Rapunzelle: an Everland Ever After Tale (11 page)

And
maybe
by spending that time with him, he’d fall in love with her in return.

“
Ahh
, I see that you’re cheered up now.” Briar pulled her down for a kiss on Zelle’s forehead, and then stood up, brushing dust from her skirt. “I’m heading home, then. But I mean it, Zelle.” She pierced her friend with a serious stare. “Invite him to dinner. Prove to your parents that he’s worthy of you. Make him fall in love with you. And then quit moping.”

Zelle smiled, and her cheeks felt odd. “I will. And thank you for the eclairs.”

Briar blew a kiss as she paused by the gate. “I knew you loved them, and it sounds like you need as much chocolate as you can get.” And then she was gone, and Zelle was alone in the garden once more.

Invite him to dinner. Show her parents that Dmitri was a good man. Make him fall in love with her, just like Helga instructed.

Fall in love?

Suddenly, the day was looking up, after all.

“So you’re thinking about sticking around, huh?”

“No. I’ve thought about it already. Now I’m trying to make it happen.”

Max helped himself to the bottle of whiskey Dmitri had set on the table, smiling slightly. “A prince in Everland. Who would’ve thought it?” He poured a generous serving into each of the two glasses sitting beside the bottle, and passed one to Dmitri. “Well, my father, I suppose. He always said that his parents named him ‘Roy’ because he was destined to be a cattle king.” Max swallowed all of the harsh liquor in one gulp, and then winced and stared at the empty glass in his hand. “Which would make my brother the prince, I guess.”

“Not you?” Dmitri hadn’t touched his glass.

“Nah.” Max refilled his, but left it sitting on the table. “Roy, Jr. is…” The dark-haired man laughed, but Dmitri could tell it was forced. “Well, maybe we should call you a duke, anyhow. Your Grace, maybe?”

Dmitri was willing to let the other man shy away from a subject he obviously didn’t want to touch. After all, if he was successful tonight, Max would be his partner, and hopefully his friend. “How about just ‘Dmitri’?”

This time Max’s smile was genuine, and Dmitri could see why he was a town favorite. “Deal. So tell me why you dragged me into town and poured the Gingerbread House’s terrible whiskey down my throat?”

“Oh, you had something more important to do?” Dmitri snorted when Max acknowledged the hit by picking up his glass and offering a little toast. “I have a proposition for you, but the whiskey
is
subpar. After we come to an agreement, and I find a place to stay in this town, I will see about importing some worthwhile vodka. There are certain luxuries that a man cannot do without.”

Taking a sip of the liquor, Max nodded. “I’ll join you, friend. If you’ll tell me about this proposition.”

“I want your thoroughbreds.”

The denial was swift and angry. “You can’t have them. I fought my brother and father to keep them, and I’ll damn well fight you too.”

Hoping to calm the other man, Dmitri held up his hands, palms out, and watched Max settle back against the wooden chair, whiskey still gripped in one hand. The darker man bristled, but looked less likely to jump across the table. “You misunderstand.”

“I hope so.”

“Let me tell you a story.” Max’s shoulders relaxed, but his brow remained furrowed as he listened. “My family has bred and trained horses for generations. We have been very good at it. We were given the
Knez
title for it, in fact. My grandfather built an empire, and my father expanded it. But I…” Dmitri’s gaze dropped to the glass of amber liquid clutched between his hands. “I have made a mess of it. My father’s death-bed demand has sent me gallivanting across three continents, and led me here. I am sure that the program is going to
dermo
in my absence, because Orlov can only do so much.”

“Who is Orlov?” Max shifted one ankle across the opposite knee, telling Dmitri that his new friend had relaxed.

“Count Alexei Orlov is my neighbor, back home. He is also a breeder, and has some… ideas. Good ideas, I think, about crossing breeds, not worrying so much about purity of bloodlines, but breeding for elegance and strength and speed. His grandfather, for whom he is named, became famous for a new type of horse—the Orlov Trotter—very popular. For years, he has been after my family to sell him some of our Kabarda mares, to work into his bloodline.” And for years,
Otets
denied the requests, refusing to allow the Volkov bloodlines to be
sullied
. “I have men I trust with my horses, but I left Orlov in charge of the breeding program this spring.” Dmitri sighed, toying with his glass. “And I know that his program would come first, in his mind.”

“Sounds like you should head home, to take care of things.”

“I can’t.” He knew he sounded pathetic.

“Because of Zelle.” Max finally took another sip of the whiskey, probably to try to hide the smile that Dmitri could still see.

There was no use denying it. “Because of Zelle.” He took a deep breath. “My family lost much when the Tsar emancipated the serfs. Holdings, money, prestige. There is little besides the horses left for me at home, now that
Otets
is dead.”

“Do you know where I lived before my father dragged us out here to Everland, after the war?” Max didn’t wait for an answer. “South Carolina.” Dmitri was vague on American geography, but knew it was in the part of the country that had once fought to be separate. Had once fought to keep their slaves and their way of life. “My point is that we—
I
—am familiar with the concept of not having a hell of a lot to go back for. Of working hard to start over someplace new.”

Dmitri nodded. “Yes.” And finally, he tasted the whiskey.
Bah
. It wasn’t worth imbibing. “My plan is to sell most of my stock to Orlov, who will incorporate them into his own program. I will bring a few dozen animals—the ones with the best bloodlines, I think—here to Everland. I will purchase property and will build a home and start a new program.” He shifted forward in his chair, elbows braced. “And I want you to be part of it.”

Max plunked his glass onto the table. “Why me? You’ll have the money to go at it alone.”

“Because I trust you. And because I want to do what Orlov has done.”

