Heart of Mine Read online

  ALSO BY CAROLINE FYFFE

  Colorado Hearts Novels

  Heart of Eden

  True Heart’s Desire

  Heart of Mine

  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.

  Text copyright © 2019 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: 9781542040013

  ISBN-10: 1542040019

  Cover design by Erin Dameron Hill

  Cover illustration by Chris Cocozza

  Dedicated to our handsome grandson,

  Hudson Bryce,

  a boy who holds the moon and stars in the palms

  of his hands.

  We love you so much!

  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

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Santa Fe, New Mexico, Mid-July 1881

  Annoyed with the slight tremor in his hands, Beranger North stared at the twenty-two-year-old daguerreotype of his father, William Northcott, the Duke of Brightshire. Next to his father stood Beranger’s eight-year-old half brother, Gavin, the heir to his father’s dukedom back in Kent, and then Beranger himself, age seven, lurking half-hidden behind Gavin. On the duke’s other side stood Beranger’s stepmother, whose fear and treachery had been the catapult that had changed his life.

  Those eyes! Every time that boy looks my way I feel the whisper of death.

  Her words rang in his mind as clearly as when she’d first uttered them all those years ago.

  Beranger took in his father’s tall countenance, his wide, square shoulders, his vivid eyes—the color he remembered being the blue of the darkest sea, a deep cobalt that rendered most people speechless. Gavin’s eyes were the same color—it was the trait of all the male heirs of the family Northcott.

  Except me, the illegitimate offspring of a commoner.

  Anger made his hand tremble harder, and the image shook. He was a grown man, and he felt that memories of long ago shouldn’t have any hold on his emotions, but sometimes they did. Like today.

  Except for the deep blue Northcott eyes, Gavin was the spitting image of Beranger’s stepmother—winsome, to be sure, but fair-haired, rounder of shoulder and slighter of chest than the typical Northcott males. Beranger had grown up to resemble their father. He had the height and strength of his sire, the dark hair that became shaggy if left to grow, the strong chin and straight nose. Had he remained in Kent, Beranger could easily have been mistaken for the duke himself.

  Beranger had always known he was different. Illegitimate. He was tolerated by some, possibly hated by others. But in the recesses of his boyhood heart, he’d wanted to believe he held the same status as Gavin. Loved and cherished. His mother and father had been lovers long before his father had wed the duchess—and for a short time after Gavin had been born. They belonged together, and Beranger with them. When his mother passed, his father brought him to live at the manor house without question.

  Then, sixteen years ago today, the course of his life changed. He remembered every detail as clear as yesterday, but he refused to let himself dwell on it. “Does no good to look back,” he murmured aloud as he slid the photo, his only memento of his former life, back into the burgundy velvet bag that had long ago lost its sheen.

  “Happy birthday, Father,” he said. He placed the keepsake in a small leather pouch and clipped the bag closed. The leather had grown supple over time, just like his ability to find the good in his new American life.

  Beranger knew he had nothing to complain about. He’d made a fortune in the hills and rivers of this great country. Men considered him an expert in the field of mining. Eleven years ago, when Beranger was eighteen, an old-time prospector, in for a drink at some broken-down saloon, found him mopping floors to make enough money to eat. The grizzled fellow took him under his wing and taught him everything he needed to know to strike it rich. And Beranger had. Where to look, and then how to coax gold and silver out of the earth. How to read a man’s eyes to see if he was bluffing at poker. By the time his mentor died, Beranger had a bank account bursting in a way that most men only dreamed about. Finished with mining, he’d packed up his tools and moved to town. But his reputation had spread. He was sought out for advice. Soon others were throwing money his way just for instruction, saying he had a nose for minerals.

  Yes, America has treated me well.

  He’d wanted to prove himself as a man, and he had. The Northcott name meant nothing to him now—he’d abandoned it as soon as he ran away—nor did the lack of his family’s acceptance. Faced with being illegitimate, he’d proven his legitimacy. Many times over. Ashbury Castle had no hold, and his home village of Brightshire was just a distant memory.

  “And that’s how I like it.”

  For the past year, he’d c
alled Santa Fe home. It was the longest he’d stayed anywhere. Soon he knew the urge to pack up and move on would be upon him, just like always. As a matter of fact, he was planning to speak with a rancher about a new possibility that very night, at supper. If the draw was strong enough, he’d be headed for a town in Colorado called Eden.

