Neither Regina nor her sister were interested in breakfast the next morning, so they didn’t go to the dining room. Regina almost went down just for a cup of tea in hopes of catching sight of Mr. Honeycutt, but she scolded herself—they’d be spending time with him soon enough, and she didn’t know why she’d had that silly notion in the first place. Gracious—it wasn’t as though she’d never seen a handsome man before.
When they came downstairs and exited the hotel, they found Mr. Honeycutt out front with a horse and buggy. The buggy was nicer than Regina had expected of a hired hack, and the horse looked well-muscled.
“Are you ready to go, ladies?” Mr. Honeycutt asked, holding out his arm.
“Most definitely,” Ariadne said, grasping his arm as she climbed into the buggy. “I’m sure this hotel has its charms, but I won’t feel right about things until we’re in a place we can call our own.”
“And what about you, Miss Regina?” he asked as he turned to her. “How did you sleep?”
If he kept looking at her that way, she wouldn’t have a sensible word left in her head. “Not badly,” she said at last. “My sister’s right, though—it’s always so much nicer to be in your own home.”
He nodded and held out his arm. It took her a moment to remember that she was supposed to use it for stability as she climbed into the wagon—for a ridiculous second, she thought he was asking her to dance, and she was about ready to accept. It was a good thing Ariadne couldn’t read her thoughts, or she would certainly never hear the end of it.
After both sisters were settled, Mr. Honeycutt circled around and climbed into the driver’s seat. “The road to Bachelor is something else,” he said as he flicked the reins. “You’ll see some of God’s most choice creations, but we’ll also be driving along a somewhat treacherous part, and you’ll need to trust me.”
Regina met his gaze behind Ariadne’s head. “And are you trustworthy, Mr. Honeycutt?” She’d meant her question to sound light and teasing, but it came out rather solemnly.
He answered her with the same gravity in his voice. “I assure you, Miss Regina, that I am.”
Something told her that he wasn’t referring just to the drive, but to the way he lived his life, and she swallowed. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to find herself very attracted to this man.
The drive was everything he’d said it would be. The mountains were spectacular, and Regina was glad she was sitting on the outside of the bench so she could see out without having to lean. But then they reached the stretch Mr. Honeycutt had mentioned, and she wished she was sitting in the middle so she could grab his arm. The road dropped off on one side and tumbled down to a river far below, and she closed her eyes.
“What if we encounter a wagon coming the other way?” Ariadne asked, her voice sounding small. “Do we just pray it doesn’t happen?”
“Oh, it happens,” Mr. Honeycutt said. “That’s why you’ve got to trust me.”
“Perhaps we trust you, but it’s the other wagon we’re not so sure about,” Regina added, her eyes still closed.
Mr. Honeycutt laughed. “Any drivers who choose to take this road have the necessary skills, Miss Regina. Sit tight, and it’ll all be over before you know it.”
She decided that sitting tight meant it was perfectly all right for her not to open her eyes until they were far past this particular spot. She also leaned toward her sister, as though that shift in the weight would somehow help.
At long, long last, Mr. Honeycutt said, “There’s Bachelor up ahead.”
Regina opened her eyes one at a time and saw that the scary parts were over. She sat up straighter and touched her hair automatically, as though fixing any stray locks would help her recover her dignity. A glance at Ariadne told her that her sister’s face was pale, so regardless of how foolish she must have looked with her eyes pinched tight, she knew she’d made the right choice by not watching during the drive.
Mr. Honeycutt guided the buggy up a street to a modest church and brought it to the back, where a small house was attached. “Here’s the Reverend Bing’s,” he said. “Hold on a minute and I’ll help you down.”
When Regina’s feet hit the ground, her knees almost buckled beneath her. She hadn’t realized that her fear had taken away all her strength.
“Are you all right, Miss Regina?” Mr. Honeycutt hadn’t released his grip on her elbows after helping her down, and she was glad of it. She was sure he was the only thing keeping her from collapsing.
“I’m fine, but thank you,” she told him. His arms were very strong—she was a bit embarrassed to notice that.
