CHAPTER ELEVEN
Blake paced Henry’s office, waiting for John’s daughters to show up. They’d agreed last night to meet there again in the morning. Blake had just assumed that meant the same time as yesterday. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He’d arrived at eight, and that was more than an hour ago. He was used to rising early; too much work needed doing to sleep in, even if he wanted to.
A few minutes ago, Henry had discovered he was out of coffee beans and had gone downstairs for more.
Finally. Footsteps on the stairs. Henry must be on his way back.
The door opened. Belle Brinkman, finished with her rendezvous in the café with Mr. Atkins, swished in. She was clearly ready to get on with her day, as if she hadn’t just broken that man’s heart. She seemed light and her face was flushed—with guilt? Or happiness? Blake remembered how pretty she had looked last night, how her eyes opened a bit wider when she contributed to the conversation, how the soft scent of her perfume distracted him. Disgusted with himself, he shoved the thoughts away.
Her gaze landed on his scar.
“Miss Brinkman,” he said, feeling a recurrence of his earlier anger.
They aren’t to blame, he reasoned with himself. They never received any of the letters. They were victims, just as John had been. The memory of John in his final hours, reminiscing about his precious girls as he struggled for life, was still too vivid for him to completely let the resentment go.
She glanced around, obviously looking for Henry.
“He went to buy coffee beans downstairs. Ran out yesterday. There’s none left in the pot . . .”
Turning away, he rolled his eyes at his own stupid babbling. He sounded like a blathering fool. A long crack in the ceiling caught his attention. This room—and the whole town—must look shabby to John’s daughter. Henry kept his office and adjoining living quarters neat as a pin, but its bones were getting old. Looked a little ragged and tired—just like the rest of Eden.
The heck with the Brinkman girls. They can just get back on that stage and return to Philadelphia, for all I care.
“Where’re the others? On their way?”
She clasped her hands tightly in front of her skirt, looking ill at ease, the brightness of her expression gone. “After breakfast, they decided to take a short walk. See some of the town. They should be along anytime.”
He went to the window, wondering which way they’d gone. He didn’t see one female belonging to their family—or to any other.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Harding? Are they in danger?”
“That might depend on which way they went. Some parts of the town can be rough. Did they mention what they wanted to see?”
She hurried to his side, put her hands on the sill, and leaned out, looking both ways. “No. Just things.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine, but I’d prefer you waited for me next time you plan to go sightseeing. When you want to walk, or see John’s grave, I’ll be happy to show you around to your heart’s content.”
Not actually happy, but I will because I told John I would.
“Are they in danger, Mr. Harding?” she asked again, an edge to her tone. “I want them to be more than fine. Will more men be shooting off their guns?”
When the door opened again, he was expecting to see Henry. Instead, in walked Trevor.
His ranch hand jerked to a stop when he saw Miss Brinkman and whipped the hat from his head.
“What is it, Trevor?” Blake asked. “If you’re looking for Henry, he’s downstairs in the mercantile.”
“I just came from there. I’m looking for you.”
“Miss Brinkman,” Blake said, remembering his manners, “meet Trevor Hill. He works for the ranch—and now you, I guess.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, miss,” Trevor gritted out. “And I’m sorry about your pa. That was real bad, the way he died. I’d not wish that on—”
Blake loudly cleared his throat, and Trevor snapped his mouth closed.
Belle’s brow wrinkled and she briefly searched Blake’s gaze. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Hill,” she finally said.
“Just Trevor, ma’am.”
She smiled. “One more face to recognize at the ranch will be nice. I know I have a lot to learn, but I hope you’ll be patient.”
Trevor’s gaze shot to Blake.
Blake shrugged. She didn’t mean anything by that, did she? She’s just making polite conversation. He tried to signal as much to Trevor, who still looked worried. Blake would bet his last nickel that none of these women were up for such a challenge. Why would they be? When they went back to the city, they’d be as rich as could be.
No need to panic just yet—that was what he’d told the men yesterday.
“Uh, we need to talk, Blake,” Trevor finally said.
“I’m listening.”
