“You have no idea.” Father snorted. “Thorson, Edmondson, all of the rest would have no respect for you. They’d have a good laugh, escort you out of the room, and then proceed to write me out of any real authority in the paper, make me a partner in name only.” A hacking cough rattled through him.
She threw herself down on the sofa, her lips in a pout. “Too bad they can’t look at my writing and keep their eyes off my sex.” She huffed out a breath.
Father drank from his water glass. “The newsroom is too coarse for anyone of the gentler?—”
“I could work from home.” She brightened. “Ben could give me a quick course in editing. Then he could have an errand boy bring the assignments or articles to me. We could pretend that it’s you doing the work, or that Ben can’t come to the office for some reason.”
“Brilliant,” Ben cheered.
“You expect them to believe that Ben’s too unwell to come to the office for two months? They’d demote him to errand boy. I might as well be doing the work.” His father threw himself back in his chair. “Might as well go into the office and take on the whole load again.”
“No.” Ben sat forward, elbows on knees. “Your doctor laid down the law. You’re to stay home for now. Evie can do it. I know she can. If we but give her the chance. She’s been waiting for such an opportunity. She could even travel into the city each morning to pick up work for you. Tell them I’ve been called away on an emergency. She could handle the lion’s share of the work, and you can do a portion.”
“A portion?” His father sputtered. “You two think you can tell me what to do? That’ll be the day. I’d have to be not just on but under my deathbed before I’d stoop to being ordered about bymy children. If I can’t count on my son to live up to his duties, I’ll?—”
“You can count on your son to delegate appropriate responsibilities to your very capable daughter.” Ben stood and hooked his thumbs beneath his suspenders, hope rising in his heart. “You appointed me to be your representative at the paper. It’s my decision.”
“You’ll not regret it.” Evie hopped off the couch and bounded over to him.
“I haven’t agreed to it, young lady.” Father sank against the padded back of his chair. “I won’t pave the way for my son to toss his duties aside while?—”
“He’s not tossing, Father.” She leaned halfway across the desk. “He’s rescuing his maiden. You taught him to be a knight.”
His father gawked at her as if he didn’t know whether to laugh, scold, or banish them both to the dungeon until further notice.
“You wear me out, daughter.” He returned his spectacles to the bridge of his nose. “But no amount of your bubbling enthusiasm is going to set things right at the paper. Your brother has offended Edmondson to the core.”
Ben huffed. “Tell him I’m deranged if you have to. But if Edmonson has any business sense, he’ll put the good of the paper before his daughter’s temper. And if it’ll satisfy his wrath, let him appoint Thorson editor for now.”
Father’s lip curled.
Evie tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t tell him any such thing about Ben. The whole controversy will be forgotten once another beau catches Olivia’s eye. I can’t imagine that it’ll take too much longer.”
“Evie.” Father shook his head. “You see rainbows where others see clouds. The trouble is that the clouds are the reality.”
“But, Father…” She swung on Ben’s arm. “The clouds are just in the way. Once they shift or a strong wind comes, we can see the blue that was there all along.”
Ben’s heart lifted. He squeezed his sister’s hand. Maybe the Lord would open the door to Cora, one step at a time. If he could get her and Charlie to winter at Garret’s, maybe he could convince them to stay longer. A year or more if needed, until Ben could work out something with the paper...
A winter without Cora? A year without her? His heart clenched. But he would not give up. He was going to Texas, and he would propose, no matter how long the wait for her hand.
CHAPTER 39
Late-November rain pinged against the porch roof and the side windows as Cora lifted the curtain. A rider dismounted by the hitching post beneath the gray afternoon sky. The rubberized poncho and wide-brimmed hat with a low crown hid the identity of the man, but it wasn’t Arthur. He’d get his fancy clothes drenched before he’d don such practical wear. And the visitor was too tall to be Mr. Franklin.
Charlie squeezed in beside her. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know. But fetch me my rifle just in case. Then get up to your loft and stay put.”
“I’ll get mine too. And hide in the kitchen.”
“You’ll do as you’re told. It’s probably just someone passing through or someone from town come to check on us.”
“I’ll get both rifles and take mine to the loft.”
She exhaled and peeked out once more as the boy scurried off.
The stranger knocked. By the third time, she had the rifle behind the door, and Charlie’s feet pitter-pattered on the stairs.
