Heart of Eden Read online

  “What about me? You’re not the only one capable of looking after Katie and the others.”

  A silly smile pulled at Mavis’s lips. “You’re right. I meant no offense. I worry, is all. You know you can be impulsive, Belle. When you get angry, you pay little attention to what’s happening around you. A train ride has dangers. Bad weather, outlaws, Indians. Snakes!”

  Belle shuddered. “That’s plenty of peril to worry over.” She hesitated. She’s not going to like this. “The train doesn’t go all the way to Eden. We’ll have to take a stagecoach from Pueblo for the last three hundred miles.”

  Mavis’s hand flew to her chest. “What about Katie’s claustrophobia? No, absolutely not. We’ll wire and tell Mr. Glass a trip like this is impossible. He can come to us.”

  Belle’s patience vanished. “For heaven’s sake. She can sit by the window or up top with the driver.”

  “You’re heartless, Belle.”

  “Pack your things. We have tickets for tomorrow and will arrive in Eden in about a week and a half. We’ll stay long enough to hear what the lawyer has to say, pay our respects to Father’s grave, and get back on the train. Think about it, Mavis. Why does the reading have to be so formal?” She lifted a brow and let that thought simmer. “What if Father did have at least a little something set aside to leave to us? Any amount will help with Darvid’s medical bills, and more. We must go.”

  Mavis’s mouth was still set in a stubborn line. “I can’t. I’ll lose my job. Being a widow, I depend on that income.”

  “Your manager has already offered you time off, which you didn’t take. And he thought very highly of Darvid. He’ll understand, I’m sure. Especially when you tell him why you need the time away.” Belle stood. “Discoveries await.”

  “Really, Belle, you sound like a novelist. What about Lesley?” Mavis tipped her head. “I can’t imagine your fine young gentleman is just letting you waltz off to Colorado. Not when the two of you are so close to making your relationship binding.”

  Belle smiled at the mention of her sweetheart. “You’re right about that. He’s coming with us. To keep us safe. I thought that exceedingly kind.”

  “You’re wiping away my objections like they’re ice in the sun,” Mavis said, her brow still lined with worry. “And Uncle Vernon? What does he think about the whole situation? He never had one nice thing to say about Eden—or our father.”

  At the mention of their uncle’s name, Belle cut her gaze to the window, squelching her immature desire to make a face. How she loathed that man. “Actually, he’s been very strange since the telegram arrived. When I told him we’d been called back to Eden, his face turned white as chalk and he said little, which confounded us because we’ve all heard him go on and on about Father. Anyway, the next morning, he announced that Aunt Velma would be accompanying him on a long-planned business trip. They packed that day, wished us well, and departed.”

  Mavis cocked her head, confused. Their aunt and uncle had been orchestrating their lives for years and didn’t give power away without a fight. “Not one protest or complaint?”

  “No. It was the strangest thing. I’m still trying to figure out why.”

  “How curious,” Mavis whispered. “Where’d they go?”

  “I have no idea. Uncle Vernon hadn’t mentioned the trip until that moment.”

  Tired of trying to figure out their guardians’ motives, Belle turned her attention to the mysteries ahead. “Even more surprising is that, after all these years of speculating about our past, we’ll be on a train to Eden in the morning.” She reached down and squeezed Mavis’s hands. “No matter what we learn about Father and his brutish ways, it’ll be better than always wondering, longing.” Belle warmed with the sense of excitement rolling around inside her.

  What the future held was anyone’s guess. But she was anxious to find out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Eden, Colorado

  The office above the mercantile was a stuffy tomb. The usual high-mountain September temperatures were ten degrees warmer than normal for this time of year. The voices of the shoppers below rose to barely a murmur over the pounding of Blake’s heart. He ran a finger around his snug collar, wishing he could dispose of his black bolo tie. Or better, that he was out riding herd. If he could, he’d reverse time so John had never gone to ride fence the day his horse spooked at a rattlesnake and fell on him.

