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Synopsis
Miss Kristin Anderson had never left home before, but no one was going to stop her from going to Montana to take possession of Larkspur, the ranch she had inherited. She didn't know she'd have to outsmart gunslingers and a land grabber named Forsythe.
Release date: April 12, 2001
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Print pages: 400
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Larkspur
Dorothy Garlock
“Finished LARKSPUR and loved it. I love
western historicals and I love Montana.
When you add the fact that I have always
been a Dorothy Garlock fan, it gives
LARKSPUR a winning combination.”
—Janet Dailey
“Please, Kristin. Please stay here at Larkspur with me.”
His words echoed to the core of her being. What did he mean? She summoned all her determination to ask. Her voice came out thin and weak. “As housekeeper?”
Without conscious effort he was drawing her closer to him. Finally his hands slid behind her back and she was leaning against him, her head pressed against his shoulder. Buck turned his face into her hair.
Lord help him say the right words. Happiness such as he never dreamed of having was right here in this sweet woman. Somehow he had to make her see him as a man who needed love and who had love to give . . .
“HER BOOKS ARE PRECIOUS KEEPSAKES.”
—Romantic Times
“For those who like their romance dark,
emotionally complex, and brimful of grit,
Garlock holds the reins masterfully.”
—Publishers Weekly on Sins of Summer
Books by Dorothy Garlock
Annie Lash
Dream River
Forever Victoria
A Gentle Giving
Glorious Dawn
Homeplace
Lonesome River
Love and Cherish
Larkspur
Midnight Blue
Nightrose
Restless Wind
Ribbon in the Sky
River of Tomorrow
The Searching Hearts
Sins of Summer
Sweetwater
Tenderness
The Listening Sky
This Loving Land
Wayward Wind
Wild Sweet Wilderness
Wind of Promise
Yesteryear
Published by
WARNER BOOKS
This book is dedicated to
MARCIA VOLK
a friend for all seasons
LARKSPUR
Larkspur, larkspur, growing free
Purple, pink or pearly white,
What will your petals bring to me
As I contemplate the empty night?
Is that poison in your bloom
More deadly than the life I lead
In my brother’s house: my lonely room,
My servile state, my soul in need?
You bear a claw beneath your flower
It warns of danger lurking there.
A challenge! Shall I cringe or cower?
No—this time I need to dare.
Larkspur, larkspur, magic weed,
You haunt me, taunt me, call me west
To where the earth supports your seed,
To where, at last, my heart can rest.
I’ll journey to that far-off place
Where one whose face I do not know
Has willed to me his stake, his space,
His “Larkspur” land. Oh, yes, I’ll go!
—F.S.I.
1883
River Falls,Wisconsin
“You will not go! I forbid it!”
Ferd Anderson went to the fireplace and leaned his arm against the thick oak mantel. His narrowed, angry gaze fastened on his sister’s face.
“I’m not a child, Ferd.” Kristin spoke calmly despite her nervousness. “I’m twenty-three years old and—”
“—A twenty-three-year-old spinster—” he interrupted rudely, “who has enjoyed the hospitality of my home for the past ten years and who has never been more than thirty miles from the place where she was born.”
Kristin refused to allow her brother to see the hurt inflicted by his remark.
“—And you expect me to allow you to travel alone to some godforsaken, uncivilized place called Big Timber in Montana Territory.”
“Mr. Hanson at the Sentinel wrote that Montana will become the forty-first state soon.”
“I don’t give a damn if it’ll be the first state! And what does that crackpot Hanson know about anything? You’re not going there. That’s my final word.”
“Women have more freedom now. This is the 1880s, not the Dark Ages. I’m no longer a child. Technically you have no say in the matter.”
“Don’t I? Don’t I?” he repeated, pushing himself away from the mantel. Outrage reddened his face, sparkled in his eyes and compressed his lips. “Who in thunder has been taking care of you all these years? Who put food in your mouth, clothes on your back and coal in the furnace to keep you warm? Huh?”
“You did, brother, and I’ve worked here in your home for my keep.”
“—And as soon as the opportunity comes for you to pay me back, you get it into your head to leave my protection, grab an inheritance from a ne’er-do-well uncle and squander it.”
“He couldn’t have been too much of a ne’er-do-well. He acquired property.”
“I remember my ma saying he was too lazy to spit.”
“My mother liked him. Uncle Hansel told Gustaf that Uncle Yarby was a good-hearted man with an adventurous spirit who wanted to see some of the world before he settled down.”
“Uncle Hansel!” Ferd snorted in disgust. “He left his sons nothing but a half dozen cows, a span of oxen, and a farm with a mortgage. He also left them a houseful of womenfolk to feed and a do-nothing dawdler like Gustaf who refuses to stay home and help ease Lars’s burden.”
Kristin was quiet for a moment. It would do no good to argue that Gustaf was not a do-nothing dawdler. Ferd had always resented him for his good looks and charming ways.
“I didn’t realize that you considered me a burden, Ferd,” Kristin said, in an effort to move the subject from Gustaf. She moved around the chair and straightened the white crocheted doily that lay on the back. “When my mother died, you insisted that I come here. And when you sold the farm, it was my understanding that my part of the money would go to pay for my keep.”
“How long do you think that lasted? It was used up long ago.”
“I’ve been an unpaid housekeeper, Ferd. A nursemaid to your children, a seamstress—”
“Oh . . . oh—” The trembling words came from Ferd’s wife, Andora. “That’s not true and it’s mean of you to say so. You . . . came here and just took over. We gave you a roof over your head and—”
“Be quiet!” Ferd snapped; and when Andora began to cry, he shouted, “Stop that!”
Andora gave a tiny scream, fell back on the couch and assumed her best pouting position.
Ferd turned back to the mantel again, breathing heavily. He was a big man; hardworking, prosperous, ambitious. His lumber business was growing along with the population increase in Wisconsin. He had planned to open a branch in a neighboring town. The money from the inheritance would have made it possible.
Fourteen years older than his half sister, he had paid scant attention to her other than to be aware that she was there, looking after the girls, tending the house for him and his wife, who was beautiful and as irresponsible as a child and would always be.
Andora suited Ferd admirably. He could dress her up, show her off to his business friends and be certain she would reveal nothing of consequence because she knew nothing. She had been trained to compliment the right people and to gush at the right moment. The fact that she was a failure in bed meant nothing. There were others far more capable and willing to satisfy his sexual needs.
