The Wrangler's Mail Order Bride (8 page)

H
ank turned
his gaze back to Clara as Sadie went into the kitchen to give Tripp their order.

“I’m sorry about that with my father. Was it all right? Did he say anything—”

She held her hands up to stop him. “Don’t worry, Hank. He was actually quite polite. And interesting. He thanked me for being here, actually, and considering your proposition.”

Hank dropped the spoon he’d been turning over in his hand and sighed. “Oh, that’s a relief. When I saw him here with you, I didn’t know what to think. Worried me.”

Her curiosity got the better of her and she picked up her glass of water, attempting to appear nonchalant as she asked, “Oh? Why?”

Hank picked up the spoon again, twisting it in his hand. “Yesterday didn’t actually go so well, even after you left. I’m not sure what’s going on, and I didn’t want him to upset you. I want this to go well, and I don’t understand why he’s doing this at all.”

He stared at the spoon as it spun. She leaned forward, gently taking it from his hand and setting it on the table, encouraging him to meet her eyes. She felt his anxiety and concern, and wanted him to relax and have a nice evening.

“I’m a big girl, Hank. I very much appreciate your concern for me, but so far, he hasn’t dished out anything I can’t take.”

His look of relief warmed her heart, and she smiled as he reached over and placed his hand on hers. “Thank you. You are more kind than we deserve. I hope that tomorrow will explain some of his behavior.”

“I hope so. I…” Clara set her water glass down and cleared her throat, preparing herself to ask the question she’d wanted to ask since she’d arrived. When the time came, though, the words wouldn’t pass her lips.

Hank cocked his head, his confusion clear. “Yes?” he asked, patiently waiting for her to continue.

She shook her head. She didn’t really know this man—it was premature to ask when he thought he wanted to be married. So far, he’d seemed content to let her decide, but she’d seen him enough times now to know that while he was concerned over his father’s recent actions, he also was strong and capable of deciding things for himself. His actions to protect her the previous day from his father had shown her that.

She decided to hold her tongue about an actual wedding date, and instead asked, “How long have you been riding the trail? Cattle drives, is it?”

Hank sat back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. “Too long. Much too long. It was exciting for a while—quite a while.”

He picked up the spoon again and started to spin it but looked up to see Clara’s smile and put it back down with a laugh.

“But after watching Tripp go away to chef school and come back and make a nice life for himself, I’m feeling more and more that I want that, too.”

Clara looked up at the copper tiles on the ceiling and soaked in the warm ambiance of the dining room. Sadie caught her eye and winked, attending to another table.

“They seem to have done something remarkable in a relatively short period of time.” She turned back to Hank and frowned as he leaned forward and looked down at his place setting, his arms resting against the table.

“Thing is, we’ve been doing it this way at the ranch for so long, not sure Pa will have it any other way. Tripp’s path was different and he had to go. I, on the other hand, have run the drives for so long, I don’t think my father thinks I can do anything else.” He rubbed his chin and sat back in his chair.

She regarded him for a bit, her heart tugging at the frustration in his voice. “It’s no longer something that you love, is that it?”

He shook his head slowly. “It’s not only that. Yes, it’s challenging to sleep on the ground, and the older I get, the more I appreciate a soft bed.”

He looked up quickly, blushing as he realized what he’d just said. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

Clara laughed at his discomfort and said, “Oh, Hank, no apology necessary. I believe we’ve all seen and slept in beds before. And I’m not nearly that delicate as to not be able to speak of it.”

She appreciated his sensibility but was amused by it. She wondered if he’d courted before, and was pretty sure that with all of his cattle drives, he’d been too busy, just like she’d been.

His forehead smoothed as the frown left his face, the laugh lines returning, much to her relief.

“Thank you for that,” he said as Sadie approached with their meals.

“Roast chicken for you, Clara, and for Hank, his favorite. Beef stew—although with red wine. Not exactly like the trail.” She set down a basket of biscuits and said, “Let me know if you need anything else, and enjoy.”

