# Cowgirl for Keeps

Louise M. Gouge

Lassoing the CowgirlRosamond Northam's plans of building a high school take an unexpected turn when her father informs her she'll be overseeing construction of a new hotel instead–with Englishman Garrick Wakefield. The newly arrived aristocrat seems to turn his nose up at all she loves about her Colorado hometown. The man is entirely insufferable…yet undoubtedly handsome.Garrick wants nothing more than to prove himself to his uncle, who has backed the building of this hotel. But he finds himself ever at odds with his pretty cowgirl partner over the plans. The American West is so different from his British home, but with Rosamond showing him the ropes, maybe he'll commit to Western life…and a Western lass.Four Stones Ranch: Love finds a home out West

Lassoing the Cowgirl

Rosamond Northam’s plans of building a high school take an unexpected turn when her father informs her she’ll be overseeing construction of a new hotel instead—with Englishman Garrick Wakefield. The newly arrived aristocrat seems to turn his nose up at all she loves about her Colorado hometown. The man is entirely insufferable…yet undoubtedly handsome.

Garrick wants nothing more than to prove himself to his uncle, who has backed the building of this hotel. But he finds himself ever at odds with his pretty cowgirl partner over the plans. The American West is so different from his British home, but with Rosamond showing him the ropes, maybe he’ll commit to Western life…and a Western lass.

Four Stones Ranch: Love finds a home out West

As Garrick walked toward her, that perfect smile on his handsome face, she couldn’t be stern with him. Not with her heart fluttering like a baby bird trying to fly for the first time.

Garrick reached her in seconds. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was one fine-looking cowboy. Fine-looking, yes. Cowboy, definitely no. During his short stay at Four Stones, he’d shown very little interest in ranch life.

“Good morning, Rosamond. You’re the picture of beauty, as always.”

She smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself, cowboy.”

He doffed that silly white Stetson she’d forced him to accept and gave her a sweeping bow. “My lady, at your service. Do you have steers to rope? Calves to brand? Cows to milk? I am yours to command.”

His offer, delivered in the English accent she was beginning to love, brought laughter from the children nearby. At a glance, she could see they were entirely too interested in her conversation with Garrick.

“No branding today, but you can help me round up these mavericks so we can get their three-legged race started.”

“I can do that.” He studied the children almost like a schoolmaster, giving her heart another lurch. Where had that thought come from?

Florida author and college professor LOUISE M. GOUGE writes historical fiction for Mills & Boon Love Inspired Historical series. In addition to other awards, she has received the prestigious Inspirational Readers’ Choice and the Laurel Wreath Awards. When she isn’t writing or teaching her classes, she and her husband, David, enjoy visiting historical sites and museums. Please visit her website at blog.louisemgouge.com.

Cowgirl for Keeps

Louise M. Gouge


www.millsandboon.co.uk

Delight thyself also in the Lord,

and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart.

—Psalms 37:4


This book is dedicated to the intrepid pioneers who settled the San Luis Valley of Colorado in the mid- to late 1800s. They could not have found a more beautiful place to make their homes than in this vast 7500-foot-high valley situated between the majestic Sangre de Cristo and San Juan Mountain ranges. It has been many years since I lived in the San Luis Valley, so my thanks go to Pam Williams of Hooper, Colorado, for her extensive on-site research on my behalf. With their permission, I named two of my characters after her and her husband, Charlie. These dear old friends are every bit as kind and wise as their namesakes. I also want to thank my dear husband of fifty years, David Gouge, for his loving support as I pursue my dream of writing love stories to honor the Lord.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Quote

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Denver, Colorado

May 1883

“I tell you, Percy, my uncle’s American enterprise will be a disaster. Look at these ragtag masses.” Garrick Wakefield waved a dismissive hand toward the crowds milling about the Denver train station. His gesture stirred up the stench of burning coal and unwashed bodies. “It’s far worse than I expected.”

Most travelers on the platform beneath them were clearly lower class. Unkempt children dashed about with no parental restraint. Cowboys—he shuddered at the term—wore guns strapped to their dusty, wrinkled trousers. Beggars sat against the depot’s brick walls, their hands lifted in supplication to all passersby. In grating American accents, hawkers advertised their wares. How Garrick longed for a pastoral English countryside.

“Tut, tut, old man. It’s not so bad.” Percy, ever the optimist, could afford to overlook the chaos. A cousin from Garrick’s mother’s family, with an unentailed inheritance to spend as he wished, Percy didn’t face a future dependent upon another man’s whimsy. “I find this country delightful.”

“Indeed? How so?” Garrick spied a mother on the lower platform struggling with tattered baggage and several children. Compassion welled up inside him. Where was the woman’s husband? If he could get through the tangled crowd, he’d offer to help. Why didn’t one of those cowboys or another closer man lend a hand? Their neglect validated Garrick’s disdain for the lot of them. If she came closer, he’d step down and offer assistance.

“Look at the beautiful scenery.” Percy indicated the mountains to the west. “Every bit as majestic as the Scottish Highlands, what?” His eyes brightened. “Can you not feel the call to climb them?”

“I’ll grant you that. But remember the endless rivers and plains we crossed to get here.” At least they’d traveled by train, not in oxen-drawn covered wagons such as those they’d passed along the way. “Too much wasteland.”

A conductor called “All aboard,” and the crowd moved toward the train’s open doors, where uniformed porters assisted passengers up the steps. A quick glance down the length of the platform assured Garrick that his and Percy’s valets were seeing to their trunks.

“These Americans have no manners, no refinement. If Uncle could see them, he’d change his mind about this business venture.” After a lifetime of prejudice against all things American, Lord Westbourne had met one single gentleman rancher and revised his opinion of the entire country. He’d sent Garrick to build a hotel, not in Boston or New York or even this growing city of Denver, but in some village in southern Colorado, barely a smudge on the map.

“Come now. Not all Americans are the same.” Percy elbowed Garrick and nodded toward two ladies rising from their seats on the lower platform.

After taking a few steps, the stylishly dressed young misses turned to glance toward Garrick and Percy before moving toward the train. Something struck Garrick’s midsection, and he looked down to see if Percy had hit him. No, the shock was entirely internal and caused by the exquisite girl in the lavender traveling suit and matching hat. Her stunningly beautiful countenance bespoke an English heritage: a porcelain complexion framed by shiny dark brown hair upswept in an attractive coiffure. Her elegant posture and carriage suggested she might very well be used to gracing London’s finest drawing rooms. If propriety didn’t prohibit his addressing her, he’d step forward straightaway and introduce himself.

“Did you see her?” Percy sounded breathless. “Have you ever seen a more beautiful lady? Why, a man could be tempted to propose on the spot based upon her looks alone.”

Garrick huffed out a sigh. Of course Percy was joking, but with fortune enough to last beyond a lifetime, he could well afford to consider marriage. Conversely, Garrick had lost all such expectations at the age of nineteen when his childless widowed uncle had remarried. His young bride had borne him three healthy sons in his old age. Yet hadn’t Garrick himself encouraged Uncle to remarry in his loneliness? That was as it should be.

However, at the age of twenty-five, instead of anticipating an inheritance of title, wealth and lands, Garrick had been forced to revise his expectations and work for his living. He wouldn’t mind so much if he didn’t also have to provide for Helena’s dowry. His younger sister must make a good match even if Garrick never could.

“Yes, she’s quite lovely.” A melancholy twinge stung inside his chest. Though it would be ill-advised, Percy could pursue the young beauty if he liked. Garrick could only admire her from afar. Or he could redirect his cousin’s attention. “Her companion is rather pleasant looking. Perhaps her ginger hair denotes an Irish heritage.”

“It’s the redhead I admire, cousin.” Percy laughed in his merry way. “As it appears we’ll be on the same train, it’s a shame we’ve no one to introduce us. What a jolly chat we could have with them as we travel.”

Profound relief flooded Garrick’s chest. Which was ridiculous, of course. Even though they fancied different girls, as Percy said, they had no proper way to meet them. Nor would it be wise to do so.

A piercing whistle cut short his thoughts as a westbound train approached on the second track. Garrick glanced toward it and saw a small child, one belonging to the harried young mother, toddle after a red ball between the tracks. Did no one closer see? Driven by horror, Garrick plunged down the steps and through the crowd, using his walking cane to move people aside. Others now saw the danger and cried out.

Garrick dashed onto the track and snatched the child back moments before the great black engine chugged into the station, steam blasting from its undercarriage. He restored the toddler to his hysterical mother. Beside her, a teary-eyed lad of perhaps fourteen years held a small girl.

“Thank you, sir. I didn’t see Jack wander off.” He stuck out a grimy hand. “I’m Adam Starling.”

“How do you do, Adam?” Moved more than he cared to admit, Garrick shook the lad’s hand. Clearly he endeavored to be the man of the family. Garrick knew very well the problems faced by an eldest son. As others congratulated him, he brushed past them. His train would depart momentarily, and he must drag Percy from his stupor induced by watching the scene. Poor chap. He always hesitated in times of crisis. Perhaps on this trip he’d learn to be a bit more aggressive.

“We should board.” Garrick nudged his cousin’s arm.

“I say, old man, brilliantly done.” Percy walked beside him toward the first-class coach. “Nothing short of heroic.”

“Nonsense.” Garrick hated such praise. If he were a true hero, he’d have saved another Jack five years ago. The hapless village boy had sunk beneath the black surface of Uncle’s lake before Garrick could reach him. His lifeless body was found in a marsh days later and returned to his widowed mother. If only Garrick could have reached him.

Remorse wouldn’t restore life to that Jack, but it did spur him to help the less fortunate whenever possible. Besides, if he craved admiration for today’s actions, it was from the beautiful young lady in lavender, who’d boarded the train before he even noticed the child’s dire circumstances. Too bad she hadn’t observed the drama.

A foolish thought, but a momentary diversion from the unwelcome duties that lay ahead. Lord, help me had been his cry to the Almighty since losing all of his expectations, and would continue to be until his dying day.

* * *

Rosamond Northam waited until she and Beryl Eberly sat down in the first-class coach before venting her indignation. Even when she did, the lessons learned at Boston’s Fairfield Young Ladies’ Academy didn’t fail her.

“Gracious, what an arrogant man.” She spoke in a soft tone, holding back harsher words she’d have used three years ago. Being back home in Colorado, back among her own people, would challenge every lesson she’d learned, especially when a foreigner—an Englishman at that—criticized her beloved homeland, particularly the state of Colorado.

“His friend seemed pleasant enough.” Beryl spoke wistfully and stared out the window as if searching for the men. “Dignified, too.”

“Don’t look for them.” Rosamond gently patted Beryl’s hand, her heart twisting with concern.

“I wonder if they’ll be on this train.” Beryl glanced over her shoulder and gasped softly. “They’re sitting back there on the other side. Do you suppose we could meet them?”

“Shh!” Rosamond sent her a scolding frown. “No, we can’t meet them. Why would you want to? If anything, I’d like to show the dark-haired man just how unrefined we can be, as in behaving in our old cowgirl ways, talking loudly with improper grammar.” She smothered an undignified giggle and risked a quick look their way. My, the dark-haired man was handsome to a fault. Too bad good manners didn’t accompany that well-formed face and physique. “But someone else in this coach may be traveling to Esperanza. Our school’s reputation would be ruined before we even build it if we teachers behave in an unseemly fashion.”

Beryl’s face lit briefly with humor. “That dandy could use a comeuppance, but I wouldn’t wish to offend his friend.” She settled back in the leather seat and gazed out the window again.

Rosamond’s heart ached for Beryl. The middle child in a family of five girls, she’d been every bit a cowgirl like the rest of them until she had been shot during a bank robbery and almost died. Rosamond and the five Eberly girls had grown up riding, shooting, branding—anything a cowboy did. But Rosamond’s family had three grown sons and a passel of hired hands to tend to the many duties around Four Stones Ranch, so her parents agreed to her dream to build a high school for Esperanza. With the Lord’s blessing, they could construct the school this summer and open it in September. Rosamond hoped Beryl’s parents would let her teach rather than return her to ranching.