“I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.” Ferd’s jowls quivered with agitation. “Why you, for God’s sake? Yarby had three brothers beside Pa. All of them are dead now, but he had ten nephews. If he didn’t want me to have it, he could have left the land to Sven, Lars, Karl, James—”
“—And four nieces,” Kristin amended. “And I don’t know why he left it to me.”
“If Yarby Anderson had the brains God gave the rest of the family, he’d have known that women are not supposed to clutter up their minds with business matters and decisions,” Ferd continued his tirade as if Kristin had not spoken.
“I can’t believe you’d just up and leave us,” Andora whimpered. “As soon as you get your hands on a little money you go away so none of us will know what you do with it, and after all we’ve done for you.”
“I’ve done just as much for you, Andora,” Kristin said, trying not to show her frustration. “Ever since you married Ferd, you’ve had a maid who worked for room and board. You’ve never had to cook the meals, wash or iron, or get up with the children in the middle of the night.”
“I’ve . . . cooked—”
“Something fancy you wanted to show off.”
“Ferd paid you to cook!”
“A dollar a month.” Kristin’s patience was strained, and her voice rose angrily.
“You’d not have had a roof over your head if not for Ferd. If you had an ounce of gratitude, you’d give the money to him. You’re . . . selfish and mean and you’ve turned the girls against me!”
“You’re spoiling them rotten, Andora. They’ll grow up to be just like you.”
“What’s wrong with that? They’ll not be old maids like you!” Andora retorted nastily.
Kristin looked down at her sister-in-law, who had sunk back down on the couch and was dabbing at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief—one that Kristin had made.
“I didn’t realize this before, but maybe I have been selfish, Andora. I loved doing for the girls, but I hate seeing them grow up to be so self-centered and unlovable. I liked keeping the house and took pride in it. In doing so, I may have fostered your irresponsibility and contributed to your uselessness.”
“Hold your tongue! You have no right to chastise Andora,” Ferd shouted, and gave his thigh a terrific slap with the palm of his hand.
“I have as much right as she has to chastise me.”
“Oh! I’m not . . . useless. Ferd loves me the way I am! You’ve ruined everything. Who’ll take the girls to their music lessons and . . . how’ll I get my dress finished before the Fourth? All the seamstresses worth their salt have been engaged by now.” Andora burst into tears and ran from the room.
Kristin sighed. “You might try doing it yourself, Andora.”
“Stop this bickering!” Ferd shouted, then turned on his sister with a brutality he seldom showed. “Papa pampered you from the day you were born. His big mistake was having you educated. Mine was continuing on with it after he died.”
“Only for part of a year,” Kristin reminded him. “After you married Andora, you soon learned that though she was pretty, she wasn’t capable of running the house.”
“If you’d been walking behind a plow these past ten years and milking cows like your cousins, you’d not have your head crammed full of fancy notions.”
“Ferd, I don’t want to leave with hard feelings.”
“You’ll not leave.”
“Ferd—”
“—I’ve had my say and you’ll not defy me. Besides, I’ve already sent a letter off to that lawyer fellow who has someone who wants the land. I told him to get an offer. Not that I’ll take the first one he makes, but it’ll give me an idea of what the land is worth.”
“You had no right to do that without consulting me.”
“As head of this family, I made it my right. Now I’ll hear no more about it.”
“And you won’t.” Anger straightened Kristin’s back and put a fighting spark in her eyes.
“I thought you’d be sensible about it.”
“Ferd, it isn’t that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done for me. It’s just that this is something for me, not you, to decide. I’m leaving for Montana Territory in the morning.”
Ferd looked stunned. His raised brows wrinkled a forehead made high by his receding hairline. He was taller than his sister, but his rounded shoulders and paunch made him seem shorter. He set himself solidly, legs well apart, and pushed out his chin.
“And where did you get the money for a train ticket?” he asked in a voice that was deceptively calm.
“Cousin Gustaf lent it to me. He’s taking me to Eau Claire to catch the train.”
Ferd said nothing for a long while. Then, noting a ripple of movement that revealed a tightening of every muscle in his body, Kristin put her hand to her throat and stared at him. Never before had she seen such pure rage in her brother. His fists were tightly clenched, his mouth clamped shut. His face was red, and violence roiled in his eyes. For a moment she feared that he would strike her.
“Gustaf,” he spat. “I’m not surprised that that hornswoggler stuck his bill in. If he wasn’t going to get Yarby’s money, he intended to make sure that I didn’t.”
“It isn’t cash money,” Kristin said patiently. “It’s . . . land called Larkspur. It may be worthless.”
“You would take that light-foot’s advice over mine, and, like a common slut, travel alone to some godforsaken place where you will more than likely end up in a whorehouse! You’ve not got the brains to take care of yourself.” By the time Ferd finished speaking, his face was crimson and he was shouting.
“You don’t have much confidence in me, do you?”
“You will embarrass me before this whole town. Everyone will think I’ve lost my mind, allowing you to go willy-nilly out to this wild unsettled place.” Ferd was so angry that he never heard a word she said. “If you go, after all Andora and I have done for you, never darken my door again.”
“I’m sorry you said that, Ferd.”
“And never show your face in this town either. It will be hard enough for us to live down the shame of your betrayal.”
“You’re my closest kin. I don’t want to leave with this between us.”
He turned to the door.
“Ferd.”
He didn’t answer.
“Ferd?”
Without a look or a word he went quickly up the stairs.
Kristin stood for a long moment with her head bowed.
Betrayal could mean only one thing: Ferd had bragged to his friends about the land he had inherited in Montana, and now everyone would know it had been left not to him but to his sister. Pride stiffened Kristin’s back. She refused to take blame for taking charge of her own future. If Ferd suffered a loss of esteem, it was of his own doing.
Moving slowly, knowing it would be for the last time, she closed up the house for the night, as she had done for the past ten years, and went to her room adjoining the kitchen. As the family had increased, it had become necessary to convert the large pantry into a bedroom, and Kristin had willingly left the children’s room for the privacy of this small space.
