Little Red: An Everland Ever After Tale (7 page)

She smiled. Just slightly, just enough that he figured she thought he couldn’t see it, like she was remembering something special. “But he and I… we liked each other. He told me once it was because of my curiosity. He even tried to teach me the business, but I was too impatient.” Hank nodded slightly.
Ain’t that the truth?
“So he taught Micah instead, and while he learned shoemaking,
Abuelo
just let me sit there and listen and ask questions and be myself. It was…” This time her smile was a little sad. “It was nice.”

Despite being orphaned and abandoned in the middle of nowhere, it sounded like Red had ended up with a pretty good life after all. This couple had not just taken care of her; sounded like she had some real nice memories of them too. “Alright.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, tucking them under the bench across the way, and folded his arms. “So your grandfather liked you a lot. And then… what? He died? Did he have a will?”

“I’ve been in school in Salt Lake City for the last three years. I don’t like being away from home—I’ve lived in Everland since I was ten—but I wanted to learn.” She turned back to him, and her voice slipped into a sort of sing-songy cadence like she was telling a story, or teaching him something. “When the other girls were all dreaming about getting married and starting families,
Abuela
said that I had an incurable curiosity about the world.”

He snorted, agreeing with her grandmother. Her impatience and imagination was what got her into this mess to begin with, but he couldn’t be angry; otherwise, he wouldn’t have met her. She was rash and impatient, sure; any woman who curled up next to a man she’d just met, who let him kiss her, had to be. But she was also smart and sweet and damned intriguing.

Unconsciously—it seemed to him, at least— she tucked one foot up on the seat, wrapping her gloved hands around her knee. He’d never seen a woman so at ease with herself—with him—that she’d sit like that in public. It was… refreshing.
She
was refreshing.

“So, somehow,
Abuelo
scraped together enough money to send me off to school. He made no secret of the fact that if I was going to school, I had to come back home full of knowledge and teach the younger kids. There are still six left with
Abuela
right now, not counting Micah, and I want nothing more than to help her take care of them, the way she did me.” Hank was only listening with one ear now; he was still stuck on the “somehow” and “scraped”. Did this orphanage have less money than he’d assumed?

Red rested her chin on her knee. “Then, last winter,
Abuelo
sent me a package. In it was this cape. He said that he’d gotten it as payment from one of his customers, and it was too fine for Everland. It was perfect for the city, and made me feel… elegant.” She sighed, and Hank shifted so that he could eye her fancy cloak, covering her worn dress. If her family—or whatever the orphanage could be called—didn’t have money, then her plain gray dress would make sense. So would her attachment to that ridiculous cloak.

He was beginning to suspect that she’d been lying about the hundred bucks, and wasn’t sure what to think. He hadn’t even intended to take her to Everland, so he hadn’t expected to be paid. And when he’d made the decision to take her after all, to protect her from
El Lobo
, he sure as shootin’ hadn’t been thinking about the money. But was he going to find out that it’d been a lie?

So maybe he sounded a little surlier that usual when he asked, “What does this have to do with the will?”

“A week after I got the package with the cloak, I got a letter.
Abuelo
said that the cloak had a secret; it was made to conceal.” She tucked her foot under her leg and lowered her knee, and fiddled with the hem of the cloak. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked up into his eyes, and he felt like she’d made a decision. Like he’d passed a test. “His most recent will—one that the Mayor himself helped draft—was sewn into the hem of the cloak where no one could find it.”

She paused expectantly, as if waiting for him to react, and he nodded, glad that she’d trusted him enough to tell him. She smiled, and
hell
. He could make her smile like that just by acknowledging her trust? He felt like a heel for not giving her more reason to trust him. To smile.

“Did you read it?”

“Yes. And then I put it in oilskin and sewed it back in.” Her fingers brushed against the fabric, finding one spot in the hem that looked thicker than the others. “He left the orphanage to his wife, as he’d always said he would, and the shoemaking-shop to Micah. But when
Abuela
is gone, the orphanage and half of the property… it’ll come to me. It was a surprise, but once I thought about it, I was at peace with their decision. He knew that I was devoted to their work, just like Micah is. But honestly, I didn’t think anything of it until
Abuelo
passed away this summer.” She looked down. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, but I wrote them every week. I know that he knew I loved him.”