The front door opened, and she stood up straight. Being caught in a man’s arms by a pastor would be even more embarrassing than thinking about how strong those arms were.
“Hello,” the man who exited called out. “May I help you? Who have you brought to see me, Jake?”
“Hello, Reverend. These are the Stoker sisters from London, Miss Regina and Miss Ariadne.”
Reverend Bing approached and took both sisters by the hand one at a time. “It’s a pleasure. Won’t you come in? You too, Jake—you look like you could use some tea.”
Mr. Honeycutt shook his head. “I’m not much of a tea drinker, but thanks. I’ll wait out here with the rig.”
“How about some cool lemonade?”
Mr. Honeycutt grinned. “Now that does sound good.”
“If you’re determined not to leave the rig, I’ll send Millie out with a glass.”
“I think I’d like that, if she wouldn’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Reverend Bing held out his arm and motioned toward the house. “Please come in, ladies. I’m eager to hear about your travels.”
He showed them into the parlor, then called toward the back of the house, “Millie, we have guests.”
Just moments later, a kind-looking young woman with beautiful red hair came in the room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Oh, my! Hello there. I’m Millie Bing, the reverend’s sister. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come in—I was up to my elbows in dishwater, and quite distracted.”
“That’s quite all right,” Regina said.
“Millie, these are the Stoker sisters from London, Regina and Ariadne,” Reverend Bing said. “Jake Honeycutt brought them, and I wonder if you’d take him out a glass of lemonade.”
“Of course, but doesn’t he want to come inside?”
“He said he’d rather stay with the rig.”
Millie shook her head. “I worry about him sometimes. He’s such a nice young man, but he always seems to hang back in social settings.”
“He seems fairly outgoing to me,” Ariadne chimed in.
“I’m glad to hear it. He has to come out of his shell sometime or he’ll never settle down.” Millie shook her head again. “Well, that’s not for me to arrange. Would you like lemonade as well, or perhaps some tea?”
“Tea, please,” Regina and Ariadne said nearly in unison.
“We’re from England, so we must have our tea,” Ariadne added with a smile.
“I wish I had more of a selection to offer you,” Millie replied. “The stores here only carry the most basic kinds. I’ll be back in a moment with the tray.”
She bustled out of the room, and Reverend Bing sat forward with an expectant look on his face. “So, ladies, I’m certainly very curious to hear what brings you to my door.”
“We read your newspaper advertisement when we landed in New York,” Regina explained. “Are you still in search of people to help build up your community?”
He sat back with an astonished look on his face. “My advertisement made it all the way to New York? I never dreamed it would. Of course, Julianne Fontaine read it in Chicago, but that’s so much closer to here . . .” His voice sounded musing, and Regina was afraid they were losing his attention.
“It is rather amazing. We read the ad and felt as though we should come, so here we are. If you’re still in need, that is.”
“Of course we’re still in need, and we’re delighted to have you. Tell me, what are your skills?”
“Our skills?” Ariadne echoed.
“Yes. What contributions have you brought along with you? Are you teachers, seamstresses, nurses . . .?” He looked back and forth between them expectantly.
“We’re not what you might consider useful,” Ariadne explained. “We grew up with servants and governesses and the like, and we weren’t fitted for the outside world. Our father expected he would live forever, I imagine.”
“Or at least long enough to see us married off to husbands who would provide us with even more servants,” Regina added. “We each have a lady’s education, but nothing very practical, I’m afraid.”
“A lady’s education, you say?” The reverend looked thoughtful. “That means you could bring some culture into our community, I dare say.”
Millie entered the room with a tray and set it on the small table between them. “Here you are, with a spot of cream and sugar if you take it. I used the last of the lemons in the lemonade.”
“That’s all right,” Ariadne told her. “We prefer cream and sugar anyway.”
Millie poured, then sat down across from them next to her brother. “Are you going to stay in Creede, then, or are you passing through?”
“We’d like to stay, but we aren’t quite sure how to make ourselves useful.” Regina took a sip of her tea. It was potent enough, but the flavor just wasn’t very good—the leaves weren’t the best quality. She drank just enough to take care of her thirst, then set the cup down.