  Word was that John’s daughters had arrived the day before. Blake wondered if he’d be able to pick out who was who. He thought he would remember them well enough, despite the growing up they’d all done. Would they remember him? For a few months after losing his own, they’d been family. He hadn’t even minded they were all girls. But then they’d left for good, without a single word to him. He’d felt betrayed.

  Silly, maybe, for children so young . . .

  Going to the window, he pushed the pane up as far as it would go, sucking in what seemed like his last breath of life.

  “Relax, Blake,” Henry Glass said on a chuckle. “Everything’s going to be fine. You look like you’re ready to meet the enemy.”

  Henry might not think so, but Blake wasn’t so sure. He’d seen all the nights John had paced the floor, waiting for a reply to any of his letters. Just one damn reply was all he’d dreamed about, year after year, until his colorful heart full of hope was reduced to a dreary brown, dried-out piece of driftwood.

  Henry pointed a finger at him and raised a brow. “I’m serious, Blake. John wouldn’t want you holding on to any animosity toward his girls. You need to put your personal feelings aside. Get to know them. Forgive them.”

  “That’s all fine and good,” Blake responded, thinking his scar was feeling exceptionally tight and angry today. The sensation could happen anytime, making the years-old blemish pinch for no reason whatsoever, except perhaps when his ire had been raised. Blake hated the sensation. The wound began at the bottom of his chin, ran down the left side of his neck, and continued over his left chest muscle. People who didn’t know him gawked or turned away in fright. That’s why he preferred the wide-open ranges to the confines of town. The fewer people he had to face, the better he liked it. “You’re not gonna be the one who has to deal with ’em night and day now, are you, Henry?” Blake shook his head. “No, sir, you’re not. It’s gonna be me putting out any problem that ruffles their citified feathers. I can just see it now . . .”

  “You’re being a mite melodramatic, aren’t you?”

  Blake ignored Henry’s comment as he absentmindedly fingered his scar. “Why can’t you tell me why I had to come to this? I’m the ranch foreman, not family. The reading of a will should be private.” He watched his friend try and ignore his question as he went about straightening his maple-wood desk. “You know what’s in it. Hell—you’re the author.”

  Henry shrugged. “You know I can’t say.”

  “I don’t expect anything from John.” He shot Henry a critical look. “He should have left fate alone after he died and not forced the girls to come to Eden. If they’d wanted to be here, they’d have returned long ago. Maybe I’ll ride out before this circus gets started. Look for greener pastures.”

  Henry let go a long-suffering sigh. “You’ve been running the ranch with John for years. Now, just because he’s passed on, you’re going to hand over the reins to five city slickers wearing dresses? I know you better than that. You love that ranch. I don’t think anything could ever make you ride out of Eden—or off the Five Sisters Ranch.”

  “Maybe not, but I should. If I knew what was good for me, I’d go right now, will reading be damned. All the years together with John are payment enough. When I was a boy, he gave me stability, sustenance, and care when I thought I’d be better off rolling up in a ditch to die.”

  “You’re not the only fella to feel like that after the Civil War.” Henry rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  John Brinkman’s longtime lawyer was one of the smartest men Blake knew. He’d been representing the Five Sisters Ranch for
years, knew the operation better than anyone besides him and John. Henry’s desk was an orderly display of dedication. Blake doubted the man ever let anything get under his skin, let alone his business notes and ledgers. Before Blake had arrived that morning, the attorney had placed six straight-back chairs in a single line a few feet in front of his desk so everyone would have the same vantage point. Several large racks of antlers decorated the walls or were in use as coat- and hat racks, displaying the man’s love of hunting. Even though Henry had a perfectly good clock on the wall, he withdrew his pocket watch from his snappy-looking black vest and flicked it open.

  “It’s eight ten,” he said. “They’ll be arriving anytime.”

  “And you won’t give me any hint before they do? I’ve never been good with surprises.”

  A smile played at the corners of his lips. “As you’ve said about one hundred times this morning, and as I’ve replied one hundred times, you know I can’t. That would be breaking the law . . . and my word.”

  “Thought as much. But even if you could, I don’t think you would. You like watching me sweat.”