A well-dressed older couple took the two seats facing the girls. On the trip across the country, other such couples and matrons had offered themselves as chaperones, and these two did the same, engaging Rosamond and Beryl in conversation and keeping at bay undesirable men. The lady smelled of rosewater just like Mother, and the gentleman of cherry tobacco like Father. What pleasant reminders of home. Upon the couple’s arrival, Rosamond saw Beryl relax a little. Perhaps her interest in meeting the young man was generated by a desire to feel safe. Rosamond could find no fault in that. Maybe the Lord would make a way for Beryl to meet the nicer Englishman, hopefully without his arrogant friend nearby to crush her spirits.

For her own part, at twenty-one, she’d given up on romance. None of the eligible men she’d met in Boston had found her personal ambitions compatible with their need for a docile Society wife. Nor did she wish to assume the many responsibilities of a rancher’s wife. Without doubt, God called her to educate the youth of Esperanza; therefore, she’d be a spinster.

The train chugged out of the station and rumbled southward along the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains, where the morning sun illuminated snowy peaks. Rosamond drank in the beloved sights of her home state. Later they passed Pikes Peak, and in time her beloved Sangre de Cristo Range came into view. Her heart skipped. She would arrive home in just one more day.

* * *

After a night in a Walsenburg hotel, Rosamond and Beryl boarded the westbound train for their last day of travel. Rosamond sat on the aisle in the middle of the car and whispered to Beryl. “Don’t look now, but those sissified Englishmen boarded after us.” She nodded toward the closed window. “You can see their reflections.”

Beryl’s face brightened for the first time since they’d awakened that morning. The closer they traveled toward home, the bleaker her mood. Too bad a handsome foreigner was the one to cheer her. To Rosamond’s dismay, her friend did turn. And look. And smile!

“Tst!” Rosamond kept her voice low. “Don’t do that. Remember our lessons in deportment. It just isn’t done.”

“I know.” Beryl sighed. “He started to tip his hat, but his friend stopped him.”

“What?” Rosamond glanced back at the other man. He tilted his head, and surprise crossed his well-formed countenance. He seemed about to smile. With a haughty sniff and lift of her chin, she faced the front. That snob kept his friend from showing a common courtesy to a tender soul like Beryl and then attempted to flirt with her. The very idea!

The train moved forward, and Rosamond’s heart skipped. They’d be home by midafternoon.

“Let’s talk about our plans.” She must divert Beryl’s attention from the Englishmen. Although they’d exhausted just about every subject during their long trip, she never tired of her favorite one. “I’m thankful Father’s already approved the building of the school, but I hope he’ll let me supervise its construction.”

“Aren’t four classrooms too many?” Beryl chewed her lip, and Rosamond reminded her with a quick shake of her head to stop that bad habit. “With only the two of us teaching...”

“I’d really like more rooms, but I think four is a good start.” Rosamond’s heart raced. Soon she’d put her ideas to work. “We’ll need to hire more teachers before you know it. Maybe we should build two stories from the outset.”

Beryl nodded absently. From the way she kept turning her head to the side, Rosamond knew she wanted to look back at the blond man. If propriety didn’t dictate otherwise, she’d have made sure her friend met him before the train reached Esperanza simply to annoy his companion. She quickly dismissed the thought. She’d put aside such spitefulness seven years ago when she’d become a Christian. How could she ask the Lord to bless her endeavors when her behavior didn’t show His love to others? Even to rude Englishmen.

The train began to build up speed for the ascent to La Veta Pass. Rosamond always found this part of the trip exhilarating. Soon they’d be in the midst of the Sangre de Cristos. As a token of promise, fresh, crisp air seeped into the car beneath its front door and around the windows. She inhaled a long, satisfying breath and smiled in anticipation of seeing her dreams come true.

The moment the train began to accelerate, however, it slowed to a halt, the wheels squealing in protest against the iron rails.

“Wake up, Abel.” A woman of perhaps thirty years, seated up front and facing the rest of the car, shook her sleeping husband. “Something’s wrong.” Abel slept on, clearly unconcerned, his head resting back against the front wall, arms crossed, legs stretched out and a wide-brimmed hat pulled over his face.

Beryl grasped Rosamond’s arm. “Why are we stopping?”

“Shh. There, there.” She patted Beryl’s hand. “I’m sure it’s fine. Probably something on the tracks. The men will see to it.” Lord, please let it be something as simple as that.

Instead, gunshots erupted by the engine. Gasping, Beryl seized Rosamond’s forearm in a vise grip. The coach’s front door burst open, and three armed men rushed in. Dressed in rough coats and dusty trousers, with bandannas over the lower halves of their faces, they waved pistols. Outside, other men on horseback held the engineer and fireman at gunpoint. Rosamond couldn’t tell how many were in the gang. She prayed no one would be injured, especially Beryl. She’d almost died in that bank robbery. Indeed, her confidence and fearlessness died that day.

“Hand over your money and gold.” The leader jammed the barrel of his gun under the nose of an old man. “Gimme your valuables.”

The poor man shook too violently to obey, so the outlaw shoved him down on the seat and dug into his victim’s coat pocket, removing a wad of cash secured in a monogrammed money clip.

Another outlaw held out a brown canvas sack as if taking up a church offering. The third man helped himself to the sleeping man’s wallet and the wife’s wedding band and moved down the aisle.

At the front of the car, the sleeping husband awoke and stealthily rose up, tall and broad-shouldered, behind the last outlaw, gun in hand. Rosamond couldn’t let him fight these outlaws alone. She pried Beryl’s hands from her arm and bent down to her tapestry satchel. If she was careful, the outlaws would think she was retrieving valuables. Instead, she wrapped her hand around the handle of her Colt .45 revolver and tucked it into the folds of her skirt. She’d made sure it was loaded before they left the Walsenburg hotel this morning. Now, should she shoot the gun from the closest outlaw’s hand or wait to see what the man up front did? With Beryl shaking and terrified, Rosamond couldn’t decide.

“I say, what a thrilling adventure. A real Wild West holdup, what?” The dark-haired Englishman grinned as the outlaws came closer. “Did you plan it for our amusement?”

Rosamond watched him grip his ebony cane close to his side. With his other hand, he reached into his black frock coat, pulled out an engraved gold watch and swung it on its fob. “Do let me play. Come along, gentlemen, and take the pretty timepiece.” Was he crazy or incredibly brave?

“Pip, pip, old man, such a lark.” The blond Englishman laughed, but like his friend, his posture indicated he was ready for a fight. Rosamond’s opinion of both men rose several notches. Dandies they were. Sissies they were not.

“What have we here?” The outlaw leader bent down and leered into Rosamond’s face, his whiskey breath causing her to recoil in disgust. “A couple of pretty misses. Say, boys, what say we take them along—”

Crack! A flash of black and gold whizzed past her face as the dark-haired Englishman’s cane slammed down on the outlaw’s gun hand, knocking his weapon to the floor. An upward thrust of the cane bloodied the man’s nose, and a third downward strike on his head sent him sprawling into the aisle. The Englishman placed one foot in the center of the man’s back and held him in place.

“Easy does it.” Up front, the tall man held his cocked gun at the head of the third outlaw, who dropped his revolver.

The second outlaw released the brown bag and raised his gun to shoot the Englishman. Rosamond stood and aimed her cocked Colt at his ugly face. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

With a sneer, the outlaw turned his gun toward her, but the blond man used his cane to strike a hard blow to his forearm. Like his friend, he finished the job with two more whacks to the face and head.

The eight male passengers ordered the outlaws to the front seats and stood watch, weapons at the ready. The six ladies redistributed the valuables to their rightful owners.

“I’ll check outside.” The tall man exited cautiously. Several shots were fired. Then quiet came over the scene.

Soon the fireman, sooty from head to toe from his job of stoking the engine with coal, entered the coach. “Howdy, folks. I see y’all have these three taken care of. The rest of the gang lit out fast when that lawman came out. No harm’s been done except to the train’s schedule. We’ll make it up on the down side of the pass, so y’all be sure to hang on tight.” His levity stirred camaraderie amongst the travelers, strangers before, but momentarily friends. “That there lawman’ll round up these three shortly and keep ’em in the freight car till we get to Alamosa.”

So the tall passenger was a lawman. Maybe he was headed for Esperanza. Father had planned to hire a sheriff after the bank robbery. Rosamond hoped this man was the one. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that none of the passengers were harmed.

Beside her, Beryl hugged her middle, the site of her wound, and whimpered softly.

Putting away her gun, Rosamond wrapped her arms around her friend. “Shh. It’s all right. No one’s hurt.”

Beryl nodded, but her eyes glazed over as if she weren’t truly aware of her surroundings.

As much as Rosamond wanted to cry, she forbade herself to let go of her emotions. Someone indeed had been hurt: her sweet, fragile friend. Maybe she’d been wrong to insist that Beryl return to Colorado.

* * *

From the way Percy chatted cheerily with the other men as they guarded the miscreants, Garrick could see he’d enjoyed the whole affair. Garrick himself found the entire incident thrilling. Not that he’d wish to repeat it, of course. Having a gun pointed at one’s heart did odd things to a man’s nerves, proving what he’d always believed about the American West. This was an uncivilized land and would remain so. A cultured nobleman like Uncle and his aristocratic friends wouldn’t enjoy their holidays here. The hotel Garrick had been sent to build—one after the English tradition—may be all well and good out in the middle of nowhere, but how would people travel there safely? And what would they do once they arrived?

Still, the courage of the other passengers impressed him, especially the lovely brunette. He’d been appalled to see her using a weapon but was fascinated by her composure, her courage. He’d never known an English lady who possessed such poise in the face of deadly danger. Unfortunately, her friend didn’t fare as well. Even now, the brunette held the trembling redhead in a comforting embrace.

Percy also noticed them. “Should I inquire as to whether they need anything?”

Garrick hesitated. If his cousin spoke to the distressed lady, friendship might follow, especially if Esperanza was her destination. Yet he couldn’t deny his own interest in speaking to her brave companion. “Yes, do ask.”

Percy started toward them. The brunette looked up and shook her head, fire sparking in her eyes. Percy obeyed her unspoken order. What a woman! Garrick would think twice before challenging her about anything. Ever. She reminded him of his childhood governess, a formidable woman who’d never taken any nonsense from him, and with whom he’d never won a conflict. Perhaps this was another reason not to meet this lady. Clearly, she belonged to this land. He did not.

Even that awareness didn’t douse his fascination with her. Yesterday he’d tried to devise a proper way to meet her, but could not. He’d decided the matter would run the usual disappointing course of his life. As the poet wrote, they were ships passing in the night. “Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.” For an American, Longfellow wrote quite eloquently on the matter. Yet here they were on the same train for a second day. Did that portend an improvement in his life journey? No, he mustn’t even consider it. She was an American!

The lawman took charge of the three outlaws, securing them in the freight car. With the passengers seated again, the train chugged up the mountain pass toward Garrick’s future, one he had no heart for, but the one Uncle had set before him. Somehow he must make a success of it, not only for Helena but for his own self-respect.

“I say,” Percy whispered. “I believe the Lord has it all planned. Despite the ladies’ rebuff a moment ago, we shall marry them before the end of summer.” He cocked one blond eyebrow.

“Are you mad?” Garrick whispered back. “It’s one thing to admire a pretty girl, another thing entirely to marry her.” As if he could ever afford to marry.

“Wait and see.” Percy jostled Garrick playfully. “By the end of summer.”

He shook his head. Arguments could never douse Percy’s optimism. If he did meet the pretty redhead, Garrick must ensure no marriage took place. Such an alliance would never be accepted among their acquaintances in England. Thus, Garrick must forgo meeting the lovely brunette, for no future lay in America for either him or Percy.

