Logan's Lady

by Tracie Peterson

  Making her way along a tiny path behind the cluster of cabins, Amelia tried to grasp those feelings of accomplishment and consider what they meant. Her life in England seemed trite when she thought of Mary’s long hours of work. She was idle in comparison, but then again, she had been schooled in the graceful arts of being idle. She could, of course, stitch lovely tea towels and dresser scarves. She could paint fairly well and intended to sketch out some pastoral scenes from her hike and later redo them in watercolors. But none of these things were all that useful. Mary’s work was relied upon by those around her. She baked their bread and kept them fed. She braided rugs and sewed clothes to ward of the mountain chill. She knew all of this because Mary had told her so in their chatty conversation. Mary’sis not an idle life of appearances. Mary’s life has purpose and meaning.

  Before she realized it, Amelia was halfway up the incline that butted against the Lewis property. She turned to look back down and drew her breath in at the view. The sun gave everything the appearance of having been freshly washed. The brilliance of the colors stood out boldly against the dark green background of the snow-capped, tree-covered mountains. The rushing river on the opposite side of the property shimmered and gurgled in glorious shades of violet and blue. But it was always lighting which appealed to her painter’s eyes. The light here was unlike any she’d ever seen before. It was impossible to explain, but for a moment she felt compelled to try. She sat down abruptly and took up her journal.

  “There is a quality to the light which cannot be explained. It is, I suppose, due to the high mountain altitude and the thinner quality of oxygen,” she spoke aloud while writing. “The colors are more vivid, yet, if possible, they are also more subtle. The lighting highlights every detail, while creating the illusion of something draped in a translucent veil. I know this doesn’t make sense, yet it is most certainly so.” She paused and looked down upon the tiny village. She would very much like to paint this scene, but how in the world could she ever capture the light?

  Beside her were several tiny white flowers bobbing up and down in the gentle breeze. She leaned over on her elbow, mindless of her gown, and watched them for a moment. She considered the contrast of their whiteness against the green of their leaves and wondered at their name. Plucking one stem, she pressed it between the pages of her book, jotted a note of its location and got to her feet.

  The higher she climbed, the rougher the path. Finally it became quite steep and altogether impassable. It was here she decided to turn away from the path and make her own way. The little incline to her left seemed most appealing even though it was strewn with rocks. The way to her right was much too threatening with its jagged boulders and sheer drops. Hiking up her skirt, with her journal tucked under her arm, Amelia faced the challenging mountainside with a determined spirit. She was feeling quite bold and was nearly to the top when the loose gravel gave way beneath her feet and sent her tumbling backward. Sliding on her backside and rolling the rest of the way, Amelia finally landed in a heap at the foot of the incline. Six feet away stood Logan Reed with an expression on his face that seemed to contort from amusement to concern and back to amusement.

  Amelia’s pride and backside were sorely bruised, but she’d not admit defeat to Logan. She straightened her hat and frowned. “Are you spying on me, Mr. Reed?” she asked indignantly from where she sat.

  Logan laughed. “I’d say you could use some looking after given the scene I just witnessed. But, no, I didn’t mean to spy. I live just over the ridge so when I saw you walking up this way, I thought I’d come and offer my services.”

  Amelia quickly got to her feet and brushed the gravel from her gown. Seeing her book on the ground, she retrieved it and winced at the way it hurt her to bend down. “Your services for what?” she asked, hoping Logan hadn’t seen her misery as well.

  “To be your hiking guide,” he replied coming forward. “It would sure save on your wardrobe.” He pointed to a long tear in the skirt of her gown. “Why in the world did you hike out here dressed like that?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “At least that riding skirt would have been a little more serviceable. You need to have sturdy clothes to hike these hills,” he chided.

  “I will hike in whatever is most comfortable to me, Mr. Reed.”

  “And you think corsets and muslin prints are most comfortable?”

  Amelia huffed. “I don’t think it is any of your concern. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  Logan rolled his eyes and laughed all the harder. “Yes, I can see that.” He shook his head and turned to walk back to the lodge, leaving Amelia to nurse her wounded pride.

  Chapter 8

  Amelia spent the rest of the morning making notes in her journal and contemplating Logan Reed. As much as she tried to forget him, she couldn’t help thinking of his offer to be her hiking guide. Logan knows every flower and tree in the area. He would certainly be the most knowledgeable man around when it came to identifying the vegetation and landmarks. If I am going to put together a book on the area it seems sensible to utilize the knowledge of the most intelligent man.

  The book idea wasn’t really new to her. She’d been considering it since speaking with Lady Bird long before departing for America. Lady Bird told Amelia she should do something memorable with her time abroad. Writing a book and painting dainty watercolor flowers seems very reasonable. Falling inlove with a barbaric, American guide does not.