“Yes, yes, culture,” the reverend mused. “A way to civilize this uncivilized place even further.”
A smile crossed Millie’s face. “The answer is right in front of us.”
“It is?” Regina blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s right in front of us.” Millie waved her hands to indicate the tea tray. “Wouldn’t a tea shop be just the thing, Callum? They could sell it by the pound, and they could also keep a pot brewing and serve it right there. Little tables where their customers could sit and relax, a selection of tea cakes—it’s perfect.”
“A shop?” Ariadne’s eyebrows couldn’t have gone any higher. “You think we should run a shop?”
Regina gave her a patient look. “It would be a new sort of undertaking, but everything’s a new undertaking for us. We’ve never tried anything. We’ve never done anything. We have to start somewhere.”
The reverend coughed. “I hate to be indelicate, but do you have funds available to start up a business? Or were you hoping to find employment in town?”
“We have some money, yes. I’m not sure how much we’d need in order to start up a shop, though. Our father handled all our family finances, and he never believed that a woman should trouble herself with money matters.”
“And where is your mother?” he asked.
“She passed away when I was sixteen,” Ariadne replied.
“I’m very sorry to hear that. It must have been a terrible trial.”
“It was, but we learned to rely on each other as sisters during that time, so we did experience some sunshine along with the clouds,” Regina said.
“So, what do you think?” Ariadne asked, turning toward her and lowering her voice. “Should we attempt running a shop?”
Regina wished she had any sort of inkling what all that would take. It would be nicer if she had a feeling one way or another. All she felt, though, was bewilderment. Why had she thought they could travel clear around the world and create new lives for themselves when they knew how to do absolutely nothing? Had they expected to get paid for looking ornamental? It was her idea to come, so the burden of responsibility rested on her, and she felt adrift as to what to say.
“I think it’s our best option,” she said at last, keeping her voice down as well. Of course the Bings could still hear them, but they could pretend to have some privacy, as foolish as it was.
“Reverend Bing, I wonder if we might ask a favor,” Ariadne said, turning to face the room again. This surprised Regina, as Ariadne wasn’t prone to venturing out on her own like this. “We’re unacquainted with the way things work, and you seem to know the people here and what should be done. Could we ask you to act as our agent of sorts—help us figure out what we should do?”
Regina wished she’d thought of that herself—it was such a clever idea.
“I’d be delighted to help you. In fact, I think I might even know the perfect place for your shop. I’ll write a letter for you to carry to the man who’s building it, and also another letter introducing you to the bank. You believe this is a good idea, then?”
“I think it has merit. We’ll need to figure out if we can afford it, of course, and how to order in different types of tea.”
“Mortimer and Toria Jackson at the mercantile have several catalogs and should be able to help with that,” Millie said. “They’re the kindest people.”
Regina made a mental note of the names.
“And I’ll write those letters now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment.” The reverend moved to a writing desk in the corner of the room and began scribbling.
“Do you really think we’ll be successful, Miss Bing? If the townspeople don’t care for a variety of teas, we might be setting ourselves up for failure,” Ariadne said.
“I believe they simply need exposure to the different flavors,” Millie replied. “They’ve drunk the same thing their entire lives and haven’t considered all the possibilities. But if you serve it there in the shop, and perhaps even offer free samples, that would change.”
“Free samples?” Ariadne turned to Regina. “That sounds like a good idea. We could get some little cups to serve them in.”
“I imagine we can get cups at the mercantile?” Regina asked. A list of all the things they’d need started pouring into her brain—curtains and tablecloths and cups of all sizes, not to mention the tea itself—and she pulled in a deep breath. This was truly overwhelming. An hour before, she had no idea how she and her sister were going to take care of themselves. Now, they were going into business—something they’d never considered—all because a preacher’s pretty sister suggested it.
“Toria can help you order whatever you need,” Millie assured them. “And I want to be your first customer when you open. Oh, this is thrilling—a real tea shop in town, run by women. It’s time we saw more women in business, don’t you think?”