“I’ve a plan.” Percy spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “When we arrive in Esperanza, we’ll arrange our exit in time to hand the ladies down from the train.”

“But—” Garrick stopped. Although Percy was on holiday, he himself must attend to business. The manner in which he emerged from the train would either impress or disappoint Colonel Northam. He intended to make a good impression. Perhaps Uncle’s business partner would approve of his showing courtesy to the young ladies. “Yes, of course.”

Percy’s face beamed like a schoolboy’s in the thrall of his first infatuation. Garrick’s stomach churned.

* * *

Rosamond hadn’t meant to be rude to the Englishmen, not after they’d shown such courage. She should apologize to them. But Beryl needed help to calm down before they arrived home. This hysteria wouldn’t be accepted by her stoic family, nor did strangers need to get involved.

“Shh.” She wrapped a traveling blanket around Beryl’s shoulders. “Everything’s all right. The Lord protected us. Did you see how all the passengers made short work of those bumbling outlaws?” She laughed softly.

In fact the dark-haired Englishman had been particularly brave to entice the outlaws with his exquisite gold watch. He’d obviously planned to subdue them with that fine ebony cane with the hound-shaped gold head. That took courage. The watch, the stylish cane and his finely tailored suit marked him as a man of wealth. Why would such a man travel to Colorado? She’d probably never know.

“Cheer up.” She hugged Beryl again as the air seeping into the car turned frigid. “Remember to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Inhaling, Beryl nodded. Her eyes lost focus, and she seemed dizzy. “Oh, my.”

“Lean your head on my shoulder.” Rosamond spoke in a soothing tone. “It’s the altitude. I’m a bit dizzy myself. We’ll get used to it again.” After living at sea level for several years, they faced the same challenge as any newcomer to the 7,600-foot high altitude of the San Luis Valley. In time, they’d become accustomed to the thinner air.

“Rosamond, how will I keep my family from finding out?” Beryl didn’t need to explain. They’d often discussed this, usually after some loud noise sent her into a fit of trembling. A textbook slamming to the floor. A plate shattered in the dining room. Sometimes even the chime of the academy’s bell-tower clock.

“You must tell your mother about your fears.” Like her four other daughters, Mabel Eberly was a feisty, resilient woman who’d gained her strength after moving west. Surely she’d know how to help her middle daughter.

Beryl shook her head. “I can’t. She won’t understand. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

With a reluctant nod, Rosamond exhaled crossly. The evil men who’d shot Beryl now languished in the Canon City prison with twenty-five to thirty-year sentences. They should count themselves blessed. If she’d died, they’d have been hanged. Rosamond prayed they’d never be set free. Not after they’d destroyed Beryl’s peace and confidence.

While they ate their boxed dinners, the train descended into the San Luis Valley. Warmer air now streamed into the car as the engineer made up for lost time. Wind from the south swept across the Valley floor, sending a gauzy black curtain of smoke past the window. After a short stop in Alamosa, where the lawman turned the outlaws over to the local sheriff, the train sped over the tracks toward Esperanza.

She sometimes heard the Englishmen talking but couldn’t distinguish their words over the rumble of the train. Maybe they’d like to see the sand dunes at the foot of Mount Herard. She doubted such a natural wonder existed in their country. Yet from those first snobbish words she’d heard the dark-haired man say in the Denver station, she assumed he wouldn’t appreciate any of the wonders of America.

Rosamond’s heart began to beat in time with the clatter of the iron wheels on the track. Her parents would be waiting at the Esperanza station, maybe one or two of her brothers, as well. She couldn’t wait to see everyone, including Rand’s bride of just over a year, her own former roommate.

When she and her parents had traveled to Boston for Mother’s health and to enroll Rosamond in the academy, they’d become very fond of sweet Marybeth O’Brien. Certain she was the perfect bride for Rosamond’s second brother, her parents had arranged the marriage. Now they had a baby boy, cousin to her oldest brother Nate’s boy and girl, darling children to carry on the Northam legacy.

Rosamond felt a familiar pang. She’d love to be a mother, but no husband would permit his wife to teach other people’s children and neglect her own. Certain of her calling from the Lord, she must choose to regard her students as her intellectual offspring.

The train chugged into Esperanza and slowed to a screeching stop, puffing out great blasts of gray-white steam. At the sound, Beryl twitched nervously.

“Shall we go?” Rosamond stood and gathered her bag and parasol.

“Can we wait until the crowd disperses?” Beryl gazed up at her, eyes brimming.

Rosamond sat. “All right.” But not for long. She’d already spied her younger brother, Tolley, standing with two of the Eberly sisters. My, he’d grown tall over the past two and a half years, towering over Laurie and Georgia. She couldn’t wait to get back home with her beloved family and friends.

“Dear ladies, may we assist you in any way?” The blond man stopped by their seat.

Rosamond smiled. “Thank you, but we need another moment.”

“Of course.” The dark-haired gentleman bowed. “We’ll wait outside to help you down.”

“That would be very kind.” What had changed his attitude?

“We’ll be waiting just outside,” the blond man repeated. He and his friend walked toward the front of the car.

“Everyone’s gone.” Rosamond stood and gripped her tapestry bag. “We must go.” She was bursting with excitement even as she ached for Beryl.

As promised, the two men awaited them. The blond man helped Beryl down, his solicitous smile warming Rosamond’s heart. The dark-haired man offered her no smile, only his gloved hand. When she took it, she felt the strength that went into knocking the outlaw senseless.

“Thank you,” she managed to say over an odd little lump in her throat.

“Well, now.” A familiar bass voice sounded across the platform. “I see you young folks have met.”

“Father!” Rosamond dropped her bag and flung herself into his outstretched arms. “Oh, it’s so good to be home.”

“My darling girl, you’ve grown even more beautiful since last fall.” Father placed a kiss on her cheek and then held her at arms’ length. “How was your trip?”

“See here.” Mother pushed herself into the mix to embrace Rosamond, her fragrant rosewater perfume sweetening her welcome. “I want my hug before we talk about the trip.”

One by one, her brothers, Nate, Rand and Tolley, greeted her with eager embraces and teasing words. The crowded platform grew chaotic as other passengers connected with loved ones and gathered luggage. Lifting a prayer for Beryl, Rosamond waved to her friend, who was whisked away by two of her four sisters.

“Colonel Northam, I presume.” The dark-haired Englishman approached Father, hand extended.

“Garrick Wakefield.” Father pumped the man’s hand with enthusiasm. “Welcome to Esperanza. I see you’ve met my daughter.” He brought Mother forward. “Charlotte, may I present Mr. Wakefield, Lord Westbourne’s nephew and representative?”

An indescribable sensation charged through Rosamond. What on earth was happening? Had the haughty Englishmen come to see Father? To do some sort of business with him? She glanced toward her brothers, but only Tolley looked her way, edging closer and putting an arm around her waist.

“Who’s the dandy?” The annoyance in his voice echoed her own feelings, and she responded with a shrug.

“Mrs. Northam.” Mr. Wakefield, all deferential now, kissed Mother’s hand and then brought his blond friend forward. “Mrs. Northam, Colonel Northam, may I present Percy Morrow, my cousin. He accompanied me to your beautiful country.”

So now it was a beautiful country, not a wasteland? While the blond man spoke pleasantries to her parents, Rosamond rolled her eyes. Tolley snickered. How interesting that friendly Mr. Morrow was stuffy Mr. Wakefield’s cousin. The two couldn’t be more different.

“How did you and Rosamond meet?” Father put an arm around Mr. Wakefield’s shoulder as he would Nate or Rand. The Englishman squirmed a little.

“Actually, sir—”

“Gracious, Father.” She leaned into her younger brother’s comforting shoulder. “I haven’t met this gentleman. With no one to introduce us, propriety prevented our meeting.”

Her two older brothers howled with laughter.

“My, my,” Rand said. “Our little cowgirl’s become all sophisticated.”

“Do you suppose she’s forgotten where she came from after two and a half years in that highfalutin eastern school?” Nate, the oldest, nudged Rand. “We’ll have to remind her.”

“Never you mind.” Rosamond would enjoy their teasing much more if Mr. Wakefield weren’t watching with such an interested—or should she say, an appalled—expression. “Just wait. You’ll see I can still keep up with the likes of you.”

“That’s enough foolishness.” Father beckoned to her and draped his arm around her shoulder. “Rosamond, may I present Mr. Garrick Wakefield. I met his uncle, Lord Westbourne, when your mother and I were in Italy last year. The earl’s sent Garrick to build that hotel Esperanza’s needed. Since this will be a joint business venture, you’ll be working alongside Garrick to see everything’s done right.”

She heard Father order her brothers to collect her trunks. Heard Mother chattering about a special supper at the ranch. But Rosamond could only stare at Mr. Wakefield while he stared back at her, obviously every bit as shocked as she was over Father’s unexpected announcement. Work alongside this pompous Englishman? Never in a million years. But when Father gave an order, not one of his children ever succeeded in dissuading him from his purpose.

Chapter Two

To Garrick’s shock, Miss Northam’s horrified expression conveyed only disdain for him. While Colonel Northam walked away to welcome the lawman who’d traveled with them, Garrick scrambled to recall any way by which he might have offended the young lady. Perhaps Percy could help him.

Percy, however, had located their valets and, with the help of the three Northam brothers, was seeing to their luggage. Each cowboy effortlessly carried a trunk to a nearby wagon, an impressive feat. Or should he refer to them as ranchers instead of cowboys, since they were sons of a landowner? In England, such an erroneous form of address could cause severe embarrassment, even censure if a person of influence took offense at the misnomer. No doubt these Americans had a similar custom, even in their uncivilized land.

Ah, that was it. In the Denver train station, Miss Northam must have overheard him disparaging her country. Even before meeting her, he’d destroyed every chance of obtaining her good opinion. And her father expected him to work alongside her, to actually consult with her? With her aloof disposition and his plans already well-formed, that would be disastrous.

Apparently unaware of his daughter’s or Garrick’s chagrin, Colonel Northam sent his son Nate to show the lawman around the town. Equally unaware, Mrs. Northam gave instructions as to which conveyance each person should ride in to the ranch. Rand drove the box wagon with Garrick’s valet beside him and Percy’s valet perched precariously on a trunk. A third brother, whose name Garrick couldn’t recall, rode on horseback. Colonel and Mrs. Northam took the front seat of a surrey while Miss Northam squeezed in between Garrick and Percy in back.

Glancing around, Garrick observed the nearly empty station platform. Only the harried mother from Denver remained with her children. She and Adam appeared to be searching for someone. Garrick prayed their person would arrive soon so the poor woman could get some assistance. Again, circumstances prevented him from helping, but Adam held little Jack’s hand firmly, so Garrick dismissed his fears.

They drove down the street—a lofty term for these dusty roads—with Colonel Northam pointing out various establishments: the general store, the new jail, the bank, a café. “And that’s the site of the hotel.” He swung out one arm in a grand gesture, as though showing off an elegant manor house.

All Garrick saw was a large, roped off plot of grassless land, large stacks of wood and what appeared to be building supplies under canvas tarpaulins. “Ah, very good, sir.” At least the plot was a decent size. With no close buildings to limit expansion, perhaps they could purchase more property nearby. After all, they’d need outbuildings such as a stable and a laundry—mundane things Garrick had never thought of before Uncle handed him this assignment.

The Colonel’s tour over, he turned the horses down a southbound highway and began to speak quietly to his wife.

The cozy seating arrangement would have been decidedly pleasant if not for Miss Northam’s stiff posture and the firm line of her full lips. Again she reminded Garrick of his formidable governess. But should they come into conflict over the hotel, he would not defer to this American miss as he had to Miss Shaw. Perhaps, now that they’d met, he should take a reading of her amenability by engaging her in chitchat.

Percy spoke first. “I say, Miss Northam, do you suppose your friend is well?”

