Grayson Brothers Series Boxed Set (4 books in 1) (83 page)

At six o’clock in the evening, Duke left his deputy Sam Wade in charge and walked down Water Street toward home. The sun cast a golden sheen across the huge windows of Faith Wilkins’s new greenhouse, and he wondered how he could have overlooked such an obvious change in the building.

He shook his head, cursing his shoulder. Like a nagging toothache, the pain was distracting him to the point of madness. The doctor said to rest it and let it heal, but how long would that take? It had been a month since he’d tangled with Arthur Covey and injured his shoulder. He clenched his hand around the small jar of balm, hoping it would work as well as Faith and Adam claimed. Because if it didn’t, his career was in trouble.

Maybe he should stop by the greenhouse again to check on the gas line. His feet slowed, but his brain ordered him to quit making excuses and keep walking. Radford and Evelyn were expecting him and his mother for supper. And he had chores waiting after that.

Lowering his tense shoulders, he crossed the bridge over Canadaway Creek then lengthened his stride and headed out on Liberty Street.

In less than five minutes, he approached their house and livery, a place that felt like home to him. Duke lived with his mother in her house just beyond Evelyn’s apple orchard, but they both spent many evenings at Radford and Evelyn’s house, carrying on a tradition that began with Evelyn’s and Duke’s parents.

His mother and father had been close friends with Evelyn’s parents, William and Mary Tucker, and the four of them raised their children as one family. Duke and his brothers and Evelyn had tromped from their house to hers, exploring every tree, creek, and stone in between. When Evelyn’s mother died, Duke’s mother opened her loving arms to the girl. Evelyn’s father treated Duke and his brothers like his own sons. William and Radford even went through the war together, and came home with a deeper bond between them, both men forever changed from their experience. Evelyn had planned to marry Duke’s brother Kyle, but her heart chose Radford. That upheaval had shaken the foundation of their family, but they’d held on.

Evelyn’s parents, and his own beloved father, were now buried in a shared family plot behind Evelyn’s home. Those left behind had grown closer despite all the heartache.

Duke and his brothers owned their father’s sawmill now, each of them contributing what they could to keep the business healthy. Kyle and Boyd ran the mill full time. Radford owned the livery, but dedicated two days a week to their sawmill business. When Duke wasn’t busy with his duties as sheriff, he gladly spent his time working with his brothers. He loved the smell of fresh cut wood and sawdust, and the hard, honest work, but he was relieved he didn’t have to go there this evening. He wanted to sit on Radford and Evelyn’s porch, drink a glass of cold tea, and give his throbbing shoulder a chance to settle down.

The livery sat back from the road with a small paddock behind it where Evelyn trained her horses. A sprawling oak stood in the front yard and shaded the deep porch on their two-story home. A long fieldstone fence girded their property, and was a favorite hiding place for their sons William and Joshua.

As Duke had come to expect, his nephews popped up from behind the fence like well-trained soldiers, aiming their sticks and shooting at him a dozen times before he could grab for his carefully unloaded revolver. He would never draw it from his holster, of course. Not ever. Not even knowing he’d meticulously cleared the cartridges from the chamber.

With a loud groan, he clutched his chest and fell to his knees.

The boys let out a victory whoop. Seven-year-old William planted his hands on the fence and vaulted over, followed by four-year-old Joshua, whose chubby, little boy body forced him to claw his way over the stones.

Duke fell on his good side, let the jar roll away from him then put his hand over his revolver and turned so the boys couldn’t pounce on his sore shoulder.

William ran toward him then stretched out his skinny frame and flew through the air like a gangly bird. He landed hard on Duke’s chest, wrenching the shoulder in spite of Duke’s effort to protect it. Gads, that hurt! Joshua barreled across the spring grass and tumbled onto Duke’s head. The two boys grunted and tussled and tugged until Duke surrendered.