  As he placed the leather bag that held his father’s picture back into the trunk for another year, he thought of his mother, his real mother, and wondered what kind of person she must have been. He hadn’t known her, because he’d been too young when she’d died. But from his uncle he’d learned she’d been kindhearted and generous. A woman not impressed with riches, but with loyalty and love. A smile played around his lips.

  Sobered, he closed the lid. It was time he headed to the saloon to scare up a game of poker. He needed something to pass the hours before his meeting tonight.

  Eden, Colorado, he thought again.

  Settling in one place sounded nice. If he found the right woman, would he be able to overcome his rambling ways? Or would that burning need to keep moving ignite once more?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Santa Fe! Why, the city is no more than a prairie dog town!

  Riding in the unmerciful Five Sisters Ranch buckboard, Emma Brinkman, repulsed by the billowing dust, pressed her handkerchief to her nose and narrowed her eyes. Warm early-morning sunshine produced a trickle of sweat between her breasts. Men called out to each other as their wagons passed at a quick trot.

  What’s the hurry so early in the morn?

  She placed a comforting arm around Brenda’s small shoulders, drawing the child closer. She was somewhere between four and five years old, and on her way to be adopted into a new home. The child had lived in Santa Fe before she was sent to Eden’s orphanage, in hopes of finding a family there. But that had been almost a year ago. No one dreamed she’d have to make the long journey back.

  Is she frightened? Confused?

  She was usually quiet, so telling was difficult.

  Belle turned from the front seat. Her older sister’s thick blonde hair was plaited down her back, and a wide grin pulled at her lips. “Isn’t this exiting, Emma? I’m so glad you came along.” She glanced at Brenda and winked. “You too, Brenda Blue Bird,” she said, using their sister Lavinia’s affectionate nickname for the child. “It’s difficult to comprehend that only a year ago this used to be a sleepy little place reached only by mule-team traders.” She waved her hand around, totally oblivious to Emma and Brenda’s discomfort. “This is what’ll happen if Eden ever gets a train. Imagine that!”

  At the moment, Emma didn’t want to imagine that. Horses, wagons, and cattle, all busily going somewhere, churned up the dust of the dry street and made breathing difficult. Her best dress—the one she’d saved especially for today’s arrival—would be ruined.

  Frustrated, she batted away a clod of dirt from her sleeve, a gift from a passing buggy going much too fast for such a crowded street. The action drew comical smiles from Moses Poor and Trevor Hill, the ranch hands riding alongside the wagon.

  Swarms of people traveled the wider-than-normal main street of Santa Fe. Emma had pictured the town, whose name meant “Holy Faith” in Spanish, as a colorful place, meticulously clean, and prosperous. The first two it was absolutely not. But prosperous? Yes, Santa Fe was that. The town, which had received a spur line just the year before, was nothing like their beloved Eden—and for that she was grateful.

  The whistle of the twelve o’clock train from Topeka rent the air, startling Emma and causing Brenda to duck in fear. Horses spooked, and everyone turned to watch the arrival of the shiny black steam engine and its long snaking string of boxcars trailing behind.

  “That’s just the train’s whistle,” Emma whispered close to Brenda’s ear. “Don’t be frightened. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

  Brenda moved closer. Emma smiled down into her upturned face and touched the tip of her nose. The child’s soft brown eyes tugged at Emma’s heart. Their trip from Eden had taken a week and a half in the slow-moving buckboard, and she had looked after the child’s every need. The thought of handing her over to strangers made Emma’s throat tighten.

  Emma kissed the top of her dusty-smelling head. “Your new family is going to be wonderful.”

  But I will miss you with all my heart. I pray that these people will cherish you always.

  Brenda nodded, and a sweet smile appeared on her face. “My new mama will make cookies and let me help.”

  “Of course she will, my darling.” Fearful her eyes would fill, Emma cut her gaze back to the hubbub in the street. Brenda was calmer than she was at the prospect of going to her new home. Emma knew she needed to pull herself together. “I don’t know about you,” she said to change her wavering thoughts, “but I’m ready for a cool bath and a soft bed. Sleeping under the stars is romantic for only so long. First we’ll clean up and have a nice lunch in the hotel restaurant. Then, after a nap, we’ll go see what the town has to offer.” After all, that was her reason for coming along. To see the latest styles the larger city had to offer. See how the shops stacked up against Eden’s Toggery. Explore their stores, memorize their displays, size up their patrons. Stealing a few ideas wasn’t against the law. Why reinvent the wheel when she could improve on it? “How does that sound?”

  Brenda nodded shyly.