The gray dress she planned to wear for the trip hung over the back of a chair, her good black shoes sat under it. On the seat were her undergarments, her hat and a dark shawl she thought wise to wear because Cousin Gustaf had said the train would be smoky and dirty. Her clothes were in the trunk along with family photographs Ferd did not care for, personal items, sheets and towels. On top of all were her sewing equipment and writing materials. Everything she owned was in the trunk, the box, and a tapestry bag containing toilet articles and a pistol Gustaf had given to her and insisted she carry. He had taken her out to the woods and shown her how to load and shoot the gun. He cautioned her to keep it with her at all times.
“If you need it, it’ll be there,” he had said. “And don’t be afraid to use it. If a man comes at you and refuses to back off, he’s going to hurt you. It’ll be you or him.”
“I don’t know if I could shoot anyone, Gus.”
“You could if you had to. Keep the gun loaded. Unloaded, it’s no use at all. Hold it straight out and pull the trigger slowly.”
They had practiced until Gustaf was satisfied she at least knew how to handle the gun. Now Kristin felt safer knowing that she had the weapon. And Gustaf was right; she would use it if she was forced to do so to protect herself.
Kristin had planned to have a tub bath, but after the unsettling set-to with Ferd and Andora, she decided to carry warm water from the kitchen and wash in her room. Afterward she put on her nightdress and, standing before the small mirror above her washstand, looked at herself. She didn’t think she was pretty, but neither was she ugly. Kristin took the pins from the braids that wrapped around her head. She had washed her hair that morning in fresh rainwater, not knowing when she would have the chance again. Silvery blond hair was not unusual in this Swedish community, but it was her most startling feature. Her eyes ran a close second. They were large and blue-gray, deep-set, under well-defined brows only a shade darker than her hair.
She leaned closer to the mirror. Faint lines of worry had appeared lately between her brows and at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her face had a pensive look. The shadows beneath her eyes told of sleepless nights. Her wide mouth, its lower lip fuller and softer than the upper one, was turned down at the corners, reflecting her less than happy mood.
Ferd had called her a spinster. She guessed she was, but she had not thought much about it. She had been courted by several men when she was younger. None suited her brother, which had not mattered because none had suited her either. Now word was out that a man had to go first through Ferd to reach his sister, and lately not one had thought the effort worthwhile except for a couple of widowers who had been left with young children and little else. The thought of bedding with either of them made Kristin’s stomach heave.
She had not settled as happily and as gratefully into the life of sister-servant as Andora and Ferd had believed. The girls, ages six and eight, were resentful of her authority. Andora indulged them in whatever they wanted to do, and of late they had begun to follow their mother’s example and treat their aunt as a servant in the house.
Many times, when resentment bubbled up in Kristin, she longed to have something of her own and to see some of life other than the small confines of her brother’s house here in River Falls, Wisconsin. Cousin Gustaf had helped to feed that ambition. He had told her of life beyond this small town and had even urged her to consider taking a position as governess or housekeeper in Eau Claire or St. Paul. Until now she had not had the courage to make the break.
Her life had taken a sudden change when the letter had come from Yarby Anderson’s solicitor, a Mr. Mark Lee, telling her that after his being missing for a year, Yarby’s remains had been found and identified. In a will dated twenty years earlier, when Kristin was four years old, he had left her all of his worldly possessions, which now consisted of ranchland called Larkspur.
To Kristin, who had never had more than five dollars of her own to do with as she pleased, it was a miracle. She had been elated until Gustaf had explained that several thousand acres of land in Montana might not equal forty acres of good farmland in Wisconsin.
Nevertheless it was something.
Kristin sat down in her mother’s rocker. She would have liked to grieve for this uncle who had remembered her in his will, but she was not very successful. She had never seen him and all she knew of him was from what Gustaf remembered about him and that he had written her mother two letters after her father had died. She had searched the trunk for them, but they seemed to have disappeared. It gave Kristin a warm feeling to know that somewhere there had been a man who had cared enough about her to bequeath her some property.
She’d had no idea the furor that would result when she showed the letter to Ferd. He railed against Uncle Yarby for being so stupid as to leave an estate to a woman, railed at the time it would take to get the estate settled and the money in the bank.
After a week of hearing about the wrong done in her favor to the rest of the family, Kristin began to get not only stubborn but angry. She decided that if it was the last thing she did on earth, she was going to see this land that was hers now and stand at the grave of the man who had left it to her. She had every legal right to go there, and she was backed by her cousin, who insisted that he finance the trip. She accepted after promising to return the money as soon as the estate was settled.
Kristin and Gustaf had been born on the same day on adjoining farms. They had played together as children and had gone to school together. At sixteen Gustaf had left the farm to work on the boats carrying freight up and down the Mississippi River. Since then he had come home, at times, to help his brothers put in the crops or to harvest them, considering it his duty to help provide for his mother and unmarried sister.
Ferd considered Gustaf a man without substance, but her cousin had always been dear to Kristin, and she looked forward to his visits home. Without Gustaf’s urging, Kristin doubted that she would have had the courage to defy Ferd and set out on this long and uncertain journey.
Heavens! The farthest she had been from home was Eau Claire, and that was only one time when Ferd wanted her to tend the children while he and Andora mixed with the social set.
The lamplight threw Kristin’s shadow on the wall. She watched it as she rocked. It was very strange to be sitting here, ready to leave this place where she had spent the past ten years. It didn’t seem that any of this had really happened. She wished with all her heart that she wasn’t leaving with an irreparable rift between herself and her brother.
What in the world would she do if this turned out to be a hoax and there was no inheritance? She would do as she had always done, she told herself sternly. She was not helpless. She could cook and sew and . . . milk cows.
I’m sure they have dairy farms in Montana.
Dawn came.
Kristin had slept only fitfully all night. For the last hour she had been awake and listening for the birds to chirp in the trees above the house and for the roosters on the next street to announce the new day. At the first sound she got out of bed, went to the window and looked out. The sky was clear. This was the first day of her new life. She would be starting it in fine weather.
After lighting the lamp, Kristin used the chamber pot. She usually waited until she was dressed and then went to the outhouse, but this morning she felt defiant. She smiled knowing that her bit of revenge was childish.
How long would it be before Andora thought to empty the pot?
Last night anger and hurt had vied with one another in her heart, but this morning she felt as brave as an angry lioness. During the night the fear of the long journey and what she would find at the end of it had left her. Come what might, she would at least see another part of the world. She washed her face and hands in cold water from the pitcher, not bothering to fetch warm from the cookstove reservoir. She dressed, braided her hair and fastened the coils around her head with the large ivory hairpins Gustaf had brought her from some faraway place. Her stomach growled as she put the small-brimmed straw hat on her head and secured it with a hatpin. She had been so nervous last night that she had scarcely eaten anything at all.
