Journey of the Bride (2 page)

The two men rode back the direction they
’
d come from, back towards the ranch.
“
You need someone in your life, Brandon. You can
’
t keep running this place on your own. Why don
’
t you hire some hands to help you out?
”

“
Don
’
t have the money,
”
Brandon replied, spitting again.

“
I
’
ll get you enough. Let me know what you need. You know the men you need. Let me know figures and I
’
ll make sure you have it. Ma and Pa were not broke, and I
’
m well-off in the city. I
’
ll make an account and add enough to it that you can take care of ranch hands.
”

“
Thanks.
”
Although the reply was gruff, Paul could hear the gratitude in it. He watched Brandon pull a bandana from his pocket and wipe sweat off his forehead.
“
Can you hire me a cook? I don
’
t know anything about that business.
”

An idea entered Paul
’
s mind. He glanced at Brandon, wondering if he
’
d notice if Paul pulled something sneaky.
Not right away,
he thought.
He trusts me. He won
’
t notice until it
’
s too late to change anything.

“
You want me to hire you a cook?
”

Brandon shrugged, his eyes turned ahead instead of looking at his brother.
“
Someone who can help around the house: cook, clean, mend clothing, the works.
”

Paul grinned at his brother, realizing the opportunity when he saw it. This was a chance to do exactly what Brandon needed, even if he didn
’
t realize he did. He needed a wife. As soon as Paul got back into town, he
’
d post an ad for a wife for his brother.

A wave of stench hit his nose and he pinched his nostrils closed even as he gagged.
“
If I find you a woman, will you at least take a bath?
”

Brandon turned his attention to his brother, a wide grin on his face.
“
Maybe. You
’
ll do it then?
”

“
I already have a woman in mind,
”
Paul lied easily.

He wasn
’
t a lawyer for nothing. Brandon accepted his words with a single nod of his head.
“
Let me know when you find someone and I
’
ll take a bath. Hell,
”
he said with a laugh.
“
Maybe I
’
ll even shave.
”
His hand reached up to his beard, scratching his chin through the hair.

A wave of disgust washed through Paul and he touched his clean chin, trying to figure out how Brandon could stand the mess of hair, but he said nothing. In his mind, he was already wording his ad for the wife he planned on finding Brandon. After all, how hard could it be to find a woman who wouldn
’
t mind being marrying to the gruff man riding beside him?

“
Do you require anything else, ma
’
am?
”

Courtney smiled sweetly to the man before her.
“
No, thank you, Gerald,
”
she said. She kept her voice low, as a lady should, but there was an air of authority to it all the same. It was a balance she
’
d learned over the years, something her mother had taught her before the cholera had claimed her life.

“
As you wish, ma
’
am.
”
The butler bowed low at the waist and turned away, leaving her alone in the room. That was fine with her. Courtney le Brush was used to being alone. Her father, a doctor for the town, was always gone at odd hours, and she was often left to her own devices.

Despite being alone, she never felt lonely. She had plenty to entertain herself with. Her father
’
s library was full of books. Her favorites were the works of Shakespeare, which she
’
d read over and over again countless times. She often recited the words of Hamlet or Macbeth to strangers she met, wondering if they would know the lines she referred to. More times than not, they didn
’
t. She had come to understand that she was one of the few in town that read Shakespeare.

All anyone cares about in this town is the mining prospects,
she thought. It was true too. Even her father had only moved them to the Utah Territory in hopes of finding his profit in gold. And he had as far as Courtney knew. He certainly had made money along the way, and they were one of the wealthiest families in town.

That knowledge did little to cheer Courtney up. She wanted to find someone to talk to about books and letters and silks and clothes. She was tired of talking about dirt and stone and gold and mining and tools. Those things bored her to tears.

When her father held dinners and invited the Mayor and other important guests, she had to fight not to fall asleep.
These nincompoops wouldn
’
t know the back of their hand if it didn
’
t glitter like a diamond,
she thought with an angry snort.

Her nose wrinkled at the thought. At least it was only gold they mined for. She
’
d heard of talk from some of the slaves about their lands being rich with diamonds, something more precious than gold. She was glad that her father found such talk poppycock. The last thing she wanted to do was sail across the ocean
—
what a horrible way to discover whether or not you had seasickness
—
to the likes of Africa.

No, rather stay here among the dust and dirt and pray the world would weary of gold at some point. Better to stay and hope the veins dried up and the miners sought their fortunes in other ways.

“
Courtney, my dear, are you in?
”
Her head snapped up at the sound of her name upon her father
’
s lips. Something was wrong.

“
Yes, Father. I
’
m in the library.
”
She closed the book she
’
d come in planning to read. It was too late now. All her thoughts of mining and gold and diamonds and prayers that her father would never send them overseas had ruined any attitude toward reading she had at the moment.

Her father entered, looking harried and frazzled. His wide eyes were like that of a startled horse and he shied away from her for a moment, as if he was a snake and had bitten her. All she had done was look at him upon his entrance. Strange. Strange indeed.

“
What is it, Father?
”
she asked.

He came closer, his eyes shifting from left to right, scanning the room for any signs of life.
“
Is there anyone in here?
”
he asked her. He knew as well as she that servants had a habit of hiding in small nooks and crannies for the chance to hear the juiciest tidbits of gossip.

