With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel (24 page)

Though he hadn’t mentioned her before, Harrison’s prospective bride must be someone from his home in Pennsylvania. If she had been a local resident, he would have brought her out to see the ranch. Gwen sighed at the realization that the only reason he’d asked for her opinion was that he wanted a woman—any woman—to see the house and land before he bought it.

And yet, hours later, Gwen could not forget how beautiful the ranch had been. Others might claim that it was simply a piece of land and a small house, but it had seemed like so much more. When she’d been there, Gwen had felt as if she’d come home. The ranch would be the perfect place for both Rose and her. If only . . .

Though she knew that it was probably too late, that any changes she might make were futile, for Harrison had already chosen his bride, Gwen reached for the bottle. Perhaps if she took another dose of the medicine, that ugly lump of fat around her waist would go away and Harrison would see her for what she was: the woman who loved him.

No matter how often she told herself to be calm, Elizabeth could not recall the last time she’d looked forward to anything as much as she was dinner tonight. She smiled as she gazed at the pale blue silk gown that lay across her bed, waiting for her to don it. With its matching gloves and the ribbon that she’d threaded through her hair, it was an ensemble fit for a princess. Thanks to Charlotte, Elizabeth would be well-
dressed for her dinner at the InterOcean. Thanks to Jason, she had the excitement of anticipating her first public meal with a man.

Elizabeth picked up the gown and began to step into the skirt, trying to chase away the memory of the last time she’d seen Miriam. Though Miriam had come to the office for an official visit, conversation had turned to personal matters.

“He’s courting you,” Elizabeth’s patient and friend had said with a knowing smile when she mentioned the invitation to dinner.

Fortunately, Elizabeth had been reaching for her stethoscope when Miriam had made that pronouncement. Her bent head kept Miriam from seeing the blush that stained her cheeks. “Jason isn’t courting me any more than Oscar Miller was. Your problem is that you see romance everywhere you look.”

Miriam chuckled. “I don’t have to look very hard to see you and Jason together. I’ve seen you walking past Maple Terrace at least three times in the past week.”

“It’s true that Jason walks home with me every day,” Elizabeth admitted, “but I wouldn’t call that courting.”

“Just what would you call it?”

“Friendship.”

Miriam’s laugh left no doubt of her opinion. “When a man looks at a woman the way Jason looks at you, friendship is not what’s on his mind.”

Placing the stethoscope on Miriam’s belly to listen to the baby’s heartbeat, Elizabeth shook her head. “Jason’s a friend. A good friend, but that’s all.”

“If you say so.” And Miriam had laughed again.

The memory of Miriam’s laughter still echoing through
her brain, Elizabeth called to Gwen. “I’m ready for you.” Though she could manage the skirt without assistance, the bodice was another story. Elizabeth stretched her arms out as far as she could so that Gwen could slide the bodice on. With her corset laced as tight as it had to be for this gown, Elizabeth could not easily complete the rest of her toilette.

She took a shallow breath, her thoughts wandering to Sheila and her unborn child. Though she hoped the woman had put her corsets aside, Elizabeth doubted that was likely, but she hoped Sheila was at least loosening the laces. Charlotte’s claim that gowns like this made a woman appear beautiful was correct. They did. The question was, at what cost? Elizabeth knew she would suffer no permanent harm from having her ribs constricted for an evening, but many women, including Sheila, wore their corsets both night and day, believing that a tiny waist was worth any price.

As she stood next in front of the mirror, assuring herself that everything was perfect, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of Gwen’s profile. Surely it wasn’t her imagination that the woman who shared her apartment was thinner.

“Have you tightened your laces?” she asked.

Gwen shook her head. “Why do you ask?”

“You look thinner.”

The smile that lit Gwen’s face told Elizabeth she had said precisely the right thing. “And you look beautiful.”

Jason echoed Gwen’s sentiments when he arrived. Giving a soft whistle, he grinned at Elizabeth. “You look more beautiful than ever tonight.”

Elizabeth shook her head. The one who was beautiful was Jason, though she doubted he’d appreciate her telling him that. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him in formal
clothing, but Elizabeth never failed to be impressed by how distinguished he looked in his tailcoat and black waistcoat. Though some men appeared uncomfortable in stiff-bosomed shirts, Jason gave no sign of discomfort. To the contrary, his elegant clothing seemed to fit him as well as his more casual daily wear did. Perhaps it was simply that he was comfortable with himself, and clothing was of little importance.

“Beautiful,” he said, contradicting her silent protest.

“That’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t believe me,” Gwen chimed in.

Rose tugged on her mother’s skirts. “Aunt Elizabeth is pretty.”

“See, it’s unanimous.”

Elizabeth conceded defeat. “Thank you all,” she said with a small curtsey. “Charlotte’s gowns are designed to make the wearer look beautiful.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and turned to Jason. “She’s hopeless.”

“But beautiful.” Jason smoothed the cape over Elizabeth’s shoulders and opened the door for her. As they descended the steps, he added, “You’re not just beautiful. You’re a fine doctor too.”

“You’re going to turn my head.” During the years that she’d been studying medicine, Elizabeth had learned to ignore jeers and insults, but she’d had no experience with compliments, and so they left her feeling slightly disoriented. Still, she couldn’t deny that it felt good to be the object of a man’s admiration.