  The middle-aged bachelor walked over and grasped Blake’s shoulder. His brown hair was combed, and his mustache, which rivaled any gambler’s, was neatly trimmed. Henry might be working, but even John’s lawyer wasn’t immune to the idea of five young, unattached women. Eden had a limited supply of those.

  Henry dropped his hand and patted down his vest. “Let me get you a cup of coffee.”

  “Only if you add a couple of shots of whiskey.”

  The outside stairs reverberated. John’s daughters were on their way. After all these years, he was about to see them again . . .

  Henry went to the door before they had a chance to knock. “Welcome!” he said in a sincere voice as the first black-frocked young woman moved over the threshold. Blake noticed that she wore gloves—of all things—and a shawl draped her shoulders. The gloves looked out of place in Eden, a town composed mostly of stockmen, miners, and farmers.

  Mavis. Blake recognized her instantly—the oldest, and the one who’d liked to direct him, the orphan boy, around like he was a puppy. She’d grown tall and slim. Nothing like the pudgy girl who’d sought him out and tried to make him play dolls with her. One time, telling him she’d been sent out to the meadow to gather flowers and needed his help, they’d spent more than an hour exploring the hills and dales around the ranch. When they’d returned, Mrs. Brinkman had been frantic with worry. Blake suffered the scolding of a lifetime, as well as censorious looks for a week from Celeste, their mother, for endangering her daughter. Mavis never let on that the whole thing had been her idea in the first place.

  “Blake?” Her mouth dropped open. “Is that you?”

  Of course the scar answered for him. He nodded as her sisters followed her inside. The heavy silence in the room made Blake swallow.

  “May I?” Henry asked, gathering their shawls.

  To Blake’s surprise, the sisters weren’t alone. A man stepped into the room behind them. He quietly closed the door and took up position near one of the windows. He was tall and wore expensive clothing. Blake thought he caught a whiff of a spicy aftershave. The fellow tried to catch Blake’s eye, but Blake wasn’t in a mood to be friendly—even though he knew Henry would be sorely put out if he wasn’t.

  Which has married? Just another fact John didn’t get to know about his daughters.

  With no correspondence to speak of, the facts of their lives had been a mystery to Blake until that very moment.

  “Thank you for coming,” Henry said to the women. “I’m Henry Glass, your father’s attorney.” He held out his hand to them one by one. “I’ve represented your father’s ranch for many years. Some of you might remember Blake Harding, your father’s right-hand man and foreman.”

  When they glanced his way, Blake expected them to flinch at the sight of his scar, but they didn’t. “Pleased to see you again,” he mumbled.

  They all nodded, their smiles tight.

  Seems everyone’s on edge.

  Henry seemed to know what Blake was waiting for. “Could I ask you please to introduce yourselves, perhaps beginning with Mavis, who I know to be the eldest?”

  Mavis smiled. “Of course. I’m Mavis Brinkman Applebee.”

  Ah, so she married the man standing by the window.

  These women had almost broken John’s spirit. And they broke his heart more than a time or two. Blake wasn’t going to let them off the hook just because they finally decided to show up.

  Dressing them down to their pantaloons with a sharp tongue-lashing would feel so good.

  His gaze shifted to the next sister, standing at Mavis’s elbow. She was as tall as Mavis but instead of brown hair, hers was a dark blonde, golden like a spring sunrise.

  “I’m Belle Brinkman,” she said in a clear, strong voice that matched her straight posture.

  Something clicked in Blake’s memory: Belle. A chatterbox, to be sure.

  Her face, a tad too round to be considered oval, was striking, with high-set, distinct cheekbones and lovely eyes. Of the five, she resembled their mother the most. Blake watched her attention glide over to her sister’s husband and linger. He didn’t think too much about it until the fella’s regard softened, bringing color to her cheeks. Blake looked away. He didn’t want any part of her deceptions. She’d once hit him over the head with a candlestick, angry over something—he didn’t remember the why.