Hank knew that he should comfort her, but he was too dang curious about the will. “And when you decided to go home, Lobo caught you on the train, and said… what?”

“No, I met him once in Salt Lake City—last month. He said he recognized the cloak, and wanted to talk to me about grandfather. It wasn’t until he started asking questions about the will that I felt uncomfortable and ran.” She looked away, and he wondered what she wasn’t telling him. “That’s when I began to save up for a train ticket home.”

A sick feeling of dread settled in his stomach, and he sat up, pinning her with a stare. “Did you… did you tell him that you’d read the will?”

She shrugged, and he could tell she didn’t understand. “I told him that
Abuela
had inherited everything, and Micah and me after her.”

“Shoot, Red. Now he knows that you’ve got it, and that you’ve read it, and
that’s
why he’s after you.”

“To marry me? But I haven’t inherited the orphanage yet.”

“But you will. It’s only a matter of time. And what do you want to bet that once he forces you to marry him, your grandmother and brother meet little
accidents
, leaving you the sole heir?” Her face paled so quick that he thought she might faint, and reached for her.

She brushed away his hand, taking deep steadying breaths. “You think he’d do that?”

“You know his reputation. You’re his key to getting his hands on your grandfather’s property.” He could hurt her or kill her, and no one would call him on it, if he was her husband. “No wonder he wants you.” It probably didn’t have anything to do with how dang kissable she looked, chewing on her bottom lip all concerned-like. Hank had to swallow down the memory of her sugar-cookie taste, and focus on her fear now.

But when she looked up at him like that, like he had all the answers and she needed him, Hank cursed under his breath. Pulling her roughly up against his side, he tried not to gloat at the way she cuddled into him, making him feel like her hero. “Don’t worry, honey.” His voice sounded gruff, even to his ears. “He’s not going to get you. You’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you.”

“Promise?” Her question was muffled in his coat, but Hank felt it all the way through his soul.

“Yeah, Red. I promise.” And as the train hurtled towards her home and safety, Hank knew that he’d keep that promise. And the best way to make sure that she was safe in Everland would be removing the threat to her—and her family’s—well-being. He’d have to kill
El Lobo
.

She was home! Everland looked exactly the way she remembered it. Bigger, of course, but that didn’t really matter. There might be more buildings, but they all had the same Cole and King look that she’d always loved about the town. The pair had teamed up years ago to improve all of the Everland Main Street buildings, and now every storefront included Rupert Cole’s distinctive curlicues and frets and Sam King’s bright colors and cheerful trim. The whole place always put her in mind of a fairy tale village.

She’d left a few years after the railroad spur had come through, and it had apparently done the town a world of good. There were new businesses, and the old ones were comfortingly familiar. There was Spratt’s Eatery, and the Gingerbread House that Micah and the other young men visited occasionally. And Pedlar’s Mercantile and—oh look! The church social was still going on! Unable to control her excitement, Rojita grabbed a hold of Hank’s hand, and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t pull away.

Standing on the station platform with him felt… right. It felt
right
to have him here, to be bringing him to see her home. She felt unreasonably nervous in a way that didn’t have anything to do with
El Lobo
or this morning’s confrontation, and had everything to do with the day she’d shared with a certain taciturn bounty hunter. The train ride had been lovely, just sharing memories and small talk and learning more about him. He’d teased her and she’d blushed, and they’d kissed again, not caring who was watching. For the first time in three years, she felt like she could really be herself, and didn’t have to worry about appearances or being careful. She really liked that about him; liked being around him. And she realized that, despite his teasing and his gruff demeanor, he liked her, too. That kiss had been a pretty good indication.

If there’d been any doubt that Hank Cutter was right for her, it had fled the moment his lips—deliciously scratchy from his short beard—had touched hers. She’d felt… like she was flying. And then, after, when he’d held her, she’d still been flying, only in an even better way. And to spend the rest of the train ride sitting beside him, tucked up into his warmth and his safety, had been flying too. And standing here, about to introduce him to her home… she was still flying.

“So this is Everland, huh?” Hank was holding her hand tightly, and shifted his grip on his saddlebags and rifle. Just having her beside him made this homecoming feel real. She wanted to point out everything to him, to show him around, to introduce him. That last part was going to be easy, with everyone still gathered after the afternoon service at St. Alice’s.

