Within My Heart (35 page)

Thomas used to keep the path clean, cleared of debris. She knew Charlie Daggett would keep it the same way if she asked. But she hated to ask, what with him working as hard as he did and her paying him so little. The additional funds from the bank had allowed her to cover his salary to date, but she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to do that.

However, if what Mr. Westin had said during their dinner held true, the new breed of cattle might be the answer to her problems. As well as her prayers.

She guided the wagon into town, feeling a swell of pride remembering Rand’s conversation with Graham Foster. What a miracle it was that Paige had recovered, and even more, that Rand—she smiled to herself—had taken none of the credit. She felt slightly wicked at the teasing thought, but the Rand she’d come to know in recent weeks wasn’t the man she’d kept at arm’s length for the past two years.

Still, he wasn’t without his moments. Like when he’d told her that she
too
could make a difference. She’d known what he meant, but the comment had stung a little. Still did.

She turned down the street toward Miss Clara’s and brought the horses to a stop in front of the restaurant, tugging hard on the reins. She was committed to making the ranch a success and believed she was closer to that happening now than ever before.
If
she didn’t lose it all in the process.

She set the brake and started to climb down.

“Hold on there, ma’am. Not so fast.”

She looked up to see Rand walking from the restaurant, and Elijah Birch following him with a covered plate in hand. A definite twinkle lit the young man’s eyes.

“Mrs. Boyd,” Elijah said, nodding in his mannerly way, just like his father, Josiah. “How are you this evenin’, ma’am?”

“I’m very well, Elijah. Thank you.” She sneaked a look at Rand, seeing Elijah do the same. Rand Brookston was up to something, and Elijah was his willing accomplice. “Are you helping Miss Clara in the restaurant this evening?”

The boy nodded, grinning, his green eyes a striking contrast against his light mahogany complexion. “Yes, ma’am, I am. We’ll be movin’ the cafe back outdoors soon as the weather’s nice enough.” He handed Rand the plate.

“I look forward to that. Please give your parents my best regards.”

“I will, ma’am.” Elijah slid another look Rand’s way. “Y’all have yourselves a good evenin’ now.”

Rachel thought she heard Elijah chuckle as he walked back inside. She started to climb down, but Rand held up his hand.

“Just stay in the wagon, if you would.”

Stay in the wagon?
She frowned. “I thought we were going to eat.”

“We are.” Rand winked, his smile secretive. “We’ll start with the appetizer now and work our way to the entreé.” He handed the plate to Kurt, who scrunched his nose.

“What’s an ap-pe-tizer?”

Listening as Mitch explained to his younger brother, Rachel was surprised when Rand climbed up beside her. She made room on the bench seat, noticing how nice he looked, his suit pressed and cleaned, and how he smelled—she breathed in.
Mmmm . . .
bay rum and spice. She’d take that as her appetizer any day.

He gestured to the reins in her hands. “Would you mind if I drove?”

“Would you mind telling me where we’re going first?”

He narrowed his eyes as though seriously considering her request, all the while moving a hand closer to the reins. “Would you mind if I didn’t?”

She held them just out of his reach, determined to keep the sparkle from her eyes, but apparently failing miserably judging by the one in his. She would’ve sworn he’d said they were going to Miss Clara’s, but thinking back on it now, she wasn’t sure.

“Biscuits!” Mitch leaned over the bench seat, crowding between them and holding out the tin plate. “Miss Clara made us biscuits. And they’re still warm.”

“They got butter on ’em too.” Kurt wriggled in beside his brother, draping an arm over Rand’s shoulder. “Can we eat ’em now, Dr. Brookston? Since they’re supposed to come first?”

Rand glanced her way, question in his eyes.

Rachel studied the three boyish expressions staring back at her and grinned. “Only if I can have one too!” She grabbed a biscuit and, with a look of playful warning, handed Rand the reins. Whatever he had planned for this evening, she strongly suspected it wasn’t going to be “just dinner.”

She was certain she’d figured out Rand’s surprise—until he drove on past his clinic, then past the street where James and Molly lived. When he guided the team onto the road leading out of town, her concern notched up considerably. She attempted a casual tone. “Where are we going?”

Focused ahead, Rand smiled. “You don’t like surprises?”

