Aunt Dimity Goes West Page 7

  “No,” I said, shaking my head decisively. “They’re violet. It’s an unusual shade. I’ve seen it only once before, back in England. My sons’ riding instructor.” I stepped back to survey the head wrangler’s long lean body, short gray hair, and extraordinary eyes. “You’re not related to an Englishman named Kit Smith, are you? His full name is Christopher Anscombe-Smith.”

  Brett threw a mystified glance in Toby’s direction, then said politely, “I guess it’s possible, but I couldn’t say for sure. I’ve never taken much of an interest in genealogy.”

  “You could be Kit’s brother,” I marveled. “His twin brother. The resemblance is uncanny. Do you see it, Annelise?”

  “Do I see what?” she asked, herding Will and Rob along until we formed a half circle in front of Brett.

  “Doesn’t Brett look like Kit?” I asked.

  Annelise shrugged. “I suppose he does, a bit.”

  “A bit?” I pointed at Brett’s face. “He’s got violet eyes!”

  “They’re blue,” said Annelise, elbowing me in the ribs. “You’ll have to forgive Lori, Brett. She’s still recovering from jet lag.”

  “It’s a long flight from England,” Brett said sympathetically. “Will you need a horse today, Annelise?”

  “Not today, thank you,” said Annelise. “Lori won’t be riding, either.”

  “Mummy’s afraid of horses,” Will piped up.

  “I’m not afraid of horses,” I protested.

  “Yes, you are,” said Rob. “You’re afraid to give Toby carrots, and he doesn’t hardly have any teeth.”

  “He doesn’t?” said Brett, with a bewildered glance at Toby.

  “Toby’s a pony,” Annelise explained quickly. “An elderly pony. Back in England.”

  “We learned to ride on Toby,” Rob informed the head wrangler.

  “But we have our own ponies now,” Will added. “They’re faster than Toby.”

  “And they have more teeth,” Rob continued. “They’re called Thunder and Storm.”

  “We have a cat, too,” said Will. “His name is Stanley. Do you have a cat?”

  “Do you know Cowboy Sam?” Rob inquired.

  Brett looked from one identical chattering boy to the other, grimaced slightly, and rubbed the back of his neck. “My wife has quite a few cats. I’ve known two or three cowboys named Sam, but they don’t work at the Brockman. The ponies I rounded up for you are out back, in the riding ring. Want to meet them?”

  “Yes, please,” the boys chorused.

  “Let’s go,” said Brett.

  He and Toby strode off with the twins, but Annelise gripped my arm firmly and held me back until they’d disappeared around the side of the house.

  “Honestly, Lori,” she scolded. “You embarrassed that poor man to death, pointing at him like that.”

  “But—” I began.

  “No buts,” Annelise interrupted sternly. “And no more staring. And no more talk about Kit Smith. The poor man doesn’t know Kit from a hole in the ground, so there’s no use going on about it. He’ll think you’ve lost your mind.”

  She released my arm and marched off to join the boys.

  I replayed the scene in my head, realized that Annelise had been quite right to take me to task for my rude behavior, and trailed slowly after her, feeling as though I’d embarrassed myself far more than I’d embarrassed Brett Whitcombe. Kit Smith, whose manners were impeccable, would have been ashamed of me. I resolved to say nothing more about him to Brett.

  A five-bar wooden fence encircled the riding ring. Brett and the twins stood inside the ring, near the swinging metal gate, where a pair of ponies were tethered. Annelise and Toby had taken seats on a set of wooden bleachers on the far side of the ring, in the shade of some cottonwood trees. A half dozen teenaged boys in scruffy cowboy hats had gathered on the near side of the fence to watch the proceedings, attracted no doubt by the novelty of my sons’ riding apparel. I edged my way past them until I was within a few yards of Brett, the twins, and the ponies.

  Brett had rounded up a pair of palomino ponies for Will and Rob. They were called Nip and Tuck, and they didn’t seem too ferocious. While Brett explained the rules of the riding ring, the twins ran knowing eyes over their prospective mounts.

  “We’ll take it one at a time, to begin with,” Brett concluded. “And I don’t want you to move till I say so.”

  He tightened Nip’s girth, gave Rob a leg up into the saddle, and adjusted the stirrups, but when he took hold of the lead rope, to guide Nip into the ring, Rob objected.