“Look, Hank!” She felt him squeeze her hand when she said his name, and that made her smile grow. “It’s Sunday!”

“Yeah?”

“So everyone’s still gathered at church, and I can introduce you!”

She thought she heard him mutter “Swell” under his breath, but she was distracted before she could respond. Was that—? A figure broke away from the few people mingling in the church yard, and headed towards them. It was! She began to pull Hank up Andersen Avenue, towards St. Alice’s.

“Max!” Sure enough, the dark head turned towards her, and the man’s face broke into a grin as he started towards them.

“Rojita! As I live and breathe!” She had to let go of Hank’s hand when Max DeVille swept her into a hug, but she laughed anyhow. Her friend had always been a charmer, and today was no different. Still, when he set her down and she moved back beside Hank, it was gratifying to feel his arm snake around her shoulders. Tucked up next to Hank’s side, she smiled at Max’s curious expression. “Welcome home, little one. Your family will be happy to see you.”

“Who’re you?” Hank’s abrupt question might be rude to someone who didn’t know him, but Max didn’t care. He just stuck his hand out.

“Max DeVille. My father owns a stretch of land outside of town, and I’ve known Rojita since she was…” He flicked his eyes towards her once. “Well, since she was a lot smaller.”

The joke earned a reluctant thawing from Hank, and he shook the other man’s hand. “Hard to believe she was smaller.” She hid her smile, not wanting them to realize how important it was to her that they be friends. “I’m Hank Cutter.”

“That’s an interesting name.”

Rojita had to defend him. “He’s an interesting man.”

Max took a step back, put his hands on his hips, and swept his gaze back and forth between them. “I think that I can see that. I wouldn’t mind hearing how you two met.”

Hank didn’t say anything, and Rojita knew that he was sizing up the other man, wondering how much he could reveal. She wanted to tell him that she trusted Max as much as she trusted her own family, but didn’t, because now wasn’t the time or the place. A gaggle of giggling women had spilled from the church to stand in the yard, and Rojita self-consciously straightened her spine.

There was Rose and Snow, and their mother Mrs. White. There were the Miller girls and Briar, and all of the young ladies who’d grown up with her and Mary and Marian. They looked fancier than she remembered. More grown up. She still looked—she glanced down at herself. Like Rojita Zapato, the little orphan who had only her grandmother in the whole world. Her shoes were scuffed, her dress was mended, and her hair absolutely never did what she wanted it to. The only thing as fancy as these girls was her pretty red cloak, and even that had been a barter from a stranger who her grandfather had never seen again.

Soon, she would see her
Abuela
again, and Hank would meet her, and he’d know. He’d know that she wasn’t wealthy, and couldn’t afford the money that she’d promised him. He’d know that she’d been lying to him, had tricked him into protecting her. And then…

What? He’d leave, right? That’s what he’d been planning on doing anyhow. That’s what she’d assumed would happen. But what if he didn’t? What if he was angry at her trick, and demanded the money, money they didn’t have?

She looked up at him, still making small talk with Max, and swallowed down her fear. There had to be something she had that he wanted. Judging from the way he’d kissed her—surely that kiss wasn’t because of the money?—there was something he wanted very much. And Rojita realized, at that moment, that she was willing to give it to him. Here was a man who’d risked himself for her, a man who made her irritated and happy and nervous and bubbly, whose touch filled her with butterflies and warmth. Oh yes, he was a special man, and he’d make it special for her, too.

She
did
have something that she could barter with, if it came to it.

“Rojita?” She didn’t recognize the voice, but she should have. Micah was older now, taller and broader and oh-so-handsome. He was grinning as he strode across the churchyard towards her, and she gaped. When had her little brother gotten so big? They’d written over the years—well, she’d written, and someone had read her letters to him—so she’d kept up with him and the younger kids, but it was still a shock to see him looking so… manly.

With a laugh, she threw herself into his arms and he swept her around in a circle. When he put her down, she patted his bicep once, twice, still marveling at how much he’d grown. “What are you doing back in town? Does
Abuela
know you’re here?
Dios mio
, Rojita, tell me that you wrote to her? She’ll have a conniption if you surprise her.”

