High Country Bride (15 page)

“Y
OU
BOUGHT
THE
T
ERRITORIAL
H
OTEL
?”
Emmeline asked, looking up from her sewing. Several days had passed since her aunt’s arrival at the Triple M,ectic days in which they’d done a lot of cooking, cleaning, and furniture moving, and spent hours, with Concepcion and a subdued Phoebe Anne, planning the party. Concepcion had given up her bedroom to Becky after the first night and moved in with Phoebe Anne in the spare room.

Emmeline had not had a chance to sew during that time, but she had finally managed to cut out the pieces of her party gown after breakfast that morning, the lush green brocade flowing like a river over the kitchen table, and now she was preparing to gather the top of one sleeve. She and Becky were alone in the seldom-used parlor, with the windows open to the warm summer day.

Becky watched her shrewdly for a few moments before nodding. “You heard right,” she said. Never much for needlework, she’d been reading one of Angus’s books,
The Life of Copernicus,
purloined from the study earlier. She closed the volume carefully, let it rest in her lap.

Emmeline was delighted by the news, on one hand, because it meant Becky would be staying in Indian Rock, and she would see her often. On the other, well, her aunt’s chosen career wasn’t exactly one to inspire family pride; in a small community like that one, it would spell certain ruin.“You’ve been here almost a week,” she said very carefully, “and this is the first I’ve heard of it. When did you strike this bargain?”

Becky’s eyes twinkled. She pursed her lips, then gave in to impulse and laughed. “The first night,” she said. “Angus and I came to terms pretty quickly.” She tilted her head to one side, studying her daughter. “What’s the matter, Emmeline? You don’t truly think I’d start another—boardinghouse—do you?”

“I think,” Emmeline said sweetly, dizzy with relief, “that you would do whatever struck your fancy, and devil take anyone who objected.”

That brought a saucy smile. “You have been paying attention, then,” Becky said. She seemed to sparkle all over at that moment, like a prism refracting the late June sunshine. It was difficult, no, impossible, to believe that she might be seriously ill. “Never fear, darling. I shall be the very touchstone of staid respectability, from now on. The Territorial Hotel will be just that—a hotel. Of course, the place needs lots of work.”

“You might begin,” Emmeline said, wielding her needle again, “by changing the name. Not to mention the curtains.”

“My dear,” Becky assured her, “you will hardly recognize that establishment once I’m through with it.”

“Won’t it cost a great deal?”

“There will be some expense involved,” Becky allowed. “Since I have rather a lot of money at my disposal, however, that won’t be a problem.” She leaned forward in her chair and whispered mischievously,“Emmeline, I’m rich.”

Emmeline’s eyes widened.“Really?”

“Well,” Becky said, “not as rich as your father-in-law, it’s true. But I’ve got enough that I’ll never want for anything, and neither will you.”

“I wouldn’t think of accepting a cent,” Emmeline said.

“Because the money is tainted?” Becky asked, and for the first time, Emmeline realized Becky’s greatest vulnerability. Always independent, always thumbing her nose at the scornful matrons of Kansas City’s upper crust, Becky wanted, perhaps even needed, Emmeline’s respect and approval.

“Money,” Emmeline said, stitching even more busily than before, “is money. You’ve obviously saved, and invested wisely over the years. I’m refusing to accept any of it because I’m a grown woman now, and married. I should be an asset to you, not a liability.”

Pride glittered in Becky’s eyes.“My girl, you have never been a liability to me, not ever. You were, and are, the great joy of my life, and my money means nothing at all, if I can’t share it with you.”

Emmeline was moved, unable, for the moment, to speak
or
sew. She knew, then, the full extent of Becky’s sacrifice—she’d prostituted herself, and established one of the best-known brothels in Kansas City,
for her.
The knowledge left Emmeline breathless.