They rolled off then ordered him to get up and get moving. He scooped up his jar of balm then marched to their prison, which was behind the railings of the front porch. Their eyes flashed with excitement, and it struck him that jail was just a game for his nephews, as it had been for Duke and his brothers at that tender age. But it wasn’t a game for a boy like Adam Dearborn. The boy’s tense, drawn face when he’d seen the barred cell earlier said he knew jail was a looming possibility for his ultimate future.

But not if Duke could prevent it. Adam was an intelligent boy in need of a firm guiding hand.

Radford was lounging in a chair with his feet propped on the handrail, grinning like a happy, satisfied man. “It’s nice to see the rascals clobbering someone else for a change,” he said.

Duke leaned his hips against the handrail and rubbed his shoulder. “Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you invite me over.”

Radford’s grin deepened. “Nonsense. I like having my brothers around. That’s why I’m inviting Boyd and Claire to supper tomorrow and asking Kyle and Amelia to come by the night after.”

Duke’s snort drew a laugh from their mother, who was sitting on the porch holding Radford’s seven-month-old daughter Hannah, a dark-haired beauty who was drooling and chewing on her fingers.

“Uncle Duke, come wrestle,” Joshua said, tugging on Duke’s leg.

“Let him be, son.” Radford hauled Joshua onto his lap and tickled him into a wild giggle. “You boys go wash your hands. We’ll be eating soon.”

Joshua squirmed free and charged into the house, bumping into his mother’s legs and nearly upsetting the tray in her hands. Evelyn stood with the door open and looked straight at Duke.

He lifted his hands. “I’m not responsible for Joshua’s mad dash into the house.”

“What mad dash?” Evelyn carried her tray of drinks on to the porch. “If the boys aren’t running, they’re sleeping.”

“Or yelling and fighting,” Rebecca said, carrying a heaping platter of fried chicken and plump biscuits outside.

“You have no right to talk about bad behavior, young lady, after buying Mrs. Brown’s last licorice stick and leaving me without a single one,” Duke said.

Rebecca set the platter on a low table in the center of a group of chairs. “The early bird gets the licorice.” She leaned over and gave him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek.

“And the pretty girl gets the new boy in town.” He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “I see you’re not saving that pretty smile for your daddy and your uncles anymore.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she shot an embarrassed look at her father.

Instead of smiling, Radford wore a puzzled look, as if Rebecca’s shiny black hair had just turned orange.

Evelyn poked Duke’s ribs and pulled Rebecca free. “Don’t start on her. She gets enough grief from her two brothers.” She brushed Rebecca’s thick braid behind her shoulder. “Would you bring the plates out?”

With a look of gratitude, Rebecca raced inside.

Duke scowled at Evelyn. “You ruined a perfectly good bout of teasing,” he complained.

She looked unmoved. “I know what it’s like to be outnumbered by nasty little boys.”

“I was never little.”

She laughed and picked up the jar of balm. “What is this?”

“Love balm. I rub it on a woman and she falls madly in love with me.”

She plunked the jar down beside him. “What a waste. Every woman in town already loves you.”

“Not the pretty widow who made this balm,” he said, nodding at the jar. “One Faith Wilkins just opened a greenhouse in Colburn’s old gristmill. I stopped in to... welcome her to town, and for some reason that made her nervous.”

“Maybe she’s hiding a criminal in her house,” William said—so sincerely Duke didn’t dare laugh at his nephew.

“I worried about that, too, Will, so I went right inside her greenhouse and looked around. Didn’t find a thing but herbs and flowers in there.”

“Maybe she’s a witch,” the seven-year-old whispered, wide eyes blinking.

“You know, she did have a big cauldron in the greenhouse. She didn’t seem like a witch, though, and she’s awfully pretty.”

William’s nose scrunched. “Oh. Well, witches have boils and warts and—”

“William, tell your brother and sister to come eat.” His mother gave him a gentle nudge toward the door then went to sit by Duke’s mother. “I can’t imagine why your barging into her greenhouse would have made the lady nervous,” she said to Duke.