She scolded him with a frown and a quick shake of her head and then spoke in a bright tone. “Indeed she is. Her sisters brought her mare so they could race home. She always finds a brisk ride exhilarating.”

“Ah, very good.” Percy relaxed. “I enjoy a brisk ride, as well.” He gazed off thoughtfully, and Garrick could well imagine he was devising a plan to see her. “Would it be impertinent of me to ask her name?”

Miss Northam hesitated before saying, “Not impertinent at all. Beryl Eberly. The Eberly family owns the ranch west of ours.”

“Beryl Eberly.” Percy spoke the name reverently, as Romeo might say Juliet. “Lovely. And just a short walk away.”

Miss Northam smiled. “A short ride. An impossible walk. I’ll take you there tomorrow and introduce you.”

Garrick wished her smile were aimed at him, but he supposed that was too much to ask. In any event, from the way she issued orders with a mere frown, he could see Miss Northam and he were utterly incompatible.

“I shall hold you to it, Miss Northam.” Percy beamed in his boyish way, in spite of his twenty-four years. How uncomplicated his life was.

“Please call me Rosamond. We’re not formal out here.”

Vacillating once again in his feelings toward her, Garrick wanted to ask if the invitation were open to him, as well. The words stuck in his throat. After all, in England one only used Christian names with family or very close friends, and certainly not with new acquaintances. And now that he’d considered this entire situation, he wondered whether Uncle had made a serious error in judgment. If Colonel Northam possessed sufficient wealth to enter a business arrangement such as the hotel, why hadn’t his servants managed the baggage instead of his sons? Garrick would have to ascertain how much the Northams were investing in the project before he committed any of Uncle’s funds. If the Colonel had taken advantage of his trusting nature, Garrick would put an end to such duplicity.

* * *

She shouldn’t have promised to introduce Percy to Beryl. Shouldn’t have said anything about her friend’s preferences. But she needed an excuse to check on Beryl rather than waiting to see her in church on Sunday. For now, she found being seated in between the two Englishmen a grand metaphor for the tight spot Father had put her in. This evening she must speak to him privately and remind him about her plans to build a high school, plans he’d agreed to months ago. Once she began her own work, she’d be too busy to help Mr. Wakefield with the hotel.

Yet even as she tried to divert her thoughts, ideas came unbidden to her mind. The Walsenburg hotel, where the train passengers had laid over last night, was a pleasant establishment with sufficient amenities to satisfy people passing through. But she could envision something on a grander scale, such as Boston’s Parker House, only with a Western theme. Miss Pam Williams’s rolls were every bit as delicious as Parker House rolls. They could hire her to manage the restaurant and cook her special Western recipes for the guests.

Rosamond would find ways to make visitors at the hotel feel at home while they took one- or two-day trips to the various wonders around the San Luis Valley: the sand dunes, Raspberry Gulch, La Garita Arch, the recently discovered Indian wall paintings. They could go fishing on the Rio Grande or swimming in San Luis Lake. Memories of childhood excursions filled her mind. So many opportunities for tourists to enjoy. Maybe one of her brothers could establish a guide business to work out of the hotel.

The top story of her family’s ranch house came into view, and all such plans vanished. Home! What a wonderful, beautiful place. After two and a half years away, she felt a lump rising in her throat.

Father turned the buggy down Four Stones Lane and drove to the front door, probably because of their guests. Unless the family was holding a special event, everyone around here always came to the kitchen door, the neighborly thing to do. Rand did drive the wagon around back to carry the trunks up the back stairs. Tolley had ridden ahead to alert the household, so upon the travelers’ arrival, Rosamond’s sisters-in-law and their sweet babies poured out of the house to greet them.

As always with her family, chaos reigned, especially when the dogs raced over from the barn to join the melee. She gave each family member an enthusiastic hug, cooing over her four-year-old niece, Lizzy, and eighteen-month-old nephew, Nate Jr., nicknamed Natty. Her newest nephew, Randy, melted her heart when he offered a smile that revealed one tiny tooth.

The two Englishmen bore up fairly well, greeting Nate’s wife, Susanna, and Marybeth with impeccable manners. Mr. Wakefield—she didn’t want to call him Garrick because it suggested a friendliness she didn’t feel—rose slightly in her estimation when he knelt down to greet Lizzy and Natty. He seemed used to children, perhaps even liked them, if his charming smile and silly chatter were any indication. He even acknowledged Randy with a few nonsense words and a gentle touch on the baby’s tiny hand.

After the chaotic introductions, Mother bustled everyone into the main parlor and gave room assignments. She sent Percy to one of the newer rooms over the ballroom, with the two valets sharing a room next to him. Mr. Wakefield—oh, bother; if she called Percy by his first name, she must do the same with Garrick—would stay in Nate’s old room two doors down from hers. Like Nate, Rand now had his own home, so Tolley roomed alone.

After Rosamond greeted everyone, she dashed upstairs to her bedroom. Nothing had changed. The pink-and-blue patchwork quilt still covered her four-poster bed. Her blue velvet chair sat by the open window where white ruffled curtains fluttered in the afternoon breeze. On the bedside table, two pink roses graced her cut-glass vase, an heirloom from her late grandmother.

Joy bubbled over into laughter as she gazed out the window at Mother pushing Lizzy in a swing hanging from the branch of a cottonwood tree. For over two years, the family had prayed anxiously for Mother’s health, and the Lord had answered their prayers.

In her oak wardrobe, Rosamond found a favorite yellow calico dress, left behind because it was deemed too countrified for Boston, and quickly changed from her traveling suit. Her sisters-in-law needed her in the kitchen, and helping to prepare supper was just the thing to work out the kinks from sitting many days in train cars. Going down the back stairs, she sang a cheerful version of John Howard Payne’s “Home, Sweet Home.” She flung open the kitchen door, finishing with a resounding last line: “Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home!”

Garrick sat at the kitchen table, his face a study in mortification that matched exactly how she felt. Had her joyful singing broken some British rule of etiquette? Too bad. If he didn’t like her music, he needn’t listen. She wouldn’t let him ruin her happiness.

* * *

Garrick hadn’t been in a kitchen since childhood when he and Helena used to pester Uncle’s cook for treats. Yet here he sat while Percy and the Northam brothers chatted as if they were in the drawing room of White’s Men’s Club in London, where Garrick would much prefer to be rather than in this American ranch house. Instead of uniformed footmen serving him high tea or his fellow members inviting him to play a hand of whist, a pretty Mexican girl—the family cook—offered biscuits and coffee. Her smiling demeanor and shared grins with the two young Northam wives indicated a decided lack of propriety for a servant, at least by British standards. He wasn’t certain Uncle ever met his cooks, for all communications with below stairs were done through the housekeeper and butler.

Still, he couldn’t complain about the American informality. Here in this cozy, crowded room, he could enjoy the aromas of roast beef sizzling in the oven and bread rising on the sideboard. While the biscuits—he supposed he should call them cookies, as the locals did—managed to stave off his hunger, he could well imagine supper would be a satisfying experience.

A sudden glorious sound from the back hallway wafted closer to the kitchen door, a lovely soprano voice lifted in a spirited rendition of the usually melancholy “Home, Sweet Home.” As the song ended in a majestic high note rather than descending into pathos, Miss Northam burst in, her pretty face aglow with happiness. Her eyes focused on Garrick, and her expression turned to shock and then dismay. Now his face felt like a mask reflecting the same feeling. Why did she find the sight of him so troubling? He forced a smile and stood. “Miss Northam.”

Percy jumped to his feet. “Miss Northam.”

The brothers remained seated.

A smile crept over her stunning face, and something struck Garrick’s midsection. Must he always feel a jolt when encountering her?

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Howdy, Nate, Rand, Tolley.”

“Hey, now.” Nate stood, urging his brothers to do the same. “We’re gentlemen, too.” He approached his sister and hugged her, and his wife followed suit.

Garrick felt a pang in his chest. Issues of propriety aside, the genuine affection among these Northams reminded him of sweet Helena. Somehow he must make Uncle’s project work so he could provide his sister with a dowry.

“Do be seated.” Miss Northam took an apron from a hook on the wall and donned it over her pretty yellow frock. “On second thought, you men should vamoose and get your chores done so we ladies can get supper on the table.”

“Look who’s giving orders after being home five minutes.” Rand chucked his sister under the chin and brushed his wife’s cheek with a kiss on his way toward the back door.

“Say, is vamoose proper grammar?” Tolley grabbed a handful of cookies from the serving platter on the table as he headed after Rand. “Or did the Colonel waste his money sending you to that fancy Boston school?”

Nate followed his brothers, beckoning to Garrick and Percy. “Come on, fellas. Let’s skedaddle before the hen party begins. We’ll show you around the place.”

“I say, that sounds capital.” Percy followed them, giving Garrick no choice but to do the same.

“Not so fast.” Susanna’s order stopped them all, and a significant look Garrick couldn’t decipher passed between her and Nate. “You can save that for tomorrow. These gentlemen are still in their nice travel clothes.”

“Maybe they’d like to see the house first.” Marybeth gave Rand the same look.

Now the older brothers eyed each other while Tolley huffed in annoyance, apparently eager to do those chores.

“Tomorrow. Right.” Nate seemed to be smothering a grin. “Gentlemen, we’ll see you at supper.”

The three men made their exit without argument, so Garrick concluded that the ladies gave the orders in this family. As much as a turn around the ranch might refresh him, he wouldn’t contradict either young Mrs. Northam by insisting upon going with their husbands. Percy didn’t seem to mind the change of plans. But then, very few things bothered him.

Susanna, a tiny blonde with an accent he recognized as from the American South, turned her attention to Rosamond. “We can manage supper. You take our guests on a tour of the house.”

“Oh, but...very well.” Miss Northam removed her apron. “Come along, gentlemen. We’ll start with the dining room.”

She led them through the swinging door by which they’d entered earlier. The room was surprisingly large, with a mahogany table long enough to seat twelve and matching sideboard and china cabinet, the same sort of furnishings Garrick planned to order for the hotel. Such luxuries could be a sign of Northam wealth. Possibly.

“I say.” Percy paused before the large glass front cabinet. “Wedgwood china, is it not?”

Miss Northam nodded. “Father gave it to Mother for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. It was the talk of the San Luis Valley.”

“I should think so.” The words, borne on a laugh, slipped out before Garrick could stop them. Miss Northam’s indignant look made it clear he’d offended her...again.

* * *

At Fairfield Young Ladies’ Academy, Rosamond had learned that one never made another person feel uncomfortable, even when that person was rude. After all, one couldn’t truly know what someone else was thinking. This man, however, was easy to read, even without speaking a word. His obvious disdain for her beloved Valley didn’t bode well for their working together. Why had he come here if he held Americans in such contempt?

She schooled her face into a tight smile. “Shall we go to the parlor?”

They followed along, with Percy making pleasant remarks about various bits of bric-a-brac or paintings, some of which Rosamond hadn’t seen before. Her parents must have purchased them in Italy when they’d traveled there last year for Mother’s health.

Some new furnishings also graced the parlor—chairs, side tables, figurines. It still felt like home to Rosamond. They passed through to the ballroom, which Nate had built five years ago for the twenty-fifth wedding-anniversary party. Mother loved to entertain, and many times the community gathered here for special events. Although not used daily, the room was spotless, probably due to the efforts of Consuela, the new housemaid. Mother had written about the young Mexican girl they’d employed to help Rita manage the house. Too bad no one had written to Rosamond about the hotel.

“What a charming ballroom.” Garrick’s expression appeared to reflect true admiration. “One would hardly expect...I mean...” He ran his hand over the carved mahogany balustrade beside the three steps descending into the room.

Rosamond withheld a laugh. Was he truly arrogant or merely socially awkward? “Why, thank you, Mr. Wakefield.”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “I heard you say first names are the custom here. Please call me Garrick.”

“I will.” She accepted his olive branch. “Please call me Rosamond.”

