Welcome To Wyoming

His penetrating eyes flashed. “Very simple, yet very elegant.”

The heated manner in which he said it made her feel as though he was appraising her, not her jewelry. Either way, she was flattered. His opinion meant a lot, since he was such a fine and experienced jeweler. He didn’t wear much jewelry himself, besides the handsome silver buckle on his belt that was engraved with his initials, J. L., and encrusted with studs. Most men did not wear a lot of jewelry, but she truly enjoyed seeing the occasional lapel pin or watch fob on a well-suited man.

“Ready to go?” he asked. “I thought we might take a stroll and have breakfast outside in one of the cafés. The food’s not fancy, but the sightseeing is grand.”

She was relieved to take the focus from herself and happy to explore the town.

She took her white shawl and exited the room. He tugged the door closed for her, and she turned to lock it with her key. Their fingers brushed accidentally. Her belly rippled with sensations, but he removed his hand so quickly from hers that she felt the space between them rather cold. When she turned around and placed the key in her beaded handbag, he was already standing several feet away.

Oh.

Such an abrupt parting.

He seemed more relaxed when they got outdoors. He smiled at her and motioned her to pass first along the crowded boardwalk and shops, all with the good manners of a schoolboy.

This man was no schoolboy.

She swallowed hard at the glint of metal in his eyes. There was something hardened in him, something she feared might be impenetrable.

Valentina from the boardinghouse popped into Natasha’s head, reminding her to ask about his mother.

“Jarrod, I—I was wondering if you might tell me more about your family. I realize your parents passed away when you were rather young. Six, right?”

He nodded, his expression remaining hard. “Barn fire.”

“I’m awfully sorry. Do you recall anything about your mother?”

He shook his head.

Nothing? Six was old enough to have some memories, wasn’t it? Valentina wouldn’t want Natasha to give up on the line of questioning. “How about your grandmother? What was she like?”

“A nice lady.” Jarrod ushered her through a crowd of people coming at them at the boardwalk, then changed the subject. “That’s an unusual clasp in your hair.”

The signs were not good. He wasn’t letting her into his world.

“Something my grandfather gave me,” Natasha answered sadly due to Jarrod’s refusal to confide in her. “My most valuable piece, actually.” The stones were modest in size, but beautifully set, and she recalled how delighted her granddad had been when he’d presented it to her. “It contains four precious stones, set in eighteen-karat gold from the new mines in California. The brooch means the world to me, not because of its monetary value but its meaning.”

“Of course. The gems are arranged in a secret code to spell out a message from your granddad to you.”

My, she thought as he continued to elaborate, Jarrod Ledbetter was very keen to notice details, wasn’t he? She tried to understand that it might take some time for him to open up about his family. His mother’s passing must’ve been tragic for him.

That’s all it is, Valentina.

Jarrod elaborated on the one topic he seemed quite pleased to pursue. “The first letter of each gemstone spells out the word DEAR. There’s a diamond, emerald, amethyst and ruby.”

“He was sentimental,” she explained. “An excellent goldsmith and gem setter. He made it himself.”

Many people from many different countries used gemstones to spell out words in their jewelry. It was a common practice, and if the message was written in a different language, extremely difficult to decipher.

“I once repaired a ring that I secretly deciphered,” she recalled. “It spelled out FOREVER. And a lapel pin that spelled APOLOGY.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Did you share the information with the owners?”

She shook her head. “That would have been indiscreet. They more than likely already knew the messages, and I was simply the hired help.”

“Ah, the ethics of jewelry repair. You must keep your eyes and ears closed to the secrets of others.”

He was teasing her. A rush of excitement coursed through her at the possibility of what the day might bring.

It was interesting to discuss jewelry with him. She had always been thrilled in learning and practicing what she’d learned with her grandfather. Intimate messages and meanings in jewelry were also represented with symbols, not only spelled out with words. Shamrocks were symbols of luck, for instance, and mistletoe represented a desire for a kiss.

Jarrod strode beside her. It seemed that he was being very careful to leave several inches between them as they walked. She could understand his desire to be a gentleman, but she wouldn’t be put off if he were a bit bolder. She might not be very experienced about what exactly would happen on the wedding night, but she did yearn for a display of affection, to be romanced.

The August sky was clear and sunny. The day was already warming, and the bustle of cattlemen and miners and shoppers enthralled her. There were so many different types of people here. Most were men, but occasional women passed by, too, dressed in various tastes ranging from simple country fashions to elegant coiffures and wealthy dresses.

Soldiers from nearby Fort Russell strode by, dressed in uniform and headed toward the livery stable across the street. A church sat nestled next to it, and a gambling hall next to that. What a mix of affluence and attitude.

Two men in shiny jackets and cravats mused at a jewelry-store window. She glanced at the gold chains that draped across their ruffled shirts, the diamond lapel pins, the silver-tipped watch fobs, the ruby cuff links and golden rings. She’d never seen any men wear so much jewelry.

“Heavens,” she whispered in surprise, trying to fathom who these flashy men were.

“Gamblers,” Jarrod whispered back.

“Ah.” She glanced at the jewelry-store window as they passed. George’s Fine Gold, the swinging sign above them read. When she turned the corner, she realized there was an entire row of jewelry shops on this street.

“Oh, my.” Such wealth.

Close by, near the Union Pacific Railroad Depot, where she’d arrived yesterday, tents were slapped up with makeshift bakeries, coffeehouses and cafés. There were market stalls of all sorts of merchandise being sold from coffeepots to snowshoes to hammers and mining equipment. One man specialized in ropes, and all sorts of these fibers, in various thicknesses and colors, dangled from the top of his awnings.

What interested her most were the jewelry stores ahead of her.

“How on earth do you compete, Jarrod, with all these shops?”

He had a ready answer. “My stores have been around longer than most and I’ve got established customers. I give them expertise in the field. Honesty and value in transactions. Half of these shops are nothing but fronts for dishonest thieves.”

She frowned in surprise and scrutinized the customers going in and out. Many were what seemed like hardworking folks dressed in everyday work clothes, some were travelers with luggage, others were more wealthy folks dressed in finer clothes. It was disappointing to know that some of them were being hustled and cheated.

“There’s a nice café around the corner, but if you’re appetite’s not burning yet, I thought we could investigate one of the larger shops.”

“I’d like that.” She was curious to see how the shops and the jewelry compared with Chicago’s.

“After you,” he said, flagging her into the wide storefront ahead. The sign read Wyoming Jewelry Exchange. “It’s the busiest exchange in the territory.”