‘My God.’ Scott pulled on the horses’ reins to bring the wagon to a stop. The endless vista of the vineyard stretched out before them. Row after row of neatly cultivated grapevines lined up like soldiers standing at attention in a military review. Each meticulously pruned column of vines formed a flowing procession over the sloping hills of the San Joaquin Valley. Scott’s gaze followed the rows as they merged in the distance forming George West’s command - El Pinal.
Standing up in the wagon, Kinsey rested her hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Scott. Have you ever seen the land so breathtaking?”
“Only once, Freckles.” He smiled as he remembered the first time Teresa showed him and Johnny their valley.
“Yes. Only once.”
Hearing her words, Scott turned and glanced up at his cousin’s face. Kinsey’s expression reflected pure amazement. It was the look she wore when he introduced her to the same vision of Lancer from the rocky cliff. “Perhaps we should extend an invitation to Mr. West to visit us. It's only fair the man sees his competition for the most beautiful place on God’s green earth. I hope he's a good loser.” Scott winked. “Now, sit down before you fall off the wagon. A well-bred gentleman finds it difficult to introduce a proper young lady when she possesses a large goose egg on her forehead.”
Scott steered the wagon down the road which served as part of the perimeter to West’s vineyard. Even though the season was drawing to an end, he could observe pockets of hired hands harvesting clusters of grapes that would make their way to the El Pinal winery.
The lane leading to the West’s hacienda cut a path through the vineyard. It had rained during the night, and the earthy scent of wet soil mingled with the aroma of ripened fruit. Kinsey inhaled. “I believe heaven will smell just like this.”
Scott thought of the odor he emitted after rounding up strays during a hot afternoon. “I can certainly tell you what heaven won't be smelling like.”
He spotted Mr. George West emerging from the shadows of the red-tile-roofed portico to greet his guests. The man possessed an impressive handlebar mustache, which tried to hide his smile but failed. Though in his late forties, Scott thought Mr. West looked older. His face showed the lines earned by years of hard work in the California sun. A fine badge for a man to wear in Scott’s opinion.
“West’s booming voice sounded from behind Scott as he helped Kinsey down from the wagon. “Scott Lancer! Welcome!”
Scott received an outstretched hand for a hearty handshake. “Mr. West, sir. A pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Hmmm.” George West stood back with a skeptical eye. “I see Bostonian conventions have deep roots. We’re more informal here at El Pinal, Scott. I answer to ‘George.’ ”
“Yes, sir.”
George West chuckled. “All right. We’ll work on that.”
A smile and a nod indicated he would try. Scott placed his arm around his cousin. “Let me introduce to you, Miss Kinsey Furlong.”
“Miss Furlong!” Taking Kinsey’s hand, West continued. “An honor to meet you.”
“The honor is mine, sir. Thank you for opening your lovely home to us. Your invitation to spend the night is quite gracious.”
“What a delight! A polite and refined young lady.”
Scott adjusted his hat. ‘A polite and refined handful.’
During the general conversation topics of persons first meeting face to face, a little lass of no more than four years old appeared. Spying strangers, she sought out the solace of holding the older gentleman’s hand and hid behind him.
“Harriet! Come now. These are our guests.” George West offered his apologies. “My niece, Harriet, is visiting. She can be shy and at times a bit unreasonable.”
Kinsey quickly whispered to Scott. “Don't move.” Grabbing his hand, she followed Harriet’s lead and stepped behind him. Catching on, Scott played along. “No explanation is necessary. My cousin can also be shy and at times extremely unreasonable.” A poke in his back made Scott jump which produced a giggle from West’s hidden family member.
A small face peeked out once and then twice before its owner cautiously reappeared from behind her uncle, all the while Kinsey mirrored Harriet’s moves. As the young child approached, Kinsey knelt down to be eye level. “Harriet is a beautiful name. Do you know what Harriet stands for?”
The young lass shook her head.
“Well, the name Harriet means ‘Ruler of the Household.’ "
George West’s belly laugh was contagious. “Ah, from God’s lips to yours, Miss Furlong.”
Scott hunkered down to join the ladies. “It’s nice to meet you, Harriet. I’m Scott and this is my cousin Kinsey. Can you guess what her name stands for?”
Again, the little girl shook her head.
Scott donned a teasing grin. “The name Kinsey means ‘Boss of the Universe.’ I think you two will have a lot in common.”
Kinsey crossed her eyes and made a face inspiring a laugh from Harriet which almost matched her uncle’s. “Aunt Ellen says lunch is ready and I should show you the way.”
George West stepped in as he lifted his niece up to ride on his shoulders. “Fair warning. When cooking, Mrs. West is under the impression she’s feeding all of Stockton. Come! Let us show you the way.”
Ellen West lived up to her reputation. The table displayed various cheeses, local fruits, thinly sliced smoked ham, crusty bread and, of course, bottles of wine. Glasses were filled and then refilled as El Pinal’s hosts and their guests began to know each other better.
Scott held up his hand to stop the offer for a third slice of ham. “Mrs. West, I must decline. I have loosened my belt to its final notch.”
“Well, Mr. Lancer, I wouldn't want to be held responsible for your clothes not fitting.”
George West rubbed his hands together. “Excellent! Ellen, let's get our friends settled into their rooms and then I will commence with the grand tour. Ruler of the Household - you may accompany us.”
Scott understood the pride West conveyed to them as they viewed the vineyards while traveling the distance to the El Pinal winery. It was the same pride Scott felt for Lancer and for his father’s accomplishments. Like Murdoch, George West had taken risks, made sacrifices, and worked hard to see his vision become a reality.
