“I have found in the past, son, the beginning is a good place for a man to start.”
Scott smiled as he splashed amber liquid into a third snifter. How many times had his father spoken those words to his oldest when encouraging a complicated conversation? Turning, he handed the poured drink to the gentleman who was now hearing Murdoch’s advice for the first time - Seth Westcott.
Seth accepted the drink with a nod of appreciation. “Well sir, I’d say the beginning would be when Kinsey Rose arrived at the vineyard early one morning.”
Scott and Seth each chose a comfortable chair positioned in front of the carved oak desk and settled in. The Lancer patriarch sat in his customary position of authority. Scott had hoped his father would opt for a more casual setting for a potentially difficult conversation but, Murdoch being Murdoch, it was not to be. Sitting behind the barrier of a desk gave him a security of control and yes, old habits die hard.
If slight intimidation was the intended purpose of the seating arrangement, Westcott seemed oblivious with his relaxed demeanor. “The little lady acted as if I’d been expecting her. I thought… well… grandfather went to Sacramento and forgot to inform me of an arranged meeting.”
“You weren’t the only person someone forgot to tell.” Scott rolled his eyes at the memory. “I could have throttled Kinsey for sneaking off.”
The cousins had been lodging overnight in Stockton after a two-day stay at El Pinal. Kinsey dedicated most of the evening to stating her wishes for a Westcott Vineyard visit the next day. Scott insisted they return home. Dawn brought one missing young lady and a sway-back travel companion to assist in finding her.
“That was one sorry looking horse you finally rode in on.”
“Indeed.” Scott raised his scotch in a toast. “Here’s to Old Blue. May he continue to avoid the glue factory.”
“To Old Blue.” Taking a sip in honor of the fine steed, Seth returned his attention back to the man he’d written and asked for a few moments to discuss a matter. “So, sir, when you suggest I start at the beginning, I would have to say it was that day. Things haven’t been quite the same since.”
Scott studied the drink in his hand with a grin. No truer words were spoken when describing Kinsey Rose Furlong entering someone’s life. Glancing up, he caught his father’s crinkled eyes. It appeared Murdoch also agreed with Westcott’s statement.
“I must admit, the invitation I wrote to Melbourne did not deliver the young lady I expected.” Murdoch paused to count his gray hairs. “However, I don’t regret sending the letter or one single minute thereafter.”
A clearing of Scott’s throat indicated possible disagreement.
“Son, there's a fine line between regret and vexation.”
“Noted.” Dimples formed parenthesis around the response.
“Got held up!” The late arrival snagged a straight-back chair as an escort to the oak desk. Turning it around, he straddled the seat backwards, resting his forearms where a man’s shoulder blades would normally retire. “Jelly took some convincin’ to wait a spell before handing over his money in a poker game.”
“Glad you could make it, John.” Seth’s tone reflected sincerity. “I wanted the three most important men in Kinsey’s life to be present when requesting I be the fourth.”
Johnny’s slight lopsided grin suggested the immediate acceptance of Westcott. However, the intensity of his eyes dissected each word as they tumbled out of Seth’s mouth.
Scott slowly exhaled with this first bang of a drum. “Can I pour you a scotch, little brother?”
“Nah. Think I’ll hold off on that for a bit.” Johnny’s deliberate drawl cocked his head. “Like I’ve said, I need to know the man I drink with.”
From behind his desk, amused annoyance dusted the corners of Murdoch’s mouth. “Well, Johnny, we certainly don’t want to delay quenching your thirst with small talk, now would we?”
Scott took a sip to hide his own amused annoyance while swearing he would never again question where his father sat.
Taking a cue from the gentleman whose approval he sought, Seth set aside the small talk for another day. “Sir, I’ve discovered Kinsey doesn’t mince words on certain subjects - especially when speaking of her father. I won’t go into it except to say her language was rather… colorfully descriptive.”
Scott guessed bloody bludger and the ever popular asinine arse were used more than once.
“Mr. Lancer, she said you’ve been more of a father to her than her own father ever tried to be. Although, I gather the little lady didn’t always agree with your views when you assumed the role of a father figure.”
“I’m betting the few minutes she spent over my knee made the top of the list.”
Seth smiled. “She mentioned you were particularly unreasonable that day.”