“A lovely name, to be sure.” His gentle tone surprised her. Was he trying to make amends? Or was she being too hard on him? “A family name?”

“No. I was named for Rosamond Oliver in Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre, Mother’s favorite novel.”

The pleasantries seemed to break the tension between them. Along with Percy, they spent the next half hour exploring the rest of the house, including Father’s office and library. He’d added many books while Rosamond had been away. “Feel free to borrow any of these to read at your leisure.”

“Ah, American authors.” Percy studied the names on the book spines. “Mark Twain, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Louisa May Alcott. I shall be delighted to read them.”

“And you, Garrick?” For a moment, Rosamond’s heart hitched with an odd sort of hope. How she wanted to hear he enjoyed reading as much as she did. But why? He wasn’t a potential suitor. Gracious, no, not when they seemed only to tolerate each other.

“Yes, of course.” He also perused the books. “One cannot graduate from Oxford without obtaining a great appreciation for fine literature.”

So much for her hopes of common interests. Oxford, indeed. She doubted his education was any better than her own.

And she was expected to consult with this arrogant man? It wouldn’t work. After supper tonight, she’d make Father understand that simple fact.

* * *

Garrick attempted to follow the conversation over supper, tried to speak when appropriate. But with ten adults around the table, some not schooled in the proper way to converse at mealtime, he didn’t have to try hard. The playful banter among the brothers and Rosamond helped them reclaim the years of separation. Unlike English customs, they found talking across the table acceptable instead of only conversing with the persons to one’s right and left.

Further, no one here dressed for dinner. Although the brothers washed hands and faces after their chores, they’d come to the table in their work clothes, dusty trousers and all. Nor did footmen serve the meal. Instead, the cook and the young ladies carried steaming bowls and platters to the table. Everyone passed the food around and served themselves. At least Garrick’s and Percy’s valets possessed the good sense to decline Mrs. Northam’s invitation to eat with the family, insisting upon eating in the kitchen with the cook. Perhaps Rita, the senior servant despite being quite young, could explain to Roberts and Richards how she ran the household so they wouldn’t get underfoot while tending to their own duties.

To Garrick’s relief, after supper the two older sons and their families departed for their nearby homes, leaving behind a measure of peace, as well as a minor concern. Guests in an English house were expected to participate in the evening’s entertainment: reporting the latest news, joining a game of whist, offering to read a favorite passage from a book. What did one do to amuse Americans in the evening? Travel weary though he was, he must somehow participate in whatever activities they offered or risk offending his host.

Colonel Northam soon put that concern to rest while igniting another. Like the military officer he’d been, he ordered Tolley to entertain Percy and sent Garrick and Rosamond to his office. Considering the young lady’s obvious dislike, Garrick steeled himself for an uncomfortable interview.

“Have a seat.” The Colonel waved them to leather chairs in front of his desk. Mrs. Northam sat beside her husband. “I know you’re both tired, so I won’t keep you long. Just want to give you some marching orders so you can get started on Monday. That’s the day I’m leaving on business, so it’s on your shoulders now.”

“Father, this hotel business is a complete surprise to me.” Rosamond fidgeted. “You said in your letters I could build my high school this summer.”

A high school? Garrick sat up straighter and eyed the pretty lady beside him. Obviously, she had a concern for the education and welfare of the lower classes, just as her namesake in Jane Eyre did. His esteem for her rose.

“No reason you can’t do both.” The Colonel’s affection for his daughter resonated in his paternal tone and warm gaze. “Plenty of workers around now that this leg of the railroad’s finished.”

“Yes, but—” Her voice was tight, and her smile a grimace. “Surely Mr. Wakefield has made his plans. Why would he need my help?”

The Colonel chuckled indulgently. “The hotel needs a woman’s touch, and your mother has enough to do. That leaves you. Why did I send you to boarding school if you aren’t going to use what you learned? Not only that—” he held up a letter, and Garrick could see the elegant W of Uncle’s seal on the stationery “—Lord Westbourne likes the idea just fine. He has complete trust in you and Garrick to create a fine establishment for European and American tourists alike.”

“Well, then.” Miss Northam clearly didn’t care for the project any more than Garrick, but she at least had her school. Garrick’s future, and Helena’s, depended entirely upon this man’s good opinion and cooperation. “With your approval, sir, we can begin tomorrow.” Against his usual reserved behavior toward young ladies, he offered what he hoped was a charming smile to Rosamond. “Shall we?”

She returned one of her prim looks. “I believe Father said Monday. Tomorrow I’ll help my brothers with cattle branding. Then I’ll take Percy to meet Beryl. And of course the day after, we’ll go to church. Do you attend church, Mr. Wake—Garrick?”

“Rosamond!” Mrs. Northam’s soft voice resounded with shock. “Of course he goes to church.”

Colonel Northam laughed out loud. “At least he will while he’s in this house, won’t you, my boy?”

Heat rushed up Garrick’s neck. Did they mean to insult him, or was this just banter, like the dinner table conversation? He’d choose to believe the latter. “I try never to miss church, sir. Nothing sets the tone of a man’s week like an hour of worship and a stirring sermon.”

“Well spoken. You’ll be glad to know our Reverend Thomas always delivers a thought-provoking message.” The Colonel stood and reached over the desk. Garrick rose and shook his hand. “Now you get a good night of sleep. If you’re interested in watching the cattle branding tomorrow, you’re welcome to come on out. If not, please feel free to use my library.” He indicated the shelves Garrick had perused earlier. “Good night.”

With this clear dismissal, Garrick took his leave of these people who held his future. As he trudged up the elegant front staircase and down the long hallway, he could hear laughter coming from Percy’s room. Through the partially open door, he saw Tolley was paying Percy a visit, as ordered by his father. Apparently the two got along well. Garrick was happy for his cousin. As long as he enjoyed himself, he’d stay in Colorado, where Garrick would need him now more than ever, should things become impossible for him to bear.

* * *

“Now, Rosamond.” Father gave her a rare stern look. “I understand your concerns, but working on both projects will prepare you for your many and varied headmistress duties.”

“Yes, Father.” How could she argue against his faith in her? Didn’t she believe just as strongly in her own ability to manage the school and at the same time teach both boys and girls just a few years younger than herself?

“You can always ask me for ideas.” Mother came around the desk to sit in the chair Garrick had vacated. She grasped Rosamond’s hand. “As a girl, I spent many happy days visiting my grandfather’s hotel in Philadelphia. And, of course, the hotels in Italy cannot be surpassed. I can describe them to you in detail, and I’ll help in any other way you ask.”

“Now, Charlotte, I won’t have you overdoing. You manage the house. That’s enough.” Father’s eyes filled with concern. “In fact, you need more help, and I don’t mean Rosamond. She’ll be busy. I’m going to hire more help for the gardening and other such things.”

“Oh, Frank, don’t coddle me.” Mother gave him an intimate smile, one that made Rosamond ache for the kind of love her parents shared. “I’m fine. Now, enough about me. Let’s hear about Rosamond’s trip home.”

Taking the hint, Rosamond launched into a description of her last days at the academy, the graduation ceremony during which both she and Beryl had received academic awards and their lengthy train travels. They’d already heard about the attempted robbery from Sheriff Lawson, so she brushed past the event. When she almost fell asleep in the middle of her own narrative, her parents ushered her upstairs to the comforting warmth of her bedroom.

Despite her exhaustion, she knelt beside her window as she had as a child to view the sparkling diamonds sprinkled across the velvet black sky. In Boston, with its many streetlamps and lighted buildings, she’d missed the stark beauty of Colorado’s nighttime skies. She’d also missed this window spot, where she’d learned to pray and to leave every concern in the Lord’s hands. Tonight she prayed for Beryl, anticipating their reunion tomorrow. She prayed for her school and her future students and, finally, for willingness to obey Father in helping the Englishman build the hotel.

When she awoke the next day, the sun already shone on the alfalfa field outside her window. In the bright midmorning light, everything seemed possible, even working alongside Garrick. A joyful, giddy feeling swept through her as she dug around in her wardrobe for her split skirt, plaid shirtwaist and riding boots. After donning her comfortable cowgirl garb, she raced down the backstairs to the kitchen. She took care not to sing, even though a song played in her mind, lest Garrick hear her as she entered the kitchen and be offended again.

Her worries were groundless. Only Rita and one of the valets occupied the room. Curiously, the valet had rolled up his sleeves and plunged his hands in the soapy dishpan up to his elbows.

“What would you like for breakfast, Senorita Rosamond?” Rita was preparing sandwiches for the men who were branding the cattle, but she took a moment to stoke the fire under the skillet and lay in some bacon. “Two slices of bacon, two sunny eggs, two biscuits, strawberry jam and coffee?”

“You remember.” Rosamond wasn’t surprised. A mere eighteen years old, Rita already managed the entire household. More proof that Rosamond’s twenty-one years wouldn’t hinder her from completing both of Father’s projects.

“Sí, senorita. How could I forget?” She poured coffee for Rosamond and set it on the breakfast table.

“May I be of assistance, Rita?” The young valet, Roberts, dried his hands on a tea towel. “I can fix Miss Northam’s breakfast while you finish those sandwiches.”

Rita gave him a sweet smile, and her brown eyes sparkled. “I’d be most grateful, Senor Roberts.”

“Just Roberts, miss.” He winked at her and then turned a more serious face to Rosamond. “I have experience in the kitchen, as that’s where I started in service as a boy. If no one minds, I’d like to help Rita. I’ve very little to do for Mr. Wakefield today, and I like to keep occupied.”

“By all means.” Rosamond sat at the table and sipped her coffee. She could easily fix her own breakfast, but watching a possible romance budding right before her eyes was more enjoyable. “Where’s Richards?” Percy’s valet was somewhat older, perhaps in his thirties.

Roberts arched his brown eyebrows at her question. Visiting wealthy friends in Boston, she’d noticed that servants didn’t chat with the family of the house. No doubt that was also the custom in England. “He went with Mr. Morrow to watch the branding, miss.”

“Hmm.” Rosamond hid a grin. “To watch or to protect his employer?”

Roberts also hid a grin by laboring unnecessarily over the bacon. “I’d imagine both. Our gentlemen didn’t bring what you’d call work clothes, so it’ll be our job to repair any damage.”

A memory popped into Rosamond’s mind. Last night, Nate, Rand and Tolley traded looks suggesting they’d devised some initiation into the cowboy world for the Englishmen. She needed to eat before joining the branding, but she dearly wanted to see what mischief her brothers planned for their hapless victims.

“On second thought, I’ll just take this.” She picked up a beef and cheese sandwich, wrapped it in a napkin and tucked it in her pocket. With her coffee cup in hand, she headed for the door. On a hook by the back entrance hung her old hat right where she left it before going back East. Prepared to reenter her old life, she dashed out into the warm May sunshine.

And she’d try very hard not to laugh too much at whatever disaster fell upon stuffy Mr. Garrick Wakefield.

Chapter Three

Garrick, Percy and Richards perched on the fence of the labyrinthine corral to watch the Northam brothers work. Cattle branding was a messy, noisy business, but no more so than sheep shearing, which Garrick had observed every spring at Uncle’s manor. As heir presumptive, he’d spent his first eighteen years learning about his future responsibilities. Even after six years of knowing he wouldn’t inherit, he couldn’t put aside the habit of recording new knowledge, new experiences that might be helpful in the future. Of course, he’d never need to know about cattle branding. He’d never even dressed the deer or grouse he’d shot in Uncle’s park. The gamekeepers always did the dirty work.

Yet somehow, in spite of himself, he was impressed by the Northams’ personal involvement in the ranch work. They employed countless cowboys, yet stayed in the thick of the branding process. Garrick never touched a sheep, although his governess let him feel the freshly sheared wool. He suspected she enjoyed the waxy lanolin balm present in the wool.

“Hey, gents.” In the center of the corral, Nate raised a branding iron in the air. “Want to try it?”