“It must be very good beef stew for him to serve it in the restaurant.”

Hank bent over his bowl and inhaled deeply, his eyes closed and a look of delight spreading over his face. “Yes, it is. It’s the best I’ve ever had. I’m so glad that Tripp decided to put it on the menu.”

Clara inhaled the delicious aroma of the chicken she’d ordered and her stomach grumbled. “Oh, goodness. I do apologize.” She laughed, holding her hand over her belly. “I guess I’m hungry, and this just pushed me over the edge.”

Hank’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t apologize to me, either. I love to eat, and a woman with a good appetite is something I’ve always…”

Clara looked up at him, her fork stopping mid-air as she watched his eyes twinkle but his ears turn pink.

“…Appreciated. Truly. My mother was a fabulous cook, and eating was always highly encouraged at my house.” His eyes softened as he took a wistful glance around the room.

“She would have loved this.” Hank folded his napkin in his lap and turned his blue eyes back to Clara. “I sure wish you could have met her.”

Clara placed her hand over Hank’s, his sadness pulling at her heart. “It seems that you all miss her very much. No doubt she was a wonderful lady to have been so well-loved.”

“Yes, we all miss her, but I think Pa more than anyone, if you can imagine. They met and married so young, and truly in a whirlwind.”

She waited, silently encouraging him to continue, pleased that she was getting a little more information.

“Pa hasn’t been the same since she passed away, and the girls are having a difficult time. But I’m away so much, I can’t to a darn thing about it. Not that he’d talk about it anyway. He’s not like that.”

He looked up at Sadie as she delivered a big piece of chocolate cake and set it between them. She cleared their dinner plates and set down a fork in front of each of them.

“It’s the last piece. You’ll have to share,” she said as she winked at Clara.

Hank cleared his throat as Sadie walked away. “Is that all right with you?”

The thought crossed her mind fleetingly that it might not be appropriate to share food with someone who was courting her, but since no one had ever told her if there were rules, she decided that it sounded just fine to her.

“Of course it is,” she said as she picked up her fork and cut a piece of cake. She closed her eyes as it melted in her mouth. Sadie truly was the best baker she’d ever known.

“You feel, then, that if you were able to leave the trail things might actually be better for your father?”

Hank nodded as he took a bite of the cake. “Yes, I do. There’s quite a bit to do, running a ranch, and he’s got that on top of taking care of the girls—who can be a handful, as you may have surmised.”

“Ah, yes, it appeared that way. So, although you have a housekeeper, you’d like to be more involved with the business of running the ranch rather than the physical aspects of the cattle drive?”

“That’s it, exactly. I’ve learned a thing or two that might be helpful around the ranch, and we don’t necessarily need to put all our time and energy into cattle drives, anyway.” He finished abruptly, almost as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have, and he glanced around quickly at the other patrons.

“Oh?” Clara’s interest was piqued and she remembered how much Hank had seemed to enjoy being with the twins.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Yes, there are things that we could do that would be more beneficial, but Pa won’t hear of it. Says this is the way it’s always been and will continue to be.”

Clara set her fork down and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, watching Hank as he finished the last bit of cake. “Maybe once we get to the bottom of this property issue, other options might come up that he would be willing to consider?”

Hank sighed and shook his head. “I’ve tried. So far, with no luck.”

“Well, you can’t give up, Hank. If you say there are other things that can be done, you should be allowed the opportunity to do them. Right is right.”

Hank’s eyes twinkled. “Right is right? I agree with you, but sometimes there are things standing in the way. Maybe tomorrow we’ll find out more.”

Clara smiled, anxious to be on the lookout the following day for any information that might help Hank on his quest to change his life. She already had some thoughts forming as Hank signaled to Sadie for the check.

W
hen Clara awoke
the next morning, it took her a moment to get her bearings. So much had happened in a few short days that if she wasn’t careful, her head would reel and she might just go to New York. She’d never considered that she might be under the thumb of an overbearing father-in-law.

