Colorado Courtship: Winter of Dreams / The Rancher's Sweetheart

Still, it was an extravagant expense. “Well, then I thank you.”

“Have you made yourself familiar with the rest of the house?” he asked.

She tried not to react, but a growing fear in the back of her mind wouldn’t leave her alone. She’d fought the panic earlier, but she didn’t dare get any closer to the place where he worked. If he wanted her to clean the rooms in the mortuary, she might have to leave.

Had she seen the entire house? “Not yet.”

“You’ve barely had time to get settled. Maybe tomorrow you’ll look around. We don’t get the place dirty, so a little dusting is all that’s needed most of the time. Tessa takes care of her own room, but I would appreciate it if you dusted mine and changed sheets on the beds. You may send out bedding and clothing to be laundered. And, Violet?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Please make yourself at home. Use any room you care to and help yourself to the books. There is sufficient lighting in the parlor if you do needlework.”

“Thank you, but...Mr. Hammond?”

He nodded to show he was listening.

Wind buffeted the panes of glass in the long window.

She took a deep breath. “Do my duties extend to cleaning next door at—at—where you work?”

“Goodness, no. Someone from town comes once a week to clean the mortuary—more often if we’re especially busy. I should have thought to tell you that. I wasn’t thinking.”

Relief washed over her at his reply. Once he’d said good-night and gone upstairs, she poured herself a pitcher of warm water and turned down the wick until the oil lamp snuffed out. She felt as though she’d escaped the guillotine. She didn’t think there was enough money in the Carson Springs bank to get her to clean the funeral home.

When she reached the upstairs hallway, she paused before the door to her room. Voices came from the other end, where the library was, as brother and sister conversed pleasantly. She listened for a moment, not eavesdropping, but learning about their family. Ben Charles chuckled, and the deep sound resonated to where she stood, creating an empty ache in her chest.

She admired what they shared. She mourned for the loss of family. They had lost parents, too, but they had each other. Something she would never know. She let herself into her room and turned on the light using the wall switch. Lamps on either side of the door lit the room.

She admired the relationship between Ben Charles and Tessa. Other siblings she’d observed had been young and squabbled most of the time. Perhaps the difference in their ages made a difference. Surely him taking on the responsibility of raising her had changed everything. Ben Charles was devoted to his young sister. Violet thought of how they held hands as he prayed for their meals. Tessa spoke of him with pride and honor, as she would a beloved father. She looked at him with love and respect in every glance. Theirs was an enviable relationship.

Violet may not have had anything comparable in her life, but she had other things to appreciate. Her employer and his sister were kind and gracious. It seemed this job was hers for as long as she wanted it. Her room was cozy and felt like home already. And she didn’t have to dust the dark side.

She felt bad for thinking of it like that, but when she thought of what Ben Charles did next door, her attitude darkened and her imagination ran amok. His occupation obviously provided a luxurious home and many comforts for his sister and employees—and he seemed to genuinely enjoy what he did.

That didn’t mean she would ever be comfortable with his profession or the mortuary next door, but it didn’t look as though he was going to force a closer proximity on her. She was happy right here, and she had no intention of getting any closer.

As long as the situation remained as it was, she was going to do just fine.

Chapter Four

Violet didn’t want to disappoint her employer, who plainly took for granted she’d be going to church. She had no idea how to decide which one to attend, so if a man like Ben Charles attended the Carson Springs First Christian Church, she figured it must be all right. She wore the dress she’d traveled in, because it was the newest, and she took special care with her hair. She had saved a tiny hat that had belonged to her mother, so she pulled it from its box and adjusted it on her hair, securing it with a long pin.

Violet studied her reflection in the mirror, trying to remember what her mother had looked like, wondering if she resembled her. She had only a few mementos and had been fearful she’d never see them again, after her unexpected flight from Ohio.

Her belongings had been stored, awaiting her arrival, when she’d used the name Wade Finney had given her to claim them. While she was still angry and resentful, she was thankful for that small favor. The fistful of money he’d thrust at her had been enough to pay for a room until she found a job, to buy a few pieces of clothing for travel and to send telegrams. Ben Charles had paid for her train tickets and wired her money for expenses to get here.

