Waiting for Spring (9 page)

Keeping his expression impassive, Barrett slowed the wagon. “Merchants, newspaper owners, bankers, your brother.” He stopped in front of his home and nodded at it.

“This is yours?” Astonishment colored Harrison's voice, and for the first time Barrett could recall, he seemed at a loss for words.

Barrett climbed out of the wagon. Mr. Bradley would have seen him arrive and would send one of the boys to put the horse and wagon in the stable and bring Harrison's trunk inside. “I told you I built a house.”

“You said a house, not a mansion.” Harrison stared at the red brick building. Though less elaborate than some of its neighbors, the three-story house was far larger and more elaborate than any in Northwick. Harrison shook his head as if trying to clear his brain, then shrugged. “All I can say, little brother, is that you've done well for yourself.” There was both approval and amazement in Harrison's voice, and it filled an empty space inside Barrett. This was what he'd wanted, his brother's approval, and at last he had it.

When they entered the front door and Mr. Bradley appeared to take their coats, Harrison pursed his lips. It was only when they were alone again, inside Barrett's office, that
he spoke. “Camden won't believe this. When you said you owned cattle and were building a house, we figured it would be a farmhouse. Instead, you've got a mansion with a butler and who knows how many other servants.”

“Six.”

Harrison's eyes widened. “You have six servants?”

“Seven, counting Mr. Bradley.”

Harrison shook his head. “I still can't believe it. And that's another thing. Why do you call him Mr. Bradley? I thought servants were addressed by only one name.”

“That's what he told me, but I thought it made me seem too highfalutin, so I made it what my attorney calls a condition of employment. If the staff insist on calling me Mr. Landry—and they do—I'll address them similarly.”

Harrison shook his head again. “My brother, the cattle baron. I still can't believe it.”

“There are times when I can't either.” It had taken a lot of work, a lot of hard work, but the profits from his first year of raising cattle had exceeded his dreams. Barrett had had more money than he'd imagined possible, and—even better—he'd gained respect. No longer the runt of the litter, he'd been invited to join the Cheyenne Club. Soon after, he'd started building this house.

“This sure isn't a farmhouse.” Harrison gestured toward the velvet draperies, the flocked wallpaper, and the Persian carpet. “Even the mayor of Northwick doesn't have anything like this.”

Harrison would probably feel more comfortable when he saw the ranch house where Barrett stayed while checking on the cattle. It had begun as a dugout and had few amenities other than the one window in the room Barrett had grafted
onto the front when he'd realized he could not live without sunshine.

“I have a ranch house,” he admitted, “but I don't spend much time there.”

Harrison crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. “I don't suppose I would, either, if I had a house like this. The truth is, from the beginning, I couldn't picture you being happy raising cows. I thought you liked people too much.” He slid his hands over the leather chair arms. “Of the three of us, you were the best with the customers. You could sell them anything.”

“If they'd listen to me.” That had been part of the problem. If Harrison or Camden was in the store, customers would ignore Barrett.

“Why do you think I left you alone so often?” The skin crinkled around Harrison's eyes as he grinned. “I'm not as dumb as you think. I may not have realized it while we were growing up, but once we all started working in the store, I saw what was going on. I also saw that customers bought more from you than they ever did from Camden or me.”

Barrett stared at his brother. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“And let you get a swelled head? Besides, you needed to figure out what you wanted to do.”

He had. “I knew there was no future for me in Northwick. Even if I enjoyed working in the store—and I'm not sure I did, the mercantile didn't need three people.'

Furrows reappeared between Harrison's brows, and he stared at the floor as if fascinated by the carpet pattern. “Right now it doesn't need two. Business hasn't been good recently.” The furrows deepened. “Camden claims it's because I won't try new ideas. He calls me hidebound. Don't laugh, Barrett. You've probably said the same thing yourself.”

“I prefer stick-in-the-mud.”

As his lips twisted in a smile, Harrison nodded. “Sounds like you. But back to Camden. I got tired of arguing with him, so I decided I'd give him some time to run things the way he wants. Besides, with him being newly wed, I figured he and Susan deserved some time without an interfering older brother around.”

“Mighty considerate of you. I probably shouldn't say this, lest you get a swelled head.” Barrett tossed Harrison's words back at him. “But I'll take my chances and admit that I'm glad you're here, even though I imagine it's my life you're going to try to interfere in now. It's clear you disapprove of it.”

“Aw, Barrett, you always were too sensitive. I don't disapprove. I'm just surprised.” Harrison leaned forward, his expression earnest. “Tell me about those cows.”

“Cattle,” Barrett corrected, although he suspected his brother knew the correct term and was calling the animals cows simply to annoy him. “I'd rather tell you about something else.” He might as well get everything out in the open right away. Besides, Harrison might have some good advice. “I have to warn you, though, old stick-in-the-mud, that it's a new idea.”

“Not you too.”

“Afraid so. It must be contagious.” He took a deep breath, wondering how Harrison would react. “I'm considering marriage.”

“It's about time.” A grin split Harrison's face, setting his jowls to quivering. “You're not getting any younger, you know.” As Barrett opened his mouth to retort, Harrison's grin widened. “No need to point out that I'm even older and still haven't married. Some men are meant to be bachelors, but you're not one of them.”

“So, you approve?” Harrison's letters hadn't sounded as if he was happy about Camden's marriage.

“Sure do. I hope you're planning to introduce me to your bride-to-be.” Harrison's smile faded. “Or is this just theoretical?”

“Nope.” Barrett shook his head. “I have a lady in mind, and if you promise to be on your best behavior, I just might let you meet her.”

“Afraid I might steal her away?”

“Hardly.” Harrison was too honorable to court Miriam when he knew that Barrett was considering marrying her. “There's more, though.”