She had been careful with what she packed to take with her. Besides her clothes and a few mementos, she took only what she had brought with the dollar a month Ferd had given her for her special use after she had nagged him for weeks because she wanted to buy a real toothbrush.
The house was quiet as she carried her baggage out to the front yard. She struggled with the small trunk, returned for the box and then for the bag and shawl she would carry on the train. Gustaf was coming to take her to Eau Claire to catch the train. Train. Never had she imagined that she would be going to a distant land on a train. With her baggage piled just inside the yard gate, she returned to the house one last time to pause in the front hall and listen. No footsteps sounded from the upper rooms. All was still.
Ferd was not coming down to say good-bye.
By the time she returned to the front gate, Gustaf had arrived. Dear Gustaf. What would she do without him? He hopped down from the buggy and tied the horse to the hitching post. The cousins could have passed for twins though Gustaf was a half head taller than Kristin and his blond hair was a shade darker. It matched the rakish mustache on his upper lip. He wore a smile on his handsome face. His eyes went past Kristin to the darkened house.
“Ole Ferd still got a kink in his tail?” Gustaf picked up the trunk and carried it to the boot of the buggy.
“He’s terribly angry.”
“He’ll get over it.” Gustaf settled her box beside the trunk, then with his hand beneath her elbow, he helped her up into the buggy.
“No. He told me never to come back.”
“He said that?”
“And more.” Kristin flipped the shawl around her shoulders to ward off the morning chill.
“The man’s a fool,” Gustaf growled as they drove away.
Kristin, her heart aching, looked back at the house to see if Ferd or Andora had relented and had stepped out onto the porch to wave good-bye.
The door was closed. The porch was empty.
The streets of River Falls lay empty except for a few merchants sweeping the walks and porches as they prepared for a new business day. They turned to stare at the buggy and to wonder what Ferd Anderson’s sister and her vagabond cousin were doing out so early. Gustaf chuckled at their curiosity and saluted gaily as the buggy passed. The only sound was the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the brick-paved street.
Kristin gloried in a mounting sense of freedom. Was this how a small bird felt when it left the nest and flew for the first time?
“Hungry?” They had left the town and were on the open road to Eau Claire.
“You heard my stomach growl,” Kristin accused.
“Naw. I figured ya’d have a big ruckus with Ferd and be too upset to eat. Ma fixed a basket. It’s there under the seat.”
“Bless Aunt Ingrid.” Kristin lifted the basket up onto the seat between them.
“The fritters are on top. The rest is for ya to take with ya. It should last all day and part of tomorrow. By then you’ll be in Fargo, where you change trains. Ya can refill it there with food enough to last until ya get to Big Timber.”
“Won’t buying food at the station cost a lot of money?” Kristin took a bite of the fritter.
“Ya got to eat. Ferd didn’t give ya a dime, did he?”
“No.” Kristin would have been embarrassed to admit this to anyone but her cousin. “Gustaf, I’ll pay back every cent—”
“Hush about payback. Ya’ve got crumbs on your mouth.”
“Ferd will tell your brothers that you gave me the money. They’ll be angry knowing you had it and didn’t put it toward your mother and sister’s keep.”
“I give them money each time I come home, and I take nothin’ from the farm. Lars and Kevin will tell Ferd to mind his own business. I’d go with ya, Kris, but I promised to stay until Lars gets on his feet.”
“How is he?”
“He’s gettin’ around on a crutch. He should be all right in a few weeks.”
“I wish you were coming now.”
“Ya’ll be all right. Get a room in the hotel in Big Timber and look up that solicitor. What’s his name?”
“Mark Lee.”
“If ya need me, send a wire in care of Tommy Bragg.” He gave her an impish grin. She grinned back.
“You’re setting me up good and proper. Ferd Anderson’s spinster sister leaves town and wires the notorious town rascal.”
“Don’t sign it. I’ll know who it’s from.”
“So will the rest of the town if it comes from Big Timber.”
“Do ya care?”
“I thought I would, but I don’t. Oh, Gus, what if it’s all a hoax? What if the inheritance doesn’t amount to a hill of beans?”
“Then ya’ve had a grand adventure out of it.”
“But . . . I can’t come back.”
“I’ll come to wherever ya are and snag ya a rich husband.”
“Oh, Gus. Be serious. I haven’t heard a word from that Mr. Lenning who has been managing the property.”
“He’s probably an old goat like Yarby and can’t write. I betcha Ferd’s heard plenty from Lee.”
“No! You think he’d do that and not tell me?”
“Hell, yes! When we get to Eau Claire, I’m going to send a wire to Mark Lee and tell him to be expecting ya. I’ll also tell him that if he don’t treat ya right, I’ll come out there and bust his head.”
“You can’t say that in a wire.”
“No, but he’ll get the message.”
Kristin put the basket back down on the floor of the buggy. Aunt Ingrid had packed slices of bread and butter, cheese, hard-boiled eggs, apples and fritters.
“What time does the train go?”
“Eleven o’clock. We’ve plenty of time. Nervous?”
“A little.”
“Ya’ll be fine. Just remember what I said about not making eye contact with a man that’s giving you the once-over. Be alert and act as if you owned the world. A stuck-up woman will turn a fellow off quicker than anything if he’s got any brains. If he has none, use your hatpin. If that doesn’t work, use the pistol to discourage him.”
Kristin laughed. “I doubt that I’ll be bothered all that much.”
“You’ll be noticed, you can bet your boots on that. You’re pretty, Kris. I’ve been telling you that for years.”
“Oh, pooh! You say that because you like me.”
“I’d say it if I didn’t like you. I’ve been up and down the river a dozen times and seen all kinds. You’re a handsome woman and you got brains, which is more than that worthless piece of fluff Ferd married has.”
Kristin laughed. “You talk as though men will be following me as if I were the Pied Piper.”
“Who’s he?” Gustaf screwed his bill cap down tighter on his blond head.
“Way back in the thirteenth century the town of Hamelin in Germany was plagued with rats. A mysterious stranger came and offered to rid the town of the pests. He played his pipe, and the rats came swarming out of the buildings and followed him to the river, where they drowned.”