  In the front seat, Belle and her husband, Blake, chatted about their own reasons for the journey—to meet the mining expert they hoped to hire for the never-prospected mine the five Brinkman sisters had inherited from their father ten months ago. Emma had to admit to her excitement about the venture. Imagine—a line of jewelry she could sell in her store, produced from her own mine! Silver or gold, it didn’t matter. The thought was exhilarating. But as she watched Belle and Blake, their heads bent close together as their conversation segued to the ranch, which they ran together in a true partnership, a deep and abiding hurt struck her like a lance.

  Three weeks ago, a letter had arrived. Mrs. Gamble, her old employer and dear friend in Philadelphia, had surprising news. Her son Tim had married, and Cooper, her other son, was engaged! For years, Emma had been besotted with both brothers, love-struck so deep she knew she’d never love again. As shameful as having feelings for both had been, she’d never told either, or acted on her desires—she’d just loved them from afar. She’d been young and shy, and so in love with the idea of being in love that sometimes it felt as if she were walking on air. She’d kiss her pillow at night, imagining their faces. If she lived to one hundred, she’d never forget the way Tim’s dark-brown eyes made her feel when he gazed into hers as they went over the shop’s orders. Or Cooper’s silky-soft voice, patient and kind, as he asked for her input on the upcoming schedule.

  And now both brothers had found other loves?

  How cruel. How fickle love is!

  Whenever she imagined her wedding—as she often had—it was one of the two Gamble brothers beside her at the altar. She’d believed herself in love with them for so long. She’d been crushed by the news. And still was.

  That was the true reason she’d decided to come along, although she’d not voiced her heartbreak to her sisters, who were all in the throes of love. Belle was married, Lavinia engaged, and Katie and Santiago had been inseparable until he left to visit his brother. Mavis was in love too, although she liked to pretend differently. Emma had needed to escape her surroundings for a time. To distract her thoughts and mend her broken heart in silence.

  She huffed a deep sigh. When Brenda looked up to see if something was wrong, Emma patted her leg and smiled.

  Yes, I have things to do. Life will go on.

  At the moment, Santa Fe looked to be entirely devoid of women. All she saw were men, and stores catering to them. Saloons, hardware and dry goods, and a bank here and there.

  Where are the women? The millinery shops, the dressmakers?

  Emma desperately scanned the businesses that lined both sides of the street.

  I’ll
be hard-pressed to even find a tailor here.

  She noticed that there were not many tall buildings, not like in Philadelphia. These were Spanish mission style, and were constructed with wood, adobe, and brick. A few, which looked recently constructed, had European details—all brought about by the economic boom she’d heard so much about. Children stood on corners, waving flyers and calling out to anyone who would listen.

  Emma reached down and found Brenda’s hand. She wasn’t sure she liked Santa Fe at all.

  Trevor leaned in. “Don’t worry, Miss Emma. A couple streets over, everything is much quieter—and the stores will be to your likin’. That’s where they have the kinds of shops you’re expectin’.”

  “Oh, and what would those be, Mr. Hill?” she teased amicably. He and Moses had been such a help, setting up camp each night, cooking over the fire, tending the horses. They made the chores look easy, when in fact she knew camping to be the opposite. Belle pitched in when needed, but Emma’s job had been to look after Brenda. That part of the trip had been a joy. Trying to find privacy so she could take care of life’s most indelicate operations amid the scant bushes and shrubs had not.

  “You know . . . ,” Trevor said, eyes twinkling, “tiny dollhouse buildings filled with frilly dresses, hats that would make Miss Lavinia’s eyes go wide, and womanly gewgaws and whatnots.”

  Just as he predicted, a few blocks later the dust and clamor gave way to a more civilized street. Shops lined both sides of the way, all different and all catering to women—or men wanting to make their ladies happy. Still not many trees, like she was used to in Eden, but potted plants made the boardwalks attractive. A banner stretched the width of the road, welcoming all newcomers to Santa Fe.

  Emma laughed with delight. “You were right. I couldn’t have imagined this two minutes ago.” Her gaze tracked down the street. “Four dress shops, two restaurants, several buildings I can’t tell what they are, and not a saloon in sight. How refreshing.”

  “Better?” Moses asked, a knowing look in his eyes.

  “Much.” And she meant it. There wasn’t time to dwell on heartache when all these riches awaited.

  Our first time away from the ranch since we’ve become heiresses, Emma thought as the buckboard stopped in front of a medium-size hotel.