Rafe chose that moment, bless his soul, to loom up in the parlor doorway, wearing dirty work clothes, his battered hat in one hand. Emmeline felt a peculiar squeeze in the deepest regions of her heart, just to look at him. Lord, but he was a fine sight to see, even clad in dungarees, muddy boots, and a chambray shirt, with his dark hair rumpled.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

Both women sniffled, then turned bright smiles on him. “No,” they said in chorus. Becky laughed and rose from her chair. “As a matter of fact,” she said, “it’s time I started packing to go back to town. I’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of me, and I’d better get started.”

“I’ll have one of the hands drive you in, in the buggy,” Rafe said, crossing the room to stand beside Emmeline’s chair. “It’s not safe for a woman to travel that distance alone.”

“Thank you,” Becky replied, favoring Rafe with a look of genuine fondness, and swept out of the room in grand style. Emmeline happened to know that she’d done all her packing before breakfast; she just wanted to give the McKettricks some time alone.

Rafe leaned down and kissed Emmeline on the top of her head. “How’s your party getup coming along?” he asked, noticing the large sleeve piece in her lap.

“Do you have time to take a ride with me, up the mountain? There’s something I want you to see.”

An outing sounded like just the thing, especially on such a pretty day. It might keep her from waxing melancholy over Becky’s departure, too. Even though she would be only two hours away, in Indian Rock, Emmeline would miss Becky sorely, once she’d left the Triple M. “I’d like that,” she said.

Rafe’s smile was a little shy, and a flush burgeoned along his jaw line. Emmeline marveled that a man so forceful, so decisive, could be so incomprehensibly shy when it came to a simple conversation with a woman. She wondered if he’d been such a retiring type before their marriage, then remembered her first sight of him, hurtling out through the swinging doors of the Bloody Basin Saloon, and almost laughed out loud. She knew a little, mostly from Kade and Jeb’s accounts, about his scandalous past. No, she decided, distinctly pleased, Rafe was bashful only around her.

“I’ll hitch up a buckboard,” he said. “Maybe you could throw together a few sandwiches and the like, for a picnic?”

She nodded, stood to face him. He kissed her, but gently, as if he thought she might shatter into pieces if he didn’t take care. He’d been a most understanding husband during the past few days, kissing her chastely at night, and keeping to his side of the bed. She appreciated these considerations but missed being held in his arms, missed, too, the feverish intensity of their lovemaking and the way it transported her.

When she went into the kitchen, Rafe having headed for the barn, Concepcion had set a basket out on the table and was busy frying chicken. There was a loaf of fresh bread, wrapped in a checkered table napkin, along with a bottle of wine, glasses, plates, and utensils.

“Here,” the older woman said, beckoning Emmeline to the stove and handing her a large meat fork. “This is just about ready to turn.”

While Emmeline oversaw the sizzling, deliciously fragrant chicken, Concepcion hurried into the pantry, returning with several jars of preserves. There were cinnamon pears, Emmeline could see, and jewel-bright strawberry jam. Crimson beets, probably pickled, completed the menu.

“Good heavens,” Emmeline said, having noted a dozen eggs in a saucepan boiling at the back of the stove, “we’re only going for an afternoon drive, not setting up camp.”

Concepcion looked cheerfully flustered. “Rafe is a big man,” she said, setting the jars one by one in the basket, with more checkered napkins stuffed in between them, to prevent breakage.“He has a big appetite.”

Emmeline turned the chicken pieces, one by one, careful not to burn herself with splashing grease. A roaring sound rose from the skillet, along with the familiar, savory aroma. She began to feel hungry, even though she’d eaten a hearty breakfast only a couple of hours earlier.

“I can’t imagine why he wants to go up there, he’s been so busy with the cattle and the new fence lines and everything. The place can’t have changed that much since we were there a few days ago.”

“Perhaps he simply wants to be alone with you for a while,” Concepcion suggested, with a sly little smile. “You must admit, it’s a mite crowded around here these days, what with Mrs. Fairmont visiting, and poor little Phoebe Anne.”

Emmeline felt a little thrill of anticipation at the prospect of a few hours alone with Rafe. “Perhaps,” she said, and blushed a little.