She smiled, though, as she realized that she didn’t want to leave yet. Today was the day she’d find out what some of these mysteries were about, and her instincts told her that it was important for her to find out—for her
and
Hank.

A red cardinal settled on her windowsill as she sat up and stretched. She watched it as it fluttered its wings in the morning sun. It flew away as she went to the window and she smiled as it danced in the birdbath that Suzanne and the girls filled up every day, joyously watching the birds come and go.

She drew in a sharp breath when she splashed her face with the cold water in the washbasin. Pulling her nightdress over her head, she dressed, quickly braided her hair and made her bed, smoothing her hand over the comforter as she looked around her comfortable room.

A flash of red drew her eye to the cardinal sitting on the windowsill again. Her hands fiddled with the cameo at her neck as her forehead rested on the cool glass. Remembering her conversation with Mr. Archer the previous night, she sincerely hoped that their trip to the property today would shed some light on this whole subject—maybe enough that she could decide if a wedding was in order.

Her hand on the doorknob, she stopped and turned around, moving in front of the vanity. She placed several of the lavender flowers in her braid and behind her ear, enjoying the scent as she thought of the new experience she’d have today.

As she headed down the stairs, she realized that since she’d decided to come to Arizona Territory, everything had been a series of new experiences, just as she’d hoped. Even though they didn’t always turn out the way she wanted, each one gave her another piece of the puzzle that was her new family, and drew her closer to making a decision.

It was that sense of promise she carried with her as she rode with Hank in his buggy, away from town and toward Archer Ranch. “Thank you for agreeing to do this, Clara. It really is above and beyond, but it seems to mean a great deal to my father. He seemed very nervous this morning. Was doing a lot of pacing.”

“He was?” she asked, surprised. He’d always seemed calm and in control to her, and she wondered again what was making him so agitated.

“The property line is adjacent to that of the ranch, but it’s very big, so we’ll head up into about the middle. We used to come here when we were little, but I haven’t been in a long time. I do remember there were some pretty fine views.”

He guided the buggy on what looked to her to be a road—well, just wagon-wheel ruts—that hadn’t been used much for a very long time. Hoof prints preceded them and Hank followed along in silence while she took in the scenery.

She’d asked Suzanne for the picture book before she left, and she flipped through the pages, comparing drawings of plants and trees in the book to the real things in front of her.

Hank had laughed when he’d seen the book, asking, “What is that? The tourist’s guide to Arizona Territory? Didn’t know there was one of those things.”

She nudged him with her elbow as she continued to flip the pages. “If I’m going to live somewhere new, I want to know all about it.”

“You think you want to live here, do you?” he said quietly, peering at her out of the corner of his eye.

She took in a quick breath, surprised at the warmth that spread through her chest at his question. She looked up at him, her eyes soft as she said, “I just think I might, Hank Archer. I just might.”

As they’d risen toward the small hill in the center of the property, the vegetation had changed and Clara could barely keep up with it, looking things up in her book.

Beau Archer’s voice boomed from atop a small rise amid a stand of tall trees. “Hello. Up here.” Hank and Clara both looked up, shielding their eyes from the sun.

“What’s he doing up there?” Hank asked under his breath.

“I don’t know. Have you been up there before?”

“No, we never came anywhere this far in. Stayed down at the stream where we turned in, mostly. Wonder what he’s up to.”

“Can’t wait to find out,” Clara muttered as she clapped the book closed and pushed it under her seat.

Hank pulled the buggy up next to Beau’s horse. After he tied the horses to the tree, he helped Clara hop down and said, “Looks like he walked up there. You okay with that?”

“Of course.” She turned toward the road they’d come up. The view over the valley and toward the west, the mountains rising behind her, almost took her breath away. “Oh, Hank, it’s beautiful here.”

“It is, isn’t it? I can only imagine what it looks like from up there. We can probably see Tombstone.” He reached for her hand, pulling her along as he headed to where his father stood, looking quietly over the valley.