Kristin knew how Gustaf loved a story so she continued.
“When the town leaders refused to pay the piper, he returned and once more played his pipe. This time all the children in
western historicals and I love Montana.
When you add the fact that I have always
been a Dorothy Garlock fan, it gives
LARKSPUR a winning combination.”
—Janet Dailey
“Please, Kristin. Please stay here at Larkspur with me.”
His words echoed to the core of her being. What did he mean? She summoned all her determination to ask. Her voice came out thin and weak. “As housekeeper?”
Without conscious effort he was drawing her closer to him. Finally his hands slid behind her back and she was leaning against him, her head pressed against his shoulder. Buck turned his face into her hair.
Lord help him say the right words. Happiness such as he never dreamed of having was right here in this sweet woman. Somehow he had to make her see him as a man who needed love and who had love to give . . .
“HER BOOKS ARE PRECIOUS KEEPSAKES.”
—Romantic Times
“For those who like their romance dark,
emotionally complex, and brimful of grit,
Garlock holds the reins masterfully.”
—Publishers Weekly on Sins of Summer
Books by Dorothy Garlock
Annie Lash
Dream River
Forever Victoria
A Gentle Giving
Glorious Dawn
Homeplace
Lonesome River
Love and Cherish
Larkspur
Midnight Blue
Nightrose
Restless Wind
Ribbon in the Sky
River of Tomorrow
The Searching Hearts
Sins of Summer
Sweetwater
Tenderness
The Listening Sky
This Loving Land
Wayward Wind
Wild Sweet Wilderness
Wind of Promise
Yesteryear
Published by
WARNER BOOKS
This book is dedicated to
MARCIA VOLK
a friend for all seasons
LARKSPUR
Larkspur, larkspur, growing free
Purple, pink or pearly white,
What will your petals bring to me
As I contemplate the empty night?
Is that poison in your bloom
More deadly than the life I lead
In my brother’s house: my lonely room,
My servile state, my soul in need?
You bear a claw beneath your flower
It warns of danger lurking there.
A challenge! Shall I cringe or cower?
No—this time I need to dare.
Larkspur, larkspur, magic weed,
You haunt me, taunt me, call me west
To where the earth supports your seed,
To where, at last, my heart can rest.
I’ll journey to that far-off place
Where one whose face I do not know
Has willed to me his stake, his space,
His “Larkspur” land. Oh, yes, I’ll go!
—F.S.I.
1883
River Falls,Wisconsin
“You will not go! I forbid it!”
Ferd Anderson went to the fireplace and leaned his arm against the thick oak mantel. His narrowed, angry gaze fastened on his sister’s face.
“I’m not a child, Ferd.” Kristin spoke calmly despite her nervousness. “I’m twenty-three years old and—”
“—A twenty-three-year-old spinster—” he interrupted rudely, “who has enjoyed the hospitality of my home for the past ten years and who has never been more than thirty miles from the place where she was born.”
Kristin refused to allow her brother to see the hurt inflicted by his remark.
“—And you expect me to allow you to travel alone to some godforsaken, uncivilized place called Big Timber in Montana Territory.”
“Mr. Hanson at the Sentinel wrote that Montana will become the forty-first state soon.”
“I don’t give a damn if it’ll be the first state! And what does that crackpot Hanson know about anything? You’re not going there. That’s my final word.”
“Women have more freedom now. This is the 1880s, not the Dark Ages. I’m no longer a child. Technically you have no say in the matter.”
“Don’t I? Don’t I?” he repeated, pushing himself away from the mantel. Outrage reddened his face, sparkled in his eyes and compressed his lips. “Who in thunder has been taking care of you all these years? Who put food in your mouth, clothes on your back and coal in the furnace to keep you warm? Huh?”
“You did, brother, and I’ve worked here in your home for my keep.”
“—And as soon as the opportunity comes for you to pay me back, you get it into your head to leave my protection, grab an inheritance from a ne’er-do-well uncle and squander it.”
“He couldn’t have been too much of a ne’er-do-well. He acquired property.”
“I remember my ma saying he was too lazy to spit.”
“My mother liked him. Uncle Hansel told Gustaf that Uncle Yarby was a good-hearted man with an adventurous spirit who wanted to see some of the world before he settled down.”
“Uncle Hansel!” Ferd snorted in disgust. “He left his sons nothing but a half dozen cows, a span of oxen, and a farm with a mortgage. He also left them a houseful of womenfolk to feed and a do-nothing dawdler like Gustaf who refuses to stay home and help ease Lars’s burden.”
Kristin was quiet for a moment. It would do no good to argue that Gustaf was not a do-nothing dawdler. Ferd had always resented him for his good looks and charming ways.
“I didn’t realize that you considered me a burden, Ferd,” Kristin said, in an effort to move the subject from Gustaf. She moved around the chair and straightened the white crocheted doily that lay on the back. “When my mother died, you insisted that I come here. And when you sold the farm, it was my understanding that my part of the money would go to pay for my keep.”
“How long do you think that lasted? It was used up long ago.”
“I’ve been an unpaid housekeeper, Ferd. A nursemaid to your children, a seamstress—”
“Oh . . . oh—” The trembling words came from Ferd’s wife, Andora. “That’s not true and it’s mean of you to say so. You . . . came here and just took over. We gave you a roof over your head and—”
“Be quiet!” Ferd snapped; and when Andora began to cry, he shouted, “Stop that!”
Andora gave a tiny scream, fell back on the couch and assumed her best pouting position.
Ferd turned back to the mantel again, breathing heavily. He was a big man; hardworking, prosperous, ambitious. His lumber business was growing along with the population increase in Wisconsin. He had planned to open a branch in a neighboring town. The money from the inheritance would have made it possible.
Fourteen years older than his half sister, he had paid scant attention to her other than to be aware that she was there, looking after the girls, tending the house for him and his wife, who was beautiful and as irresponsible as a child and would always be.
Andora suited Ferd admirably. He could dress her up, show her off to his business friends and be certain she would reveal nothing of consequence because she knew nothing. She had been trained to compliment the right people and to gush at the right moment. The fact that she was a failure in bed meant nothing. There were others far more capable and willing to satisfy his sexual needs.