Elizabeth smiled as she and Jason were ushered into the InterOcean’s dining room. Looking around as the waiter showed them to their table, she noted that the room was as elegant as the exterior of the building had led her to expect.
Highly polished dark paneling covered the lower half of the walls, and the ceiling was coffered with the same wood. Snowy white table linens and shiny wallpaper lightened what could have been an almost depressingly dark room, turning it into a luxurious space that somehow managed to feel intimate, despite its size. It was no wonder this was one of Cheyenne’s most popular dining spots.

“The chef is famous for his wild game dishes,” Jason told Elizabeth after the waiter presented them with menus.

She wrinkled her nose. “No venison for me tonight,” she said, her eyes darting to the upper wall where an impressive ten point buck’s head looked down on the diners. “I don’t think I’d enjoy a single bite.”

“I’m not so squeamish.” Jason matched his actions to his words and ordered the roast venison while Elizabeth contented herself with baked trout.

It was the finest meal Elizabeth had ever eaten, made so by a combination of faultless service and exquisitely prepared food. But what set the evening apart was sharing it with Jason. Unlike the first day he’d accompanied her on her walk home, when Elizabeth had found herself searching for a neutral topic, tonight it seemed as if they had an inexhaustible supply of subjects to discuss, everything from music and books to Harrison’s plans to start a horse ranch.

“Gwen said the site is beautiful,” Elizabeth told Jason.

He nodded as he chewed a bite of the perfectly roasted potatoes that had accompanied both of their entrees. “If she approved it, I imagine Harrison will proceed with the purchase. I know he wanted her and Rose to see it before he signed the agreement.” Jason cut another piece of venison, then laid his knife back on the plate. “It’s amazing what two
people can do with a plot of land out here. I visited one of my clients a few days ago. He raises sheep,” Jason explained, “even though a number of people advised him not to. Despite everything, he’s prospering. The ranch isn’t huge, but what impressed me was that he and his wife built everything themselves. Most folks hire help.”

“You sound surprised.” The surprise, Elizabeth was willing to bet, was that the client’s wife had had such an active role.

“I was. I never really thought of women doing things like roofing a barn.”

Had another man made the same comment, Elizabeth might have taken offense, but this was Jason, and she knew he was simply being honest. “Be careful.” Her tone was light, almost mocking, as she cautioned him. “You’re starting to sound like Doc Worland. Next thing I know, you’ll refer to us as the weaker sex. Women are stronger than you realize.”

Jason shook his head. “You don’t need to convince me. You’ve shown me that a woman—at least one woman—can do anything she sets her mind to. I think what surprised me was that a woman would want to haul around lumber and nail on a roof.”

Though his confidence in her was appealing, Elizabeth couldn’t let Jason continue to believe she was a paragon of skills. She wasn’t. The truth was, she was lacking in what many men would consider basic womanly talents. Her sewing consisted of the ability to do basic mending, nothing more. As for cooking . . . “I’ve never hauled lumber or laid a roof. I never had the need, but I suspect it would be easier than learning to cook. I’m a dismal failure at that.”

Jason blinked in surprise. “You can’t cook?”

“Not well. I can make staples like oatmeal, and I can stew
a chicken, but I seem to burn every roast I put in a pan, and my biscuits and bread verge on inedible.”

“You’re joking.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d eaten one of my meals. There’s a reason my sister convinced Gwen to stay in the apartment. Charlotte didn’t want me to starve.”

Elizabeth watched Jason closely, wondering how he would react to her revelation. She doubted it was what he’d expected. Most men seemed to think that girls were born knowing how to cook, clean, sew, and raise children. He gave her a long look, his expression as solemn as if he were facing a jury. And then he laughed.

“At last!” There was an unmistakable note of triumph in his voice. “I found something you can’t do perfectly.” Jason’s grin broadened. “You don’t know how that reassures me. Everyone needs to have failings.”

He’d reacted more positively than Elizabeth had expected. “Cooking is a big failing. If I ever have a house of my own, I won’t be able to invite guests for dinner.”

“You’d find a way.”

Jason’s assurance warmed her. “I suppose I could hire a cook.” That was what Miriam had done.

“Or maybe your husband would help.” Jason chuckled at the sight of her disbelief. “Don’t look so surprised. The same client shocked me when he came to the door wearing an apron. He’s a widower now, but he said he used to help his wife cook and clean and do laundry. He called their marriage a partnership.”

“What an intriguing idea. My parents’ marriage was a happy one, but it wasn’t like that. They each had their own responsibilities. I can’t ever recall Papa being in the kitchen,
and Mama would never have presumed to help him with his sermons.”

“It was a new concept for me too, but I have to admit that Kevin’s stories got me thinking.”

“And what do you think?”

Jason wrinkled his nose. “That I’d hate doing laundry.”

All too soon, the evening was over, and Elizabeth was back in her room, brushing her hair and preparing for sleep. She had told Gwen about the meal and about the people who’d stopped by their table to greet Jason. What she hadn’t told Gwen was that she had added tonight to the images she’d been collecting.

Her mother had had a memory box, a small cedar box that housed mementos. Mama had treasured locks of her daughters’ hair, a seashell she had found on the beach the one time Papa had taken her to the ocean, a pressed flower from her wedding bouquet. Elizabeth’s treasures were less tangible. She collected memories. Memories of walking with Jason, riding with Jason, sharing one of Mr. Ellis’s cakes with Jason. Tonight she’d added the memory of sharing a meal, of laughing at the smell of lye soap, of discussing marriage as a partnership. It was an evening Elizabeth knew she’d never forget. But then she couldn’t forget Jason.