your permission to ride her in the race?”

“Indeed you may. She's one of our best and will give the other horses some serious competition.” The older man squeezed Garrick's shoulder in a paternal way. “Now, if you'll excuse us, Mrs. Northam and I need to greet some other folks.” He offered his arm to his wife. “Shall we go, my dear?”

Garrick tipped his hat and gave a little bow as the Northams walked away to join a group of other dignitaries dressed in their finest. He then took a step toward Rosamond and her little charges. Before he could take a second step, Tolley grabbed his upper arm and spun him around.

“Gypsy may be fast, but don't get your hopes up, tenderfoot. You'll be eating my dust in the race.” He spat to the side. “Boots and hats don't make you a cowboy. Or a man.” Before Garrick could react, Tolley gave him a shove and strode away.

Sick to his stomach with confusion and rage, Garrick knew he must collect himself before approaching Rosamond. What had he done to warrant such abuse? He hadn't felt this way since a fellow student at Oxford had taunted him about losing his place as Uncle's heir presumptive and tried to goad him into a fight.

“Mr. Wakefield, you gonna let him treat you that way?” Wide-eyed Adam watched the whole thing, further creating conflict for Garrick. He mustn't set a bad example for the lad.

He cleared his throat. “The Lord tells us to forgive our—” He couldn't honestly call Tolley his “enemy.” The animosity was entirely one-sided. “Forgive those who dislike us.”

“Yessir. And I know all about turnin' the other cheek.” Adam stared at the ground and shuffled his feet. “But my pa says there ain't no sin in a man defending himself when he's attacked, 'specially in front of everybody, the way Mr. Tolley done just now.”

“Ain't?” Garrick wouldn't argue with the absent Mr. Starling. He thought about ruffling Adam's hair, but decided the lad was too old for such a playful gesture. “Don't let Miss Rosamond hear you say that or she'll have you sitting in the corner wearing a dunce's cap before classes even begin.”

“Yessir,” Adam repeated with a grin. “I think she's about to put you in the corner.” He jutted his chin toward the field. There stood Rosamond staring in his direction, hands fisted at her waist. “You gonna run? If a girl looked at me like that, I'd run.”

Garrick laughed, and his ill feelings dissolved. “Your perspective will change when you're my age.” He gave Adam's shoulder a squeeze, as the Colonel had done to him. Surprising what encouragement such a gesture could give a man. If the Colonel thought well of Garrick, Tolley's dislike could be overlooked. Rosamond's apparent anger was another matter altogether.

* * *

Rosamond didn't know what to think. When she'd tried to ask Tolley why he disliked Garrick, he'd brushed aside her questions and told her it was between the two of them. Now, seeing their brief confrontation—in front of her parents, no less—she was determined to uncover the cause. Father had taken Garrick's side against her brother. Why?

But as Garrick walked toward her, that perfect smile on his handsome face, she couldn't be stern with him. Not with her heart fluttering like a baby bird trying to fly for the first time. On the other hand, how could he appear so calm while Tolley was storming the other way across the churchyard, clearly still angry?

Garrick reached her in seconds, and thoughts of her brother fled. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was one fine-looking cowboy. Fine-looking, yes. Cowboy, definitely no. During his short stay at Four Stones, he'd shown very little interest in ranch life.

“Good morning, Rosamond. You're the picture of beauty, as always.” Was that a hint of humor in his eyes? How quickly he'd forgotten his confrontation with Tolley. Was that good or bad?

Unclenching her fists, she smiled. “You're not so bad yourself, cowboy.”

He doffed that silly white Stetson she'd forced him to accept and gave her a sweeping bow. “My lady, at your service. Do you have steers to rope? Calves to brand? Cows to milk? I am yours to command.”

His offer, delivered in the English accent she was beginning to love, brought laughter from the children nearby. At a glance, she could see they were entirely too interested in her conversation with Garrick.

“No branding today, but you can help me round up these mavericks so we can get their three-legged race started.”

“I can do that.” He studied the children almost like a schoolmaster, giving her heart another lurch. Where had that thought come from? “Now you young'uns line up right here.” As he pointed to the chalk line in the grass, his perfect imitation of Pete's Western drawl brought more giggles.

For the next few minutes, they instructed the children in the rules for the race. Once they'd lined up, Rosamond nodded to Beryl, who rang a bronze handbell.

“Three-legged race,” she called out as parents and other spectators gathered.

The event, which took place even before the mayor officially opened the Independence Day celebration, was designed to focus on the children and expend some of their energy so they'd settle down for that austere ceremony. Beginning with the five-year-olds on a twenty-foot course, ending with the youngsters in their teens tripping down the fifty-foot path, the races were a favorite and always started the celebration off with laughter and good spirits.

Winners were announced, ribbons distributed and then everyone surrounded the bandstand where the mayor would make his opening speech.

“May I accompany you?” Garrick offered his arm to Rosamond.

“Indeed, you may.” Rather than placing her hand on his arm, she looped her own arm around it. Maybe she was being too familiar with him, but after they'd shared the fun and hoopla of the children's races, it seemed the perfect way to accept his offer. If his pleased smile was any indication, she'd made the right choice.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Standing behind a wooden lectern, Mayor Jones shouted to be heard above the chatter. “Reverend Thomas will lead us in the invocation.” The crowd immediately grew quiet.

After the minister's prayer for God's blessings on the events of the day, the mayor resumed his place before the crowd. “Today we gather to celebrate the founding of our nation. While our festivities are filled with gaiety and laughter, we must never forget the solemn events of July 4, 1776. One hundred and seven years ago today, courageous representatives of thirteen colonies signed a document that would change the world. Now people of many nations come to our shores to find freedom to worship, freedom to govern themselves, freedom to build whatever enterprise their ingenuity and determination leads them to create.”