To Tame a Cowboy (Colorado Cowboys #3)(10)
Flynn stepped out of the parlor behind her, and his attention lingered over his wife, his eyes brimming with adoration.
“Savannah?” The red-haired woman studied her. “I can see why Brody is taken with you. You’re so lovely.”
Savannah shook her head, needing to explain herself before everything spiraled out of control. But before she could say anything, the woman approached and held out a hand. “I’m Linnea. Flynn’s wife and Brody’s sister-in-law. I’m so pleased to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you too, Mrs. McQuaid, ma’am.”
“Just call me Linnea.” The beautiful woman shook Savannah’s hand. “What brings a single woman like you up to Fairplay all by herself?”
It wasn’t the first time Savannah had been asked the question, and it wouldn’t be the last. While she hated misleading people, for now she had to remain as vague as possible. “I needed work and heard the ranchers up here were searching for a vet.”
“You’re from Denver?”
“South of there.”
Linnea opened her mouth to ask another question—like exactly where Savannah was from, if she had family, or how she’d gained her experience.
Savannah stiffened her shoulders in preparation for the interrogation.
As if noticing the unease, Linnea closed her lips and curved them into another warm smile. Then she slipped her arm through Savannah’s and drew her down the hallway while Flynn headed out the front door. In moments, Savannah found herself seated at a large table in the brightly lit kitchen with Vesta dishing up more food on a plate in front of her than she could possibly eat—beef with onions and potatoes along with greens Linnea said she’d discovered and picked herself just that afternoon. With Linnea’s cheerful and sweet disposition, Savannah felt at home in no time.
She learned that Wyatt, the oldest McQuaid, lived on the southern half of the ranch. He had claimed his original 160 acres under the Homestead Act back in ’62 and had been buying up land around his property ever since. Originally he’d purchased cattle from miners and settlers coming west but had expanded so that now he had close to two thousand head of cattle. His wife, Greta, had a thriving jam business and was pregnant with their third child.
Linnea also shared how she and Flynn had ridden west together in 1863. Flynn had been driving a herd of Shorthorns while she’d been a part of her grandfather’s botany expedition. During the months of traveling, they’d fallen in love. Shortly after arriving, they’d gotten married, and now they lived on the northern half of Healing Springs Ranch on land Flynn had claimed under the Homestead Act. Like Wyatt, Flynn had also purchased most of the land surrounding his ranch from other homesteaders. And now he owned close to a thousand acres.
They had one daughter, named Flora, who was three and a half and was already in bed and asleep for the night.
“So Brody came with Flynn to the West?” After finishing the meal, Savannah sipped from a mug of coffee, letting the warm brew seep down and chase away the chill of the cold night. Her thoughts skipped back to Brody and the bold way he’d watched her walk away. She tried not to let the image stir flutters inside, but it did anyway.
Linnea sat across the table and plucked at the roots of what appeared to be a handful of weeds. Savannah had been surprised earlier when Linnea had explained it was just one specimen of many she was studying as part of her ongoing classification of plants in the Rocky Mountains.
Her love of botany was evident everywhere from the dried herbs hanging in bunches from the rafters, the jars on the windowsills filled with soil and live plants, and even framed sketches of flowers on the walls.
“Ivy and Dylan came with Flynn that year. But unfortunately, Brody did not.” Linnea was using a tiny pair of tweezers to examine the roots. “He enlisted in the Union army instead, much to Flynn’s dismay.”
“But he survived and is here now. Flynn must be happy about that.” Savannah was fishing for information. Her curiosity about Brody McQuaid kept growing with every passing moment, and she didn’t care anymore if she was being nosy.
“I wish my dear husband was happy.” Linnea set down the tweezers, and her pretty brown eyes filled with sadness. “Brody might have survived the war physically, but it damaged a part of his soul.”
Savannah nodded in understanding. In a small way, that’s what had happened to Daddy. He was living on the outside, but something inside died the day he laid his son in the grave.
“Brody spent six months in Andersonville.” Linnea whispered the words as if the name of the notorious Confederate prison was a curse. “When we tracked him down, he was barely alive, not more than skin and bones.”
Savannah hated to think of anybody having to suffer in such a place. After the war, the news reports had described the horrors of life in Andersonville, especially during the publicized trial of the camp commander, Captain Henry Wirz, who was executed for war crimes.
The prison had only been big enough to hold, at most, ten thousand prisoners, but three times that many Union soldiers had ended up there. The overcrowding had led to food and water shortages. And of course, it also caused unsanitary conditions so that diseases ran rampant, killing thousands of prisoners.
“With as sensitive as Brody is, Flynn thinks the war sucked the life out of his brother long before he landed in Andersonville.”
“Poor Brody.” Savannah wrapped her hands around her mug to ward off a shiver. “I’m so sorry.”