Brigid Belham had always done what was expected. She worked for her father in his accounting office and managed his home. When he married, she knew it was her time to move on, and traveled to Bower, Colorado to meet a prospective husband. Her ‘best laid plan’ goes horribly awry, leaving her stranded. Caught in a storm of both rain and tumultuous emotions she ends up lost in the woods, until she’s found by a mountain man grumpier than a bear. All he wants to do is send her away. What if she wants to stay?
Most people in Bower know him as a hermit, a mountain man who hardly talks and likes company even less. His parents named him Livingstone Quinn, but unlike his namesake, he doesn’t want to explore. He doesn’t want to discover. He just wants his peace and quiet, all by his lonesome with his animals on his homestead. When Brigid literally falls at his feet, he keeps telling her she needs to leave, but shocks himself when he keeps finding reasons for her to stay. What will he do when he runs out of excuses?
In the whole wide world they managed to find each other. Would they walk away from their happiness, or would they bring their love home to roost?
Chapter One
Turning
onto the path behind the sawmill, Livingstone Quinn tucked his chin down toward
his chest. It was early enough in the day that no one was outside. He had just
enough time to make his delivery and get back to the homestead before the sun
hit with its full strength and the mill would start up work for the day.
There
was a light burning in an upper window of the Chinese Society house, and when he
drew closer he could see a dark form move across the window, winking the light.
Perhaps they were up early, preparing for a community event or just an early
riser. He hadn’t met many of the Chinese for himself, but they seemed a quiet
industrious lot that kept to themselves and he felt a connection to them
because of that.
Further
down the row, between the small row of homes, he could see a resolute puff of
smoke from the flue at the Bath House. The boiler must be piping hot, even at
this early hour. He did well enough at the homestead, warming water when the
weather made the pond too cold, even for his weathered skin. But as he approached
Hampton Road he got a whiff of something that smelled like a good strong soap.
The clean scent followed him as he walked across the street.
He
slowed his steps for a moment as he approached the back gate of Hampton House.
The Hamptons had become his friends over time. They were friendly and warm, but
they didn’t press him to be social. They understood that he didn’t want to
stand around wasting time when he came to town. He rarely even saw the Hamptons
this early in the morning. With the original boarding house and the annex
they’d added within the last year, the early morning hours were usually the
busiest time of the day for the couple. Still, he was happy just to make his
delivery and head home with his payment in his pocket.
The
scent of coffee tickling his nose only got stronger when he reached the porch.
Someone
cleared their throat in the near darkness. “It’s just me.” Recognizing Miles Hampton’s
voice, the tension eased from his shoulders. “Having a cup of coffee before I finish
my chores.”
Reaching
up to his shoulder, Livingstone tugged at the leather strap and pulled it over
the rise and down his upper arm. “I wasn’t expecting you to be out this early.”
He
heard the creak of a chair before he saw Miles lean into the meager light of
the lantern by the back door. “Normally, I’d just leave you alone, but I have
some business to discuss.”
Crossing
his arm over his opposite shoulder, he held the top of his pack while he slid
the contraption off his other arm. He’d brought the whole pack safely to town
from his homestead and having his morning solitude interrupted wasn’t going to
play havoc on his nerves. He set the pack down on the edge of the porch and
unbuckled the straps. “Sounds all right to me,” he grudgingly admitted. “It is
your porch, so you could stand out here whether you wanted to talk or not, but
before we talk about anything else, I’ve got three dozen eggs here.”
The
sky was lightening, taking on a yellowish tint, enabling him to see Miles’s
smile as he leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees. “That's good. We
can certainly use them.”
“Got
a full house?” Livingstone winced in the shadows. It helped to keep his
distance when he didn't ask questions.
But
rather than uncomfortable, Miles’s voice was warm, as if he was pleased at the
inquiry. “Very nearly. We’re expecting more on the train, spaced over the next
few days. So we could use more eggs. Maybe another dozen at least for the next
few weeks. That is,” he gave a little self-conscious cough, “if you've enough
to spare.”
