CHAPTER FOUR
Mavis surged to her feet, but Belle pulled her back down. The three younger sisters just sat in stunned silence, their bewilderment almost comical. Blake dredged up a smidgen of pity.
Visibly shaken, Mavis could hardly get her next words out. “What? What are you saying? All these years, our father has been in contact with us? I can assure you, Mr. Glass, we have not received any letters from our father—or anything else. No contact at all.”
Henry reached out two placating hands—his way, Blake assumed, of calming the girl’s runaway emotions. The youngest, Katie, already had a handkerchief out and was dabbing her watery eyes.
“Please,” Henry said. “Let’s take a moment to figure out—in a calm and collected manner—what’s going on. I posted many of the letters to your mother for John myself.” He paused, frowning. “John received a good many responses over the years, all communicating that Celeste was not ready yet to return to Colorado, and that you girls were flourishing in Philadelphia. She implored him not to interfere with your lives.” His color deepened as reality set in. “John did receive a note from Vernon Crowdaire, letting him know that your mother passed last year. My condolences.”
A stunned silence filled the office. Mavis lifted a shaky hand to her mouth, and Belle just stared, her face a twisted mask of anger.
“Our mother passed away long ago,” Belle said. “Fifteen years, to be exact.”
In that second, it became apparent to Blake what had happened to the correspondence—and the money.
“What are you implying?” Katie whispered anxiously. “That Aunt Velma and Uncle Vernon purposely kept our family apart? They’ve been our guardians for fifteen years. They’d never do such a thing.”
Emma was shaking her head.
Henry pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “If that’s what happened, it’s atrocious, but I have to admit, after what you’ve just said, it sounds plausible.”
Lavinia cleared her throat, looking frightened. “Vernon Crowdaire was the only person allowed to pick up our mail. I remember going into the post office and being turned away. Vernon said that was because he’d forbidden the postmaster to deliver to anyone but him. He said he didn’t want any of his business correspondences to be lost, that his charges were too flighty to be trusted.”
“Is that legal, Henry?” Blake asked, his interest sparked to the mystery. “If letters were addressed to Celeste?”
“Absolutely not. But that’s not to say he didn’t pay off the clerks and postmaster who were doing his bidding.”
Blake suddenly felt like going to Philadelphia, finding their guardians, and taking matters into his own hands. His anger at the girls ebbed as he took in their confused expressions. The pain John had endured because of the Crowdaires was sickening. They’d ruined his life.
If, that is, the girls are telling the truth.
“After your mother’s passing, or what John thought was her passing last year,” Henry went on in a steadier voice, “he’d hoped at least one of his now-grown daughters would write to him. Take an interest in him or the ranch. Come get acquainted.”
Blake stared at a spot on the wall behind Henry’s head.
And the disappointment killed him. Just like that. Well, not exactly. Still, if he’d had hope of any kind, he’d have fought the infection with conviction. Is it possible the women are acting now, to cover their deceitfulness over the years? They could have planned this explanation, knowing how despicable they’d be perceived for ignoring so many requests from John. Are they trying to pull wool over the eyes of a country lawyer and a cowhand? Acting innocent and confused?
Blake decided he wasn’t quite ready to believe them.
Mavis glanced at her sisters and then briefly at him. “I can promise you, Mr. Glass, Mr. Harding, we knew nothing of Father’s letters—or support. If I’d known, I would have come at his first bidding. We were told he disowned us after our mother moved away. That he was bitter and vengeful, even a dangerous man. Uncle Vernon said our mother had kept that information from us to protect us from the truth, but he thought we should know.” She sniffed and looked away for several long seconds. “A grave injustice has been done to our father, our mother, and to us. I’m sure I speak for my sisters when I say my heart is shattered. We were kept from him intentionally and unlawfully.”
“This is a bit difficult to believe,” Blake angrily bit out, unable to keep silent any longer. “John has sent support for years. Enough money so that every single one of you could be raised in style. He didn’t ask for anything in return, just hoped for a little of your time one day. To get to know you. To love you in person.”
