I smiled as I smoothed the quilt over his legs. “You’re a lucky boy to have a brother to keep you company. Do you know what my sister does when she can’t sleep?”
He shook his head.
“She tells herself a story, like the ones she likes to read.”
“Mine would have pirates,” Flynn said. “And a ship.”
“What about you?” I asked Theo.
“I’d tell a story of a happy family at Christmastime,” Theo said.
“That sounds like a story I’d like to read.” I moved over to Flynn’s bed, where he had shifted to his side. His eyes fluttered as he tried to stay awake. This little one played hard and probably slept even harder. I swept a lock of hair from his forehead.
He looked up at me sleepily. “No kisses. Boys don’t like them.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I chuckled and fluffed Flynn’s hair, then Theo’s. “Good night, sweet princes. Sleep well.”
With l
antern in hand, I left the door slightly ajar as they mumbled their good-nights. In my room, I undressed and readied for bed. After washing and brushing my teeth in the bathroom, I tiptoed back to my room, conscious not to wake the children. The floorboards didn’t squeak as they did at my own home. I slipped into the cold sheets and blew out the lantern. It had been a long, stimulating day, and I was weary both mentally and physically, even though it wasn’t much past eight. I closed my eyes and curled into a ball, waiting for the bed to warm from my own body heat. The house creaked, as if saying good night to its inhabitants. Soon, I warmed and drifted off to sleep, content with a good day’s work done.
Chapter 16
Alexander
* * *
Around nine that evening Jasper and I nursed whiskeys in the corner of the saloon. Tonight, I’d made an exception to my aversion to public drunkenness and gambling. I wanted to gather as much gossip as I could about Samuel’s death. Men in bars talked too much.
A man named Mike Murphy ran the saloon. I leased him the building. Other than that, I stayed out of his way. Every town needed at least one watering hole, whether I approved of what went on here or not.
“Do you ever wish we’d settled in Denver instead?” I asked.
“Never.” Jasper gestured toward the window. “A man can breathe here.”
When we’d come west, I’d bought up land in Denver. Whole city blocks belonged to me. If my family had taught me anything, it was that land ownership equaled wealth.
The rest of my land holdings were for profit. Emerson Pass was my heart.
I fell in love with this part of the country the moment we arrived that first spring. Meadows of columbine, lilies, and buttercups grew in the valley between mountains that kissed the bluest sky I’d ever seen. Aspens with their light green leaves fluttered in the breeze. The dry air smelled of pine and firs. In the time it took to unhitch our horses, I imagined the town we could build in this valley. I’d decided right then. This was home. I’d rebuild from the ashes.
“Why do you ask?” Jasper finished his whiskey and set the empty glass on the table.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m wondering if I’ve been naive that this town is safer than most places.”
“There are bad people everywhere. Here there are fewer of them because there are fewer people than in the city. You’re not responsible for Samuel’s death.”
I traced the rings in the pine table. The first winter I’d spent here, Samuel had taught me that the growth rings in a tree told the history of a place as well as any book. Pale rings were from spring growth, whereas dark ones were from late summer. Skinny rings were indicative of drought or other environmental impacts such as insects or too-densely-populated forests. Fat lines told the tale of an abundant growing season. I’d teased him about his love of trees. “Trees never let you down, unlike people,” he’d said.
I wished the trees could tell me the secrets of the night Samuel was murdered. What had they seen? But trees only talked to Samuel, not to me.
“Harley and Merry have asked if they might attend night school,” Jasper said, pulling me from my brooding.
“Excellent.”
Jasper said nothing.
“Is there a reason they shouldn’t?” I asked.