Hank kept hold of her hand as she lifted her skirts with the other so she didn’t trip over the rocks that were getting bigger as they climbed. As the smaller rocks turned to boulders, closer to the side of the hill, he turned to check on her. “You all right?”

“Only a little further,” Beau shouted as they rounded a huge boulder.

Clara hit her forehead on Hank’s back as he stopped short in front of her. Rubbing it, she peeked around Hank and stood, as frozen to the spot as he was.

In the clearing ahead of them stood a small, white house with vivid blue window frames, what appeared to Clara to be a duplicate of the small house at the ranch, the one with the failing garden.

“Come ahead, son. This is what I wanted to show you,” Beau said quietly as he turned and start toward the door.

Hank gripped Clara’s hand again and slowly followed his father, pulling her along behind him. As they reached the door, Beau took off his hat and held it over his heart, looking up and around the house as he rubbed the back of his neck with his handkerchief.

He took a deep breath and seemed to make a decision, reaching for the handle of the door and pushing it open. He disappeared into the house after beckoning for them to follow.

Hank turned to Clara, his eyes narrowing with concern. “You want to do this? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She nodded slowly and looked from Hank to his father, who stood again in the doorway, his hands on his hips as he impatiently waited for them.

As Clara’s eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the house, Beau moved from window to window, opening curtains as dust flew everywhere. She held her handkerchief to her mouth as Hank held his sleeve over his own.

Beau walked around the house slowly, picking up items as he moved along the walls. She watched as he lifted a tortoise-shell mirror off a small vanity and held it to his heart as he bowed his head.

He placed it carefully back down and looked around the single room once more before heading back to the door, placing his hands on each side of the doorframe as he looked over the view behind them.

Hank dropped Clara’s hand and moved to the vanity. He reached for a small, framed photograph and studied the black and white image of a very young woman who looked vaguely familiar.

Beau turned as Hank set it back on the vanity.

“Mama?” Hank said, his voice quiet.

Clara lifted a dust-filled cloth off of what looked like a settee and sat, not wanting to interrupt.

Beau returned to the vanity and placed his arm around Hank’s shoulders.

“Yes, son. Mama.”

Hank rubbed his eyes before he looked over to his father. “I don’t understand. What is this place, Pa? Why haven’t you ever shown us before?”

Beau sighed, running his finger over the framed photograph of his wife. He cleared his throat, wiping his shirtsleeve over his forehead as he turned and walked out the door. “Come on out here and I’ll tell you.”

Hank reached for Clara’s hand, helping her up and ushering her out the door. Beau had sat on the wide front porch in a swing built for two.

Hank pulled a chair up for Clara as he leaned against the porch’s bannister, folding his arms over his chest as he watched his father gaze out over the horizon.

“Son,” Hank’s father started, his voice low and quiet. “I think you probably know how hard it’s been for me since your mother passed away. She was the love of my life, and we had many happy years together. Built the ranch up together from nothing, and raised a fine family.”

“Yes, Pa, you did.”

“You also know your mother was the talker in the family, the sensitive one. Always told me to just keep my mouth shut when it came to matters of the heart and that she would look out for me,” he said with a small chuckle at the memory. “She knew what was for my own good. And yours, too.”

“That was probably best,” Hank said as he smiled and walked to Beau, resting his hand on his father’s shoulder.

Beau gave his hand a quick pat before he stood and walked to the bannister, leaning on it and looking out over the valley below.

“I know you don’t remember your grandfather, but he loved your mother very much. It was me he wasn’t too wild about.” Beau turned and leaned against the bannister, looking from Hank to Clara. “He and his wife, your grandmother, lived in town with your mother, and when I came in at the end of a cattle drive and got one look at her walking down the street with her parents, it was all over for me.”

Clara sighed, the romantic image warming her heart. “Did you marry right away, Mr. Archer?” She was curious to learn how long a courtship they’d had.