“I don’t understand. I just don’t understand.” Ferd’s jowls quivered with agitation. “Why you, for God’s sake? Yarby had three brothers beside Pa. All of them are dead now, but he had ten nephews. If he didn’t want me to have it, he could have left the land to Sven, Lars, Karl, James—”
“—And four nieces,” Kristin amended. “And I don’t know why he left it to me.”
“If Yarby Anderson had the brains God gave the rest of the family, he’d have known that women are not supposed to clutter up their minds with business matters and decisions,” Ferd continued his tirade as if Kristin had not spoken.
“I can’t believe you’d just up and leave us,” Andora whimpered. “As soon as you get your hands on a little money you go away so none of us will know what you do with it, and after all we’ve done for you.”
“I’ve done just as much for you, Andora,” Kristin said, trying not to show her frustration. “Ever since you married Ferd, you’ve had a maid who worked for room and board. You’ve never had to cook the meals, wash or iron, or get up with the children in the middle of the night.”
“I’ve . . . cooked—”
“Something fancy you wanted to show off.”
“Ferd paid you to cook!”
“A dollar a month.” Kristin’s patience was strained, and her voice rose angrily.
“You’d not have had a roof over your head if not for Ferd. If you had an ounce of gratitude, you’d give the money to him. You’re . . . selfish and mean and you’ve turned the girls against me!”
“You’re spoiling them rotten, Andora. They’ll grow up to be just like you.”
“What’s wrong with that? They’ll not be old maids like you!” Andora retorted nastily.
Kristin looked down at her sister-in-law, who had sunk back down on the couch and was dabbing at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief—one that Kristin had made.
“I didn’t realize this before, but maybe I have been selfish, Andora. I loved doing for the girls, but I hate seeing them grow up to be so self-centered and unlovable. I liked keeping the house and took pride in it. In doing so, I may have fostered your irresponsibility and contributed to your uselessness.”
“Hold your tongue! You have no right to chastise Andora,” Ferd shouted, and gave his thigh a terrific slap with the palm of his hand.
“I have as much right as she has to chastise me.”
“Oh! I’m not . . . useless. Ferd loves me the way I am! You’ve ruined everything. Who’ll take the girls to their music lessons and . . . how’ll I get my dress finished before the Fourth? All the seamstresses worth their salt have been engaged by now.” Andora burst into tears and ran from the room.
Kristin sighed. “You might try doing it yourself, Andora.”
“Stop this bickering!” Ferd shouted, then turned on his sister with a brutality he seldom showed. “Papa pampered you from the day you were born. His big mistake was having you educated. Mine was continuing on with it after he died.”
“Only for part of a year,” Kristin reminded him. “After you married Andora, you soon learned that though she was pretty, she wasn’t capable of running the house.”
“If you’d been walking behind a plow these past ten years and milking cows like your cousins, you’d not have your head crammed full of fancy notions.”
“Ferd, I don’t want to leave with hard feelings.”
“You’ll not leave.”
“Ferd—”
“—I’ve had my say and you’ll not defy me. Besides, I’ve already sent a letter off to that lawyer fellow who has someone who wants the land. I told him to get an offer. Not that I’ll take the first one he makes, but it’ll give me an idea of what the land is worth.”
“You had no right to do that without consulting me.”
“As head of this family, I made it my right. Now I’ll hear no more about it.”
“And you won’t.” Anger straightened Kristin’s back and put a fighting spark in her eyes.
“I thought you’d be sensible about it.”
“Ferd, it isn’t that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done for me. It’s just that this is something for me, not you, to decide. I’m leaving for Montana Territory in the morning.”
Ferd looked stunned. His raised brows wrinkled a forehead made high by his receding hairline. He was taller than his sister, but his rounded shoulders and paunch made him seem shorter. He set himself solidly, legs well apart, and pushed out his chin.
“And where did you get the money for a train ticket?” he asked in a voice that was deceptively calm.
“Cousin Gustaf lent it to me. He’s taking me to Eau Claire to catch the train.”
Ferd said nothing for a long while. Then, noting a ripple of movement that revealed a tightening of every muscle in his body, Kristin put her hand to her throat and stared at him. Never before had she seen such pure rage in her brother. His fists were tightly clenched, his mouth clamped shut. His face was red, and violence roiled in his eyes. For a moment she feared that he would strike her.
“Gustaf,” he spat. “I’m not surprised that that hornswoggler stuck his bill in. If he wasn’t going to get Yarby’s money, he intended to make sure that I didn’t.”
“It isn’t cash money,” Kristin said patiently. “It’s . . . land called Larkspur. It may be worthless.”
“You would take that light-foot’s advice over mine, and, like a common slut, travel alone to some godforsaken place where you will more than likely end up in a whorehouse! You’ve not got the brains to take care of yourself.” By the time Ferd finished speaking, his face was crimson and he was shouting.
“You don’t have much confidence in me, do you?”
“You will embarrass me before this whole town. Everyone will think I’ve lost my mind, allowing you to go willy-nilly out to this wild unsettled place.” Ferd was so angry that he never heard a word she said. “If you go, after all Andora and I have done for you, never darken my door again.”
“I’m sorry you said that, Ferd.”
“And never show your face in this town either. It will be hard enough for us to live down the shame of your betrayal.”
“You’re my closest kin. I don’t want to leave with this between us.”
He turned to the door.
“Ferd.”
He didn’t answer.
“Ferd?”
Without a look or a word he went quickly up the stairs.
Kristin stood for a long moment with her head bowed.
Betrayal could mean only one thing: Ferd had bragged to his friends about the land he had inherited in Montana, and now everyone would know it had been left not to him but to his sister. Pride stiffened Kristin’s back. She refused to take blame for taking charge of her own future. If Ferd suffered a loss of esteem, it was of his own doing.
Moving slowly, knowing it would be for the last time, she closed up the house for the night, as she had done for the past ten years, and went to her room adjoining the kitchen. As the family had increased, it had become necessary to convert the large pantry into a bedroom, and Kristin had willingly left the children’s room for the privacy of this small space.
The gray dress she planned to wear for the trip hung over the back of a chair, her good black shoes sat under it. On the seat were her undergarments, her hat and a dark shawl she thought wise to wear because Cousin Gustaf had said the train would be smoky and dirty. Her clothes were in the trunk along with family photographs Ferd did not care for, personal items, sheets and towels. On top of all were her sewing equipment and writing materials. Everything she owned was in the trunk, the box, and a tapestry bag containing toilet articles and a pistol Gustaf had given to her and insisted she carry. He had taken her out to the woods and shown her how to load and shoot the gun. He cautioned her to keep it with her at all times.