Livingstone
had plenty of eggs, thanks to a good-sized flock and a rooster that seemingly
appeared out of the blue sky.
He'd
already made his decision, but it took a bit to squeeze out the words. “Same
price for each dozen?”
“Sounds
fair to me,” Miles agreed.
“I
can bring another dozen when I come. Monday and Friday?”
“Just
like clockwork,” Miles added.
Livingstone
looked at the tree at the corner of the building, behind the windowless back
wall of the bank. “You left the money in the tree already?”
Miles
followed his gaze. “Yep, tucked into the knot like before.” His tone was
cautious, like he didn't want to startle him and Livingstone both appreciated
it and regretted it. He didn't want to be treated with kid gloves.
“All
right, then.” He finished stacking the full half-crates of eggs on the porch
and took the empties from the last deliver and stacked them up onto the base of
his pack, setting the last full half-crate on the top. “I’ll bring you the
extra dozen with each delivery.”
“Thank
you, Carolina will be happy to heard it,” Miles added. “I don’t think it’ll
make much of a difference to you, but we’ve heard talk about a bunch of mail
order brides set to arrive in Bower. Don't be surprised if your quiet morning
walks into town take on a bit of disquiet in about a year.”
Livingstone
narrowed his gaze at his friend. “Women sure can talk,” he agreed, “but how
much noise can they make in the mornings?”
While
he couldn't see Miles’s exact expression, he could feel his good humor like a
strong wind. “Babies cry, my friend. They make a fair amount of noise
throughout the day, but mornings will likely be the worst.”
“I
have a rooster,” he reminded Miles. “I've learned to get up and on the trail
before he gets up.”
A
door inside opened and shut with a soft click, pulling Miles from his chair.
“That would be my cue,” he explained. “I've got some work waiting for me
inside.” Livingstone didn't move while Miles made his way to the door.
Miles
pulled the screen door open and closed it again, turning back to his friend. “If
the mood ever strikes you, we’d like to have you stay one of these mornings and
have a meal with us.”
Livingstone’s
instinct was to hesitate. “I-”
“We've
a good group of folks staying with us. Most just keep to themselves,” he added,
trying to keep his tone light. Livingstone heard the effort in his tone. “And
we have a young woman coming in on the train today.”
Livingstone
narrowed his eyes. “Traveling alone?”
The
businessman nodded and then shook his head, seemingly confused. “She's coming
in on the train, one of those mail order brides. Appleton Winslet arranged to
have a room for her for the week.”
Livingstone’s
mouth pinched at the corners. “The lawyer?” He cringed at the thought. “Huh,
leave it to him to have a fancy degree and order in for a woman.” He heard the sharp
tone in his own voice and huffed out a sigh, shaking his head. He felt the long
lengths of his hair sweep back and forth over his shoulders. “I'm sorry, Miles.”
Livingstone felt a knot in his middle. “That wasn't a polite thing to say.
While I don't know Mr. Winslet more than just a few words in passing, he’s
never done anything to me personally.”
It
took a moment for Miles to answer back. “I know what you mean, but from what
I've seen, he's a real particular person and I just hope that the woman he has coming
finds him… amiable.”
Livingstone
smiled and felt the coming warmth of the sun starting to play on his skin.
“That sounds like a good way to say it. Amiable. Well,” he grunted, hefting the
pack on one shoulder, “I'd better get going. Got to drop off some eggs for the
Pastor and get on home ‘fore too many folks find their way on the street.”
Miles
gave him a half wave and disappeared inside.
Livingstone
shook his head and let out a puff of air. “Looks like I’ll have to steer real
clear of Bower if it's going to fill up with women and children.”
#
When
Brigid Belham stepped onto the platform at Bower, she willed her hands to stop
shaking, but she had no chance of that particular dream becoming a reality. Her
nerves had a hold on her that was even stronger than her grip on her valise.