“I didn’t barge in,” he replied, crossing the porch and seating himself opposite her.

Radford followed, and Joshua, William, and Rebecca hurried outside. Everyone sat at the table and started eating.

Evelyn bit into a biscuit, but her green eyes sparkled with mischief.

Duke lowered his chicken leg. “What?”

His brother’s wife chewed like she had all evening to enjoy that one bite.

“What?” he prodded. He knew that look in her eyes. The last time she’d directed it at him, she’d hung his boots from the top of her oak tree. She was half his weight, and had climbed to the very top of the tree where the limbs were as skinny as toothpicks. He’d nearly broken his neck retrieving them.

Evelyn ignored him. “Mother, would you like to go with me tomorrow to welcome Faith Wilkins to town?”

“Of course,” Duke’s mother said, making him groan. He wanted to warn her to stay away, but his mother was short and sassy and the last woman he would cross. “I’ll take a jar of preserves to welcome her.”

“And I’ll take a plate of the cookies I just baked.” Evelyn hooked her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Sweetheart, would you watch the children tomorrow while I go meet this pretty widow who has snared your uncle’s interest?”

Like mother like daughter; Rebecca’s eyes sparkled. “Of course, Mama. I owe Uncle Duke a favor.”

He flicked a biscuit crumb at Evelyn. “You’re ruining my niece.”

“I’m teaching her that turnabout is fair play”

Radford tossed his napkin onto his plate and leaned back in his chair. “Save your breath, Duke. When the ladies set their minds to something, the boys and I clear out.”

Evelyn patted Radford’s thigh. “You poor, mistreated man.”

He sighed dramatically and looked down into her upturned face. “To think I’ll spend the rest of my life being treated like this...” He trailed off, the warm look in his eyes saying everything. He was a man in love, a man in awe of all he had.

Duke had witnessed their private exchanges many times during the eight years of their marriage, and the intensity of their passion made him yearn for what they had. Kyle had found that passion with Amelia. Boyd had found it with Claire.

But what made that passion ignite and burn between two people was still a mystery to Duke.

After lunch, Faith was in the bathhouse pumping water into the tub when three women walked through the open greenhouse door, chatting gaily and bearing... gifts? Surely not. The oldest and shortest of the three spotted Cora playing by the door and gave her a friendly wave.

“Let’s hope they’re customers,” Faith said to Iris, who’d been helping her fill the bathtub. She brushed drops of water off the long apron covering her dress then headed toward the front of the greenhouse with Iris, giving them her warmest smile. “May I help you ladies?”

“I’m Nancy Grayson, and these are my daughters-in-law Evelyn and Claire,” the older woman said, giving Faith a jar of preserves, but her gaze was riveted on Iris. Faith was used to the surprised, intrigued stares cast at Iris, but it made her sad each time it happened. Iris was exotic and beautiful, a rare bird that drew attention with every move. Iris didn’t seem to mind the looks, but she must: she was a woman disconnected from her family and her people, too different to blend in anywhere.

“My son, Sheriff Grayson, said you opened a greenhouse, but I wasn’t expecting anything this grand,” Mrs. Grayson continued, shifting her gaze to the plants as if she realized she’d been gawking.

Faith’s stomach plummeted. Had Sheriff Grayson sent them to spy on her? Or had he sent them here to look her over? She’d seen the spark of interest in his eyes yesterday. And maybe Iris had fanned that spark. Blast the woman! She should have never told the sheriff Faith was looking for a husband. They’d planted that ridiculous notion in Faith’s own head too, and now she was acting like a suspicious goose.

But she wished she looked better. She smoothed her skirt, sopping wet at the hem from working in the bathhouse then hid her hands behind her back because her fingernails were green from pinching stems all morning.

The two younger women were of nearly the same height and dressed in neat, pressed frocks. Evelyn was dark-haired, and Claire was blond, and both were beautiful.