They were staring at him as if he’d sprouted big, ugly warts all over his face—and with his scar surely turning red with anger, he essentially had. At this point, finding a whit of compassion for any of them was nigh on impossible. They might be pretty to look at, but they’d broken John’s heart, his spirit. “Just one of you could have reached out to him, taken an interest. Even without the money. Just one . . .”
Henry pointed a finger. “Blake. Temper your anger. You don’t know all the facts.”
“I think I know enough,” he said, trying to rein in his tone. “Would that have been so difficult, Mrs. Applebee, Miss Brinkman?” He waved his hand. “All you Miss Brinkmans? Amazing how you show up now, only when he’s dead and there might be something of value to inherit. Why am I not surprised?”
“Blake!” Henry shouted. “Get ahold of yourself. That’s more than enough.”
Belle leaned past her sister so she could look him in the eye. “We have never received anything from our father. Not one word. Not one penny. When I was a little girl, I used to dream he might send me a doll for my birthday. Or a pretty dress for Christmas. All I heard was that he didn’t want daughters, he wanted sons. That if he wanted us, perhaps he’d have come to Pennsylvania himself. I won’t let you lay this debacle at our feet, Mr. Harding, no matter how much you think we’re to blame. We are victims, just like our father.”
Her voice was strong, but Blake didn’t miss the tremble in her lips as she turned away.
“Ladies! Blake! Please,” Henry blurted, reaching out in supplication once more. “Please. Settle down. Figuring out what happened will take time—more than we have today, or even this month. But I assure you, no one will get away with such an immoral deed, if indeed the Crowdaires are to blame.” He took a deep breath. “For now, let me get on with the reading. Later we’ll come back to this situation and try to determine what actually transpired with all those letters and bank notes.”
Silence settled over the room. Where Belle looked angry, the rest of the girls looked confused and sick.
“Besides the cattle ranch and the silver mine farther south, your father owns five businesses in Eden. A mill and lumberyard, the café in the hotel, a tannery and leather shop, the livery where he has a partner named Maverick Daves, and an apparel store called the Toggery. He didn’t start these businesses. Townsfolk came to him, needing to sell, because he had the cash to help them out. They each had an agreement that they could buy the businesses back if they ever wanted. Most just moved out of town.”
“And he always gave them more than they were asking,” Blake threw out. He stared straight ahead, refusing to look at the sisters.
Henry leafed to the next page, taking a moment to look it over. “The mine has never been worked under John’s ownership and sits vacant at this point. It’s to be split evenly between the five girls.” Henry looked up. “If you haven’t heard, this area is rich in silver. The other businesses are to be drawn from a hat, so that each sister receives one. After drawing, if you want to make trades, that’s allowed. John’s hope was that having actual stock in Eden would encourage you to stay. Get to know the people and the area. Perhaps make his town your home.”
God forbid.
There was movement in the chairs beside him. Someone murmured. Someone else daintily blew a nose. Outside, the rattle of a wagon rolling by and the neigh of a horse could be heard clearly over the strained atmosphere in the office.
“He leaves a thousand dollars to the town of Eden for improvements.” Henry looked up and smiled. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of the Canyon of the Ancients. It’s a rock formation thirty miles away with Pueblo and Anasazi ruins. John believed as the attraction gained in popularity more people would come to Colorado to see the beauty and greatness. They’ll need a place to stay on their journeys.”
The girls remained silent.
“The ranch will be split in half. Half to the Brinkman daughters and half to Blake Harding, who’s worked the place for the last eighteen years.”
Annoyance left Blake in a zap of surprise. He pushed against the back of his chair, wondering if he’d heard correctly.
Half of the ranch? Why did John cut me in, in such a big way?
Time seemed to slow down, and the floor under his boots tilted. Because of his good friend, Blake had just become a rich man.