The handle, clutched in her grip, pinched her palms and while she struggled to
ease the pain in her hands, she was all too aware of the pain in her ribs and
waist. Her fashionable corset, the garment sworn to be the height of fashion by
the modiste back in Omaha had started
out to be such a great idea. But after more than a day locked in that tortuous
garment, rattling about in a smoky train car, she was regretting her desire to
appear fashionable and fulfill the wishes of her prospective spouse.
The
hustle and bustle of the train station quickly died down as she stood waiting.
There was over a score of men milling about, carrying or moving boxes, and
transacting their business. Hardly a one met her eyes for more than a second,
and if they did, it appeared to be a mistake or a curiosity and even then, no
one seemed to recognize her.
She
could blame that on the fact that her photo had been taken before her fine
wardrobe had been delivered. She’d settled for loosening her bun that day, and
wrestling a smile onto her lips that the photographer said looked quite
‘serene.’ It wasn’t anywhere near pretty or appealing, but it was enough to
give prospective matches a clear image of her.
The
platform cleared quickly, leaving the clerk and a handful of men who seemed to
be sweeping up. Brigid was ready to flag one of the men down to ask for
directions.
“Miss
Belham?”
With
a relieved sigh, she turned in the direction of the voice and stopped short.
The man approaching her didn’t bear any resemblance to the man in the photo she
had received. Before she could release the handle of her bag and fish out the
studio image, the man whisked off his hat and held out his hand.
“So
sorry to be late, Miss. I’m Miles Hampton from Hampton House.”
Her
shoulders sagged in relief. He was from the boarding house where she would be
staying while she had the opportunity to become acquainted with Appleton. It
wasn’t necessarily how these pairings worked, but she was glad of the time to
acclimate herself with her husband before the ceremony. It showed a certain
amount of consideration for their unique relationship. “Hello, Mr. Hampton. I
wasn’t expecting you.”
He
bobbed his head in response. “Mr. Winslet asked me to meet you and see you
settled in the boarding house. I believe he plans to be over at the end of his
work day.”
She
held back her disappointment, settling a quiet expression on her face. “I
understand. Thank you.”
Responding
with a ready smile of his own, the gentleman set his hat back on his head,
covering the balding pate. “It’s been quite a change in Bower, balancing out
the numbers of men will take some doing, but it seems like we’ve made a good
start.” With a quick signal to one of the men and a coin tossed in his
direction, Mr. Hampton paid for the men to hold her trunk. “George will keep an
eye on your trunk until I can come back for it.” He held out a hand to Brigid
to take her valise.
She
gave it up gladly and noticed that he didn’t seem shocked by the weight. Still,
she apologized. “I can carry the bag, Mr. Hampton.”
He
shook his head and adjusted his hold on the bag. “Not a problem, Miss. I’m used
to carrying quite a bit around the house.”
She
smiled and stepped off the platform beside him. “It must be interesting as
well, meeting people who come from different places.”
Mr.
Hampton turned slightly to give her a smile. “That is part of what we enjoy
about running a boarding house.”
Brigid
lifted the hem of her skirt and stepped over a curious looking puddle that made
her shudder. When she looked back up she saw the boarding house owner giving
her a curious look, looking from her eyes to the top of her hat, which due to
her uncommon height was a few good inches over his head.
When
he saw her look back he coughed, uncomfortable. “Excuse me, Miss.”
She
waved off his concern. “No need to apologize, most people just stare openly
when they meet me.”
His
face went ruddy with color. “I am sorry,” he explained, “I’m not used to seeing
a woman of your height.”
Brigid
lifted her hand and placed it against her neck, an unconscious gesture that
always puzzled her. “One of my teachers showed me a drawn image of an animal in
Africa,” she explained, “he called it a giraffe. The children agreed with him
and the name stuck. The day before I left Omaha,” she let out a shaking breath,
“I saw one of my former classmates. She felt it was so very humorous to remind
me of the name. Everyone within earshot heard her, and the rest of the people
in the street heard her laughter after that.”