“No, thank you.” Garrick couldn’t think of inflicting pain upon those young calves. At least sheep shearing was painless to the animals, even welcomed, for it removed their heavy winter coats.

“Yes.” Percy jumped into the corral. “I’d be delighted.”

“Sir?” Seated on the fence beside Garrick, Richards called out. “May I be so bold...?”

“Certainly.” Percy beckoned to him. “Come along.”

Richards hopped down and strode alongside Percy with a spring in his step, as though he were on his way to a picnic.

Garrick shook his head. Richards held one of the highest ranks possible for a servant. Why ever would he want to get his hands, not to mention his clothes, soiled with such menial work with dirty animals?

“Don’t you want to play?” Rosamond nimbly climbed the fence and sat beside Garrick. Pulling a sandwich from her pocket, she began to eat.

In spite of her boyish attire, his midsection did its usual dance. He really mustn’t allow himself to react this way. But how did one stop the involuntary feelings? How even to relate to her? He knew so little about young ladies. The aristocratic girls he’d known in his youth turned a cold shoulder to him once his newborn cousin replaced him as Uncle’s heir.

“Good morning to you, too, Rosamond.”

She laughed, a musical sound that reminded him of her merry song the day before. “Are you enjoying the show?” She tilted her head toward the action in the corral.

“That? Well, I must say I feel a bit sorry for those calves.”

If the rolling of her eyes was any indication, he’d said the wrong thing...again.

“If we didn’t brand them, they could be stolen and someone else could claim them.”

“Stolen? From right here on your father’s ranch?”

Another rolling of the eyes, this time accompanied by a shake of her head, as though he were a hopeless numbskull. “The ranch doesn’t grow enough hay to feed all the cattle year round, so the hands drive the herd up into the hills for summer grazing. Sometimes our cattle mingle with other herds, so the brands keep everybody honest.”

“Ah, I see.”

She polished off the sandwich in a rather dainty manner, considering the setting and her hoydenish garb. “You’ll excuse me?” She started to jump down.

“What? You?” Garrick felt an entirely different kick in his midsection—fear. For her. The actual branding wasn’t the hard part of this operation. The unwilling calves struggled violently to avoid their fate. What if she were injured?

“Yes, me.” She stayed on the fence. “These are my cattle and, like my brothers, I always participate in the branding.”

“Don’t you mean they’re your father’s cattle?” He’d say anything, no matter how annoying, to keep her from danger.

She huffed out a sigh. “Yes, my father’s, my mother’s, Nate’s, Rand’s, Tolley’s and mine. We’re all owners of the Four Stones Ranch.”

“Indeed.” Garrick eyed her doubtfully. “Are you saying your oldest brother won’t inherit everything?” Even for Americans, this idea was truly novel.

She gave him an indulgent smile. “That’s what I’m saying. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He still couldn’t let her go. “So the four stones in the ranch’s name are—”

“My brothers and I.”

Before he could climb down to assist her, she jumped to the ground and seemed no worse for the experience.

“Come on, Garrick.” She beckoned with a charming wave of her hand, and her invitation held a challenge he couldn’t refuse.

“Very well.” He jumped down beside her, and pain shot through his feet. Perhaps he should purchase a pair of those cowboy boots. If nothing else, his experiences on this ranch were sure to give him some much-needed exercise.

* * *

The way Garrick and Percy plunged into the branding impressed Rosamond. As with the train robbers, they proved themselves courageous in a new and dangerous situation. After an hour or so, however, she couldn’t understand why her brothers hadn’t pulled a prank on their guests. Then it happened. While helping Tolley hog-tie a reluctant calf, Garrick fell into a pile of cow droppings. Even though he laughed, his disgust was obvious when he excused himself and headed back toward the house. Rosamond felt a little sorry for him, but she felt sorrier for Roberts, who must restore those filthy trousers and shirt. She’d cleaned up similar messes all her life. Obviously, Garrick hadn’t.

However, she discovered herself a bit rusty at branding. The indolent years in Boston and her need to get used to the altitude took their toll. When she tried to pick up the heavy iron, she needed Tolley’s help so she wouldn’t cause her calf extra pain if she misapplied the white-hot brand. Winded far too soon, she begged off before the task was finished. Her ever-indulgent brothers praised her efforts and sent her back to the house.

“I say.” Percy fell in beside her. “What an exhilarating experience.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She couldn’t say the same about Garrick, so best not to mention him. “Richards seems to be enjoying himself, too.”

“Odd, that.” Percy laughed, clearly not troubled by his valet’s request to continue working with the hands. “By the by, are we still going to the Eberly ranch today?”

“Yes. After dinner.” She hoped no one would ask why she must see Beryl when they’d just spent almost two years together at school, not to mention the long trip home. “We’ll go as soon as we clean up. Oh. Do you need your valet?”

Percy, who always seemed cheerful, laughed again. “Not at all. Of course, I want to present myself well, but I’ll make quick work of it.” He leaned close as they walked across the barnyard, as though he thought someone else might hear him. “Unlike my cousin, I didn’t always have servants, so I learned to take care of myself.”

Rosamond laughed with him. “Oh, you poor thing.” So she’d been right about Garrick. That explained much about his behavior. She thanked the Lord she’d been taught self-sufficiency like her brothers. At least in most ways. Even out here, she must mind the proprieties that protected her reputation, even if it meant she must include Garrick in this afternoon’s jaunt.

“Do you suppose Garrick would like to go along?”

Percy gave her a sly look. “You enjoy his company?”

“No. I mean...oh, dear.” She huffed out a sigh. “Although it’s just a short ride, we’ll need a chaperone. People are particular about such things out here.”

He stopped, and his blond eyebrows shot up. “Oh, my. I wouldn’t think of doing it any other way.”

With that settled, Rosamond sent him on to the house while she went to the barn to see which horses were available. Pete, one of the older cowboys who no longer took part in branding, hurried over to greet her. After they’d exchanged pleasantries, he volunteered to saddle three horses for her by one o’clock.

Maybe she should have asked Pete to go with her. Now she’d committed herself to an afternoon with Garrick. Oddly, the thought didn’t depress her as much as it should have.

* * *

“Very good work, Roberts.” Garrick studied his reflection in the wardrobe mirror. “You’ve managed wonders. A cold but cleansing bath and perfectly pressed clothes.” In the mirror, he checked the back of his fresh ensemble as he tried to dismiss the incident from his mind. At Eton, he’d never have lived down such a humiliating ordeal, even years later. One hapless chap whose family didn’t come up to snuff in Society’s view still received the scorn of former classmates over a similar event. When Garrick lost his position as Uncle’s heir, he’d fallen into that same category in some people’s opinion.

He knew Tolley had deliberately tripped him, but accusations would be fruitless. All the Northam brothers found the accident amusing. Perhaps he’d passed some sort of cowboy initiation when he stifled his chagrin and laughed with them. He prayed no more such incidents occurred. After checking his hair in the mirror, he sniffed his hands for the second time. “I can’t detect a single bit of cow odor. Well done.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Roberts maintained his usual blank facade, although Garrick had seen him smile at the attractive young Mexican cook. If romance was budding, Garrick must nip it lest Roberts decide to stay in Colorado. Nor would Rita fit in as a servant in England, not even in the most liberal households. More important, Garrick couldn’t afford to find a new valet. Roberts, being young and newly elevated to his position last year, settled for lower wages than a more experienced gentleman’s gentleman demanded. Further, Garrick had trained him to anticipate his needs. The loss would be dreadful.

Percy knocked as he entered. “Ready to go?”

“Your riding gloves, sir.” Roberts handed Garrick the tan leather accessory.

“Thank you.” Garrick was tempted to tell his man to spend the afternoon washing his trousers and shirt, but that would be an insult. Roberts knew what his duties were. Garrick could only hope the washing area was nowhere near the kitchen and pretty little Rita.

After searching for their horses at the front of the house, he and Percy found Rosamond by the back entrance with three saddled beasts. Why did they use the servants’ entrance when the house’s facade was quite lovely, albeit quaint? These Americans. At least the family employed a groom to see to the horses. Despite the saddle’s oddly shaped pommel, he soon found his seat and easily kept up with Rosamond as they rode across fields, paths and gullies.

They slowed to a walk and turned down a lane to a ranch similar to Four Stones, with an attractive two-story white house and numerous outbuildings, including a giant red barn.

“I say, Rosamond.” Percy rode beside her. “Good idea to ride over to your neighbors’ instead of walking. All those little streams and fences would be rather a challenge to cross on foot.”

She laughed in her musical way, a sound Garrick was becoming entirely too fond of. “I’m so glad you’re pleased, Percy.”

Garrick felt a pinch of jealousy, although he knew Percy’s interest lay elsewhere. Why couldn’t he and Rosamond get along as easily? He couldn’t worry about that today. With Percy so keen on getting acquainted with Beryl, not to mention his silly vow to marry her before the end of summer, Garrick would have more than enough to do keeping his impulsive cousin from ruining his life. In England, with his large inheritance from his father’s trade, Percy could marry any heiress, even an aristocrat, and begin to move into the higher levels of Society. Why would he waste his life on a nervous American cowgirl? Yet Percy was in no hurry to meet his future and had insisted upon coming with Garrick to America simply for a lark.

* * *

Rosamond rode to the back door and dismounted, tying her mare to the hitching rail. “I smell cinnamon. Mabel must be baking.”

The men followed her up the back steps.

“You don’t mean to walk right in, do you?” Garrick frowned.

She returned his look but quickly forced a smile. She must remember English customs were different. Even in Boston, she’d never entered a friend’s house without knocking.

“Yes, I do. Mabel would be bothered if I knocked. She’d have to stop her work to answer.” She opened the door and entered.

The two men followed hesitantly, but Rosamond hurried through the back hallway and into the large but cozy kitchen. “Hey, Mabel.”

Plump, red-haired Mabel Eberly dropped her spoon into the stewpot and turned, her merry face beaming. “Rosamond, honey, come on in.” She embraced her warmly and then held her at arm’s length. “My, you’re even more beautiful than ever.” She glanced at the Englishmen. “I know who these fine gentlemen are. Howdy, boys. Beryl told us how brave you were when those outlaws tried to rob the train. And George says you’ve come out here to build that hotel.” She beckoned to them. “Come on in. Have a seat.” She waved a hand toward the kitchen table. “Would you like some cinnamon rolls and coffee?”

Rosamond prayed they wouldn’t rebuff Mabel’s offer. While Garrick stood back, his handsome face crinkled in confusion or maybe consternation, Percy stepped over to Mabel.

“Rosamond, would you please present me to this charming lady?”

His formality tickled Rosamond, but she did the honors in all seriousness.

“Mabel, this is Percy Morrow. Percy, remember, first names out here.”

Percy kissed her hand, and Mabel’s sweet face turned even redder than usual. “Oh, go on, now.”

Rosamond summoned Garrick with a whip of her hand and a glare Mabel couldn’t see. “This is Garrick Wakefield.”

He must have realized the importance of compliance, because he followed Percy’s example.

“What fine manners. Now sit down.” Mabel ushered them to the table and served coffee and a plateful of fresh cinnamon buns. Her merry manner seemed to set the men at ease, for they didn’t hesitate to eat.

Seated by the door, Rosamond heard a soft tst. While Mabel plied the men with rolls in exchange for their life stories, Beryl peeked in and beckoned to Rosamond. In the hallway, Beryl embraced her fiercely.

“Rosamond, save me. Get me away from here.”

“What’s wrong?” Rosamond knew the answer. She’d happily donned her comfortable ranch clothes, but Beryl wore one of her Boston dresses. Underneath, Rosamond felt her tightly laced corset.

“It’s my sisters,” Beryl whispered anxiously and glanced toward the back door as if fearing they’d enter. “They expected me to jump right into work.” She bit her lip and stared at her hands. “I’m willing to do my share, but I can’t bear to get all freckled and rough-skinned again.” A tear slid down her ivory cheek. “I’m terrible, aren’t I?”