Micah had always been a worrier—and had picked up
Abuelo’
s favorite exclamation, the same way Rojita had—but she was too happy to care right now. She was home! “Come meet my friend, the man who brought me home. He’s over—” She was turning to point out Hank standing stoically beside Max when a high-pitched squeal stopped her, and suddenly her arms were filled with children. There was Tom Tucker, and Mary Contrary, and good Heavens, was that little Jack Horner all grown up? The twins and Baby Blue hung back, until Mary called out her name again, and they remembered, and came for their hugs.

Rojita couldn’t remember feeling filled with more love, more contentment than at that moment, surrounded by the people she called family. As she met Hank’s eyes over Tom’s curls, the taste of his lips flashed through her memory, and she had to modify her realization. There’d been another moment, just this morning, that had been this special, too.

Boy, what a day.

The children were all clamoring for her attention, and she couldn’t answer them all nearly fast enough. Then she heard the voice that had meant so much to her as a child. “Rojita,
mi hija
! Welcome home.”

Abuela
stood at the edge of the churchyard, her arms outstretched, and Rojita shook off the children as fast as she could, in an effort to get to her. She looked… older. More worn, more slouched. Like the weight of the last years had pressed against her shoulders. But her smile was still the same, still welcoming. Still bright and shining and full of love for children who no one else wanted.

Their embrace lasted long enough for Rojita to forget where they were, to focus only on the musty scent of flour and beans and shoe-oil she hadn’t forgotten in her years away, while
Abuela
whispered welcoming nonsense in her own wonderful mixture of Spanish and English she’d learned over the years

After a long while, Rojita pulled back, her arms still around
Abuela
, and made sure that she saw her smile. “I’ve missed you,
Abuela.
I’ve missed you all. I’ve missed Everland.”

“It is good that you have come home.”
Abuela
clasped her hands to Rojita’s cheeks in a pose eerily similar to the way Hank had held her only that morning. Maybe something showed in her face, because the older woman frowned. “But you no write to tell you coming home? What is wrong,
mi hija
? Why you…”

“I’m happy to be here,
Abuela
, but it’s not for a good visit. I have to talk to you.”

“About Ernesto,
no
? I can see in your face.” Rojita nodded glumly, sorry to ruin their reunion with the news about
Abuelo’s
will. But her grandmother just sighed, and pulled her close for another hug. “I am still glad you come home.”

“Me too.” Pressed against the old woman’s shoulder, Rojita inhaled deeply and knew that she was where she needed to be. But she felt somehow… empty. Now that she was here, now that she was going to introduce
Abuela
to Hank, was she going to lose him?

“I think you have other news,
no
? You did not come all this way alone?”

Taking her grandmother’s frail hand in hers, Rojita pulled her towards the small group of men. Max and Micah took a few steps back to allow her to tug her grandmother closer. “
Abuela
, this is Hank Cutter. He saved my life, and then brought me home. He’s been protecting me.”

“And you care for him,
no
?”

She should’ve been embarrassed by the forthright question, especially with Hank standing right there looking like he wanted to know the answer too. But she wasn’t; she wanted him to know the truth. So she lifted her chin, looked him right in those creamy brown eyes, and spoke to her grandmother. “Yes.”

Something like surprise flickered across his face, but then it was gone, replaced by his usual stoic expression. He didn’t fool
Abuela
, though. She shuffled forward—still using the cane
Abuelo
had fashioned for her years before—and put one hand on Hank’s shoulder. Of course, he was significantly taller than her, so she had to stretch, but it was worth it to see him raise both brows. Rojita knew it was as close to surprise as he was likely to show. “Welcome to Everland. You brought our girl home.
Gracias, mi hijo
.”

“I’m not your son.” Hank sounded even gruffer than usual, but
Abuela
didn’t let that bother her. She just patted his shoulder a few times, comfortingly, and smiled that six-toothed smile of hers.

“Everyone in Everland is my son and daughter,
mi hijo
. You will come to know this soon.”

Except that he wasn’t staying. Rojita didn’t have the heart to tell her that now, not when
Abuela
obviously liked him, and now knew that she liked him too. Liked him a little more than she should, for a man she’d just met the other day. For a man who was leaving soon.