Nancy Grayson’s too-direct gaze made Faith want to shy away, but the remarkable youthful energy that radiated from the woman was surprisingly familiar. The sheriff possessed that same directness and intensity

The blond woman, Claire, handed Faith a deep pot. “I thought you might appreciate not having to cook this evening. I hope you like venison stew.”

Faith would gladly toil over a stove if she had money to buy food.

“And I brought a treat for after supper,” Evelyn said, giving a plate of cookies to Cora.

Cora scrambled to her feet and gawked at the mound of oatmeal cookies. “Can I eat one, Mama?”

To refuse the cookies would be rude, and to refuse Cora a treat would be unkind. But Faith hesitated to accept their gifts not knowing the ladies’ motives.

“Of course you can eat a cookie.”  Iris lifted the heavy pot from Faith’s hands and held it beneath her nose. “Smells divine,” she said then winked at Faith. “Let’s not wait for supper. Let’s eat it right now.”

Her teasing made the three women laugh. “Thank you, ladies,” Faith said, striving to appear as relaxed as the Grayson women even as worry flooded her mind. “This is my aunt, Iris... Wilde,” she said, silently cursing Iris for blabbing the name in front of the sheriff and locking them into using it.

“There are four of us here with that last name, so call me Iris.”

The younger ladies nodded politely, but Nancy took a bold, sweeping look around the greenhouse. “What is all this?”

“Let me put this on the counter,” Iris said, “then Faith and I will show you what we’re growing here.”

“I’ll show ‘em!” Cora declared, rushing up with a half-eaten cookie in her hand. She looked up at Evelyn Grayson. “You make good cookies.”

The simple, sincere statement filled the brunette’s eyes with tenderness. She opened her hand to Cora. “What should we see first?” she asked.

Cora led Evelyn to a flat of chives that were poking through the soil. “We’re gonna eat those when they get bigger,” she said.

Faith followed, feeling proud of Cora’s knowledge, but she gently took over, wanting the Grayson ladies to see how much her greenhouse had to offer. While Cora charmed them, Faith and Iris answered Nancy’s questions about their business. Iris’s good behavior relieved Faith, but Nancy’s avid curiosity made her stomach queasy.

“Quite impressive,” the woman said, touching and sniffing everything until Cora scolded her and warned her she could go blind. Nancy chuckled, but she continued asking questions in a forthright manner that convinced Faith the sheriff had sent his mother to snoop.

Faith showed them the herbs, vegetables, and flowers then guided the ladies to the front counter where she kept her jars, bags, and tins of herbs and balms.

Aster and Tansy were working near the counter, preparing a flat of baby tomato plants for transplanting to their garden. Faith wasn’t sure she could trust her aunts to behave, but they had to begin settling into their new town. “Come meet these lovely ladies,” she suggested to her aunts.

The pair washed their hands in a bucket of water then dried them on their aprons as they walked to the counter.

“This is Evelyn and Claire Grayson, the sheriff’s sisters-in-law,” Faith introduced. “And his mother, Nancy.”

Cora puffed up with importance. “Aunt Iris says Mama’s going to marry the sheriff.”

Faith nearly choked, but Nancy Grayson laughed.

“Who brought those delicious cookies?” Aster asked.

It allowed Faith a moment to recover. Living her life behind a brothel and learning everything from books had filled her head with knowledge of trees and herbs and flowers. She could name every muscle in the body, but she didn’t know how to navigate through an ordinary conversation.

“Evelyn baked them,” Nancy said. “Claire made the stew. You’ll soon see why I’m glad my sons married these gals.”

Aster nudged Faith’s arm. “Marry the sheriff so we can claim our place at this woman’s supper table.”

Faith wanted to clap her hand over her aunt’s mouth, but the Grayson women laughed. Nancy and Aster exchanged a look of frank appreciation. Aster had a harder, grittier edge than Nancy, but they were two of a kind with their plainspoken manner.