“Nonsense.” Rosamond hugged her. “You’ll get used to home life again.” She didn’t believe that herself. Beryl’s fears ran deeper than how her complexion looked. Rosamond thought of one way to help her. “Come meet those Englishmen.”

Beryl’s blue eyes widened. “Not like this.” She swiped away tears.

“Go freshen up.” Rosamond forced a cheerful laugh. “Your ma is feeding them her cinnamon rolls, but they can only eat so much.” She smirked. “The blond gentleman wants to meet you.”

Beryl’s eyes rounded in wonder. “Truly?”

“Truly. Now hurry.”

While her friend complied, Rosamond returned to the kitchen. The two men stood, as they had last evening. Their refined manners pleased her. Not every man understood the importance of such a gallant gesture.

“Beryl wasn’t expecting company.” She sat in the chair Garrick held for her, another chivalrous move on his part. Her opinion of him rose a little. “She’ll join us soon.”

“Capital.” Percy’s blue eyes brightened just as Beryl’s had.

Garrick, however, frowned as he reclaimed his chair. Rosamond’s opinion of him plummeted. How could he dislike sweet Beryl when he didn’t even know her?

“So, you boys are planning to build that hotel.” Mabel poured coffee for Rosamond.

“Not I, madam.” Percy chuckled. “I accompanied Garrick so I could see the famous—or should I say, infamous—American West.” He leaned toward Mabel with a playful smirk. “I believe the train robbery was staged entirely for our amusement, what?”

Mabel slapped his shoulder and howled with laughter. “You’ll do fine out here, boy. You’ll do fine.”

He grinned despite his coffee sloshing onto the tablecloth. Again, Garrick’s frown revealed an opposite reaction, disapproval of the kind lady who was showing him such generous hospitality. Before Rosamond could frown back at him, Beryl entered.

The men stood, and Percy stepped forward and bowed over her hand. “Miss Eberly, I presume?”

Beryl received him with the grace she’d learned at the academy. “How do you do, sir? You must forgive me for not knowing your name. We should have introduced ourselves after the train robbery, but—” Confusion clouded her face, and Rosamond gasped softly. Her friend almost revealed her hysteria to her mother.

“Ah, but with no one to properly introduce us...” Percy touched her elbow and drew her to the table as if he were the host. “Please permit the informality. I am Percy Morrow, and this is my cousin, Garrick Wakefield.”

Garrick gave a sober bow while Percy continued to fuss over Beryl. “Your mother’s cinnamon rolls are delicious beyond description. Do have one.”

Rosamond’s eyes stung. Percy had just rescued Beryl. What a good man, exactly what her friend needed.

Beryl regained her composure, and she and Percy began to chat. Mabel eyed Rosamond and lifted one eyebrow. Rosamond returned a tiny nod, bringing a pleased smile from her hostess.

Boisterous laughter sounded in the hallway as Beryl’s father and her three unmarried sisters entered. She sent Rosamond a panicked look.

“Oh, good.” Rosamond knew of only one way to manage this situation: head-on. “You gentlemen will get to meet more Eberlys.” These next few minutes might be awkward.

* * *

Garrick stood beside Percy while bedlam descended upon the kitchen as a ruddy, middle-aged man and three attractive young ladies in Western garb entered. Unlike quiet, well-mannered Beryl, the girls jostled each other and more yelled than talked.

“Mabel, honey,” the man said, “we could smell your baking clear out in the barn.” He blinked. “Well, I’ll be a skinned jackrabbit. I didn’t know we had company.”

Garrick shuddered inwardly at the picture the man’s metaphor produced.

“You didn’t notice their horses? Honey, you need spectacles.” With no attempt at formality, Mabel pointed at Percy and Garrick and announced their names. “Boys, this here’s my George, and these are three more of our girls, Laurie, Georgia and Grace. Grace is the deputy sheriff. She’s been keeping the peace in town since a bank robbery a few years ago. I’m glad we got us a full-time sheriff now so she can help out around here a bit more. Maisie, she’s our oldest daughter, is married to the town doctor. You’ll meet them at church tomorrow.”

While she chattered on about her family, Garrick tried to grasp the idea of a female law officer. Granted, at nearly six feet tall and wearing a gun at her side, Grace seemed capable of managing wrongdoers. Even ladylike Rosamond had helped defeat the train robbers. Perhaps these Western women needed to be as tough as the men. Except Beryl, whose cheerful chat with Percy ended the moment her sisters entered the room. Curious. Yet no matter what he saw here, he must try not to judge any of them by proper British standards.

“I don’t know, Ma.” Grace grabbed a roll from the platter. “Sheriff Lawson said this mornin’ he’s countin’ on me to help him.” She took a bite but kept talking. “Beryl’s home now. She can help you.”

Beryl began to tremble.

“Oh, dear.” Rosamond put an arm around her friend. “I’m counting on Beryl to help me plan our new high school.” She smiled at the two younger sisters. “I hope you’ll be enrolling in our classes.”

Warmth swept through Garrick’s chest. He didn’t understand the situation, but Rosamond’s care for her friend suggested an admirable depth of character. Perhaps working with her on the hotel project wouldn’t be so difficult, after all.

“In fact,” Rosamond said, “we’ve a lot to plan and need to start right away. Mabel, will you let Beryl spend a few weeks with us, starting tomorrow after church?”

Garrick’s warm feelings sank to his stomach like a cold lead weight. With Percy and Beryl in the same house, how could he prevent their forming an attachment?

From the enthusiasm on Percy’s face, Garrick feared it was already too late.

* * *

Rosamond had tried to outwit Mother’s maneuvering, but here she sat beside Garrick in the church pew. This afternoon she must persuade Mother to stop her matchmaking. After Garrick’s obvious disapproval of Beryl and Percy’s developing romance, she couldn’t even like Garrick, much less love him.

Of course Reverend Thomas gave a sermon on loving one’s neighbor. She’d learned long ago the pastor always preached what she needed to hear, as though the Lord whispered in his ear that Miss Rosamond Northam wasn’t listening to Him, so His servant must speak to her in an audible voice she couldn’t miss. How silly. She hadn’t spoken to Reverend Thomas since returning from Boston, so he knew nothing of her spiritual disposition. Still, she paid attention.

Despite the conviction churning within, she enjoyed being back in her home church. Would Garrick turn up his nose at their simple service? Oh, dear. There she went again, judging him. Lord, help me to love him with Your love.

Across the sanctuary, Beryl sat with her family. Occasionally, she smiled hopefully at Rosamond, which must mean her folks had given permission for her move to Four Stones. Last night, Mother had welcomed the prospect, for she always thrived with a houseful of guests.

Rosamond hoped none of Beryl’s sisters objected. Beryl wanted to please everyone. A complaint from a beloved sister might make her stay home, whatever the cost emotionally. Yesterday as they toured the Eberly ranch with the Englishmen, Laurie and Georgia had teased Beryl about her parasol. Though she laughed, Rosamond could see they’d hurt her feelings.

As the final hymn ended, Mother gave Garrick a smile. “Rosamond will introduce you and Percy to Reverend Thomas while Mabel and I count the offering.”

Rosamond smiled, despite her annoyance. “Certainly. Come along, gentlemen.” Maybe she could leave them with Reverend Thomas and find Beryl. Or leave Garrick with the pastor and take Percy to find Beryl. Rosamond didn’t care for Mother’s matchmaking on her behalf, but she certainly enjoyed doing it for her friend.

* * *

Garrick approved the way Reverend Thomas conducted the service. His sermon revealed an intelligent theological mind. The service was simple, the music a pleasant surprise. The gray-haired organist played the pump organ with a dexterity that belied her age. Most of the congregants sang heartily, and most sang in tune. After the closing hymn, Garrick felt his spiritual cup full to overflowing.

Mrs. Northam needn’t have assigned Rosamond the task of introductions, for the minister stood at the door to speak to each parishioner. Yet after hearing a fine message on loving one’s neighbor, Garrick looked forward to Rosamond’s company. Her rose-scented perfume only added to the pleasure.

Each churchgoer lining the aisle received a warm, personal greeting from the minister. In return, some complimented the sermon while others shared news. Garrick planned his own remarks with care.

“Rosamond!” The minister greeted her with a warm smile. “Look at you. All grown up.”

She beamed like a child praised by a parent, although the young minister was perhaps twenty-eight and no more than thirty.

“Reverend Thomas, your sermon was just what I needed today.” She glanced at Garrick.

His heart sank. Did she have so much trouble viewing him with Christian charity?

“Permit me to present Garrick Wakefield and Percy Morrow.”

As she made the introduction, Garrick realized his mistake. She’d looked at him only to bring him into the conversation. He must cease thinking she bore some antagonism toward him.

After the presentations had been made and hands shaken, Percy added his compliment. Garrick then took his turn.

“Your quotation from Spurgeon’s sermon was most appropriate, sir.” He saw Rosamond’s eyebrows arch. Had his remark sounded arrogant? “When I was a lad, I had the pleasure of hearing Spurgeon speak at Metropolitan Tabernacle. His message ‘Pray without ceasing’ entirely changed my prayer life. In fact, my life in general.”

“Ah, you know Spurgeon’s work?” The minister spoke in an amiable Southern drawl.

“Indeed. I have a volume of his sermons that provides excellent reading.”

“An entire volume?” If a minister could be accused of envy, Reverend Thomas’s eyes took on just such a longing. “I have only a few pamphlets and quotations.”

“You must borrow mine.” He’d make it a gift and purchase another copy when he returned to London. “I’ll bring it tomorrow.” He glanced at Rosamond, whose half smile and warm gaze indicated approval of...something he’d done? “Would tomorrow afternoon be acceptable?”

“Yes.” She looked behind them. “We should move on.”

“Of course.” He turned back to the minister. “Could we meet for Scripture study?”

Reverend Thomas smiled. “Entirely possible. We can begin tomorrow, if you like.”

“Excellent.” Glancing around for Percy’s agreement, he saw his cousin and Rosamond crossing the churchyard toward the Eberly girls.

Beryl gazed up at Percy from beneath her lace parasol. The two younger ones chatted merrily. Grace stood watching, arms crossed, gun hanging at her side, and a critical gleam emanating from those intense blue eyes. Perhaps she agreed with Garrick that Percy and Beryl shouldn’t form an unsuitable attachment.

He took a step in that direction only to be intercepted by Rand and Tolley Northam. Tolley gave him a curt nod, and his lips formed a thin line.

Rand shook his hand. “Did you enjoy the service?”

“Indeed, I did.” He wanted to move on but didn’t want to offend this man. Tolley already found him lacking in some way. For his own part, Garrick must apply today’s sermon and forgive Tolley for tripping him during yesterday’s branding. It hadn’t been an accident or prank, but a malicious act.

“I told my Sunday school class about you and Percy,” Rand said. “They’d enjoy hearing from you. Would you address them next Sunday morning? We meet an hour before the church service, and we can invite Nate’s class to join us.”

The unexpected request astonished him. “It would be a privilege, sir.” How remarkable that the older two brothers taught Sunday school. Speaking to the lads was an honor he wouldn’t decline.

“Yeah,” Tolley said. “They’ll get a real hoot out of the funny way you talk.”

Rand chuckled, giving Garrick pause. Was his invitation meant to be an insult rather than an honor? A knot formed in his chest. Whatever they threw at him, he must answer without offending or he’d risk losing Colonel Northam’s good opinion.

Rand elbowed his brother. “You’d be surprised, kid. Some of these boys hanker to see the world beyond the San Luis Valley. They may never travel abroad, so this’ll be a real treat.”