Regina was ashamed to realize that she’d actually paid very little attention to who ran the shops she visited. Was she so sheltered, so cloistered, that she wasn’t aware of the world passing by her?
Fifteen minutes later, Regina and Ariadne said their goodbyes and headed out to the buggy. Regina had the letters from Reverend Bing tucked into her bag, and Millie had promised to come see them in town soon. Jake jumped down from the buggy when they approached and helped them inside, resuming his seat after he did so.
“How was your visit?” he asked as he guided the buggy back the way they’d come.
“It was fruitful, and also perplexing,” Regina replied. “Tell me, Mr. Honeycutt—do you think the town of Creede needs a tea shop?”
“A tea shop? Oh, I don’t know. I don’t drink the stuff, personally—tastes like leaves swimming in hot water.”
“It is leaves swimming in hot water,” Regina said with a smile, and he laughed.
“Well then, that explains it. I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask. I will say this, though—if the reverend’s behind it, you’ve got at least a fighting chance of success. People around here respect him, and if he puts in a good word, they’ll come give it a try once or twice.”
“He did seem to like the idea,” Ariadne said to Regina.
“I’ll take that as a good sign, then.” Regina tried to return her breathing to normal—it had been erratic ever since Millie suggested the idea of a shop. It seemed that this idea of hers to become Americans was going to test their very mettle in ways she hadn’t quite anticipated.
***
Jake couldn’t help but be amused as he watched Miss Regina close her eyes again. He could tell she was determined to keep her composure as they went through the trickiest parts of the canyon, and if closing her eyes helped her achieve that, well, there was nothing wrong with it. Miss Ariadne kept her eyes open, but her face was frozen with her mouth slightly open, and it was hard not to be amused at that as well.
When he delivered the ladies back to the hotel, Miss Regina gave him a smile. “Thank you so much, Mr. Honeycutt,” she said. “You were a godsend today. How much do we owe for the buggy rental?”
“Truth be told, ma’am, Otto at the livery stable owed me a favor, so we’re calling it even.”
“But . . .” She seemed at a loss for words. “You can’t just give us all this for free!”
“I don’t know why not. Seems like the neighborly thing to do.”
“But . . .” Finally, she exhaled and shook her head. “Thank you. I’ll swallow my pride and accept your gift in the spirit it was offered. I do insist, though, that you visit our tea shop after we open it.”
“He doesn’t like tea,” Ariadne reminded her.
“Oh! That’s right! Well, would you come by for tea cakes, at least?”
She seemed so eager to pay him back, he couldn’t turn her down. “I’d gladly accept some tea cakes, ma’am. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the train will be coming in soon, and I have a package to fetch.”
“Of course.” She smiled at him, and the light behind her eyes was warm and genuine. “Thank you again, Mr. Honeycutt. We appreciate all you’ve done for us.”
He touched the brim of his hat. “My pleasure. You have a good day now.”
After seeing that they were safely inside the hotel, Jake drove the horse and buggy over to Otto’s livery, where he had stabled Butternut. Otto met him with a smile on his face.
“I understand the Stoker sisters are quite pretty,” Otto commented as he began unhooking the horse from the rig.
“They are,” Jake replied, trying not to sound too eager about it. “Who’s been sharing around? They don’t need a bunch of lonely men buzzing around them like flies.”
Otto shrugged. “Desk clerk at the hotel.”
“Some people’s mouths should just be nailed shut.” Jake took hold of Butternut’s halter and let her out of the stall, then began saddling her. “I don’t think they came here for marriage—they’re talking about starting up a business.”
“Oh? What sort of business?”
“A tea shop.” Jake grimaced as he said it—he couldn’t help it. But his back was to Otto, so hopefully his friend wouldn’t see his distaste for the idea.
“A tea shop?” Apparently, Otto had plenty of distaste of his own. “And just what are we here in Creede, Colorado, going to do with a tea shop? Now, if they were selling coffee, that I could understand, but tea?”
“Their goal is to help bring a little culture into town. It was Millie Bing’s idea, from what I understand.”