“Of course I like surprises. As long as I know what they are beforehand.”

He grinned. “Only problem is . . . then they wouldn’t be surprises.”

The wagon bounced and jostled over the washboard road, and she gripped the side of the seat. She glanced down at her simple shirtwaist and skirt, then at the stains darkening her hem. She was dressed well enough for Miss Clara’s, so were the boys, but . . . “Rand . . .”

He looked over at her, traces of boyish enthusiasm in his features.

She hesitated, not wanting to hurt his feelings, especially if he planned on taking them where she feared he was taking them. The expense alone made her uncomfortable, but add to that their lack of proper attire. “The boys and I . . .” She leaned closer, not wanting Mitch and Kurt to hear. “We’re not dressed appropriately for the restaurant at the resort.”

“Good,” he said succinctly. “Because that’s not where we’re eating.”

“Oh . . . well . . . fine, then.” She sat back, feeling presumptuous and vain.

“But just so you know . . .” His gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth, then slowly took in the rest of her. “No matter what you’re wearing, Rachel, you’ll be the most beautiful woman in the room.” With a satisfied look, he faced forward.

Not knowing how to respond, she didn’t even try. How did he
do
that? How did he look at her that way without making her feel uneasy, or as if he were having thoughts he shouldn’t? She didn’t know. But one thing was certain—she definitely didn’t need her shawl. Fanning herself discreetly, she let it slip from her shoulders.

The boys chattered behind them, but she heard only snatches of their conversation over the wagon’s rumble—something about how far they could jump, and from how high a perch. She knew by Kurt’s tone that he was trying to best Mitch’s estimate, whatever it had been. Would there forever be this competition between them?

“How was your dinner earlier this week?”

Knowing exactly what he meant, she gave him a sideways glance, surprised at the question and recognizing his attempt at a casual air. “It was nice. We ate at Miss Clara’s and had pork chops and new potatoes. I thought about ordering pie, but decided against it.”

Purposefully sighing, she stared out across the fields, relishing the dry look he was no doubt giving her. After a moment, she grinned. “My
meeting
with Mr. Westin went very well, thank you. He’s already sent a telegram on my behalf requesting information and pricing on the cattle. He said we might hear something back as early as next week.”

In the silence that followed, she discovered she really would have liked to have known his opinion—but not enough to ask for it. Especially when she had a fairly good idea what his suggestion would be.

On either side of the road, the brown-clad landscape still wore its winter coat, and the surrounding mountains, flocked in snow to the highest peaks, spoke a similar refrain. The sky yawned a cloudless blue overhead, and she leaned back enough to watch Rand without him knowing. “I’m sorry the building beside the store didn’t work out. It would have been perfect for a clinic.”

“Yes, it would have.” He shrugged. “But the way I see it, things have worked out the way they were supposed to.”

“How’s that?”

“If Westin hadn’t bought that building, then Ben wouldn’t be able to provide for Lyda’s future the way he wants to. Ben and I talked for a while yesterday while Lyda was in town. He and Westin are moving forward with the plans to expand the store. Westin’s making good progress too. Have you been by there recently?”

“Not since last week.”

“They’ve already got doorways cut through to the other building and shelving going up. According to Ben, he and Westin are broadening their stock to carry almost twice the items they do now.”

Hearing that news was bittersweet. “Lyda’s been after Ben to do that for years, but they didn’t have the space.” Or the money, she knew. They rode in silence until she spotted the resort in the distance. “I thought you said we weren’t going to the resort.”

He smiled. “Don’t you trust me?”

Ignoring his hurt look, she leveled her gaze, insinuating she’d rather not answer that question.

“I never said we weren’t going there. What I indicated was that we weren’t eating at the resort’s
restaurant
.” His attention remained on the road. “You really don’t like surprises, do you?”

Hearing a hint of disappointment in his voice, she sighed. “Saying it that way makes it sound as if I don’t know how to enjoy myself—which I do.” She picked a piece of grass from her skirt. “I simply like to know what’s coming, so I can be prepared.”