“You’d better dress warmly,” Concepcion counseled, edging her aside and taking over the meat fork and the skillet again. “It’s cooler up the mountain, and besides, you never know when a storm might blow up out here. Take some blankets, too, and some woolen socks. If you broke an axle on the wagon, or one of the horses went lame, you might not get back before nightfall.”

Emmeline privately thought her friend was being somewhat overcautious, but she did as she was told, taking bedding from a large cedar-lined trunk in the upstairs hallway, packing a spare set of clothes for herself and Rafe. When he brought the buckboard up to the back of the house and came inside to collect Emmeline and the picnic basket, he saw the stack of blankets and the satchel and smiled a little.

Though naïve in many ways, Emmeline knew precisely what he was thinking. She happened to be thinking along the same lines.

Becky came downstairs to say goodbye, taking Emmeline’s hands and kissing her on both cheeks. “If you need me,” she said,“you know where to look.”

Emmeline laughed. “The Territorial Hotel,” she recited dutifully.“Indian Rock, Arizona Territory.”

Becky rolled her eyes.“It sounds so rustic,” she said.

“Denver Jack will be waiting for you out front, ma’am, when you’re ready to leave,” Rafe told Becky.“He’s got the buggy all rigged out for the trip to town.”

“Thank you,” Becky said, and surprised Rafe with a light kiss on the cheek. Then she assumed an expression of mock sternness, narrowing her eyes and raising one finger, as if to shake it under his nose. “Now you look after my darling girl, Rafe McKettrick. There will be a severe accounting if you don’t.”

“I will,” he said, very softly, and Emmeline felt a pang, because it was almost like a wedding vow, the way he framed those two simple words. She wished they’d had a real ceremony, instead of being married by proxy. She would have liked a dress to save for their own daughter to be married in one day, and a daguerreotype of her and Rafe as bride and groom, to paste in the album he’d given her.

“And you bring your bride to town to visit me soon, do you hear?”

Rafe smiled.“Yes, ma’am,” he said.“I’ll do that.”

Emmeline and Becky said goodbye again and went their separate ways.

Emmeline was reflective as Rafe helped her up into the seat of the buckboard. He set the basket in the back, along with the blankets and the valise containing their extra clothes. Holt stood in the doorway of the barn, watching them, and Emmeline suppressed a chill.

“You must be expecting to stay up there a while,” he commented, climbing up beside Emmeline, taking the reins in hand, and releasing the brake lever. The two mules pulling the buckboard responded immediately to his one-word command, and they were moving.

Emmeline did not look back at the house, suspecting that she would see Becky watching from the back porch or one of the windows if she did. It was hard to leave her, after just finding her again, even for a short time.

“What is it you want to show me?” Emmeline asked, a mile or so along the road, before they turned off to climb the rutted track leading to their home site. Rafe had been grinning, all along, like he was holding in some vast secret.

“You’ll see when you get there,” he said.

Emmeline sighed, knowing she’d get no more out of him, no matter how she tried. She might as well sit back and enjoy the drive, which, while rugged, was breathtakingly beautiful. The sky was a pure and fragile blue, fit to break her heart, it was so pretty, and the oak trees along the winding creek were cloaked in new, wind-rustled leaves. Yellow wildflowers peppered the grass, raising their faces to the sun.

Every now and then, as the trail got steeper, the mules balked, and Rafe urged them on with a light snap of the reins. The wheels of the buckboard jostled over rocks and sank into ruts, and still they traveled. The air grew thinner as they climbed, and Emmeline yawned once or twice, unaccountably sleepy.

Rafe smiled down at her.“Almost there,” he said.

She rested her cheek against the curve of his shoulder, just for a moment.“It’s so beautiful up here,” she said.

“Y,” he agreed, in a low voice, but he wasn’t looking at the countryside, he was looking at her. It would have been a perfect moment if an image of Holt Cavanagh watching them go hadn’t come into her mind just then, a persistent reminder that she was on very shaky ground. Granted, her worries about an unwanted pregnancy were over, but one word from Mr. Cavanagh and the whole dream of husband, home, and family would come crashing down like a house with no nails to hold it together.