Page 20 of Willing to Wed the Rancher
She smiled back, warmth cascading through her.
As he mounted and trotted down the rest of the lane, she didn’t even try to hide that she was staring after him. Even as he turned onto the road, halted, and looked back, she didn’t pretend to be looking elsewhere.
He didn’t pretend to look anywhere else either. Not even at the children. His gaze locked on her for several long moments, making her chest tighten. He lifted his hand in a wave, then nudged his mount onward.
Only after his back was turned and he’d ridden out of sight did she expel a tense breath, one that contained a strange longing.
Oh, sweet heavens, Franz Meyer was an amazing man, and the day with him had been the best of her life.
Did that mean she was pathetic? That she needed to have more adventures and meet more people?
She wasn’t sure. But one thing she was sure of—she couldn’t allow her fledgling feelings to develop any further. He’d made it clear he was a confirmed bachelor and that he intended to return to Germany to his university teaching position. If he didn’t want to make room in his life for the children, then he wouldn’t make room in his life for a wife either.
Yes, the best thing to do was to see Franz as a loving uncle to Dieter and Bianca and not make more of an attraction than necessary.
Now if only she could convince her heart to follow the advice.
8
Who would want to murder Eric?
Franz stepped out the front door and past the sign that read,Addison M. Irving, Esq. Attorney at Law. Wills, Deeds filled, Disputes settled, Notary, Bondsman, Patents reviewed.
Franz had been at the office upon its opening at nine o’clock sharp. Mr. Irving had been welcoming and had also expressed all the right condolences for the loss of a brother. The lawyer had read Eric’s will, and it was just as Clarabelle had indicated. Not that Franz had doubted her. Not at all. She’d proven herself to be true and loyal yesterday within a short time of meeting her.
But he had hoped his visit with Mr. Irving would provide some clarification for why anyone would want to murder Eric, who’d clearly kept his familial identity a secret and was known only as a poor German immigrant farmer.
As far as anyone in the community knew, Eric had nothing of value, nothing to steal, nothing to claim, nothing to entice anyone. Certainly, no one would covet his fields or his tiny home. Not when land was nearly free in the West under the Homestead Act.
Of course, Eric had purchased his land outright, having taken a meager amount of gold and silver with him when he’d left Germany. Franz had insisted on Eric having all that rightfully belonged to him, but Eric had said he hadn’t wanted anything but forgiveness.
At the time, Franz had been too hurt, angry, and bitter to consider forgiving Eric, even after his brother had renouncedhis claim on the estate as firstborn and had given everything to Franz except the small amount that would help him get a fresh start in a new land.
Franz had scoffed at the inheritance, had believed Eric was using it to appease him—or perhaps even buy the forgiveness he’d sought. So instead of claiming the bulk of the inheritance and living at the estate on Lake Tollensesee, Franz had closed up the castle and moved to Berlin. A small number of loyal staff still maintained the home and grounds, but Franz had only gone back a couple of times over the years.
As a nobleman, the son of a baron, he hadn’t needed to work for a living. Regardless, he’d spent every waking moment devoting himself to becoming a world-renowned professor, staying too busy to think much about Eric and Luisa.
Now, after years of arduous work, he’d proven that he hadn’t gotten the job because of his title and wealth and his family’s connection to the emperor. He’d earned it through diligence and determination like any common man.
Franz stepped onto the boardwalk, which was partly caked with dried mud. The air was cool for a June morning, but it was light and invigorating and clean. He took a deep breath, letting it clear away the nagging headache that had plagued him the past couple of nights, likely part of the altitude adjustment that everyone in Denver had warned him about.
After all, Breckenridge stood at 9,600 feet of elevation compared to the 5,000 of Denver. Berlin was a measly 115 feet above sea level. Here, he was practically on top of the world, or at least, it felt that way. Of course, he’d studied enough geography to know that the Rocky Mountains weren’t nearly the tallest peaks in the world. All the same, now that he was here, he was glad he’d made the trip.
He peered past the weathered false fronts of the businesses lining Main Street to the rising mountains behind the town.They were rockier and more barren than he’d expected above the tree line, the alpine tundra zone with low-growing grasses and shrubs.
Sometime before he left, he’d have to hire a guide to take him on a hiking expedition into the higher peaks. Surely such an adventure would provide plenty of interesting information to share with his students when he returned home.
He shifted his gaze to the road running north following the Blue River as it led to Eric’s farm and to Clarabelle and the children. From the moment he’d awoken this morning, he’d been eager to ride back out and see them again. He’d actually done little else but think about Clarabelle since leaving her last evening.
Yes, he was worried that she was living alone in the wilderness with two little children. What woman did that? Especially with an unsolved murder that had recently taken place. Even though she wore a pistol, how would she fend for herself and the children if the murderer really did return?
More than worrying about her, he simply admired everything about her, from her beauty to her tender spirit to her sacrificial attitude with the children. She’d been easy to talk to and companionable and even fun. He’d enjoyed spending the day with her and the children, watching them at work, listening to their tales of adventure, and getting to know them.
And he wanted to find a way to help them, make their lives easier... at least in the short term. Maybe he’d even find a way to transfer a portion of the inheritance over to the children so that they wouldn’t ever be in need.
In the meantime, he needed to find out more about Eric during the last months of his life and try to discover whom—if anyone—Eric had offended or made enemies with. It was difficult to imagine Eric offending or making an enemy of anyone, but maybe his brother had changed over the years ofliving in America and had intermingled with the wrong type of people.
Franz turned his steps down the boardwalk toward the store he’d passed last evening on his way into town. The bright lights that had emanated from within the store had illuminated a shelf of books. He hoped that among them he’d find some children’s books that he could use in teaching Bianca and Dieter their lessons. Maybe there would even be a book that would be helpful in teaching Clarabelle. He would also check if the store sold slates and chalk. Even paper and pencils would do.
