Read Online The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4) by Vikki Kestell - Free Book Online

door bell chimed again and she rose gracefully,
murmuring her excuses to Henry. Tom, the only muscle she could afford at
present, answered the door.
    His job was to screen potential clients. Only well-dressed,
well-groomed gentlemen were admitted. And only sober ones. Intoxicated men were
often unruly and were less likely to purchase drinks. Esther wanted only an
upscale, thirsty clientele.
    Esther was ready to greet her customer after Tom cleared him
to pass through the large entryway. “Good evening,” she said pleasantly, eyeing
the tall, powerfully built man. He wore a charcoal three-piece suit and wore it
well.
    “Good evening,” he replied. The man’s face was ruddy; his
eyes a strikingly pale blue.
    Many men stared at Esther, some agape at her startling
beauty, some boldly or suggestively. Others avoided her eyes while taking
inventory of the rest of her assets. But this man looked directly into her
eyes . . . deeply, almost intimately. Esther felt a pull she had
not experienced in a long time.
    “Would you care to join us in the parlor?” Esther smiled
again and hooked her arm through his to show him the way. “Please call me
Esther. Would you care for a glass of wine? Something stronger?”
    “You’re a lovely woman, Esther,” the man replied, placing
his hand lightly on hers.
    Heat shot down Esther’s spine. She looked from his hand
resting on hers into his eyes again. I could get lost in those eyes , she
thought. It was uncharacteristic of her to be moved by a client
but . . .
    He squeezed her hand gently. “My name is Cal. Cal Judd. What
a pleasant establishment you have.”
    ~~**~~

Chapter 8
    The group that gathered in front of the house studied it
with wide eyes. Rose Brownlee Thoresen, however, was studying them ,the
courageous band (crazy or misguided, some might insist!) as they sized up the
job ahead.
    They all wore old and worn clothing, appropriate for
embarking on an arduous task. They were ready to unpack a wagon load of
bedding, cleaning supplies, cookware and kitchen utensils, and yard and
carpentry tools. But the sight before them gave them pause.
    A tall iron fence surrounded the property. Between the
wrought iron gate and the front door lay an obstacle course of downed branches,
dense shrubs, and tangled weeds and bushes. Tree roots lifted the stone walkway
here and there; out-of-control vines covered windows and twined upon the porch.
    “Eh!” was Breona’s first remark.
    Rose smiled, looked for, and found the gleam in the tough
young woman’s eye. “Breona, you are in charge of the cleaning of this house;
you are our official housekeeper! The men will begin by clearing a path to the
door and making a list of essential repairs and then getting to them. We
ladies, however, are at your disposal.” Rose handed her a key.
    Breona smiled broadly, her black eyes flashing. “Well then!”
    The women of the group—Rose, Joy, Breona, Marit, Mei-Xing,
Gretl, Sarah, Corrine, Maria, Nancy, Flora, and Tabitha—chuckled. The men—Mr.
Wheatley, Billy, and Grant—smiled. No one in their band underestimated the
determination of Breona Byrne once she set her mind to a task.
    Breona pushed through the gate, jumped handily over several
branches lying on the walk, dodged the thorny arms of a few bushes, and trotted
victoriously up the wisteria-clogged steps to the front door. On the enormous
covered porch she turned and held up the key triumphantly.
    “Fer God an’ ’is glory!” she called loudly to them.
    “Hear, hear!” Grant shouted back.
    “For God and his glory!” Rose and Joy echoed, catching her
excitement.
    The women grinned and forged ahead. As Rose had directed,
the men stayed behind to clear a wide path from the street to the house.
    Inside, the women’s excitement and banter tapered off to
silence. The interior of the house was dim and dank. Although it was June, the
skies over Denver were overcast this early morning, providing little natural
light for them to work by.