  “I know what to do,” he said impatiently.

  Brett gave me an inquiring glance, I answered it with a nod, and he released the lead rope. Rob walked Nip sedately once around the ring, then put him through his paces, going from a walk to a trot to a canter, bringing him smoothly back to a walk, and halting him smartly beside Tuck. Will gave Brett an arms-folded, I-told-you-so look, and the head wrangler gave him a leg up onto Tuck without further delay.

  “Your boys have been well taught,” Brett commented, as he climbed out of the ring to stand beside me. “My long-lost twin must be a fine instructor.”

  I felt myself blush a stunning shade of raspberry.

  “You got a twin, Brett?” said one of the spectators.

  “So I’m told.” Brett grinned at me, then gestured to the knot of young men. “Let me introduce the crew. Lori Shepherd, this is Dusty, Lefty, Happy, Sneezy, Dopey, and Doc.”

  I was on the verge of saying good morning when it dawned on me that Brett was joking. I ducked my head sheepishly and joined in the general laughter that ensued. When the ranch hands had finished guffawing, they introduced themselves to me properly, welcomed me to the Brockman, and drifted off toward Annelise. I wondered if they were going to try the same gag on her.

  Annelise had the video camera, and I was in charge of the digital camera. While she filmed the action, I snapped still shots of the twins, then settled down next to Brett to watch them enjoy their favorite pastime.

  “How’re you liking it up at the Aerie?” Brett rested his folded arms on the top bar of the fence. “Toby working out all right?”

  “Toby’s great,” I said. “Very eager to please. If I didn’t stop him, he’d cook our meals and do our laundry along with everything else he does. And I absolutely love the Aerie. If it were mine, and if I didn’t have to fly so far to get here, I’d use it every weekend. I can’t believe the Auerbachs haven’t used it since Christmas.”

  “Me, neither.” Brett shook his head. “Mrs. Auerbach and the kids used to spend every school holiday up there, and most weekends, too, but we haven’t seen hide nor hair of them for six months now. In fact, no one’s been there since the Auerbachs left, no one but the caretaker.”

  “Really?” I said. “I was under the impression that the Auerbachs let friends use the Aerie.”

  “They haven’t had any takers lately,” said Brett. “I reckon Bluebird isn’t fashionable enough for the kind of people the Auerbachs know. They get bored looking at the lake, want fancy shops and restaurants. Caroline’s Cafe serves up some mighty tasty grub, but I wouldn’t call it fancy.”

  I watched Will and Rob steer their steeds through a series of figure eights, then asked, “If the Aerie’s been empty since Christmas, why did the Auerbachs hire a live-in caretaker?”

  “The caretaker’s main job is just to be there,” Brett explained. “You can’t leave a place like that sitting empty. You never know what’ll happen to it—frozen pipes, wind damage. Someone has to be on the spot to fix things when they break, and James could turn his hand to anything.”

  My ears pricked up. “Did you know James Blackwell?”

  “I wouldn’t say I knew him,” Brett temporized. “James used to drop in on us now and again. He took an interest in local history. Asked all sorts of questions. Wanted to know what Bluebird was like in the olden days.”

  I recalled the books on Colorado history in the Aerie’s library and asked, “Was James an a
mateur historian?”

  “I suppose he may have been,” said Brett, “but I’m not. I told him if he wanted to know about Bluebird, he should go to Bluebird. That’s when he told me about Dick Major.” Brett tilted his head toward me. “You met Dick yet?”

  “No,” I said. “I haven’t been to town.”

  Brett’s eyes narrowed. “Dick Major is a loudmouthed pain in the neck. Wish he’d go back where he came from, but it looks like he’s dug in, in Bluebird. From what James said, he couldn’t have a beer in the bar or a cup of coffee in the cafe without Dick’s turning up. Parked himself at James’s table without an invitation; told James he was a lazy good-for-nothing, a slacker who was taking money from the Auerbachs for doing nothing. Kept telling James to get a real job and stop sponging off his rich employers. Called him a worthless bum, right there, where everyone could hear him.”

  “Why did Dick Major pick on James?” I asked.