He cut his gaze her way, his laughter rich. “I enjoy your company, Mrs. Boyd. Very much.” He looked toward the mountains, and a moment passed before he spoke again. “I’d hoped we might be able to bring Ben home tomorrow, but he’s developed a cough deep in his chest, and I don’t want to risk it. After discussing it with him and Lyda, they agreed. The rest and nutrition they’re getting at the resort is good, for both of them. And all the construction going on at the store right now—the sawdust and nails pounding—wouldn’t be conducive to Ben getting the rest he needs.”

She agreed and was grateful Ben and Lyda had too. “Do you think the cough’s related to his heart?”

“More than likely it’s the fluid on his lungs.”

“So you think it’s already gathering that quickly again?”

“I’m sure of it, just like it did before.”

She looked up at him. “But you can perform the procedure again. Right?”

“After he regains his strength—
if
we can get Ben to agree to it.”

The way he said it made her think he’d already tried to convince Ben, and failed.

The wagon jolted hard to the right, dropping into a deep rut, and Rachel grabbed hold of the seat. Rand put his arm out, securing her beside him. He glanced back. “You boys okay back there?”

Boyish laughter erupted. “Do that again, Dr. Brookston! That was fun!”

Smiling, Rand looked over at her. “You’ve got yourself a couple of pistols back there.”

“Don’t I know.” She rolled her eyes, realizing he didn’t know the half of it. Not in regard to Kurt, anyway. Not at all bothered by Rand’s closeness, she found herself a tiny bit disappointed when he moved back to his side of the bench seat.

She glanced back at the boys, remembering the ink-on-Miss-Stafford’s-drawer-pulls stunt. She’d written yet another note of apology to Miss Stafford, as had Kurt, and she’d hand-delivered them both. But Miss Stafford’s reaction proved to be especially cool this time, her behavior bordering on rude. Yet when Rachel put herself in the young teacher’s place, she couldn’t say she blamed her. For Kurt’s punishment, Rachel had assigned him a month of extra chores in the barn, but she honestly didn’t feel as if that was addressing the issue. But what was the issue? Only God knew, and she prayed constantly that He would show her.

The closer they got to the resort, the more conspicuous Rachel began to feel.

Three large carriages, two of them covered and all of them far nicer than a farm wagon, were parked in front of the resort entrance. Rand guided the wagon to a stop beside them, and a boy who looked no older than Kurt, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black trousers, raced to meet them.

“Good evening, Signore Brookston.” Holding the bridle of the lead mare, the boy offered a half bow to Rachel.

Once down, Rand slipped the boy a coin. “Thank you, Gino.”

Mitch and Kurt catapulted out of the wagon, staring up at the resort, eyes wide.

“This is where we’re eatin’?” Kurt said none too quietly.

Rachel put a finger to her lips, glancing at Rand, who was still speaking to the young Italian boy. “I’m not exactly sure. But please, you must both be on your best behavior. Do you understand?”

They both agreed, jaws hanging slightly open.

The vistas were stunning from this vantage point, the Rocky Mountains breathtaking in their splendor and height. And she could well imagine how they would look draped in a crimson sunset.

Rand came up behind her, briefly touching the small of her back. “Shall we go inside?”

Holding her gently by the elbow, he led the way.

28

G
ood evening, Dr. Brookston.” With a stately bow, a handsome Italian man greeted them on the porch and held open the wide ornate doors. “Mrs. Boyd, how nice of you and your sons to join us. I hope you very much enjoy your evening here, ma’am.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, Rachel caught a glint of amusement in the man’s eyes when he glanced at Rand. And how did he know her name? She couldn’t recall having met him before. “Thank you, sir.” Smiling, she gave a brief curtsey. “I’m certain we will.”

She ushered Mitch and Kurt on ahead of her, wanting to keep an eye on them. Guests crowded the lobby for the dinner hour, and Rachel’s earlier recollection of their elegance was confirmed in the hand-beaded gowns of silk and taffeta, accentuated by the sparkle of bejeweled necklines and wrists glistening in the lamplight. Everywhere she looked there were flowers. Brandon Tolliver must have ordered them by the hundreds from the hothouses in Denver. No telling how much that cost him. Then it dawned on her.

The coming weekend was the grand opening. In the blur of recent life, she’d forgotten.

Rand appeared at her side. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’re going to escape all this.”

“With pleasure,” she whispered and indicated for the boys to follow, pleased at how well they were behaving. For the time being, at least.