Garrick’s knot eased. Tolley, however, snorted and walked away. His brother’s use of “kid” made him flinch. Oddly, Garrick felt a measure of empathy, having endured his own share of set downs. At the birth of Viscount Eddington, Uncle’s first son, Garrick was demoted in Society’s view. No longer heir presumptive to an earldom, thus no longer sought after for future favors, either social or political. Of course, Tolley probably wouldn’t understand how crushing that had been. As one of four heirs to his father’s wealth, he had a secure future, even if his inheritance was part of a dusty cattle ranch in this remote mountain valley.

Garrick must find a way to befriend him, even though Tolley seemed determined to dislike him. Even though a veiled threat shaded every look the younger man sent his way.

Chapter Four

Rosamond spent the early part of Sunday afternoon making space for Beryl’s clothes in her wardrobe.

As she worked, she searched for reasons to like Garrick. He’d given his valet the day off but seemed displeased when Roberts and Richards attended a different church with Rita and Consuela. Of course before Roberts left, he made sure Garrick was properly dressed. She wouldn’t let those small matters count for anything. Not much, anyway.

With her room in order, she searched for Percy and found him relaxing in a rocking chair on the front porch. Garrick sat on the porch swing.

“Are you ready?” Why did she sound so giddy? “Beryl’s waiting for us.”

Percy nodded. “I’ll be delighted to see her again.” Such a sweet remark, especially since he’d talked with Beryl just a few hours ago.

Was that frown Garrick wore his favorite expression? As they walked around the house toward the barn, Rosamond chided herself. She must stop these unkind thoughts about him.

“We’ll take a wagon for Beryl’s trunk,” she said, “but if you feel like riding, we can saddle horses, too.”

Garrick stopped. “Do you mean...?” He clamped his mouth shut and resumed walking.

Rosamond could guess what he’d started to say. “Yep.” Her teachers at the academy would have apoplexy over her quick return to Western slang. Yet something about Garrick made her want to do just that. Right away, her conscience smote her. Deliberately irritating a person wasn’t the way to show God’s love. “The cowhands are off today, so it’s up to us to hitch the team to the wagon and saddle the horses.”

“Brilliant.” His tone suggested something entirely different.

“Capital.” Percy picked up his pace. “It’s been a while since I saddled a horse. I relish the challenge.”

In spite of one reluctant student and another entirely too enthusiastic helper, Rosamond managed the affair without a catastrophe. Soon she was driving the wagon up the lane, while the men rode along beside her. She occasionally glanced at Garrick and noticed him gazing at the distant mountains or watching migrating geese flying above them. Judging from his placid facade, he seemed to be enjoying himself for the moment.

Despite their disappointment over Beryl leaving them, her sisters helped load the wagon. Even Garrick pitched in with heavier items, impressing Rosamond with his strength. With servants to do everything for him, how could he be so strong?

Soon they were traveling back to Four Stones. Beryl sat beside Rosamond on the driver’s bench, but she’d tied her mare to the wagon...a good sign. Her willingness to ride might be the first step toward restoring her courage.

Riding close to the wagon, Percy chatted with Beryl over the clatter of the wheels. A stranger looking on might assume they’d known each other all their lives. So far, Rosamond hadn’t heard a word of disagreement between them. They liked the same books, the same music, the same pastimes. What an agreeable marriage they could have. Too bad Garrick couldn’t hide his disapproval. Did he hold some power over his cousin to prevent this romance?

The valets returned to Four Stones in time to help Garrick and Percy move the trunk and luggage to the bedroom. Consuela helped Beryl unpack, and Rita planned a hearty meal for everyone rather than taking the evening off. All four servants appeared to be energized by a jolly mood, and a hint of romance sparked between Rita and Roberts. Percy and Beryl still had eyes only for each other. Rosamond couldn’t help but long for a romance, too, but with so much work for her school and the hotel, she’d have no time for such an indulgence. Or so she tried to convince herself.

* * *

“That will do, Roberts.” In the mirror, Garrick admired his cravat, which his man had tied with expert precision. Yet for some reason, he felt irritated at being fussed over despite having been dressed by a valet since leaving the nursery.

“Very good, sir.” Roberts never revealed emotion while doing his job, although yesterday Garrick had seen him smile constantly as he talked with Rita in the kitchen.

When everyone left for church yesterday morning, he’d not been pleased to see the valets and the female servants going south while the Northam family traveled north. But, after all, it was the servants’ day off. He couldn’t insist that Roberts attend the same church.

“Your portfolio, sir.” Roberts handed the folder to Garrick.

“Thank you.” He unfastened the clasp and thumbed through the architectural drafts to refresh his memory. All was in order. “I won’t need you until after dinner. This afternoon I’m meeting the minister in town, so I’ll require something appropriate for the occasion.”

“Yes, sir.” Roberts coughed softly into his fist, as he did when he wished to speak.

“Yes?”

“Would it be permissible for me to assist Mrs. Northam in her garden this morning?”

Pleased by his valet’s thoughtfulness, Garrick nodded. “That’s fine.”

The smile that spread across Roberts’s face extinguished that pleasure. Rita would no doubt be working with them.

Garrick had no time to ponder the matter. He must meet Rosamond in Colonel Northam’s office in a few minutes. That thought instantly improved his disposition. Despite her coolness toward him, he’d missed her at breakfast. Or maybe he simply wanted to decipher that coolness and possibly overcome it. He wouldn’t succeed with the hotel unless he gained her favor.

As he walked down the hallway to the front staircase, he heard girlish giggles coming through the closed door of her bedroom. Giggles just like his sister’s. How would Rosamond and Helena get on? Would they like each other? But they’d never meet, so he shrugged off the thought. Another thought took its place. Rosamond and Beryl were obviously in the midst of a hen party. Would Rosamond even bother to keep their nine o’clock appointment?

Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Reverend Thomas, referencing Spurgeon’s sermon, reminded the congregation that this Scripture verse was a command from the Lord. Garrick must demonstrate God’s love to the young lady by thinking well of her rather than assuming some fault on her part. After all, her care for her friend indicated a nurturing spirit, as did her desire to establish an upper school in this wilderness. In any event, he must work with her, so he’d do well to develop a positive outlook.

As instructed, he made the Colonel’s office his own, spreading out his carefully made plans on the large exquisite oak desk. He’d worked with an architect in London before coming to America and knew exactly what to build. Uncle insisted he spare no expense, but of course Garrick wouldn’t misuse his generosity.

“Good morning.” Rosamond entered the room carrying a tray laden with beverages and fruit tarts.

Garrick’s heart seemed to stop. Her gown was the color of daffodils, a shade of yellow few ladies wore well, yet it warmed her complexion to a lovely glow. How beautiful she was, especially when she smiled. Even her eyes shone with enthusiasm, a good sign this meeting would go well.

His heart hammering with this unexpected admiration for her, he stood and walked around the desk. “Permit me?” He took the tray and set it on a side table. Should he compliment her? Tell her she was beautiful? No, of course not. This was a business meeting, not a party. “I don’t suppose this is tea?” Oh, bother. That surely sounded like a complaint.

She laughed. He sighed with relief.

“If you recall—” she poured steaming black coffee from the elegant porcelain pot into matching cups “—our two countries don’t share a good history in regards to tea.”

“No, but—” the twinkle in her eyes alerted him that she meant the remark to be humorous “—if I’m not mistaken, the relationship between our governments has changed considerably since 1773. After the passing of more than a century, surely we’ve managed to persuade you as to the superiority of tea over coffee.”

She handed him a cup, leaving him to add his own cream and sugar. He added considerable amounts of both to minimize the brew’s bitter taste.

“I’ll admit an occasional cup of tea makes a nice change. Many Americans prefer it.” She took a sip and eyed him over the porcelain rim. “In my opinion, nothing beats coffee to help get the day going.”

“Ah, well. To each his own. Or her own.” This was hardly a matter to argue over. “I brought some gifts for your parents but haven’t yet presented them. Among them is a tin of Earl Grey tea, which has become a favorite among—” he started to say “the British aristocracy,” but an inner voice stopped him “—many of my friends.”

“I heard of Earl Grey tea at finishing school.” She appeared to pucker away a smile. “You know the earl, of course?”

“Of course.” The words were out before he could stop them. She’d baited him, and he’d bitten. Now he must try to fix the damage. “Not well, though. And he’s the third Lord Grey. The tea is named for the second Lord Grey.”

“Be sure to tell Mother when you give her the tea.” She stepped behind the desk and began to study the drafts. “She always enjoys little tidbits of history like that.” She spoke absently, as if finished with the topic. Or perhaps the drawings distracted her. “So you think the Palladian style is appropriate for our hotel?” Disapproval colored her words.

While impressed by her knowledge of the architectural style, Garrick suddenly felt defensive. She’d learned of the hotel only three days ago, yet she would criticize his many months of hard work? Disparage a building design by London’s finest architects?

“Of course. What could draw travelers from Europe to this wilderness better than a hotel built in the grand style to which they’re accustomed?” Bother! That definitely sounded arrogant. He was tempted to bite his tongue. No matter what she said, he must be a gentleman.

She eyed him and smirked. “Oh, maybe something different. Something more in keeping with the wilderness they’ve come to see.”

The steel-like tone in her voice set his nerves on edge and fortified his defenses. Was this a trick? A test? Or did she actually mean to sabotage the one project upon which his entire future rested?

* * *

The steely glint in Garrick’s eyes signaled war, and she would gladly cross swords with him. These past few days, she’d come up with her own plans for the hotel. Some of the girls at the academy swooned over all things English, but no Englishman was going to try to reconquer her part of America while she could prevent it.

Love thy neighbor as thyself. The inner voice was soft but persistent. She knew the imprudence of failing to listen to it.

With a sigh, she dropped down into Father’s chair. “I can see you’ve been working for some time on these plans. Why don’t you show me what you’ve done?”

He tilted his head as if uncertain he’d heard her correctly. She swallowed a laugh. Apparently he’d expected a conflict as much as she.

“Well, um...” He came around the desk to stand beside her and shuffled through the papers as if looking for something. As he bent over her shoulder, the scent of bergamot filled her senses in a very pleasant way. Bergamot, the essence that flavored Earl Grey tea. Maybe she’d like the beverage more than expected. “It’s true that I’ve envisioned a grand hotel in the European tradition, but when you hear everything, I believe you’ll approve.” At last he pulled out a crisp white page. “Here is a list of my plans.”

She didn’t correct his word plans, but in her mind, she translated it to ideas.

“Lord Westbourne has been very generous with the funds allotted for the project because he hopes the hotel will draw the most august guests from among Europe’s aristocracy and nobility, perhaps even royalty.”

“Hmm.” Rosamond wouldn’t let herself say more. He didn’t know how much she disdained those very people. If they’d had their way in the past century, the United States wouldn’t even exist, would still be colonies enslaved to the whims of a ruthless monarch and the unfeeling nobility in the House of Lords. And now that America was a prosperous country, many titled men came over here to marry heiresses, wealthy girls who coveted those titles and forgot what this country was all about. Rosamond didn’t care about drawing European aristocrats to the hotel. Wealthy Americans from the East would come by the droves to experience what the Wild West offered.

“If you will notice—” his voice filled with enthusiasm, Garrick pointed to names at the bottom of the draft “—the hotel was designed by Messrs. Henman and Harrison, the architectural firm that designed the National Penny Bank in London. I’ve contacted Messrs. Aitohison and Walker, who built that very bank just three years ago. They await my wire and, upon receiving it, will send a team to execute the construction of the building.”

Rosamond looked up at him. “Anything else?” She might as well hear everything before unfolding her own plans.

His eyes sparkled, and for the first time, she noticed they were brown. A very nice brown with flecks of amber to catch the light shining through the west window. “The guest rooms will of course be furnished with the finest oak and mahogany furniture from English carpenters and velvet drapes from France. Again, I have simply to wire the firms I’ve engaged, and they’ll ship the items at once or build them to suit.” He questioned her with one raised eyebrow, and she nodded for him to continue. “I’ve also engaged a French chef and a staff of English waiters. And of course a sommelier.”