Iris handed Nancy a small jar of lavender oil. “Let us return your gifts by giving you a peek at the other side of our business.”

Faith shook her head, but Iris ignored her and upended an empty metal pail. “Tansy, round up a couple more buckets for the ladies.”

Tansy hurried off in a swish of skirts.

“Iris, we’ve kept the ladies too long already,” Faith said, warning Iris not to cause trouble like she had with Sheriff Grayson. “I’m sure they have to get back to their families.”

“Oh, I hope not.” Iris clasped her hands in front of her like an excited girl. “Say you’ll stay for a few minutes and let us treat you to something special.”

“You’ll love it,” Aster added, nodding for Nancy to sit on the bucket.

“All right. Why not?” Nancy Grayson sat her small, slightly plump body on the pail. “What do I do now?”

“Close your eyes,” Iris ordered, moving to stand behind her.

Faith wrung her hands. “Aunt Iris, please.”

“To be surprised at my age is an immense pleasure,” Nancy said. “Let her be.” With that, she shut her eyes, and Faith shut her mouth.

“This is best done with oil and herbs, but you can still enjoy it this way.” Iris pushed the pads of her thumbs into the flesh between Nancy’s shoulder blades. “There is an art to massage,” Iris explained, her voice smooth and mesmerizing as she rubbed slow, small circles on Nancy’s back.

The woman’s shoulders lowered and her head sagged forward. “I’m gaining a new appreciation for art,” she said.

Evelyn and Claire exchanged a sisterly grin, as if seeing a side of their mother-in-law they hadn’t known.

Iris worked Nancy’s trapezius muscle between her thumb and index finger, relaxing the muscle one delicate pinch at a time. Tansy returned with Dahlia, each of them carrying a bucket. Faith introduced Dahlia to the ladies, but Nancy could barely open her eyes to greet her.

She moaned and hunched her back like a cat. “This old body hasn’t known so much pleasure since my husband was alive.”

Evelyn and Claire laughed, and Faith couldn’t stop her smile. Like Aster, Nancy Grayson’s candor was growing on her.

Tansy overturned a bucket in front of Evelyn. “I’m good at this too.”

Evelyn held out her hands as if to ward her off. “I’m happy to watch my mother-in-law melt off that pail.”

Tansy caught Evelyn’s hand and peered at her palm. “Lord, child, how did you get these calluses?”

“Taking care of a livery full of horses.”

Cora’s eyes goggled. “You have horses?”

“Twelve of them.”

“Can I see ‘em?”

“If it’s all right with your mother.”

“We’ll talk about it later, honey.” Faith put her hand on Cora’s tiny shoulder, her silent way of telling the child to hush, that she was being ill-mannered or inappropriate.

Tansy opened a jar on the counter. “I have something that will make your hands as soft as a baby’s behind,” she said, scooping cream onto her fingers then slathering it on Evelyn’s hand. “It’s honey, lanolin, almond oil, and wax.”

“It smells wonderful,” Evelyn said.

“It is, dahlin’, now sit down and let me do this properly.”

Like an obedient child, Evelyn sat on the pail.

“We mix mint and lavender in to make it smell good,” Tansy said.

“It’s lovely” Evelyn glanced at her sister-in-law. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Claire.”

The other woman shook her head. “My aching feet are jealous.”

“Not for long.” Dahlia slid a pail behind Claire. “That cream will soften your feet and soothe the ache, too.”

Claire gasped and laughed in the same breath. “I was teasing.”

Dahlia dipped her fingers into the jar and scooped out a dollop of cream. She gestured for Claire to sit. “Let me show you how to apply it, so you can teach your husband how to pleasure you.”

Claire laughed. “Believe me, my husband knows all about that.”

