Heart of Eden Read online

  ALSO BY CAROLINE FYFFE

  Colorado Hearts Novels

  Heart of Eden

  Prairie Hearts Novels

  Where the Wind Blows

  Before the Larkspur Blooms

  West Winds of Wyoming

  Under a Falling Star

  Whispers on the Wind

  Where Wind Meets Wave

  The McCutcheon Family Novels

  Montana Dawn

  Texas Twilight

  Mail-Order Brides of the West: Evie

  Mail-Order Brides of the West: Heather

  Moon Over Montana

  Mail-Order Brides of the West: Kathryn

  Montana Snowfall

  Texas Lonesome

  Montana Courage

  Montana Promise

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2018 by Caroline Fyffe

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542048323

  ISBN-10: 154204832X

  Cover design by Michael Rehder

  Map design by Mapping Specialists, Ltd

  Heart of Eden, a story of five sisters finding their way in a brand-new world, is dedicated with much love to my four older sisters: Shelly, Sherry, Jenny, and Mary.

  I hope it brings smiles, joy, and even a few tears, since the tears make the joy that much sweeter. I love you all.

  CONTENTS

  MAP

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Eden, Colorado, 1880

  From atop a small rise, Blake Harding sat on his horse as he surveyed the north pasture of the Five Sisters Ranch. Large, puffy clouds hung motionless in the indigo sky. If not for the movement of the bald eagle that had appeared from the west, he’d think he was looking at a painting. A crisp breeze ruffled Banjo’s mane, and all seemed right with the world.

  Everything here and now, anyway.

  Blake sighed and relaxed his tense shoulders, letting a hard-earned peace push back the agitation that was never far from his mind. He missed John. For the last eighteen years, his boss had been so much more than his mentor—he’d taken the place of the parents he didn’t remember and the brother he’d lost in the Civil War. John Brinkman had been Blake’s whole family wrapped up in one honorable man.

  From his position on the rise, he spotted Trevor Hill cutting through the herd. The cowboy’s lips moved slowly as he spoke to the cattle in an effort not to rile them as they grazed. At the base of the slope, he waved and then loped to the top of the knoll.

  “Trevor, what brings you out this way?” Blake called once the ranch hand was within hearing distance. Trevor had worked for the Five Sisters for three years. “Thought you were in Eden today, picking up supplies.”

  “Was, boss, but came back as soon as Henry gave me this.” He held out a folded note.

  So it’s actually going to happen.

  Still not used to the men calling him “boss,” Blake took the paper. Henry had sent a telegram two days ago. Upon hearing of their father’s death, John’s daughters had apparently responded right away. Imagine that. He opened the note and scanned the missive, anger twisting his gut. There was only one thing worse than having to contend with John dying—that would be confronting his five selfish, self-centered daughters. Blake stared at the words in front of his face. Well, miracles do happen. The Brinkman sisters would be arriving within the month, after all the years John’s pleas had fallen upon deaf ears. He fisted the note in his hand.

  “Boss . . . ?” Trevor said, a bit cautiously. “They comin’ to Eden?”

  “Yeah, they are. Too bad it took John dying to get the deed done.”

  “Why now, do you think?” Trevor lifted his hat and scratched his head, then gazed lovingly up at the morning sun. “Seems a bit late.”

  “Doesn’t take a genius to figure what they’re after.” He remembered two little girls, two toddlers, and one infant. The eldest, Mavis, had been almost five to his ten the last time he’d seen her.

  “Money?”

  “What else?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  Belle Brinkman hurried down the sidewalk toward her older sister’s apartment holding the folds of her black mourning dress, lest she catch her toe and fall. The blustery wind pulled persistently at the ribbons that kept her headpiece from tumbling into the rain-soaked street. Lesley had surprised her with the gift last week, and she’d not let it spill into the mud.

  She wrinkled her nose at the puddles, horse manure, and garbage that lined the road. Passing the slaughterhouse, she pinched her nose closed. How I despise this part of town. She’d begged Mavis not to move there when she and Darvid wed, one year ago last month. Unfortunately, both Mavis and her sister’s late husband earned little at the department store, where they worked in accounting. Compassion stirred in Belle’s chest for her sister’s plight. A month ago, Darvid had taken ill with pneumonia and died—but only after racking up a bill with the doctor to add to their other debts. Where will Mavis find the money to pay? As far as Belle knew, she had little put away for emergencies. The pittance Belle had wouldn’t go far to help.

  Belle sighed, ashamed at how coldhearted she’d become. Instead of thinking of her brother-in-law, who was now gone to his just rewards, she was worried about money. The lack of money is the root of all evil.