Already the fire seemed so long ago. She and her father had both grieved over selling the shop to the Finneys and now it had gone up in smoke. At least her father hadn’t lived to see the destruction. Violet got her coat and carried it downstairs.

She’d made biscuits the night before, so they each ate one with a cup of tea before heading out. It had snowed again during the night, and in a few places the snow had drifted over the road. More than once Ben Charles took a shovel from the boot and made a path for the horse. The main street through Carson Springs had been cleared, making the rest of the trip less difficult.

Ben Charles removed his hat as they entered the church, and his hair was damp from exertion. He took a handkerchief from inside his jacket and wiped his forehead, then hung their coats in a cloakroom before coming back and escorting them into the sanctuary.

A few older men spoke to Ben Charles as they made their way forward. About halfway toward the front of the narrow building, he stepped aside and ushered them into a row of pews, Tessa leading the way. Violet sat between brother and sister and studied her surroundings.

Sun shone through the stained-glass windows on one wall and reflected color across the polished pews as well as the heads and shoulders of the people seated in the front rows. The scenes depicted were robed men and women, what she recognized as shepherds, the nativity, the crucifixion. As she looked at each one, she realized there was an order, beginning with the ten commandments, but she didn’t know what the loaves of bread or the men on the fishing boat stood for.

The first strains of organ music caught her attention and she straightened to see who was playing the lovely music.

Glancing aside, she caught Ben Charles watching her. Warmth crept up her cheeks.

“Is this different from where you attended church?” he asked.

“Very different.” She attempted to look away and let the subject drop, but the lie of omission wouldn’t let her keep silent. She looked up into his kind and compassionate eyes. “To be honest, I’ve never been to church before.”

His surprise was evident in his expression. “I hope you enjoy it. If you have any questions, I’ll be glad to answer them afterward.”

She nodded and averted her gaze just as two rows of burgundy-robed men and women filed in from a side door and stood behind the podium.

The preacher joined them before the seated congregation. “Shall we all rise?”

He prayed, but not as conversationally as Ben Charles did. When he’d finished, he sat and the choir led the congregation in songs. It was obvious Ben Charles and Tessa had sung them many times, because they barely looked at the music book the three of them shared, but Violet followed along with the words.

Ben Charles’s nearness beside her as they sang unnerved her. He had a pleasant singing voice, and the barely discernible scents of his woodsy soap and shaving cream pleased her senses. She tried not to be distracted by his hand holding the book or his arm brushing her shoulder, but it was impossible. He was larger than life and because of that his presence took up more space and air than the average person.

The preacher talked about Moses, and Ben Charles turned to the story in the front of his Bible. He held it so Violet could see, too. She listened with fascination as the man spoke of the pharaoh who kept the Israelites in bondage to his will, and how God called on Moses to lead the people to freedom. The man had a gift for storytelling, and Violet sat enthralled as he related how the pharaoh’s chariots chased the Israelites and the sea parted to let them escape, then closed behind them, swallowing up the enemies in pursuit.

Occasionally she looked at Ben Charles’s Bible to see that the preacher was indeed relating the story as it unfolded there.

After another song the service ended. A few neighbors introduced themselves to Violet, and Ben Charles introduced her to the preacher, whom he called Reverend Densmore.

“You’re welcome to join us for lunch,” Ben Charles told Violet as they made their way through the path in the snow to the carriage. “But remember it’s your day off, and you may do anything you please.”

She didn’t know anyone else yet, and she had no idea where she’d go, except back to the house alone. “I’d like to join you. Thank you for the invitation.”

The dining room of the Conrad Hotel was decorated in warm tones, and a blazing fire burned in a huge stone fireplace. Sounds of glasses and silverware were muted by the massive beams overhead and velvet swag draperies tied back with gold cords.

A waiter brought them menus and Violet studied the meals listed and the prices.

“The roast chicken is always good,” Tessa told her. “And the pot roast is tender. It’s served with potatoes and carrots in a delicious gravy.”

“What do you like?” she asked Ben Charles.

“I almost always get a steak or the trout. And their cook does something special with the fried potatoes that makes them crispy.”

When the waiter returned she ordered the trout. They were served steaming bowls of dark onion soup while they waited for their meals.

“Was that story true?” she asked Ben Charles. “About Moses and the pharaoh?”