“If you need it, it’ll be there,” he had said. “And don’t be afraid to use it. If a man comes at you and refuses to back off, he’s going to hurt you. It’ll be you or him.”
“I don’t know if I could shoot anyone, Gus.”
“You could if you had to. Keep the gun loaded. Unloaded, it’s no use at all. Hold it straight out and pull the trigger slowly.”
They had practiced until Gustaf was satisfied she at least knew how to handle the gun. Now Kristin felt safer knowing that she had the weapon. And Gustaf was right; she would use it if she was forced to do so to protect herself.
Kristin had planned to have a tub bath, but after the unsettling set-to with Ferd and Andora, she decided to carry warm water from the kitchen and wash in her room. Afterward she put on her nightdress and, standing before the small mirror above her washstand, looked at herself. She didn’t think she was pretty, but neither was she ugly. Kristin took the pins from the braids that wrapped around her head. She had washed her hair that morning in fresh rainwater, not knowing when she would have the chance again. Silvery blond hair was not unusual in this Swedish community, but it was her most startling feature. Her eyes ran a close second. They were large and blue-gray, deep-set, under well-defined brows only a shade darker than her hair.
She leaned closer to the mirror. Faint lines of worry had appeared lately between her brows and at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her face had a pensive look. The shadows beneath her eyes told of sleepless nights. Her wide mouth, its lower lip fuller and softer than the upper one, was turned down at the corners, reflecting her less than happy mood.
Ferd had called her a spinster. She guessed she was, but she had not thought much about it. She had been courted by several men when she was younger. None suited her brother, which had not mattered because none had suited her either. Now word was out that a man had to go first through Ferd to reach his sister, and lately not one had thought the effort worthwhile except for a couple of widowers who had been left with young children and little else. The thought of bedding with either of them made Kristin’s stomach heave.
She had not settled as happily and as gratefully into the life of sister-servant as Andora and Ferd had believed. The girls, ages six and eight, were resentful of her authority. Andora indulged them in whatever they wanted to do, and of late they had begun to follow their mother’s example and treat their aunt as a servant in the house.
Many times, when resentment bubbled up in Kristin, she longed to have something of her own and to see some of life other than the small confines of her brother’s house here in River Falls, Wisconsin. Cousin Gustaf had helped to feed that ambition. He had told her of life beyond this small town and had even urged her to consider taking a position as governess or housekeeper in Eau Claire or St. Paul. Until now she had not had the courage to make the break.
Her life had taken a sudden change when the letter had come from Yarby Anderson’s solicitor, a Mr. Mark Lee, telling her that after his being missing for a year, Yarby’s remains had been found and identified. In a will dated twenty years earlier, when Kristin was four years old, he had left her all of his worldly possessions, which now consisted of ranchland called Larkspur.
To Kristin, who had never had more than five dollars of her own to do with as she pleased, it was a miracle. She had been elated until Gustaf had explained that several thousand acres of land in Montana might not equal forty acres of good farmland in Wisconsin.
Nevertheless it was something.
Kristin sat down in her mother’s rocker. She would have liked to grieve for this uncle who had remembered her in his will, but she was not very successful. She had never seen him and all she knew of him was from what Gustaf remembered about him and that he had written her mother two letters after her father had died. She had searched the trunk for them, but they seemed to have disappeared. It gave Kristin a warm feeling to know that somewhere there had been a man who had cared enough about her to bequeath her some property.
She’d had no idea the furor that would result when she showed the letter to Ferd. He railed against Uncle Yarby for being so stupid as to leave an estate to a woman, railed at the time it would take to get the estate settled and the money in the bank.
After a week of hearing about the wrong done in her favor to the rest of the family, Kristin began to get not only stubborn but angry. She decided that if it was the last thing she did on earth, she was going to see this land that was hers now and stand at the grave of the man who had left it to her. She had every legal right to go there, and she was backed by her cousin, who insisted that he finance the trip. She accepted after promising to return the money as soon as the estate was settled.
Kristin and Gustaf had been born on the same day on adjoining farms. They had played together as children and had gone to school together. At sixteen Gustaf had left the farm to work on the boats carrying freight up and down the Mississippi River. Since then he had come home, at times, to help his brothers put in the crops or to harvest them, considering it his duty to help provide for his mother and unmarried sister.
Ferd considered Gustaf a man without substance, but her cousin had always been dear to Kristin, and she looked forward to his visits home. Without Gustaf’s urging, Kristin doubted that she would have had the courage to defy Ferd and set out on this long and uncertain journey.
Heavens! The farthest she had been from home was Eau Claire, and that was only one time when Ferd wanted her to tend the children while he and Andora mixed with the social set.
The lamplight threw Kristin’s shadow on the wall. She watched it as she rocked. It was very strange to be sitting here, ready to leave this place where she had spent the past ten years. It didn’t seem that any of this had really happened. She wished with all her heart that she wasn’t leaving with an irreparable rift between herself and her brother.
What in the world would she do if this turned out to be a hoax and there was no inheritance? She would do as she had always done, she told herself sternly. She was not helpless. She could cook and sew and . . . milk cows.
I’m sure they have dairy farms in Montana.
Dawn came.
Kristin had slept only fitfully all night. For the last hour she had been awake and listening for the birds to chirp in the trees above the house and for the roosters on the next street to announce the new day. At the first sound she got out of bed, went to the window and looked out. The sky was clear. This was the first day of her new life. She would be starting it in fine weather.
After lighting the lamp, Kristin used the chamber pot. She usually waited until she was dressed and then went to the outhouse, but this morning she felt defiant. She smiled knowing that her bit of revenge was childish.
How long would it be before Andora thought to empty the pot?
Last night anger and hurt had vied with one another in her heart, but this morning she felt as brave as an angry lioness. During the night the fear of the long journey and what she would find at the end of it had left her. Come what might, she would at least see another part of the world. She washed her face and hands in cold water from the pitcher, not bothering to fetch warm from the cookstove reservoir. She dressed, braided her hair and fastened the coils around her head with the large ivory hairpins Gustaf had brought her from some faraway place. Her stomach growled as she put the small-brimmed straw hat on her head and secured it with a hatpin. She had been so nervous last night that she had scarcely eaten anything at all.
