The Tender Vine (Diamond of the Rockies #3)(25)

Alan and Carina discussed the restaurant and èmie’s plans to take Carina’s place. That was news to Quillan, and he tried to concentrate. He glanced across at Alex Makepeace and saw there the bitter resignation of a man who knows he’s lost. Makepeace met his gaze, and in that moment, Quillan understood Christ’s message. Wish no harm to any man. Return no evil. That was the way to inner peace.

Two hours passed as Alan and Carina talked with some minor interjections from Makepeace and Quillan himself. At last Quillan sensed Carina tiring. Even by the stove, the huge stable was not as warm as her cozy room. And as much as she might deny it, she still had healing to do. He touched her shoulder, and she turned, reading his concern.

She smiled. “My husband reminds me I’m not yet as strong as I was.”

“Go home, lass.” Alan took his pipe from his pocket. “I’ll have a smoke with Alex, then see about me dinner.”

Carina stood, and Quillan led her to the door, then took her once again into his arms. After leaving Carina to nap, Quillan made his way back down the street. He found Alex Makepeace leaving the livery. “Hold on a moment, Makepeace.”

Makepeace turned, a little gun-shy.

Quillan slipped the telegram from his pocket. “D.C. wants to sell.” He’d made no mention of it earlier with Alan and Carina.

Makepeace raised his brows. “Excellent. So we’ll complete the matter?”

“The sooner the better. And with as little noise as possible.” They walked together to the bank, where Alex produced the note drawn on Tabor’s bank and signed by his own hand.

Had Makepeace carried the note inside his vest to be ready or for safekeeping? It didn’t matter now. Their transaction was complete. They shook hands. Quillan said, “May it bring you good fortune.”

Makepeace’s grip was firm. “It already has.”

Quillan turned to go.

“Quillan.”

He turned back.

“Carina never faltered in devotion.”

Quillan studied his face, his earnest message gallantly spoken. “I didn’t think she had.” He headed home. It wouldn’t be home for long, though. Soon they’d be on their way. And now it was time to consider the one task that remained before they could leave Crystal. He turned back suddenly and called, “Makepeace.”

The man had gone some distance, but stopped. Quillan changed direction and met him on the corner. “What would it take to seal off the cave?”

Makepeace frowned. “The whole cave?”

Quillan shook his head. “Just Wolf ’s chamber.”

Makepeace rubbed his beard. He didn’t ask why. Anyone who’d seen the pictures would understand. And Carina may have told him more than necessary. Makepeace dropped his hand. “Could wall it off, but that might attract attention. Collapse it with giant powder . . .”

Quillan didn’t want it destroyed, just inaccessible. “What about rocks? Could we rock it off? Make it look like a natural slide?”

Makepeace shrugged. “Be a lot of work.”

Quillan nodded. “But possible?”

“Certainly, if we blasted from the outside and lowered the rock through the shaft.”

Quillan pictured it. The work would be hard and tedious. But he was up to it. “Will you arrange the materials—pulleys and whatnot?”

Makepeace nodded.

“I need to make one more trip before we close it up for good.”

“Just give the word.” Makepeace looked so solid, Quillan understood the comfort he’d been to Carina. Such unquestioning loyalty. Makepeace was a good man.

Now if Quillan could just find a way to get Carina to the mine. He went to Mae’s and used her ax to fell twin saplings with three-inch trunks. He cleared their branches and hacked off the skinny tops to form six-foot lengths of strong wood. With rope and a canvas tarp from his wagon he fashioned a litter. Then he tied a woolly cot pad over that. Suspend it between Jack and Jock . . . It could work.

He spent the next hour contriving a harness and trying the litter between his leaders. The twin geldings seemed confused to be pulling together without a wagon, and with something strange between them. But they grew accustomed quickly enough.

He disconnected the litter and stored it in Jack’s stall. Then he left without waking Alan from his nap. Carina was not in her room when he returned. Quillan found her directing activity in Mae’s kitchen. She glanced up briefly, daring him to shoo her back to bed, but he didn’t. Already men were lined up outside the door, waiting for the first seating at Carina’s tables.

Quillan slouched onto the bench near Mae’s stove and watched her show Elizabeth how to make the little pasta pillows called ravioli. He hadn’t realized she was teaching the younger girls to cook. He’d only seen them clearing tables and washing dishes.

“Now we put them to bed.” Carina laid a sheet of dough over the mounds of filling placed at even intervals.

Quillan recalled the first time he’d seen her do that . . . and fallen under her spell.

“Then cut them with the biscuit cutter.” She pressed her hand over Elizabeth’s, encircling the cheese-and-spinach-stuffed mound and leaving a circular cut.

Quillan responded physically. What was it with Carina and food? She hadn’t just fed him but had tantalized him with new and exotic flavors. As she stepped back from the table to give Elizabeth room to pass by, he caught her hand, drew her into his lap.