“Are you ready?” he asked.
When she nodded, he led them through the tall doors that formed the hotel’s entry. Inside, Clara drew in a surprised breath. The ceiling soared above her, polished wooden beams holding it aloft. A staircase off to the right led to the second floor, which overlooked the large room in which they stood. The floor and walls were made of shining wood, and off to each side, a large stone fireplace kept watch over the sprawling space.
“I believe that’s the dining room.” Roman pointed to the left, where people of all sorts mingled. The sight of working men side by side with gentlemen and ladies put Clara’s mind at ease. She need not have worried at all about her dress.
The dining room itself was just as impressive as the lobby, with white tablecloths and beautiful china place settings. They found an empty table near one of the windows.
Roman looked just as much in awe of the place as Clara was. “I must confess, I haven’t been in this room before. I’ve taken a meal or two at the lunch counter, and if the food in here is half as good as it was there, I’m certain you’ll enjoy it.”
“I doubt I’d notice if it was simply cold chicken and a slice of stale bread,” Clara said as she admired the napkins at each place setting that had been folded into flowers. “This entire room is a feast for the eyes.”
Roman smiled, but before he could say another word, a young woman in a gray dress with a pristine white apron appeared beside them. She introduced herself as Miss Taylor, poured them some water, and took their orders.
An awkward silence settled over them after Miss Taylor left. Clara clasped her hands in her lap and let her eyes drift to the window, which had a view of the valley as it stretched toward the southeast. If she looked just so, she could make out the boardinghouse. “What must it be like to stay here and wake up to see this view in the morning?” she pondered aloud.
“Are you happy with the boardinghouse?” Roman asked.
Afraid he’d mistaken her musings for a complaint, Clara smiled at him. “Oh yes, I am. Miss Darby has become a friend, as have the two other ladies who are renting rooms. Thank you for . . .” She drifted off, uncertain how to phrase her gratitude for his payment of her lodgings.
“Of course. I could hardly have you sleeping in the stable. Jeremiah and I fit in well with the horses, but it’s no place for a lady.”
“I do enjoy helping, though.”
Her words seemed to make him light up from the inside, his grin hiding the small scar above his lip. Clara smiled down at her hands, pleased she could make him so happy with just a few words.
“What made you want to start a livery business?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. All she knew from his letters were a few basic details about his family. Most of their written conversation had focused on his life here and personal traits.
Roman lifted his hands to the table and picked up a fork, examining the fine filigree that ran across the handle. “My father runs a stockyard back in Kansas City. I believe I wrote you about him.”
Clara nodded.
“I grew up working with cattle—I was the only one of my brothers who enjoyed the work. They’ve all gone on to open less messy businesses,” he said with a smile.
“How many brothers do you have?” She’d written to him of her four much younger siblings, but he hadn’t elaborated much on his own.
“Three,” he said quickly before moving on. “I didn’t know what I wanted to make of my life for a long time. I worked my way across Kansas once I was grown, as a ranch hand and driving cattle to the rail lines. I kept moving west. I’m not sure why. Perhaps I thought I’d find whatever it was I was seeking if I kept moving on. Eventually I found myself working a ranch outside Cañon City, and then another one down here in the valley. I rode through here last fall, before this town was much of anything, and it seemed to come to me out of nowhere—that I ought to use my earnings to buy a couple of horses and start up a livery stable.”
Clara listened, hardly able to believe the chance he’d taken. “What if someone else had arrived before you and started a livery?”
Roman shrugged. “Then I suppose I would’ve moved on to another place and tried there.”
Clara gazed at him, trying to even fathom such bravery. Meanwhile, she would’ve resigned herself to a life of spinsterhood in Virginia if things didn’t work out here with Roman.
Oh, how she wanted them to work out.
She dug her fingers into the fabric of her skirts, wishing the thought—and the pink that likely blossomed in her cheeks—would go away. “Your family must be very proud of you,” she finally managed to say, just barely looking up at him.
He pressed his lips together. “Likely more skeptical than proud.”
Clara wanted to know more. What sort of family wouldn’t be filled with joy and pride that their son was running a thriving business in a growing town? She was trying to decide upon the best way to ask, when he spoke up first.
“How about your family?” He leaned forward. “What do they think about your travels?”
Clara swallowed her questions. “My dear friend Violet has been my greatest support. She wasn’t convinced, not right away, but when she saw how determined I was, she helped me as best she could. She gave me some money, and she shared my excitement.”
His eyes crinkled at that last line. “And your family?”
Clara rested her hands on the table, lest she permanently wrinkle her skirts. “My mother came around. She knew I wasn’t happy after . . .” She let her words trail off, hoping Roman understood. She’d written to him of Gideon, in the briefest of terms. “My father wasn’t so pleased with my decision. He accepted it, but he made it clear that he did not agree with it.”