Faith’s aunts all grinned like the four lusty prostitutes they were, and Nancy glanced at her daughter-in-law. “The only pleasure I get comes from a hot stove or holding my grandchildren. It’s been ages since anything has felt good enough to make me moan, so sit on that pail and let this lovely woman rub your feet while I enjoy myself for a spell.”

Cora patted Faith’s leg. “Why does she want to moan, Mama?”

Heat burned up Faith’s neck, and Nancy ducked her head.

With a hoot of laughter, Claire sat on the pail, hiked her dress to her knees, and stuck out her foot. “Cora, do you know how to unlace shoes?”

“Mama showed me how,” the child said, and joyfully helped remove Claire’s shoes and stockings.

Dahlia slathered cream over Claire’s slender foot and began kneading her toes. Cora sat knees-bent, heels-out on the floor beside Dahlia, rubbing Claire’s other foot.

Nancy hunched her back. “Iris, you must come live with me,” she said.

Warm laughter filled the greenhouse, and Faith let herself relax for the first time since moving to Fredonia. Maybe her aunts weren’t too outrageous. Their naughty sense of humor had won over the Grayson women. And maybe Nancy, Evelyn, and Claire would tell their friends about her business.

Maybe everything would work out after all.

“You all look so different,” Evelyn said, eyeing Faith’s aunts. “It’s hard to believe you’re sisters.”

Faith’s stomach plummeted.

“It’s a remarkable story,” Dahlia said, calmly reaching over to guide Cora’s hand. “Slide your thumbs around her ankle bone like this.” After she demonstrated, the woman lifted an amazingly serene face to Evelyn. “We all share the same father.”

Faith scoured her mind for a way to change the subject, wishing they’d taken time to think this through and invent a new history for themselves.

“Our father was a big, handsome, American-born German,” Dahlia said in the mystical sounding voice she used when telling a tale to Cora. “There wasn’t a woman alive who could resis—”

“Aunt Dahlia, the ladies can’t possibly be interested in... all that. It’s a painfully long history,” Faith said, doing her best to dissuade them from pursuing the topic. “Dahlia could waste half a day trying to explain it all.”

Nancy fairly purred as she closed her eyes. “Take all the time you like, Miss Wilde.”

Dahlia’s lips twitched. “As I was saying, we share the same father, but—”

“The sheriff’s here!” Cora leapt to her feet and ran to greet him.

Faith’s day went from bad to disastrous. The sheriff hadn’t taken five steps inside the greenhouse before his eyes widened and he jerked to a halt. He looked from Claire, barefoot with her dress hiked to her knees, to his mother, who sat with her back hunched and her head hanging, to Evelyn, who lounged cross-legged on her pail like a queen getting a manicure.

Evelyn waved him over. “Pull up a pail, Duke. You’re just in time to hear what promises to be an interesting history of the Wilde women.”

The instant the words left Evelyn’s mouth, Faith’s aunts howled with laughter.

Under less worrisome circumstances, Faith would have appreciated the wild women pun, but to flaunt their past as if they were beyond the bounds of social etiquette was foolish. And that is exactly what Iris had done when she came up with that suggestive last name.

“Can I play with your handcuffs?” Cora asked, poking at the sheriff’s thigh.

He pulled the cuffs off his belt without looking away from his mother. “What is going on here?” he asked.

Nancy half-raised her eyelids. “I’m having one of the best moments of my life. Now sit down and let Dahlia finish her story about how these lovely ladies came to be sisters.”

Faith scooted around a flat of wintergreen and stopped before him. She tried her best to get things on her own terms once more: “I assume you’re here to report on Adam’s first day at the store, so why don’t we go outside and talk?”

* * *

Duke heard Faith’s request. But, after walking in here and finding his respectable mother and sisters-in-law looking intoxicated, he wasn’t budging from this spot even if Faith promised to lead him to her bed. He was going to stand right here beside this flat of smelly green stuff until he figured out exactly what was going on. His mother looked drugged out of her head. Had these crazy women fed her some of that jimsonweed Adam mentioned?