“You look like you lost a fight with a bear,” Jeremiah said from the doorway. He’d propped himself up against the frame while Roman sat behind the stable, next to the corral that stretched out until it reached the frame of the house he’d started building.
“It doesn’t look that bad,” Roman said. He pulled the handkerchief away to check his reflection in the small, cloudy mirror again. The cut was noticeable, but not terrible.
“I thought beards and such were fashionable back East,” Jeremiah added unhelpfully.
Roman glared at him. “What do you know about what’s in fashion anywhere?”
His friend threw up his hands. “Just trying to say I doubt the lady cares one way or the other. If she’s worth anything, anyhow.”
Roman turned his glower onto his own reflection. Jeremiah was right, but he was determined to make a good first impression.
“Train’s been at the depot now for a quarter of an hour,” Jeremiah said. “Want me to fetch her for you?”
“No. Wait, it’s been—what?” Roman yanked the watch from his trousers pocket. Sure enough, it was already a quarter after twelve. How had he missed the whistle? He must’ve been inside, or far too intent on his shaving.
He quickly cleaned up. It was the height of summer in the valley, with the sun warm enough during the day that he certainly didn’t need a heavy coat. Although after glancing down at his Sunday best, Roman almost wished he could wear a coat. The trousers were more worn than he would have liked, and his jacket was beginning to fray at the seams. There was nothing to be done about it now, however. All he could hope was that Jeremiah was right, and Miss Brown would reserve her judgment until she came to know him.
Roman shoved his hat on as he sped through the stable. Only a couple of horses remained inside, the others turned out in the corral. He emerged from the front of the stable to find the waiting train sitting on the tracks that stretched through the middle of the burgeoning town. The cars hid the depot from his sight. He walked quickly south, until he was far enough that he could make his way around the idling engine. He leapt up onto the platform, his heart racing as if he’d just galloped into town on an unbroken horse. A few folks milled about. Many were up at the hotel, enjoying a quick noon meal before reboarding the train, while those who planned to remain in Crest Stone had already made their way into town.
Miss Brown had described herself as having fair hair and being of a taller stature for a lady. No one on the platform appeared to match that description. Roman’s nerves melted into a sense of dread. Had she changed her mind and remained in Virginia? Had something happened to her on her journey here?
He pushed open the door to the depot. Only one lady sat inside, and she appeared much older than Miss Brown’s twenty-one years.
“Good afternoon, Carlisle,” Lawrence Thomason, the town’s railroad clerk, postmaster, and telegraph operator said from behind his window. “Got a letter to mail home?” The older fellow’s eyes took in Roman’s nicest suit with curiosity.
Roman tugged on the hem of his vest, feeling ten sorts of uncomfortable. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a young lady asking for me?”
“I haven’t,” Thomason said, in voice that clearly wanted to know more.
Roman nodded his thanks and returned outside. He stood on the platform, searching around him. The train blocked the view of the northeast of town, where his livery stood. To the south and southeast, along the tracks, Crest Stone stretched out, a mix of finished and unfinished buildings and people moving about, the dark Wet Mountains far to the east behind them. In just the few months he’d been here, the town seemed to have quadrupled in population. Behind the depot, the Crest Stone Hotel sat like a throne upon a hill, the jagged Sangre de Cristo mountains piercing the sky behind it.
Could she have followed the other passengers up to the hotel? Or perhaps she’d gone in search of a boardinghouse. If she was here at all, that was. Roman sighed in frustration. If only he’d arrived at the depot before the train, at least he’d know for certain whether she was in Crest Stone.
He took off his hat, slapped it against his thigh, and then stepped forward decisively.
But after an hour of searching the hotel’s restaurant and lunch counter, walking through town, and inquiring at the boardinghouse, Roman still hadn’t found Miss Brown or anyone who knew anything about her. And that meant only one thing.
She hadn’t bothered coming.
Perhaps she’d fallen ill. Or maybe something had delayed her and she’d be on a later train.Roman brushed aside the pesky bits of hope that circled his mind. He was clutching fast to something that wasn’t going to happen.
The thought that she’d given up on him before even meeting him weighed heavily on Roman’s heart. What was wrong with him? His brothers certainly had no problems following the right path, doing work his parents could be proud of, marrying good women, having children, and leading lives of worth. Why was such a thing so impossible for him?
By the time he reached the livery, Roman was in a black mood. If he’d still been a drinking man, he would have turned and made his way to the half-built saloon that was already keeping the men in town well liquored up. But he’d given that up long ago, and so the only solution to making it through the shame and sadness and irritation that lurked about him now was to work harder. He’d already pulled off his jacket, thinking he’d tackle building the wagon first. The one he owned was rented out most days already; a second would bring in additional income. He’d already purchased the wheels and the lumber, all of it waiting in the lean-to behind the stable.
He tossed the jacket into the back room where he lived with Jeremiah, not bothering to change into clothing more suited to work. The quicker he dove into something to occupy his mind, the sooner his mood would lift. And, hopefully, the faster he’d forget about Miss Brown’s rejection. He couldn’t fathom reading back through the other letters he’d received, not yet anyway. Not a one of those ladies had caught his attention the way Miss Brown had.
Or perhaps he was doomed to be a bachelor the rest of his days. Maybe he deserved just that.
The large barn doors at both the front and rear of the stable were open, but Roman opted for the smaller door near the back room. He shoved it open harder than he meant. The door hit the outside wall with a bang. A distinctly female shriek sounded from the right, where he’d been shaving earlier. Roman stopped short, the door wide open.
And there, sitting on one of the only three chairs he and Jeremiah owned, a lady stared at him, her green eyes wide with fright and a hand resting over her heart. The woman was like a ray of sunshine, sent to chase away his cloudy thoughts. Her hair was the color of creamy butter, she wore a dress in shades of green, and her face was sweet and round, as if she’d never seen anything distressing in her life.
Roman stood there and blinked at her. He barely noticed the door hitting his shoulder.
Jeremiah stood from where he sat next to the woman. “Miss Brown, meet Roman Carlisle. Your intended, if I’m not mistaken.”
