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

“My mother passed on when I was a baby. And I was only two when my father died.”

“You were still just a baby,” Violet said. “Your brother raised you?”

She nodded. “We had Mrs. Gable to take care of us until a few months ago. Her sister got sick, and she went to take care of her family.”

“Was this her room?”

“No, she stayed downstairs. Ben Charles said this room hasn’t been used much at all. He painted the ceiling and had the wallpaper replaced.”

Violet took out several books and a few framed pictures she’d wrapped in clothing.

“Are those of your family?”

“I don’t have any likenesses of my parents. These are pictures of horses I saved from magazines. I’d like to hang them on the wall if you don’t think your brother would mind.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Once Violet had set down the frames, Tessa looked at the pictures. “You’re fond of horses?”

Violet nodded. “They’re incredible animals.”

“There are several in the stable.” Tessa stepped to the window. “There are two in the corral now.”

Violet joined her and held back the curtain to gaze out at the horses. “Both are black.”

“They’re all black. Ben Charles says they look smart pulling the hearse.”

Violet let go of the curtain.

“Surely after your trip you’re ready for a bath. I’ll go check on the hot water and fill the tub,” Tessa said.

* * *

The best part of her bath was warming her feet. Violet could have stayed in the tub the rest of the day, but the water cooled and she finished bathing. Less than an hour later she let her hair dry by the fire before dressing and making her way to the kitchen. She carried her stack of white aprons, in hopes of finding a convenient place to store them.

Though the house was forty years old, the kitchen held the original charm, but boasted an icebox and two electric pendant lights hanging from the ceiling. Violet tested one by turning the key above the bulb. Incandescent light filled the room. In the town where she’d come from, only stores had used electric lighting.

Turning, she discovered a stove she’d seen only in the Montgomery Ward & Co. catalog. With shiny chrome edges and ornate trim, the range was conveniently waist high with a reservoir in the back and a narrow shelf above. She hoped it wasn’t fueled by gas. She’d read about those and the idea didn’t sit well. Hesitantly she checked behind, to her relief seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She had enough new things to learn. On closer inspection she found ashes inside and a supply of evenly cut wood in a cubby on the brick wall. The supply could be stocked from a small door on the outside.

Through a long window she surveyed the tidy dooryard, spotting no garden or any type of animal. After familiarizing herself with cupboards and the pantry, she made a list. In one cupboard she discovered a row of shapely narrow bottles filled with dark liquid, and recognized the cola drink from magazine advertisements.

“A refreshment is in order after your journey.”

She turned at Ben Charles’s voice. He wore dark trousers, with galluses crossing his shoulders over a white shirt. His hair looked as though he’d run his fingers through it in lieu of a comb. He seemed more approachable this way, less severe. She had an inappropriate urge to reach up and push a lock of hair from his forehead. Her fingers tingled, so she clasped her hands. “Perhaps a cup of tea,” she answered.

“Tea if you prefer. Or you might join me in a glass of cola?”

She wanted to taste the drink. “Yes, thank you.”

“Grab a couple of glasses.” He took a pick and mallet from atop the icebox, opened the insulated door and knelt to chip ice.

Violet brought him a bowl, and studied his wide flexing shoulders as he filled the bowl with ice slivers, then stood and filled both glasses. He’d lifted her crates as though they were light as a feather, which she knew they weren’t. With a bottle opener he took from a nail inside a cupboard door, he removed the metal caps. The hissing sound surprised her as much as the mist that rose from inside the bottles.

Ben Charles filled both glasses halfway and foam rose on the surfaces of the liquid. After waiting a moment he filled them the rest of the way and handed her a glass.

She met his gray-green gaze for a moment, before taking the drink. Her fingertips brushed his, warm against the cold glass.

The bubbles tickled her nose before she could get her lips to edge of the glass. Startled, she drew back.

Her employer lifted his glass and took a long swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing above the collar of his white shirt.

Violet took a dainty sip, blinked at the carbonation and then drank a swallow. The overpowering bite and syrupy sweetness took her by surprise. Her eyes watered. “Oh, my.”

Ben Charles grinned, his full mouth inching into a smile that revealed his teeth and an appealing dimple in his cheek. “Is this your first cola?”

“You must think me very unsophisticated.”

“Your reaction is charming.” He nodded toward the pantry. “Did you find the supplies adequate?”

“I’ll need a few things, but for the most part the pantry is well stocked.”

“Good. The iceman comes by every other day, and the dairy truck stops early each morning. Set the empty bottles outside the back door the night before. When you need wood replenished, leave Henry a message on the chalkboard.”

Violet noted the wood-framed chalkboard near the door. “Everything seems quite efficient.”

“Things run smoothly when they’re organized. Having you here is going to take a big load from my shoulders. I’m not much of a cook.” He finished his drink. “Can you manage supper with what’s here?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll shop tomorrow. I was wondering...”

“What were you wondering?”

“If it might be possible to keep a few chickens.”

He appeared to think for only a moment. “I don’t see why not. If you want to take care of them.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I need eggs to make good coffee.”

He looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Coffee?”

“Äggkaffe,” she explained. “I learned from my Swedish father how to make coffee.”

“All right. As weather permits I’ll see about constructing a coop out of the wind.”

“What time would you prefer to have your supper?” she asked.

“We’re used to eating at six.”

She gave a nod to confirm. “Six it shall be.”

“I’ll leave you to your work,” he said. “If you need anything, Tessa is no doubt still upstairs reading and I’ll be right next door.” He set his glass in the basin, and pointed to a door she’d assumed led to a cellar. “Through there.”