“Maybe we should speak in private. I don’t want to alarm anyone in the room, if you get my drift.”
Belle’s back went straight.
“This is John’s daughter. If she’s anything like him, she’s tough.” He smiled to himself. Anything but. “I’m sure whatever you have to report won’t shock her too much.” He looked her way. “You won’t faint, will you?”
She shook her head.
Trevor shrugged. “Praig up and left. Took two of the men with him.”
What the hell! Blake, who’d been admiring Belle’s profile as Trevor talked, jerked his attention back to the ranch hand. “What do you mean, he left? Why would he do such a thing? Right before roundup, no less?”
Trevor scuffed his boot at nothing on the wooden floor. “Some of the men have been grumbling about working for five lady bosses. That’s five more than they signed on for. Guess they finally made their decision.”
Belle blinked and looked between them.
“How’d they decide that? We haven’t heard their official decision yet.” He chanced a quick look at Belle, wary of what he might see. The girl was more stoic than an Indian when she wanted to be. “My bet is they head back to Philadelphia by next week. Miss Brinkman, what do you have to say?”
She smiled, and Blake felt the full force of all those straight, white teeth.
“We spoke about our options late last night. We have come to a decision, but decided not to say anything until you and Mr. Glass were present.”
So that’s how she’s playing it . . .
Trevor shook his head. “The men had a spy planted in the hotel café this morning. Heard ’em talking about staying in Eden. And maybe even bringin’ in sheep.”
“A spy? Who?” Blake demanded.
“Praig.”
“Once sheep were mentioned,” Trevor went on, “he beat it back to the ranch with the news as fast as he could ride. Didn’t take much to convince the men to leave. Sheep and cattlemen don’t mix.”
Belle gasped. “A spy? Are we the enemy? Were the men not loyal to my father?”
“Yes on all counts, miss,” Trevor said.
Blake couldn’t believe his ears. The ride to the ranch was forty-five minutes by wagon, or fifteen on a galloping horse. “You sure he’s gone for good? Maybe you got the story wrong. I can’t spare a single man.”
Again, the nod. “Sure I’m sure. He cleared out his belongings. Told Tank he’s heading where men are respected and they don’t have to work for no woman.” He glanced at Belle. “No disrespect meant to you. I’m just repeating his words.”
“None taken.”
Blake felt like pounding his fist into Praig’s face. He’d told the men to be patient. Not to jump to conclusions. “I should have fired Praig the first time he talked back. Wherever he’s going, he won’t last long. He’s too lazy.”
Belle gave him a long stare. “Why did you keep on a slacker?”
“I need to get back to the ranch before Praig can recruit any more hands,” he answered, avoiding her question. “Who’d he take?”
“Riley and Bush.”
Blake felt like cursing. “That leaves Garrett, Tank, KT, Moses, you, and me. We can get the roundup done with six men, but the job won’t be easy. Long hours and hard work. We’ve never been this shorthanded before.”
“Praig’s been stewing for a fight since John’s death,” Trevor explained to Belle. “Almost like he was challenging Blake. And maybe he was.” He glanced at Blake and then Belle. “Maybe hearing what John left you was the last straw. Even though he quit, I don’t think he’s gonna let this go. It’s personal to him.”
Trevor has a point.
“You best watch your back, Blake.”
Blake rubbed the back of his neck, thinking how the last conversation he’d had with Praig hadn’t been civil. “I’m thinking the same thing.”
Steps echoed up the staircase. Either Henry was back, or the rest of the Brinkman sisters were finally on their way.
“What’s this about a roundup?” Belle asked as Henry stepped through the door. The lawyer held a brown bag and a stack of mail in his hands. “Are you speaking about the cattle?”
“Nothing to be worried over. We’ll get the roundup done and the cattle ready for the stockmen that’re coming to drive ’em to the stockyards in Santa Fe, just like every year before. Our fall roundup is much smaller than spring’s.”
Even though they’d be shorthanded for the upcoming work, Blake could live with it. What he couldn’t live with was a man who was always stewing for a fight. That was Praig. If it was a beautiful, sunny day, he’d find something to grumble about.
