Heart of Eden (Colorado Hearts #1)
Caroline Fyffe
CHAPTER ONE
Eden, Colorado, 1880
From atop a small rise, Blake Harding sat on his horse as he surveyed the north pasture of the Five Sisters Ranch. Large, puffy clouds hung motionless in the indigo sky. If not for the movement of the bald eagle that had appeared from the west, he’d think he was looking at a painting. A crisp breeze ruffled Banjo’s mane, and all seemed right with the world.
Everything here and now, anyway.
Blake sighed and relaxed his tense shoulders, letting a hard-earned peace push back the agitation that was never far from his mind. He missed John. For the last eighteen years, his boss had been so much more than his mentor—he’d taken the place of the parents he didn’t remember and the brother he’d lost in the Civil War. John Brinkman had been Blake’s whole family wrapped up in one honorable man.
From his position on the rise, he spotted Trevor Hill cutting through the herd. The cowboy’s lips moved slowly as he spoke to the cattle in an effort not to rile them as they grazed. At the base of the slope, he waved and then loped to the top of the knoll.
“Trevor, what brings you out this way?” Blake called once the ranch hand was within hearing distance. Trevor had worked for the Five Sisters for three years. “Thought you were in Eden today, picking up supplies.”
“Was, boss, but came back as soon as Henry gave me this.” He held out a folded note.
So it’s actually going to happen.
Still not used to the men calling him “boss,” Blake took the paper. Henry had sent a telegram two days ago. Upon hearing of their father’s death, John’s daughters had apparently responded right away. Imagine that. He opened the note and scanned the missive, anger twisting his gut. There was only one thing worse than having to contend with John dying—that would be confronting his five selfish, self-centered daughters. Blake stared at the words in front of his face. Well, miracles do happen. The Brinkman sisters would be arriving within the month, after all the years John’s pleas had fallen upon deaf ears. He fisted the note in his hand.
“Boss . . . ?” Trevor said, a bit cautiously. “They comin’ to Eden?”
“Yeah, they are. Too bad it took John dying to get the deed done.”
“Why now, do you think?” Trevor lifted his hat and scratched his head, then gazed lovingly up at the morning sun. “Seems a bit late.”
“Doesn’t take a genius to figure what they’re after.” He remembered two little girls, two toddlers, and one infant. The eldest, Mavis, had been almost five to his ten the last time he’d seen her.
“Money?”
“What else?”
CHAPTER TWO
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Belle Brinkman hurried down the sidewalk toward her older sister’s apartment holding the folds of her black mourning dress, lest she catch her toe and fall. The blustery wind pulled persistently at the ribbons that kept her headpiece from tumbling into the rain-soaked street. Lesley had surprised her with the gift last week, and she’d not let it spill into the mud.
She wrinkled her nose at the puddles, horse manure, and garbage that lined the road. Passing the slaughterhouse, she pinched her nose closed. How I despise this part of town. She’d begged Mavis not to move there when she and Darvid wed, one year ago last month. Unfortunately, both Mavis and her sister’s late husband earned little at the department store, where they worked in accounting. Compassion stirred in Belle’s chest for her sister’s plight. A month ago, Darvid had taken ill with pneumonia and died—but only after racking up a bill with the doctor to add to their other debts. Where will Mavis find the money to pay? As far as Belle knew, she had little put away for emergencies. The pittance Belle had wouldn’t go far to help.
Belle sighed, ashamed at how coldhearted she’d become. Instead of thinking of her brother-in-law, who was now gone to his just rewards, she was worried about money. The lack of money is the root of all evil.
Appalled at herself, she thought of her mother, dead for fifteen years. “I know, Mother, it’s the love of money that’s the root of all evil, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way at all. Scrimping by gets old.” Belle’s mother had been the kindest, most loving woman—at least that was what her six-year-old self remembered. Left orphans for all intents and purposes after her death, Belle and her sisters owed everything to Vernon and Velma Crowdaire, friends who took their mother in after she fled their unstable father and the untamed wilderness called Eden. Her mother’s death, three years after arriving at the Crowdaires’, had been a shock. The couple the girls now called “Aunt and Uncle” took them in permanently, providing room, board, and even the clothes on their backs.
Still, Vernon Crowdaire has no right to make us feel so indebted every second, Belle thought as her disgust for him surfaced. The way he flaunted his generosity like a badge of honor made them all feel like beggars. It’s not right.
Gathering her skirt again, Belle stepped over a wide puddle and then sidestepped a lump of refuse in her path. The bedroom she shared with her three younger sisters in the Crowdaire home was a bit less crowded since Mavis had married. And two years before that, their guardians had moved to a more upscale area of town as well, giving them a larger bedroom—but still just one. That was something. I should work on my charity. Not harbor such dislike for Vernon. Try to be more grateful. She knew she should, but she hadn’t after all these years.