Stopping near a group of men picking clusters of grapes to fill baskets, West signaled to bring over a serving of the fruit for the wagon’s occupants. “Warmed by the sun and ripened to perfection. Scott - Miss Furlong - enjoy!”
Popping the wine grape into his mouth, Scott found it much sweeter, softer and juicier than other grapes he had eaten. He glanced over to meet Kinsey’s eyes as she and Harriet shared a cluster. ‘I know what you're thinking, little one. These are the grapes they serve in heaven. I have to agree.’
A large adobe and brick building housed the El Pinal winery. Inside, grapes were being crushed by large hand-cranked presses. Stems and skins were separated from the juice which then went to the fermentation vats.
“Steam power, Scott. We’re preparing to join the steam revolution here.”
“Sir?”
“Presses powered by steam engines will double our production over hand powered. The winery on Kelly’s Island in Ohio and a few others back east already have them. Next month, El Pinal will have them too. Why hold on to past ways when embracing new ideas makes a process more efficient?” West laughed. “Don’t see one of those so-called gunfighters insisting on a single action revolver when the double action is faster.”
Scott coughed causing Kinsey to giggle and bite her lower lip.
The afternoon passed quickly as George West continued the tour of his estate. By the time the entourage arrived back home, Mrs. West had the evening meal plated. Assisting Kinsey to her seat, Scott whispered in her ear. “Stockton’s population has doubled since noon. I’m going to need bigger pants.”
With a suggestion to enjoy the twilight hours while their food digested, the gentlemen retired to an outside table. Kinsey and Harriet, with Mason jars, provided the evening’s entertainment as they attempted to catch fireflies dancing around a grape arbor near the hacienda. George removed two cigars from his breast pocket and offered one to his guest. “I believe the day is needing a good smoke to make it complete.”
Scott sat back and tried to remember when he’d last felt so relaxed. Grant it - the large meal, a few glasses of wine, fine tobacco, and beautiful surroundings played major roles in his current state of...what? He decided it was pure contentment. But it was more than just the good food and drink. Maybe watching Kinsey with Harriet and their simple joy of catching lightning bugs in a jar contributed. Maybe it was knowing he wanted his own family someday; to be a good husband, a good father, and provide them with a setting like this. Contentment. It didn’t visit often in his life, but when it did…
“George West! Are you smoking?” The voice came from an open kitchen window.
“Mr. Lancer insisted, dear!” George leaned in. “Don't worry. She never gets mad at the house guests.”
Scott grinned and raised an eyebrow. “I believe I’ve discovered the real reason for your extended invitation, sir.”
“And I believe I've discovered you're a very patient young man. You have yet to inquire about the business opportunity I mentioned in our last correspondence."
“Patience has always worked well for me in the past.”
George West leaned back. “His name is Philip Westcott. An older gentleman - in his early seventies would be my guess. His land borders mine to the north. He's a New Englander, like us. Moved his family from Massachusetts to fulfill his dream of working the land - establishing vineyards - leaving a legacy for the next generation.”
West paused. Scott held on to his belief in patience.
“The last few years haven't been kind to Westcott. Sickness took his wife and then he lost his son. The daughter-in-law packed up and headed back east but his grandson stayed with his grandfather. I'm thinking Seth is about your age. The Westcott winery has shown moderate success but Philip is looking to expand and finding an investor might be the solution. I took the liberty of mentioning your name but made no promises. He knows any decisions to continue the conversation is up to you -
Scott interjected. “And Kinsey.”
George West paused to examine his cigar. “Yes, of course. And Kinsey.”
Ever cautious, Scott made only the briefest of references to his cousin's inheritance in his letters to West. Now, his gut was telling him to inquire more from his host. “Did you know Fletcher Garrett?”
“I have knowledge of his reputation but never met the man.”
“And Harlan Garrett? Your hometown of Taunton isn't far from Boston. Have you ever had the pleasure of meeting my grandfather?”
West smiled. “The reputation I admire is that of your father. Murdoch Lancer is highly respected among the cattlemen. Known as a smart businessman. It appears his oldest son may be a smart businessman too.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate the compliment.” Scott took a puff on his cigar. ‘But you didn't answer my question.’
“Cigars.” The two gentlemen rose as Ellen West joined them. “The devil’s cash crop.”
“Actually, Mrs. West, your husband mentioned they were imported from Cuba, not Hades.” Scott was pleased to see his comment brought a smile to his hostess’ face.
“Don’t let my husband lead you down the path of evil habits.”
George West released another belly laugh. “Ho. Ho! Said the woman who brought us another bottle of wine and glasses.”
“Scott! We need help!” Scott turned his attention towards the grape arbor to find Kinsey holding up her Mason jar.
Little Harriet waved her arms with a confirmation. “Kinsey says the bugs are fast but you’re faster!”
Ellen West lowered her voice. “Do you know one of the many marvelous gifts children can offer, Mr. Lancer?”
“Ma’am?”
“The perfect opportunity for an adult to be a child again.”
Scott carefully extinguished his cigar while his smile grew from ear to ear. “Excuse me for a moment. I believe there are two young ladies requesting my expertise in bug wranglin'.”
Bug wranglin’ was a bit more exhausting than Scott remembered. Although a full stomach and red wine, no doubt, were influencing his expertise. Taking a moment, he looked in the direction of his host. Twilight had surrendered to darkness; highlighting the burning ember of West’s cigar. Even though he couldn’t make out the details of his face, Scott felt the man wasn’t smiling but only staring.
Contentment. It can be fleeting.
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