Beside
her, Mr. Hampton paled and lowered his eyes. “I hope I didn’t make you feel
uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention.”
Brigid
touched him on the arm to draw his attention.
“Mr.
Hampton, please, don’t worry about me. It’s been a long time since that moment,
and I hope that I’ve developed a thicker skin. You weren’t mean, just stating
facts. I appreciate your straight-forward manner.”
His
smile broadened as he adjusted his hold on her bag. “You’re going to fit right
in at Hampton House, Miss Belham. You remind me quite a bit of my wife, Carolina.
I believe the two of you will get along quite well.”
Brigid
crossed her hands over her heart, ignoring the slight twinge of pain from her
ribs under her corset. “I hope so, Mr. Hampton. I truly hope so.”
#
From
the corner, they walked along Front Street, keeping to the side to avoid the
street traffic. It wasn’t nearly the normal hustle and bustle that she was used
to at home, but things here moved at their own pace. A rider trotted down the
street and Brigid took an unconscious step closer to the side. Mr. Hampton
reached out a hand and took hold of her arm above her elbow.
“Is
something amiss?”
She
heard the concern in his voice and felt her cheeks flare with color.
Straightening herself away from him, she swallowed and lifted her hand in a wan
gesture. “Animals,” she explained, “I don't really feel all that comfortable
around animals.” She continued down the street beside him taking quick looks at
him sideways. “That must sound horribly silly to you.”
Swinging
open the side gate of the property, Mr. Hampton tried to hide his grin with the
position of his head. “Well, Bower does have its share of animals.”
Brigid
tripped slightly, making a little skip in her step as she tried to find her
footing. The pinch in her side grew as she followed after her host. “Even here
in town?”
They
made their way around the smaller annex and stopped before the front door of
the residence, a friendly smile on his face. “Well, the town is likely to grow
quickly now that we have more women and soon more children. But,” he paused for
a moment as if he was considering his words, “we’re still bordered by the
wilderness and animals are a part of that. Don't worry too much.” He shifted
her bag to one hand. Reaching and for the doorknob and easily swung the door
open. He gestured for her to proceed him inside. “The wild animals we tend to
see in town are smaller than your bag.”
Brigid
froze just inside the door, shock written across her features. “They’re that
big?”
A
soft laugh turned Brigid’s head.
“And
that,” Mr. Hampton announced in a warm tone, “would be my lovely wife, Carolina.”
The
woman that emerged from the hall finished wiping her hands on her apron.
Turning the fabric loose she moved closer. Giving Brigid a bright smile, she
held her hand out in a warm greeting. “You must be Miss Belham.” Brigid gladly
took the woman’s hand and was pleased to find her hand held in a firm grip.
“Pleased that you're here.” She gave her husband a thoughtful look. “I finished
cleaning the room at the top of the stairs. Go ahead and put Miss Belham’s
things in there.”
Mr.
Hampton gave his wife a mischievous smile. “And what pray tell, will you and
Miss Belham be doing while I'm breaking my back with her things?”
Brigid
froze for a moment, her eyes focusing on his face, struggling for something to
say, an apology of sorts.
Carolina
touched Brigid's arm with one hand and waved the other at her husband. “Don't
listen to him,” Carolina sighed, “he's just hinting at all the work I make him
do because he thinks I’ll let him have a piece of cake after supper.” She drew
in a breath. “Which he may still get if he stops grumping around and gets your
things up to your room.” She turned back to Brigid with a soft conspirational
tone. “I will show you where you can freshen up a bit. Then we’ll get in
trouble before he returns with your trunk.”
Giving
his wife an indulgent smile, Mr. Hampton started up the stairs.
“Now,
you'll come along with me, my dear. By supper I’ll know everything there is to
know about you and we’ll be fast friends.”
Brigid
followed along, swept up with the other woman’s gentle enthusiasm. She felt
some of the knots in her stomach begin to unravel and she felt her own hopeful
nature rising amidst the uncertainty that had held her in its grips since her
father’s surprise engagement.