Understanding dawned in his almost-new-partner’s eyes. “You want to cross your Kabardas with my thoroughbreds.”

“Yes. And I want more. I will provide the money, if you will find and purchase more thoroughbreds to breed with my horses. In a few years, we will have a herd worth mentioning.”
Again
.

“No.” Max’s denial surprised Dmitri, who hadn’t been expecting it, and his smile proved that he knew it. “I’ll partner with you, because I’d be a fool not to. But I’ll buy the thoroughbreds myself. I want to be a full partner.”

Dmitri fiddled with the glass while he pondered. He didn’t know how much money his new partner had, but he understood the desire to contribute to the enterprise. So he nodded. “Done. We will each provide animals. I will provide the location. You will provide the American ingenuity.”

He held his hand out across the table, and Max’s return grip was strong. They shook, and Dmitri knew they’d make good partners. Equals.

Who would’ve thought, when he left Russia, that he’d consider staying in a place like Everland? A place full of cowboys and dust? But the more he allowed himself to get to know these American peasants—men like Doctor Carpenter and Max—the more he knew that he couldn’t allow himself to be blinded by old prejudices. Serfdom was a thing of the past, as was slavery here in America. The new ways said that all men were born equal, and as he shook his new partner’s hand, Dmitri knew it was the truth. It had taken someone like Zelle, and someplace like Everland, to show him.

“Now, I said I wanted to be a full partner, but I’ll admit that you know a hell of a lot more about how to manage this.” Max’s attention was half on Dmitri, half on the long-haired man who’d just walked through the door. When the newcomer looked their way, Max lifted his glass in greeting. “I’ll let you take the lead in figuring all this out, and I’ll start asking around for other thoroughbreds for sale. I heard there’s an outfit outside of Cheyenne with some beauties.”

“I will manage what needs to be done.” He’d spent the last three days—the days since that incredible afternoon with Zelle—figuring out how to do what needed doing. “I will—“

He’d been about to explain that he’d need to return to Russia once more, to choose the animals that would start the breeding program here in America, as well as oversee the packing of his personal items, when the long-haired stranger pulled up a chair at their table and made himself comfortable.

“I see ye’ve made friends with the mysterious duke, Max. Why aren’t I surprised?” The newcomer spoke with an accent that Dmitri finally placed as Scottish. His hair was a light brown, and fell past his shoulders, but his eyes were a friendly blue and surrounded by lines that said he laughed often. When he offered Dmitri his hand, his grip was strong. “Gordon McKinnon. Ye’re Dmitri Volkov, right?” And then a wink. “Or is it
m’lord
?”

Dmitri had spent years in England. Years in which he’d accepted the respect due to him as a son of a Russian prince, and a grandson of an English Earl. And yet, here, the title seemed…silly. Just like he’d felt somehow silly for wearing his finery to go walking with Zelle. Here in Everland, men weren’t lords just because they were wealthy, or because their fathers were important. Here, men were equal.

So he shook Gordon’s hand. “Just Dmitri, thank you.”

Max spoke up. “I’m surprised y’all haven’t met yet. Gordy’s in here most evenings.”

“As I would be too, if there was any decent vodka in the establishment.”

The other two laughed, and Gordon swallowed some of his beer. “Ah, ye’ll get used to it. I’ve only been in town fer a few months, but Max quickly showed me the best parts of Everland.”

“Did you escape Yacob’s clutches tonight?”

Gordon scowled at Max’s question, and the ensuing conversation taught Dmitri all about his new friend; he worked part-time for a blind musician he’d served for years as a sort of combination housekeeper, cook, and valet. Now that the musician had married—and Dmitri got the impression there was some kind of story there, but he didn’t ask—Gordon was able to spend his time working at Spratt’s Eatery, which was apparently his passion. When asked, Gordon admitted that he was the one responsible for the Beef Stroganov that Dmitri had so enjoyed the evening before.

“But Spratt is so short-sighted! A town like this deserves options.” Apparently Gordon wasn’t thrilled with his current position. “Someplace with a menu, fer heaven’s sakes.”

Dmitri agreed. “Spratt’s Eatery
is
rather take-what-you-get, isn’t it?”

“An’ fer those prices, I suppose Everland can’t complain, but…”

Max interrupted, which he was good at. “But Gordy’s got dreams. Once he can scrape together the funds, we’re going to have a grand restaurant, with real waiters and
maitre d’s
and other Frenchy-sounding stuff.”

Gordon lifted his glass, and Max joined in the toast. “An’ it’ll be gorgeous. An’ I’ll show Everland what they’ve been missing all these years.”

The three men laughed, and before he’d realized it, a half-hour had gone by. Thanks to Max’s gregarious ways, he and Gordon had become friends too. The newcomer had helped himself to Dmitri’s discarded whiskey when he’d finished his beer, and now sat back in his chair. “And ye, Yer Grace?” They all chuckled at the banter. “I heard yer in town looking fer a man. Did ye speak with Sherriff Cutter about it?”

“It’s no use.” Dmitri sighed, willing to admit defeat. “The man I’m looking for would’ve come to Everland quite a long time ago. Fifteen years, probably. And I’m sure he didn’t stay; just passed through. Perhaps on his way to Oregon?”

Max took over the explanation. “He spoke to everyone who was around back then, and no one remembered anyone by that name. Even Doc Carpenter, who seems to know everyone.”

Gordon agreed. “I’ll say. He and his wife have been here forever, although that pretty daughter of theirs doesn’t come out often.”

The flash of jealousy that rose when Gordon so casually mentioned Zelle’s beauty took Dmitri by surprise. He’d never before felt so…so
possessive
of a woman before. But this woman was special. This woman was the one who had him giving up his grandfather’s legacy, moving across the world, to court. This woman would be
his.