  “Because he could,” Brett said simply. “James wasn’t from here, so he didn’t have family to back him up. Didn’t have any friends, either—”

  “Why not?” I asked. “Why didn’t he have any friends?”

  “He was kind of shy,” said Brett. “A nice enough guy, but quiet, studious—a prime target for a meathead like Dick.”

  “I hate bullies,” I said vehemently.

  “So do I.” Brett shook his head. “If I’d seen Dick picking on James, I’d’ve put a stop to it, but Dick’s sneaky. He never put a foot wrong in front of me. So after a while, James avoided Bluebird. He just stayed at the Aerie or came out here. I reckon he spent too much time on his own. Got to believing the stories he heard.”

  “What stories?” I asked.

  “Tomfool stories,” said Brett, snorting derisively. “He was always trying to find out if they were true. Then he up and left without saying a word to anyone. It’s lucky Toby was free to take his place. Toby’s a good kid. Known him since he was younger than your sons.” Brett rested his chin on his folded arms, then gave me a sidelong glance. “Is it true that you’re afraid of horses?”

  “Uh, yes,” I said, caught off guard by the abrupt change of subject. “My sons never lie, even when I wish they would.”

  “And this is your first time in the Rockies?” Brett went on.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Well, then,” he said, turning to face me, “I have a suggestion to make. Why don’t you leave Will and Rob here for the day? Annelise is welcome to stay with them. They can eat lunch with the rest of the guests and come along on the group trail ride this afternoon. In the meantime, you can take off with Toby, let him show you around. He knows every sight worth seeing in these parts. I’ll have the twins back to the Aerie in plenty of time for dinner.”

  “Is your vehicle equipped with booster seats?” I asked.

  “It can be,” said Brett. “We have them on hand for people like you: overseas guests with young children. It won’t take me but a minute to rustle up a pair for your boys. They work just fine in the family cab of my pickup.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, “but I’ll have to discuss it with Annelise. She’s still getting used to the altitude. She may need a nap later on.”

  “She can use one of the guest cabins,” said Brett. “My wife will make sure she’s comfortable, and I’ll look out for Will and Rob.”

  “You’re very kind,” I said, “but Annelise may not want to stay.”

  “On the other hand,” said Brett, turning to look across the riding ring, “she may not want to leave.”

  I followed his gaze and saw that at least a dozen men had gathered around Annelise. Some were ranch hands, while others appeared to be dudes, but they’d all doffed their cowboy hats and they seemed to be vying with each other for her attention.

  “Your sons’ nanny has a fan club,” Brett observed mildly. “Must be that pretty dress she’s wearing. Most of the gals here wear jeans.”

  “She’s engaged,” I told him. “And she’s extremely levelheaded.”

  “It does a young woman good to know she’s admired,” said Brett. “Even a levelheaded young woman who’s engaged.”

  Brett evidently knew a lot about women, because Annelise was perfectly willing to remain at the ranch until the twins were ready to leave. Toby was equally willing to escort me wherever I wished to go. And I was more than willing to let the twins ride to their hearts’ content while I went back to the Aerie. I had a lot to tell Aunt Dimity.

  Will and Rob were eventually persuaded to dismount long enough for me to kiss them good-bye. Annelise fetched their extra clothes from the van, and Toby and I drove off, leaving Brett to field a multitude of questions from the twins about the upcoming trail ride.

  Toby and I were halfway down the dirt road when a girl came toward us, riding an Appaloosa mare. The girl was in her late teens, long legged and slender, with a flawless oval face framed by a mane of golden curls that gleamed like corn silk in the sun. She reined in as we approached and regarded us with eyes that shone like dark sapphires.

  “Howdy, Belle!” Toby shouted as we drove past.

  “Belle?” I said faintly. “Who is Belle?”

  “She’s Deke and Sarah Brockman’s daughter,” said Toby. “She and Brett Whitcombe got married last fall. It took Belle two years to get him to the altar. Brett just couldn’t believe that a lovely young thing like her could care for an old crock like him. Not that Brett’s old, but he thought he was too old for Belle. Belle got through to him in the end, though. As they say, true love conquers all.” Toby glanced at me. “What’s wrong, Lori? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. You don’t disapprove of Belle and Brett, do you?”