Otto ran a hand down his face. “I admire Miss Bing quite a bit, but I can’t say that I think this is the best idea. I hope those sisters have enough cash to see them through—I have a feeling they’re about to lose a sizeable portion of it.”
“If they go through with it, will you stop in and give it a try?” Jake asked.
“Me? Drinking tea?” Otto shook his head. “Not hardly, but I’m sure the wife will. She likes to support new ventures.”
Jake nodded, understanding the man’s feelings completely. “Thanks for the rig, Otto. I’ll see ya later.”
“See ya.” Otto raised a hand in farewell, and as Jake rode away, he heard his friend mutter, “Tea shop. Of all the . . .”
Jake shook his head. He understood those feelings too.
He rode over to the mercantile and picked up the package Mrs. Clark had been waiting for, tucking it into his saddlebags next to the thread and buttons she’d requested. For some reason, she never sent him for something easy, like candles. Once everything was packed up, he turned Butternut toward home, ready to get back to a place where men drank coffee and the pancakes were cooked with bacon grease. He hoped Cookie was putting on a nice meal—this hotel food was too fancy for his tastes.
As he hit the last stretch of road before the ranch, he saw a figure up ahead wearing overalls and strolling along with a fishing pole. He’d convinced himself it had all been his imagination before, but he didn’t know what to tell himself this time because there she was, just as clear as anything, and unless Millie Bing had put something unexpected in his lemonade, he was still clean sober.
He pulled up alongside the girl and stopped. She looked up at him, a smile on her face.
“I’m proud of you, Jake Honeycutt. You did a mighty fine job of it.”
“Of what?”
“Well, lots of things, actually.” She started ticking them off on her fingers. “First, you talked right nicely to the two ladies without hemming or hawing. In fact, pretty sure they thought you were quite charming.”
Jake shook his head. Now he knew he was dreaming. “No one ever thinks of me as charming.”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong. Most girls in town think you are. You’re just bein’ too shy to notice. Next thing was, you took them to see the reverend. You stuck your neck out and your head didn’t get walloped off.”
“They needed some help, and I helped them. Wasn’t so hard.”
“But that’s not something you woulda done before. You’re coming out of your shell—and it’s about time, too.” She gave a decided nod.
“I don’t imagine I’ll have much more to do with those ladies in future. They’re wanting to marry rich men who can give them the kinds of lives they’re used to. We aren’t the same kinds of people.”
She rolled her eyes. “And what gives you all those ideas? Did they flat-out say that’s what they were shootin’ for?”
“No, but it’s pretty obvious that they aren’t used to our ways out here. They want to open a tea shop, for cryin’ out loud.”
She squinted. “What’s a tea shop?”
“See? That’s exactly it—no one’s gonna know what a tea shop is, and they’re gonna lose their business. Better for them to sell holsters or boots or something we actually use around here.”
The girl sighed. “I think you should stop decidin’ their future for them and see what happens. You just might get surprised.”
“I don’t like surprises,” Jake grumbled.
“And that’s exactly why you’re gettin’ ’em!” She grinned again. “You’re a stubborn one, Jake Honeycutt, but you’ll be all right.”
“Hey,” he said when she turned to walk away. “I don’t know your name.”
She paused. “I don’t know that I have one.”
“You don’t have one? How do you not have a name?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure I do, but I get busy enough that I forget to think about things like that. Why don’t you name me, if you’re so set on me havin’ one?”
He studied the freckles across her nose. “How about Susie?”
“All right, my name is Susie.” She turned to go again.
“Susie?”
She pivoted on her heel. “Yes, Jake?”
“So, you’re an angel, are you?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. And chances are pretty good that next time you see me, I’ll still be an angel. That’s not likely to change.”
“I thought angels were supposed to be all sweet and good. You’re kind of prickly, you know that?”
“Angels can be whatever they need to be, and prickles sometimes get the job done a whole lot better than honey. Now get on home—Mrs. Clark’s starting to worry about you.”
“Right.” He touched the brim of his hat, then nudged his horse to go faster. He knew before he even turned around that Susie would be gone when he looked.
He wouldn’t tell her that Susie had been the name of the first little freckled calf he’d ever raised.