“Another new idea?” Harrison feigned shock. “I'm not sure I can handle two in one day.”

“Brace yourself.” As his brother gripped the chair arms, Barrett chuckled. This was the Harrison he remembered, always ready to play. “I may run for political office.”

There was a second of silence as Harrison digested the words, then he leaned forward and pounded his fists on Barrett's desk. “That's the best idea I've heard in months. You'll charm the voters the way you did customers.” He rose and clapped Barrett on the shoulder. “Good move, little brother. Good move.”

“The snow is getting heavier,” Gwen said as she shook her cloak and hung it on one of the pegs near the door. “You might want to skip services today.” She knelt on the floor and held out her arms, grinning when Rose raced into them. “Did you miss your mama?”

Rose nodded. “I play with David, but he cry.”

Gwen looked up in alarm. “Did Rose hurt him?”

“It was a game.” Gwen's daughter had been trying to teach David to stand, and when she'd let go of his hands, the inevitable had occurred: David had fallen and hit his head. A few minutes later, his tears gone, he'd attempted to rise without assistance and had fallen again, but this time Charlotte had seen a new determination on her son's face. Though he'd resisted her efforts to help him stand, somehow, Rose's encouragement had given him the impetus he needed to try. “Don't be surprised if he falls again,” she told Gwen. “You know it's part of the process. I moved everything I could out of the way.”

She reached for her cape. Cut with what the fashion books called dolman sleeves, it was far more practical for Cheyenne's wind than an ordinary cape, because she could draw it close to her body.

“It wouldn't hurt you to miss church today,” Gwen repeated. “Look at the snow.”

Charlotte shook her head. “It's less than a block away.” That was an advantage of living where she did, close to what residents called Church Corner. Charlotte's church was located on one corner, Gwen's on another, a third across the street. It was a short walk, and, fortunately for the two women, each church's services were held at different times, allowing them both to worship without worrying about their children.

“I want to go,” Charlotte said as she picked up the Bible that had been one of her first purchases when she'd reached Cheyenne. “I need to go.” Until she had married and moved to Fort Laramie, the only times she had missed Sunday worship were when she had been ill. Services at the fort had been irregular, and as often as not, Charlotte had worshiped at home, but since she had become part of a community with established churches,
she hadn't missed a Sunday. A snowfall, even if it was unusually heavy for October, was no reason to break her pattern.

“You're stubborn.” Gwen's smile took the sting from her accusation.

“Guilty as charged.” Charlotte gave David one last hug, then slid the Bible into the pocket she had sewn into the cape. The leather binding was still stiff, and the book did not fit into her hand as comfortably as the Bible she had had since childhood, but Charlotte could not risk using that one in public. With its record of not only her birth but also her marriage to Jeffrey, it contained too much information that she was trying to keep secret, and so she hid it beneath a spare petticoat in one of her bureau drawers.

Charlotte bent her head as she crossed the street, trying to keep the snow from pelting her face. Unlike the snow of her childhood, where fat, lazy flakes drifted to the ground, snow rarely fell in Cheyenne. Instead, the wind blew it with such force that it seemed as if shards of glass were being catapulted through the sky. The tiny flakes that were more like pellets could hurt delicate skin, especially when they were driven sideways by a fierce wind.

As she entered the church and brushed away the snow that had coated her eyelashes, Charlotte heard a familiar voice. She looked up. It hadn't been her imagination. Though she had never before seen him in the church, Barrett Landry was indeed here. Even more surprisingly, he was accompanied by a man whose resemblance said he was a relative.

“Good morning, Charlotte.” Barrett smiled as he covered the distance between them in two long steps. “I'd like to introduce you to my brother Harrison. He came to Wyoming to see how cow farmers live.” The mischievous tone to his voice told
Charlotte that Harrison must have referred to cattle ranchers as cow farmers, a term no one in the territory would use.

“It's nice to meet you, Mr. Landry.” Though normally the narthex was crowded, it appeared that the snow had discouraged many parishioners, for today there was no one other than Charlotte and the Landry brothers.

“Harrison, please.” The man was an older, less refined version of Barrett. Though his suit was well-cut, as befitted someone who ran a store that sold men's clothing, his shoulders were not as broad, his muscles less defined, his face softer around the edges.

“It's nice to meet you, Harrison. Are you enjoying our snow?”

It was Barrett who answered, his lips twisting with irony. “Does anyone enjoy snow? I don't, especially when I consider what it means to the cattle. They're not used to having so much of the frozen white stuff so early in the season.”

Charlotte looked at the sanctuary with its sparsely filled pews. “Judging from the few people here, I'd say many of the parishioners aren't happy about it, either.”

Barrett nodded. “I usually attend an earlier service, but Harrison slept too late.”

Seemingly unchastened by his brother's comment, Harrison grinned. “The train was tiring. Barrett wouldn't know about that, since it's been so long since he traveled on one.”

Though Charlotte was curious about the currents that seemed to flow between them, this was not the time to ask. “We'd better take our seats.”

As she led the way into the sanctuary, Barrett asked if they could join her.

With the church only a quarter filled, there was no reason
for them to share a pew with her, and yet there was also no reason for her to refuse. “Certainly.”

As the congregation rose for the first hymn, Charlotte discovered two things about Barrett. He sang badly off-key, and it didn't seem to bother him. Barrett sang like a man who knew that God heard the words of praise and knew they were sincere. The fact that his voice was less melodic than many didn't matter. How different from Jeffrey. Charlotte's husband had attended church services only when she insisted, and though he sang the hymns and recited the prayers with the rest of the congregation, she knew he had been there in body but not in spirit. Barrett was not like that.