  “Me? Disapprove of true love? Not in a million years,” I said, and let the subject drop. If I told Toby that Belle Whitcombe was the spitting image of Nell Harris, a teenager bent on marrying a man with violet eyes who was twice her age, he’d airlift me to the nearest lunatic asylum. But I was certainly going to tell Aunt Dimity. “I know we’re supposed to be sightseeing, Toby, but do you mind if we go back to the Aerie instead? I’m a little tired.”

  “Has your shoulder stiffened up?” he asked.

  My head snapped in his direction. “What do you know about my shoulder?”

  “You told me you injured it a few weeks ago,” he said. “And you rub it whenever you get tired. If it’s bothering you, I’d recommend a long soak in the hot tub.”

  The thought of inviting Toby Cooper to join me in the hot tub was appallingly appealing, but I couldn’t risk it. If Toby saw my scar, he’d inevitably ask questions I had no intention of answering. My brain had been blissfully Abaddon-free for four nights in a row and I wanted it to stay that way. To rehash the shooting would be to risk luring my black-eyed demon back again.

  Apart from that, I felt an urgent need to tell Aunt Dimity everything I’d seen and heard at the Brockman Ranch, and I couldn’t take the blue journal with me to the hot tub. I wasn’t sure if Dimity’s particular brand of ink would run when wet, but I didn’t want to chance it.

  “My shoulder’s fine,” I said brusquely. “I just need a nap. Let’s go back to the Aerie.”

  “Your wish is my command,” said Toby, and turned the van toward Bluebird.

  Eight

  When we reached the Aerie, Toby stayed outside to prune underbrush and chop down a small stand of saplings that had sprung up too near the fire pit, as if to illustrate Brett Whitcombe’s observation that a place like the Aerie couldn’t be left unattended for too long. The Aerie, Toby informed me, as he doffed his T-shirt and hefted his axe, needed constant attention to keep it from being overrun by the surrounding forest.

  A weaker woman might have stuck around to watch him work up a sweat, but contrary to Aunt Dimity’s belief, I was capable of exercising self-discipline. I excused myself and went to the master suite. The morning was so beautiful that I would have opened the French doors if I hadn’t been worried about Toby passing beneath my deck and accidentally overhearing a lively conve
rsation between me and thin air.

  “I couldn’t explain Aunt Dimity to him even if I wanted to,” I said to Reginald as I retrieved the blue journal from the bedside table. “So we’ll leave the French doors closed for now.” I tweaked my pink bunny’s ears, sat in the white armchair near the fireplace, opened the blue journal, and said excitedly, “Dimity? Are you there? I have so much to tell you!”

  The curving lines of royal-blue ink zoomed across the page.

  Have we heard from Danny Auerbach at last? Do we know why he and his family left the Aerie?

  “I’ll get to Danny in a minute. First, I have to tell you about”—I paused for dramatic effect—“doppelgangers.”

  I know what a doppelganger is, my dear. Why do you feel the need to tell me about them?

  “Because I saw two doppelgangers this morning, at the Brockman Ranch.” I launched into a detailed description of my encounters with Belle and Brett Whitcombe, then awaited Dimity’s reaction. It wasn’t everything I’d hoped it would be.

  They sound very much like Nell Harris and Kit Smith.

  “They’re exactly like Nell Harris and Kit Smith,” I said. “Isn’t it incredible?”

  It’s said that everyone has a double, Lori.

  “But they don’t just look alike,” I persisted. “Belle’s father owns the Brockman Ranch, where Brett’s the head wrangler. Nell’s father owns Anscombe Manor, where Kit’s the stable master. Even their names are similar: Belle and Nell, Brett and Kit. And Brett didn’t want to marry Belle because he thought he was too old for her—just like Kit! It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

  Coincidences do happen, Lori. I wouldn’t read too much into them.

  “I’d read a lot into these coincidences,” I retorted. “Don’t you see, Dimity? It’s an omen, a good omen. Everything worked out for Belle and Brett, so everything will work out for Nell and Kit.” I cocked my head to one side and went on thoughtfully, “Maybe I should ask Belle how she persuaded Brett to marry her. Nell might appreciate a few tips.”

  You must promise me that you will do no such thing. Honestly, Lori, you can’t pry into a stranger’s intimate affairs simply because she reminds you of someone you know.