Cora's fiancé stepped forward, and Ivy got her first proper look at him. He possessed handsome, craggy features, and an expression of fond amusement lurked in his green eyes.
This was the man Cora had written about—the grumpy author who had stolen her heart. Looking at him now, his expression soft with affection, Ivy saw no sign of any curmudgeon.
“This is my dear Brian.” Cora sparkled up at him.
Brian flourished an ink-spotted handkerchief in each hand. “I came fortified. They don’t look it, but they’re clean. I promise,” he announced with mock solemnity. “Mop away those tears, ladies, or you’ll freeze your faces off.”
Laughing through her tears, Ivy broke apart from Cora and accepted one of the handkerchiefs. She dabbed at her eyes while Cora did the same, both of them sniffling and giggling like schoolgirls.
Brian took back the handkerchief from his fiancée. “You need to do better, darling.” Gently, he wiped the rest of the dampnessfrom Cora’s cheeks. “No sense getting frostbite on this pretty face. There.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek.
How romantic.Ivy couldn’t help a stab of envy. She wanted a man to love and cherish her like this. “Let me see the ring.”
Cora tugged off a glove and extended her hand to show a gold band inset with a round, blue stone. “Oh, Cora. You’re really engaged!”
“Sometimes, I have to pinch myself.”
Brave let out a meow of protest.
Brian and Cora stared down at her basket.
Ivy pulled a guilty face, heat rising in her cheeks. “I rescued a starving kitten at the breakfast food stop.” She lifted the basket slightly. “Her name’s Brave. She probably wants out. To eat and…well….”
Brian’s lips twitched with apparent amusement. He glanced over to where her trunks had been unloaded onto the platform. “Let’s get you loaded up. Once we’re out of town, we can see to your kitten’s needs.” His expression shifted, his gaze looking past her. “‘The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men,’” his voice thickened into a Scottish brogue.
“‘Gan aft agley,’” Ivy finished the quote from Robert Burns’s poem, although she mangled the Scottish accent.
Brian flashed her a grin. “Spoken like a true governess.”
A short, bushy-headed man tottered toward them from the depot building, wrapped against the cold in a faded red-and-black patterned Indian blanket. Despite his obvious age and the stiffness of his movements, his wrinkled face was creased in a wide, curious smile.
So much for avoiding the stationmaster.
“Who have we here?” As he approached, the old man's eyes twinkled.“A pretty newcomer.” He doffed an imaginary cap. “I’m Jack Waite, miss. The station and postmaster. Welcome to Sweetwater Springs.”
Ivy's mouth opened, but no words came out. Their careful plan for keeping her arrival secret had just been foiled by an elderly man who should have been warming his bones by the fire. She exchanged helpless glances with Brian and Cora, but neither of them seemed to know what to say, either.
Jack tapped his cheek with one gnarled finger. “Ah…something is afoot, I see.” He turned a knowing gaze toward Cora. “Ever since you came to Sweetwater Springs, Miss Collier, you’ve exchanged regular letters with a Miss Ivy Jackson. Even more so in the last few weeks.” He gave Ivy a satisfied nod. “So I’m going to presume to guess you’re the very same Miss Jackson.”
Brian chuckled, shaking his head. “I should have known. From interviewing you for my book on Sheriff Granger and the bank robbery, I learned not much around here gets past you, Jack.”
“True enough.” Mr. Waite puffed up slightly at the compliment. “But you won’t see me flapping my lips. Unless, of course, I can prevent some harm.” His gaze sharpened on Ivy. “A letter came through here not long ago from a resident I’d never heard of—one Torin Rees—addressed to you, Miss Jackson.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Are you a mail-order bride? We’ve had plenty of them over the years.”
As Brian barked out a laugh, Cora gasped.
Ivy felt her eyes go wide. “What? I most certainly am not!”
He held up his hands in mock surrender, spreading his twisted fingers. But his eyes still danced with curiosity.
Brian stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Ivy's shoulder. “Well, Jack, we’ll have to trust to your discretion.” He met the old man's gaze steadily.“My neighbor, Torin Rees, has sent for Miss Jackson to be a governess to his daughter.”
Mr. Waite waggled his heavy eyebrows in Brian’s direction. “I remember a young fella—a handsome blade, I thought—’tilI came closer and saw blue eyes full of sorrow and anger. He carried a baby wrapped in a blanket. No mother in sight.”
As the stationmaster spoke, his words were so vivid, Ivy could clearly picture the scene.
“He asked me for directions to—” Mr. Waite lifted his chin, pointing behind them “—Three Bend Lake. Later came an unloading of so many crates and trunks and tight-lipped men hired to haul them up that mountain road. They came back down and caught the next train out.”
“Well, then.” Brian let out a slow breath. “Mr. Rees will appreciate you keeping those incidences to yourself. And Miss Jackson’s presence, too, due to his retiring nature. Also because certain people—” he tilted his head in the direction of a brick building up the road “—would spread scandalous gossip about a woman living with a man without a chaperone. We wanted to keep Miss Jackson’s presence a secret.”