She shook her head. She wouldn
’
t tell him, but she hated having servants near her and sent them away whenever she knew he wouldn
’
t be around for a while. If she had known he would be back from the bank so soon, she would have asked Gerald to keep them around for appearances.

Gerald knew her secret, how slaves made her uncomfortable
—
not because she found them disgusting in any way, but because she didn
’
t feel forcing someone to work for her was anything but inhumane. He had often told her, when her father wasn
’
t around of course, that she was a woman out of her own generation, that someday, he hoped his people were no longer slaves, but that the day was far away still.

He often told her stories of the lands where his people lived, and talked about his culture and his tribe before he
’
d been shipped across the sea to live here.
“
Your father is a good man,
”
he told her one day.
“
I
’
ve seen many others who have died under the care of their masters
—
whether due to the rape and torture their minds and bodies go through or because of the lack of nourishment their bodies get when in their care.
”
He smiled at her then.
“
I do not mind working for your family, Miss le Brush.
”

“
You
’
ve sent away your servants?
”
her father asked, drawing her back to the present. He gripped her hand in his own, holding it tighter than normal, as if she might slip away should he release her. His skin was cold, clammy, and it disgusted Courtney. She was used to his warmth, his passion for life. This was odd, and it disturbed her almost as much as having slaves.

Despite her fear that he
’
d punish her for sending away her servants, she nodded. His urgency convinced her that this one time it would be overlooked, and she was right. He nodded with enthusiasm.
“
Good, good.
”
He sat down in the other chair the library proffered, pulling it close to face her.

“
My dearest daughter,
”
he began, his eyes mournful as he gazed at her. He still held her hand in his, but now he stroked the back of it with his free one, as if petting a dog and soothing it from the pain he knew was coming to it.
“
There is something I need to tell you.
”

“
What is it, Father?
”
she asked. Fear filled her, but she held it at bay. Bad enough that the man looked ready to bolt and dive out into the world with a blind eye to the dangers that existed.
“
What
’
s wrong?
”

He glanced down, shaking his head.
“
I have a confession to make, my daughter. It may come as a surprise to you
—
it certainly did to me
—
but we are no longer as well off as we once were.
”

That was it? That was what he had to tell her? They were short on money? She nearly scoffed at the idea. It was absurd. They weren
’
t short on money. They couldn
’
t be. Her father had hired the best men to work under him at the mines, and they always delivered the gold on time. At least, that
’
s what he
’
d always told her in the past. Had something changed?

“
What do you mean, we
’
re no longer as well off as we once were?
”
she asked, leaning forward in her seat.
“
Do you mean that soon we will be having to pinch every penny to make ends meet? Do you mean that we have to let some of the miners go until we can afford to hire them back? What do you mean, Father?
”

He shook his head again, and it suddenly dawned on Courtney how old her father looked. He was growing bald. It was starting in the center of his head, a small spot that grew wider and wider with each passing day. And the hair he did have was turning gray. It still looked good, a mixture of salt and pepper that noted at his age and experience, but soon it would just point out his age as it turned white. His brown eyes, usually warm, swam with unshed tears as he looked up at her. He looked suddenly frail and weak, like anything but the man she
’
d grown to know in her twenty-one years of life.

“
I mean we are not well off, dearest daughter. In fact, I
’
ll go as far as to wager that we are broke.
”

“
Broke?
”
Courtney cried.
“
Father, how did this happen?
”

He released her hand, scratching the back of his head.
“
I don
’
t really know, dearest. I haven
’
t checked the accounts in a while before today. I
’
ve been running on the fact of Talbert handling our affairs for us, but it seems something has happened. When Talbert fell ill a few months ago, his connection with our affairs were severed and no one
’
s been handling them properly.
”

Courtney frowned. She wouldn
’
t tell her father, but she didn
’
t like or trust Talbert. The man was an accountant at the bank, which meant he had prestige and wealth according to her father, but for some reason, the man reminded Courtney of a snake in the grass. She had a feeling Talbert knew exactly what happened to her father
’
s finances, but kept her suspicions to herself.

According to her father, Talbert was a young god to be worshipped and trusted. She did no such thing, but she didn
’
t let her father in on her feelings. Talbert often came calling when her father wasn
’
t around, and it left her feeling as if spiders were crawling up and down her spine. She didn
’
t trust the man, and it was one of the few times she kept her servants near.

Gerald knew her feelings and had come to make excuses when Talbert had come calling of late. Courtney was ill, the heat had been too much for her today. Courtney was resting, she
’
d been running errands all over town earlier that morning. Courtney was in town, shopping with some of her lady friends, although she didn
’
t have many, if any at all. She couldn
’
t ever thank him enough when Gerald made up some new excuse that prevented her from having to see Talbert.

Was that why he was doing this? Was he punishing her through her father? Was he trying to force her to see him? To what purpose?

The thought made her frown as she looked over her father
’
s worried face. No, she couldn
’
t voice such thoughts to her father. He wouldn
’
t believe her. He trusted Talbert too much. However, she could trust Gerald not to spill her secrets to the other servants, and he might be able to help her unravel the mystery behind Talbert
’
s actions, for she had no doubt that it was the work of Talbert.