“Sounds the opposite,” she said. “You sure you know what you’re doing without my father?”
The apprehension in her voice turned his anger to annoyance. Is this what I have to look forward to? My decisions questioned on things they know nothing about? In that case, he was doubly glad they probably wouldn’t be sticking around. “Yes, Miss Brinkman, I do, I assure you.”
Henry, who’d been listening intently, set his mail and the bag on his desk. “What’d I miss? Sounds important.”
Before Blake could answer, Belle turned to the attorney. “Some men at the ranch quit because they don’t want to work for me and my sisters. One, named Praig, sounds like he’d like nothing better than to cause trouble. Seems he has a history with Mr. Harding. Mr. Hill thinks Mr. Harding needs to watch his back.” She looked between them. “Does that mean he’d actually try to kill Mr. Harding?”
There was no guile in her eyes, only open, honest concern—and a genuine interest in the operation of the ranch. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that she reminded him of John at that moment.
She turned back to Henry. “What should we do? Inform the sheriff?”
Blake shot Trevor a look that said, See what you’ve done? If you would have waited ten minutes, all this could have been avoided.
“We were expecting disquiet sooner or later.” Henry stepped closer. “We shouldn’t be surprised.”
Blake nodded. “Yeah, we were. You see, Miss Brinkman, the men—”
“If we’re going to be working together for six months, perhaps you should call me Belle. And I’ll call you Blake, if that’s all right with you?”
Blake’s heart thwacked in his chest. He couldn’t believe what was happening. “We are? Going to be working together, that is? Have you and your sisters come to a decision?”
She nodded.
“You’re staying in Eden?” He hadn’t meant to sound so shocked—but in reality, he was.
Her gaze went to each of the three men, and then she laughed. “Blake, you look as if you’ve been dealt a death sentence.” When he didn’t answer, because of his shock, she looked to Henry. “May I call you Henry?”
A wide smile split Henry’s face. “That’s fantastic news, Belle.” He rushed forward and gave her a fatherly hug. “Of course you should call me Henry. You won’t regret staying, I promise.” Henry’s face fairly beamed with happiness.
Blake hoped his friend knew what he was doing.
“And as I said before, I’m Trevor,” Trevor added quickly. “You or your sisters can come to me with any problem you might have. I’ll be happy to help.”
“Thank you, Trevor. I’ll be honest. I was overruled.” Her eyebrow tented. “I was against staying in Eden. The decision still has my insides in a knot. I’m keeping in mind what Henry said about the ranch as the better investment six months from now. And as of this morning, it sounds like we’ll actually be able to help as well.”
Blake rubbed a hand across his whiskers, remembering he hadn’t taken the time that morning to shave. “Help? In what way?”
“You’re short men for the roundup. Three, if I’ve counted correctly.”
A flash of heat rushed to Blake’s face.
“Do you ride, Belle?” Henry asked, his silly grin irritating Blake further.
“I do. But my experience has been with a sidesaddle in the park, on a mount that was not much larger than a pony. I’ve never ridden astraddle, and I don’t have the right clothes. Is there a clothing store in town?”
“Absolutely,” Henry chortled. “A small place called the Toggery—one of your new businesses. They should have whatever you need in the young men’s department. By now, they’re open. Your father had an account at every establishment in Eden. You’ll have no need for cash. Don’t worry about getting lost—Blake will show you the way.”
Blake gawked. Henry must be loco. Belle could get seriously hurt.
“Henry, you don’t intend to let her ride.”
She lifted a brow. “Let me?”
“The only way to learn is to ride,” Henry replied. “After a day or two, she’ll be comfortable.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back, puffing out her chest.
Of all things, thought Blake.
Blake was reminded of her excited smile when she’d entered the office. “We best get movin’. Who knows what’s going on out at the ranch. Trevor, go get a buggy from the livery and bring the other Brinkmans out when they show up. I’m shanghaiing Gunner for Belle.” He looked at Henry. “You coming with us?”
“You betcha. Let me do a few things here while she gets her duds. I’ll be ready when you are. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”