Murdoch’s brow weighted his expression as he set aside his snifter. “The reasons for Kinsey’s distaste for her parents are many and it has taken some time to fully understand the depth of their damage. I believe Scott and Johnny would agree it’s been a challenging journey with her.”
“It has. In fact, some men might find the road too difficult to travel.” Scott’s eyes locked with his brother’s. Johnny had struggled to navigate Kinsey’s difficult path but managed to find his way. Hopes were Westcott could do the same.
Seth’s relaxed posture tightened. “I agree the beginning is a good place to start, but I find Chaucer’s words never fail me. This is the point, to speak short and plain. Maybe one of you gentlemen needs to speak plainly. If I fall short on your expectations for Miss Furlong, it best be said now.”
Scott shook his head. “No, that’s not it… exactly.”
“All right. Then what is it… exactly?” Seth leaned forward and directed his question to the man responsible for the young lady’s arrival in California.
“Son, a few weeks before Kinsey left Melbourne there was an incident.”
“Incident? Is that what we’re calling it, old man? An incident? Hell, she was raped.”
“Goddammit, Johnny!” A second bang of the drum vibrated up Scott’s spine.
“Come on, brother.” Johnny swept his arm out in the direction of Westcott. “The man wanted it short and plain. Can’t get any plainer than that.”
“A stab at decorum would have been appreciated.”
“And what kind of de-COR-um did that Melbourne bastard show Half-pint?”
“I’m aware.” Seth’s two soft-spoken words derailed the room’s runaway train. “I’m aware of the incident.” A healthy swallow of scotch brought back the strength in Westcott’s voice. “It took one brave little lady to tell me what happened but she was determined.”
Scott sat back in his chair with one thought. Garrett Guts.
“She said there would be no secrets between us. Ever. When she finished - and I won’t lie to you, it was a hard story to listen to - I told her it doesn’t change a damn thing. Not one goddamn thing.”
“Seth -”
“You’re right, Scott. Some men couldn’t or wouldn’t travel the difficult road. And I don’t blame you for thinking I’m one of those men.” Westcott stared at what was left of his drink. “Most of our hired help are permanent employees although, a few years back, we had a Chinese family come through to work the fall harvest. Good people - husband, wife, an older son and a daughter who was, I’m guessing, about 16 years old. Pretty girl. She traveled to Stockton one day to buy a few cooking supplies. Came back that night beaten up and violated. Chinese culture being what it is, the young lady’s family couldn’t accept what happened - considered her damaged goods. Shunned her day after day, week after week.” In one final gulp, the amber liquid disappeared from Seth’s glass. “I will kill any man that treats Kinsey Rose like damaged goods. And that, gentlemen, is the short and plain of it.”
Silence kept a stranglehold on the Great Room for a full minute before Scott broke free. “When did Kinsey tell you?” It was the first question his brain could muster.
“Right after I asked her to marry me.” Seth’s raised eyebrows lifted his lips to a half-smile. “She wouldn't give me an answer. I had my orders to talk to you three first.”
A slow exhale softened Murdoch’s eyes followed by his query rumbling across the desk. “So, Mr. Westcott, when do you plan to ask the young lady that question again?”
Scott reached out and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder signaling approval had been granted.
Rising from his straddled chair, Johnny’s thumb jabbed back over his shoulder. “The bottle of tequila still in your room, Grape-crusher? ‘Bout time you and I shared a drink.”
********
“Congratulations. You’re one of the few men who, after drinking tequila with my little brother, can still stand.” In the darkened evening, Scott located Westcott by the corral fence where they had watched Kinsey ride earlier. The scent of cigar smoke had guided the way.
“This is more leaning than standing.” Seth pulled a Havana from his shirt pocket and handed it over. “Your father gave me two. He said if I lit one, you’d eventually show up for the other.”
Both men let the quiet, clear evening relax what muscles the scotch and tequila had missed.
“So tell me.” Scott blew a smoke ring into the air. “When did you ask Freckles to marry you?”
“Our last night in Sacramento when we were in Stanford’s flower garden. The string quartet played while we danced under the stars… hell, I don’t want to sound like some foolish romantic but it was a damn near perfect setting for a man to ask a woman to marry him.”
“Can’t argue that one.” Scott turned and rested his back against a fence post - his eyes drifting up to the hacienda’s rooftop and the night sky above. “Tell me, foolish romantic, as for a perfect setting, would you settle for the full potential of the universe?”
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