“No, although that would have been fine with me. Took me a few more cattle drives and proving myself to your grandpa before he’d let me anywhere near her.”

He smiled, and Clara got a glimpse of the same twinkle she’d seen in Hank’s eyes.

“What does this house have to do with anything?”

“Well, he’d owned this property for quite a while, had intended to build a house up here for him and your grandmother. She was a little delicate, and couldn’t be this far out of town. So when I announced my intentions for your mother’s hand in marriage, he took me to the saloon, bought me a whiskey and we made a deal.”

“A deal?” Hank’s eyebrows rose as he plopped down on the swing where his father had sat.

“Yes. He was adamant that if Katie and I were to be wed, we would take this property and build…well, build this. Or that I would, anyway.” He ran his hand over the smooth white of the adobe walls, his eyes soft.

“You built this?” Hank stood and looked at the building. “By yourself?”

His father laughed as he paced the porch. “No, not exactly. Your mother and I did. She was very talented—much more than just in the kitchen. We got married, moved up here and started building. It was quite a task and we had a very short time to do it. We lived with her parents for a bit, then moved in as soon as we could. Didn’t even have windows yet at the time, but she didn’t mind. We didn’t mind.”

“It’s a lovely place,” Clara said, her heart tugging at Mr. Archer’s sadness.

“Yes. We spent many, many hours on this porch, watching the sunsets. Nothing like an Arizona sunset.”

He took a deep breath and continued. “When I’d left the cattle drive, my employer gave me a few head to start with on my own, and we did that up here, too. Ended up making some money and doing pretty well. Seems I had a knack for cattle driving. Just like you.”

“Pa…”

“Let me finish, Hank. This is hard enough as it is,” he, rubbing his eyes. “We’d been here a little while and were doing pretty well. Overjoyed to find out that your mother was with child.”

“Oh, that would be me, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it would, son.” Hank frowned, and gazed down at the buildings of Tombstone. “Your mother had a difficult time of it, and I decided that I didn’t feel comfortable with her being this far away from civilization, beautiful as it is. I’d saved some money and was able to buy the property the ranch sits on now from somebody eager to leave town to try his hand in the gold rush in California. It was a lucky day for me.”

“So you moved down to the ranch?” Hank said, his eyes on his father.

“Not right away. Wasn’t a stick of a building on it at the time. Your mother took you to stay with her folks for a bit, and I gathered all the help I could and built a duplicate of this very building on the ranch. It’s where we lived until we built the big house we’re in now.”

“Oh,” Clara said. “That’s the white building between the house and the barn, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And that was Mama’s favorite place to be. She taught the girls to paint there, read us all books there, did her sewing. It was…her place. Her garden.” Hank rubbed his forehead before he sat down again on the porch swing.

“Yes. I closed it up and locked it when she passed. Haven’t been in there since.”

“So, I still don’t understand what this has to do with my getting this property. What is so urgent about it?” Hank asked.

“If I may intrude, I think I know,” Clara said. “Katie’s father didn’t deed you the property, obviously. You thought he had?”

“Yes, young lady. Exactly that. I’d thought it was a gift, and when he died and I heard he’d willed it to Hank—who was the only grandchild he met before he left for Colorado—I set out to keep it in the family. Couldn’t bear to part with it.”

“So, requiring me to be married to inherit the property—why would he have done that?”

“Oh, the old coot was a hopeless romantic. Wanted everybody to be happy, and in love. Shortly after you were born, your grandma died. Abe was heartbroken, and set out for Colorado to relieve the pain, erase some of the memories. Said he didn’t want to stick around here anymore.”

“Oh, my,” Clara said, standing and crossing to Hank as he sat on the porch swing. “So this was sort of a ploy to ensure that his grandson was married? And hopefully happy?”

Clara’s heart fluttered as she looked at Hank. She felt the warmth of his hand as he gripped hers and she realized they were sitting together on the porch swing. Beau and Katie’s porch swing.

“Exactly, my dear. And that is where you come in.”