  Appalled at herself, she thought of her mother, dead for fifteen years. “I know, Mother, it’s the love of money that’s the r
oot of all evil, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way at all. Scrimping by gets old.” Belle’s mother had been the kindest, most loving woman—at least that was what her six-year-old self remembered. Left orphans for all intents and purposes after her death, Belle and her sisters owed everything to Vernon and Velma Crowdaire, friends who took their mother in after she fled their unstable father and the untamed wilderness called Eden. Her mother’s death, three years after arriving at the Crowdaires’, had been a shock. The couple the girls now called “Aunt and Uncle” took them in permanently, providing room, board, and even the clothes on their backs.

  Still, Vernon Crowdaire has no right to make us feel so indebted every second, Belle thought as her disgust for him surfaced. The way he flaunted his generosity like a badge of honor made them all feel like beggars. It’s not right.

  Gathering her skirt again, Belle stepped over a wide puddle and then sidestepped a lump of refuse in her path. The bedroom she shared with her three younger sisters in the Crowdaire home was a bit less crowded since Mavis had married. And two years before that, their guardians had moved to a more upscale area of town as well, giving them a larger bedroom—but still just one. That was something. I should work on my charity. Not harbor such dislike for Vernon. Try to be more grateful. She knew she should, but she hadn’t after all these years.

  As often as the Crowdaires expounded on what good catches she and her sisters were, only Mavis, the eldest, had received an official offer of marriage, and that from a man who had little more than two nickels to rub together. Even though Belle had liked Darvid, she’d been against the marriage from the first, feeling Mavis was settling because of Velma’s constant harping to accept the proposal. It had almost seemed like the Crowdaires wanted Mavis out in order to relieve the burden of expenses. It was understandable, she supposed. They had done so much over the years.

  In reality, what did Belle or any of her sisters have to offer a husband, besides love? Each year the tiny stipend their guardians gave each girl grew by only a few coins. As soon as they were out of school, each of them had found work to help pay their expenses and supplement their wardrobes. They had all long passed the age where only hand-me-downs would do. Katie was the exception. The youngest Brinkman sister had taken a loan from Uncle Vernon to attend a normal school in Massachusetts and train to become a teacher. She’d graduated three months ago and was in the process of looking for a position.

  Finally arriving at the tall brownstone, Belle ascended the crumbling brick steps, opened the door, and proceeded to the first apartment at the back of the lobby. She rapped several times.

  “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me. Belle.”

  Mavis opened the door dressed in widow’s attire. Her wavy mahogany hair was swept on top of her head, and she wore the wrist-length gloves she never went without to hide her disfigurement. Her blue, wide-set eyes gave away that she’d been crying, bringing an ache to Belle’s heart.

  They embraced.

  “How’re you?” Belle asked, stepping back, knowing well her sister was taking Darvid’s death extremely hard.

  “Getting by. Everything still seems so surreal.” She glanced around the room. “Everywhere I look, I see Darvid’s face. I don’t know how I’ll get through this.”

  Belle looked her up and down. “Mavis Brinkman Applebee, you’re resilient. The strongest woman I know.” She laid a gentle hand on her older sister’s arm. If she could take away her pain, she would, in a heartbeat. Mavis had always been Belle’s best friend. Loyal to a fault.

  She glanced at Mavis’s left hand, and the abominable gloves hiding her missing pinkie. Belle’s guilt was ever present. Before they’d moved from the river area to a nicer neighborhood, Mavis had gotten her hand caught in some tangled fishing line. Cleaning up the litter in the alley beside their uncle’s home had been Belle’s chore, but she’d put the distasteful task off that day. Mavis, wanting to spare her sister a tongue-lashing from Aunt Velma, had come out to help. A passing carriage caught the line in its spinning wheels. In an instant, Mavis’s finger popped off at the knuckle as easily as a pea snaps in half.

  Belle would never forget the sound.

  Or the look on Mavis’s face.

  Because of her mutilation, Mavis hid herself away at her accounting job at Thornton House department store. Until Darvid joined. In less than three months, she’d said yes to his proposal—even though she’d confided to Belle that the most she felt for him was a deep, abiding friendship. Darvid was a nice, considerate, mild-mannered man who smiled and laughed at every chance. And indeed, until now, that had seemed enough. Although they’d had little, they’d appeared happy.

  “Do you have a moment to talk?” Belle asked.

  Mavis closed the door. “All right. My manager has been quite understanding. If we hurry, I won’t be too late.”