She had been careful with what she packed to take with her. Besides her clothes and a few mementos, she took only what she had brought with the dollar a month Ferd had given her for her special use after she had nagged him for weeks because she wanted to buy a real toothbrush.
The house was quiet as she carried her baggage out to the front yard. She struggled with the small trunk, returned for the box and then for the bag and shawl she would carry on the train. Gustaf was coming to take her to Eau Claire to catch the train. Train. Never had she imagined that she would be going to a distant land on a train. With her baggage piled just inside the yard gate, she returned to the house one last time to pause in the front hall and listen. No footsteps sounded from the upper rooms. All was still.
Ferd was not coming down to say good-bye.
By the time she returned to the front gate, Gustaf had arrived. Dear Gustaf. What would she do without him? He hopped down from the buggy and tied the horse to the hitching post. The cousins could have passed for twins though Gustaf was a half head taller than Kristin and his blond hair was a shade darker. It matched the rakish mustache on his upper lip. He wore a smile on his handsome face. His eyes went past Kristin to the darkened house.
“Ole Ferd still got a kink in his tail?” Gustaf picked up the trunk and carried it to the boot of the buggy.
“He’s terribly angry.”
“He’ll get over it.” Gustaf settled her box beside the trunk, then with his hand beneath her elbow, he helped her up into the buggy.
“No. He told me never to come back.”
“He said that?”
“And more.” Kristin flipped the shawl around her shoulders to ward off the morning chill.
“The man’s a fool,” Gustaf growled as they drove away.
Kristin, her heart aching, looked back at the house to see if Ferd or Andora had relented and had stepped out onto the porch to wave good-bye.
The door was closed. The porch was empty.
The streets of River Falls lay empty except for a few merchants sweeping the walks and porches as they prepared for a new business day. They turned to stare at the buggy and to wonder what Ferd Anderson’s sister and her vagabond cousin were doing out so early. Gustaf chuckled at their curiosity and saluted gaily as the buggy passed. The only sound was the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the brick-paved street.
Kristin gloried in a mounting sense of freedom. Was this how a small bird felt when it left the nest and flew for the first time?
“Hungry?” They had left the town and were on the open road to Eau Claire.
“You heard my stomach growl,” Kristin accused.
“Naw. I figured ya’d have a big ruckus with Ferd and be too upset to eat. Ma fixed a basket. It’s there under the seat.”
“Bless Aunt Ingrid.” Kristin lifted the basket up onto the seat between them.
“The fritters are on top. The rest is for ya to take with ya. It should last all day and part of tomorrow. By then you’ll be in Fargo, where you change trains. Ya can refill it there with food enough to last until ya get to Big Timber.”
“Won’t buying food at the station cost a lot of money?” Kristin took a bite of the fritter.
“Ya got to eat. Ferd didn’t give ya a dime, did he?”
“No.” Kristin would have been embarrassed to admit this to anyone but her cousin. “Gustaf, I’ll pay back every cent—”
“Hush about payback. Ya’ve got crumbs on your mouth.”
“Ferd will tell your brothers that you gave me the money. They’ll be angry knowing you had it and didn’t put it toward your mother and sister’s keep.”
“I give them money each time I come home, and I take nothin’ from the farm. Lars and Kevin will tell Ferd to mind his own business. I’d go with ya, Kris, but I promised to stay until Lars gets on his feet.”
“How is he?”
“He’s gettin’ around on a crutch. He should be all right in a few weeks.”
“I wish you were coming now.”
“Ya’ll be all right. Get a room in the hotel in Big Timber and look up that solicitor. What’s his name?”
“Mark Lee.”
“If ya need me, send a wire in care of Tommy Bragg.” He gave her an impish grin. She grinned back.
“You’re setting me up good and proper. Ferd Anderson’s spinster sister leaves town and wires the notorious town rascal.”
“Don’t sign it. I’ll know who it’s from.”
“So will the rest of the town if it comes from Big Timber.”
“Do ya care?”
“I thought I would, but I don’t. Oh, Gus, what if it’s all a hoax? What if the inheritance doesn’t amount to a hill of beans?”
“Then ya’ve had a grand adventure out of it.”
“But . . . I can’t come back.”
“I’ll come to wherever ya are and snag ya a rich husband.”
“Oh, Gus. Be serious. I haven’t heard a word from that Mr. Lenning who has been managing the property.”
“He’s probably an old goat like Yarby and can’t write. I betcha Ferd’s heard plenty from Lee.”
“No! You think he’d do that and not tell me?”
“Hell, yes! When we get to Eau Claire, I’m going to send a wire to Mark Lee and tell him to be expecting ya. I’ll also tell him that if he don’t treat ya right, I’ll come out there and bust his head.”
“You can’t say that in a wire.”
“No, but he’ll get the message.”
Kristin put the basket back down on the floor of the buggy. Aunt Ingrid had packed slices of bread and butter, cheese, hard-boiled eggs, apples and fritters.
“What time does the train go?”
“Eleven o’clock. We’ve plenty of time. Nervous?”
“A little.”
“Ya’ll be fine. Just remember what I said about not making eye contact with a man that’s giving you the once-over. Be alert and act as if you owned the world. A stuck-up woman will turn a fellow off quicker than anything if he’s got any brains. If he has none, use your hatpin. If that doesn’t work, use the pistol to discourage him.”
Kristin laughed. “I doubt that I’ll be bothered all that much.”
“You’ll be noticed, you can bet your boots on that. You’re pretty, Kris. I’ve been telling you that for years.”
“Oh, pooh! You say that because you like me.”
“I’d say it if I didn’t like you. I’ve been up and down the river a dozen times and seen all kinds. You’re a handsome woman and you got brains, which is more than that worthless piece of fluff Ferd married has.”
Kristin laughed. “You talk as though men will be following me as if I were the Pied Piper.”
“Who’s he?” Gustaf screwed his bill cap down tighter on his blond head.
“Way back in the thirteenth century the town of Hamelin in Germany was plagued with rats. A mysterious stranger came and offered to rid the town of the pests. He played his pipe, and the rats came swarming out of the buildings and followed him to the river, where they drowned.”
Kristin knew how Gustaf loved a story so she continued.
“When the town leaders refused to pay the piper, he returned and once more played his pipe. This time all the children in
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