“You’ll all be wealthy beyond anything you could have imagined. But where the ranch is involved, there are a few stipulations. To be awarded the fifty percent of the ranch—which is the largest piece of John’s estate at this time—all five sisters must remain in Eden for six months. That’s a short enough time that if you have ties back in Philadelphia you don’t want to break, your stay here won’t disrupt them too much. It’s also a long enough time for you to get to know Eden and perhaps desire to remain here, on the land John loved, and his father before him. If you decide to return to Philadelphia before the end of six months, you’ll each be granted fifteen thousand dollars. Accepting it forfeits your claim on the ranch to Blake. You may do what you want with whichever business you each acquire. You may not sell the mine for five years.”
Finally, Blake chanced a look down the row. The girls were glancing around in confusion.
Henry made a dismissive waving motion. “Please don’t worry too much about all the particulars at the moment. It’s a lot to digest in one sitting. Concerning the businesses, there are managers running them now who will continue until you take over the reins, whether that’s right away or not at all, if you choose to sell. I’ll go into greater details after I read the letter John left, and after you’ve had a little time to absorb such a shock.
“The ranch is the largest holding, and will be worth the most. If after the six months you decide you want to sell, you can do so, but all sisters have to be in agreement so it’s the full fifty percent of the ranch that would be sold—not ten, twenty, or thirty. Most importantly, Blake gets the first chance at buying your fifty percent at a fair market price. If he doesn’t want your fifty percent, you can sell to whomever you choose. If, after six months, you decide you all want to keep the ranch, the sisters who want to remain in Eden can do so, and anyone who wants to return to the city can, without giving up her share.”
Everyone sat as still as marble. Blake doubted if they’d remember any of the details at all.
“And now, here’s a personal letter from John.”
Henry pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and began to read aloud.
Blake braced himself. He hadn’t expected any of this.
I’d still give it all up to have John back.
“My dearest daughters, if you’re hearing this now, I have passed from this world into eternity and am now reunited with your mother. I cannot tell you how happy that makes me. I have missed her deeply, and am now comforted that we are again together.
“Welcome to Eden. I hope after Henry explains everything, you will understand why I made the decisions I have. There is much I’d like to say to each of you, and so much I’d like to learn about you. But now, that is not possible. I want you to know that I do not blame your mother for taking you away. She did what she felt she must to keep you safe, away from Indian skirmishes and death. It is true; your lives were in peril every day. Back then, Eden was a much different place than you see now. Indian raids were common. The cemetery usually added one or two fresh graves each month. Our ranch was remote, rough, and mere survival required hard work. Harsh winters went on for months. Too few females were here with whom she could share her feelings. But her breaking point came when the couple at a ranch a few miles west was murdered and scalped. Katie had only been born three months before. At some point, everyone has to make a choice as to what they will endure. Celeste made her choice and took you back east, despite the ongoing war. That is a day I never forgot.”
Henry cleared his throat and continued.
“Blake, you have been like a son to me. After those days when my family left, you kept me sane. You made sure I ate, and the chores got done. You are the reason I survived. Since then, you have worked tirelessly at my side. Thank you for that. I hope you know I couldn’t have loved a son more.”
Hot moisture sprang to Blake’s eyes, and he glanced toward the window.
“Daughters, Blake Harding is a good man. He’s smart and capable, with a good, level head on his shoulders. If you decide to stay in Eden, you will need guidance to keep the ranch running smoothly. Knowing his character as I do, I expect him to watch out for you all and make sure you learn our ways, which may be different from the way you were raised. My most ardent wish is that the Five Sisters Ranch will always be owned by Blake and my daughters—and eventually your offspring.”
Loud gasps ricocheted around the room.
“The Five Sisters Ranch?” Mavis repeated in a tear-filled voice.
Henry nodded. Blake sat, stunned. More than once he felt curious eyes turned his way, but he kept his gaze trained forward.
John never let on about his intent for the property—or, maybe there had been a hint or two, now that I think back.
He’d always assumed John meant to keep him on as foreman, but he’d never dreamed of ownership of Five Sisters. The reality made his head buzz.