  She directed them to the secondhand settee in front of the fireplace, resting her hand over a small tear in its arm as she sat down. “What’s on your mind, Belle? I know you don’t enjoy coming to this part of town.”

  “You don’t either, if you’re honest.”

  Mavis ignored the comment. “Whatever you have to say must be important.”

  “Actually, you’re right. It is important. I’ve received a telegram from Eden.”

  Mavis’s eyes grew so wide that Belle could almost read her thoughts right through them. Eden. Where Mother and Father met and married. Where all five sisters were conceived and born. A place Belle wondered about all the time. Her memories of their departure when she was almost four were foggy. Her clearest image was of Mother stuffing clothes into a large trunk as a man, who must have been Father, stood back, taller than any tree, watching in disbelief. Belle thought she remembered a need to run to him, lay her small hand upon his cheek, but the tears on Mother’s face had fastened her feet to the floor. Belle convinced herself that must be a dream, something her mind had conjured up, distorting the truth for want of a father’s love. She’d been too young to know the kinds of questions to ask her mother. It was only after Mother died that Uncle Vernon told them—with unseemly glee—that their father had been a violent man, disrespectful and coarse. That their mother fled out of fear of what he might do to her or the children. The story each of the sisters carried inside was that John Brinkman had been a despicable character. And hadn’t he proved as much? He’d never come to see them or sought them out in any way. He’d turned his back on his family, pretending they never existed.

  No point tiptoeing around the news. “Father has passed.”

  The color drained from Mavis’s face. For a moment, they sat in silence.

  “This feels like a pointed arrow through my heart,” Mavis whispered. “Somehow, some way, I always believed we’d get a chance to be reunited.” She looked at the floor. “I was wrong.”

  “Oh pooh,” Belle said. Mavis was too much of a romantic for her. “Why would you want to? He didn’t want us. Why should we despair now?”

  Mavis’s lips wobbled. “He was our father. Regardless of how he treated Mother or us, we should show a little respect.”

  “He never gave this family a moment’s thought. We were nothing to him, Mavis. And actually, saying that aloud does break my heart.” A strange image of a man stirred inside her. His scent, the rumble of his voice—she felt a faint longing for his gentle touch, a kiss good night . . . She blinked and looked away from Mavis’s censorious scrutiny.

  “When did you receive word?”

  “Last week.”

  Mavis’s eyes widened again. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  If Belle didn’t explain quickly, they’d have an argument on their hands. “I know you don’t like being kept in the dark, Mavis, but I was sheltering you. Darvid passed barely a month ago.”

  “And the others? Do they know?”

  Belle nodded. “You’ve gone through so much. I wanted to spare you for a little while—we wanted to spare you. Emma, Lavinia, and Katie agreed.” Well, sort of. Tw
o out of three. “You’d do exactly the same for one of us. Aren’t you glad you’ve had this week to yourself, without it being more complicated?”

  “Father shouldn’t be thought of as a complication.”

  Time to change the subject. “Everyone is packed and ready to travel, as am I. Strangely enough, we’ve been summoned for the reading of Father’s will. Mr. Glass, an attorney in Eden, sent enough fare to cover our travel.”

  Mavis pushed to her feet, her lips pulled into a frown. Belle knew all too well that her oldest sister didn’t like being left out of the decision making. She considered herself substitute mother and protector of them all. But her irritation lasted only a moment. She walked slowly to a window overlooking the gray day outside.

  “What happened? Do you know? How did he die?”

  “His horse fell, and he broke his leg. Infection set in.”

  “How horrible.”

  “I agree. And that’s all I know—except that the will can’t be read unless all five of us are present.”

  Mavis turned, a wistful expression on her face. “I remember sitting in tall, green grass with you, Emma, and baby Lavinia. Katie wasn’t yet born. Someone was singing. A man’s voice. Father must have changed greatly.” She slowly shook her head. “I don’t think I have the energy to travel west. From what Uncle Vernon has told us, the little Father had has been lost over the years. A broken-down house on a small patch of land with a handful of cattle.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to go without you.” Belle gazed innocently at her hands, folded in her lap. “Though the telegram did say we all had to be present . . .”

  Mavis returned to the sofa. “You can’t go without me.” Alarm tinged her voice. “Who’ll make sure Katie doesn’t become turned around in some station and get left behind? And Emma needs her cup of warm milk before bed. You know she can’t sleep in a strange place without one. Don’t get me started on Lavinia. She’s liable to be run over by a team of horses if a pretty bonnet catches her eye. I swear, I don’t think I want any children of my own after raising the four of you.”

  Irritation rippled inside Belle. Mavis doesn’t have to act like she’s the only one with a brain in her head.