  The third oldest, and the only one with strawberry-colored hair, spoke up next, a shy smile on her face displaying a dimple on her right cheek. Henry’s impressive bookshelf had caught her interest. He remembered Emma and the adoring toddler eyes she’d cast in his direction.

  His gaze shifted to Lavinia, who shyly introduced herself. She had been learning to walk the last time he’d seen her, and drooling from a newly sprouted bottom tooth.

  Has it really been that long?

  She wore a hat that covered most of her dark hair, and the black netting on the top looked a bit ragged. The small strawberry birthmark on her neck that resembled an hourglass was still there. He imagined she’d be shocked to know he’d once helped change her diaper.

  “Then you must be Katie,” Henry said to the youngest, an eighteen-year-old version of Belle, with her lighter hair and blue eyes. They might be mistaken for twins if not for the beauty mark under the corner of Katie’s bottom lip.

  No one could deny John had sired a gaggle of beautiful girls who held themselves with dignity and poise. Blake felt mightily outnumbered.

  Katie smiled. “That’s correct, Mr. Glass. I was an infant when I left Eden. I must say, the town is much more rugged than I ever expected.”

  Henry chuckled. “Don’t let that trouble you, Miss Brinkman. We have some charms the big city doesn’t. Now,” he said, clapping his hands together once, “first let me say thank you to everyone for making the long, difficult trip. I extend my condolences about your father. His death was a shock to us all.” Henry’s expression clouded over for a moment. “John was a healthy man. Even with the broken leg, if infection hadn’t set in, he’d be alive today.”

  Blake dropped his attention to the floor. And you all wouldn’t be here. Only death moves your compassion. For shame, little ladies, for shame.

  “I’ll bring another chair around for you, Mr. Applebee,” Henry said. “Of course you’re welcome to sit by your wife.” He glanced at Mavis and smiled. “I didn’t mean to leave you out, but I wasn’t aware any of the girls had married.”

  The fellow pushed away from the windowsill, and Mavis straightened.

  “I’m sorry for the confusion,” she said. “Mr. Atkins is not my husband. Mr. Applebee passed away last month. This is Belle’s gentleman friend, Mr. Lesley Atkins. He is our escort.”

  Explains the earlier look.

  “Oh!” Henry said in surprise. “Well, we appreciate you taking the time out of your schedule to ensure the Brinkman sisters’ safe arrival, sir. I know John would have been
duly grateful, as am I.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Mr. Atkins replied. “I can assure you, having five beautiful women to watch over is not an imposition.” His gaze once again strayed to Belle.

  Right. Blake shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Henry must have caught Blake’s expression, because he arched a brow in warning.

  “Unfortunately,” Henry went on, “the reading of the will is a family-only affair. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  Belle stiffened. “But we’re practically promised,” she said. “What could be the harm?”

  Blake discreetly wiped the smile from his face, enjoying the show.

  She reminds me of John fighting for water rights two years ago.

  Henry was firm. “I’m sorry.”

  She softened. “Mr. Glass, can’t he please stay? When our business is finished and we’ve seen the ranch, we’re headed right back to Philadelphia. His parents are throwing a large party.” She smiled tenderly at Mr. Atkins. “Which in all likelihood might be an engagement party.”

  Poor fellow.

  Henry blinked twice in quick succession, a sure sign his patience was wearing thin. “No. I’m sorry, Miss Brinkman,” he said in a kind tone. “That’s not possible. Your father was explicit in his directions. I’m here to carry out his last wishes.”

  “Then why does Mr. Harding get to stay? He’s not family.” She cast a disapproving gaze Blake’s way.

  Heat sprang to Blake’s face. He knew his scar was shining.

  Good question.

  “According to your father, Mr. Harding is family. He’s been invited to be here, just like the rest of you. He has no idea what is written in your father’s will.” Once Mr. Atkins had excused himself, Henry said, “Please, take your seats and get comfortable. The unknown is what’s difficult. I can assure you that as soon as we have this taken care of, you’ll all feel better.” Henry smiled and waved his arm over the row of chairs, looking a little anxious himself.

  Blake was the last to sit, taking the chair to Mavis’s left.