John’s monthlong battle with infection was still as fresh as a knife wound across Blake’s heart. The last days of delirium, when John drifted in and out of consciousness, imagining his daughters and wife had returned, were agony. He cried their names and babbled promises, the emotion in his pleas enough to make a hardened killer weep with pity. Blake had done his best to ease John’s strife, spending hours at his bedside, wiping his sweaty brow and drying his tears. Before the end, John had rallied, becoming once again the man who’d raised him, offering comforting platitudes about death not being the end, just a new direction. He had tried to ease Blake’s own distress, knowing that he was dying.
Blake looked over. Now all five sisters were crying. Some wiped at wet cheeks with snowy-white hankies adorned with their initials. The teary faces finally softened his mood.
Henry continued reading.
“There’s Brinkman blood flowing in your veins, even if you don’t recognize it yet. You’re fighters. Fortitude is each of your middle names. Now I smile, thinking of all the beauty your presence will bring to my beloved Eden. It’s almost as if the whole town has been holding its breath, waiting for your return.
“I must sign off, as I have other letters that need writing. I remain your loving father . . .”
Henry stared at the back wall for several long moments, then stood. He moved to his sideboard and began pouring water from his blue-and-white porcelain pitcher into tumblers. He brought two to Mavis and Belle first.
“Please, have a little water. You’ve had a shock.”
Mavis reached out and took the glass.
“Miss Brinkman?” he said to Belle, but she shook her head, her face clouded. The two eldest had scooted around the youngest three like protective hens.
Henry handed the water to Emma and went back for more. “I say we finish up later. You’ve had enough for one day. So much more than what you were expecting—any of us, actually.”
“I think that’s wise,” Mavis said. She stood and straightened her black mourning dress, and the others followed her lead.
Henry nodded. “Good. But tonight, after you’ve rested, please join me for supper as my guests.”
Blake breathed a sigh of relief. As soon as they were gone, he’d head to the saloon for a beer. Or whiskey.
“B-but, we couldn’t eat, Mr.—” Belle began, wiping away a stream of tears.
“No buts. You have to eat. As difficult as this is, life goes on. It’s what your father wanted. I’ve reserved a table at Mademoiselle de Sells for seven tonight. We can get better acquainted.” He cut his gaze to Blake.
“Me too?” I didn’t hear anything in the will about having to socialize.
“All of us. Does the time work for everyone?” He looked at the women.
“Seven will be fine,” Belle said, and the others nodded.
Henry clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. Anything you need, just ask Mr. Simon at the hotel.”
Blake went to the door and pulled it open to a gust of warm, dry air. He reconsidered the whiskey. The day would be hot. The ranch might have problems with the river sooner than they’d planned. As much as the Five Sisters had been his life before, it was all the more so now.
One by one, the women thanked Henry and Blake and left, youngest to oldest. Mr. Atkins was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
Henry released a deep sigh after they were out of earshot. “That wasn’t so bad.”
But Blake hardly heard him. Below, Mr. Atkins offered one arm to Belle and another to Lavinia, the other three sisters latching together at various points.
Not so bad?
The surprise that accompanied the news that he was now half owner of the ranch had made him overlook the other half of the equation: that he was now a business partner with the women he’d been disparaging in his mind for years.
“Blake?”
“Yeah? I’m just thinkin’, Henry.”
“I bet you are. Congratulations. You’ve worked hard to get where you are today. I know John would be pleased. You and his girls finally getting together again after all these years.”
After the Brinkman sisters had crossed the street and disappeared through the door of the hotel, Blake turned to face his old friend. He wished he could be as happy as Henry looked at that moment, but trouble was brewing. He felt it in his bones. One of those women was going to want to develop the land, every meeting would turn into a sparring match—or worse, one of them would marry some fellow who wanted to bring in sheep.
He thought of Ann, his wife, dead four years. Marcia, his infant daughter, living only half an hour after her birth. His brother. John. He’d lost so much—and now he’d gained a lot too.
Life in Eden had just taken a sharp turn. In which direction still remained to be seen.