  Closing her book with a loud snap, Amelia got to her feet. “I’m not in love,” she murmured to the empty room. “I will not fall in love with Logan Reed.” But even as she said the words, a part of Amelia knew that it was too late for such a declaration.

  

  At noon, she made her way to the lodge house, where the hunting party had returned to gather for a large midday meal. Amelia saw the hunt was successful, but for the first time she wondered about the business of cleaning the kill and how the skins of the animals were to be used afterward. She’d never given such matters much though in the past. There was always someone else to do the dirty work.

  “I say, Amelia, you missed quite a hunt. Sir Jeffery bagged a buck first thing out.”

  Amelia glanced at Jeffery and then back to her father. “How nice.” She pulled out a chair and found Jeffery quickly at her side to seat her.

  “It was a clean and easy shot, nothing so very spectacular,” he said in false humility. “I could name a dozen animals that present a greater challenge to hunt.”

  “Perhaps the challenge comes in bagging a wife, what?” Lord Amhurst heartily laughed much to Amelia’s embarrassment and the stunned expressions of the others.

  “Indeed true love is the hardest thing on earth to secure,” Lady Gambett said in a tone that suggested a long story was forthcoming. She was fresh from a day of napping and eager to be companionable.

  “Papa had a good morning as well,” Penelope declared quickly and Margaret joined in so fast that both girls were talking at once. This seemed to be a cue to Josephine and Henrietta, who began a garbled rendition of the hunt for their mother’s benefit.

  Jeffery took a chair at Amelia’s right and engaged her immediately in conversation. “I missed your company on the hunt. Do say you’ll be present tomorrow.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t come to America to hunt. Not for animals of any kind,” she stated, clearly hoping the implied meaning would not be lost on Jeffery. The sooner he understood her distaste for their proposed matrimony, the better.

  “What will you do with your time?”

  Amelia folded her hands in her lap. “I plan to write a book on the flowers and vegetation of Estes Park.” The words came out at just the exact moment that her sisters and the Gambetts had chosen to take a collective breath. Her words seemed to echo in the silence for several moments. Stunned faces from all around the table looked up to make certain they had heard correctly.

  “You plan to do what?” Margaret asked before anyone else could give vo
ice to their thoughts.

  “You heard me correctly,” Amelia said, taking up a thick slice of bread she’d helped to make that morning. “The flowers here are beautiful and quite extraordinary. Nothing like what we have at home. Lady Bird told me I should use my time abroad to do something meaningful and memorable.I believe a book of this nature would certainly fit that suggestion.”

  The earl nodded. “If Lady Bird believes it to be of value, then I heartily agree.” With Mattersley nowhere in sight, he filled his plate with potatoes and laughed when they dribbled over the rim. “Waiting on yourself takes some practice.” The dinner party chuckled politely and the mood seemed to lighten considerably.

  As everyone seemed intent on eating, Amelia’s declaration passed from importance and escaped further discussion. With a sigh of relief, Amelia helped herself to a thick slice of ham and a hearty portion of potatoes. Jeffery would think her a glutton, but let him. She was tired of worrying about what other people thought. She found it suddenly quite enjoyable to be a bit more barbaric herself. Almost guilty for her thoughts, Amelia’s head snapped up and she searched the room for Logan. She knew he wouldn’t be there, but for some reason her conscience forced her to prove it.

  “So how will you get about the place?” the earl was suddenly asking and all eyes turned to Amelia.

  “I beg your pardon, Papa?”

  “How will you travel about to gather your flowers and such? Will you have a guide?”

  Amelia felt the ham stick in her throat as she tried to swallow. She took a long drink of her tea before replying. “Mr. Reed has offered to act as guide, but I told him it wasn’t necessary.”

  “Nonsense,” her father answered. “If you are to undertake this project, do it in a correct manner. There is a great deal to know about this area and you should have a guide, what?”

  “I suppose you are fair in assuming that,” Amelia replied. “But I hardly think Mr. Reed would be an appropriate teacher on flowers.”

  Mary Lewis had entered the room to deposit two large pies on the table. “Logan’s an excellent teacher,” she said, unmindful of her eavesdropping. “Logan led an expedition of government people out here last summer. He’s got a good education—a sight more than most of the folks around these parts, anyway.”

  Everyone stared at Mary for a moment as though stunned by her boldness. “It seems reasonable,” the earl said, nodding to Mary as if to dismiss her, “that Mr. Reed should direct you in your studies. I’ll speak to him this afternoon and make certain he is reasonably recompensed for his efforts. Perhaps this evening at dinner we can finalize the arrangements.

  Amelia said nothing. In truth, she had already decided to speak to Logan about helping her. She knew herself to be a prideful woman and what had once seemed like an admirable quality now made her feel even more of a snob. Lady Bird had lowered herself to even help harvest the crops oflocal residents. How could she resist the help of Logan Reed and possibly hope to justify herself ? But just as her feelings were starting to mellow toward the man, he ruined it by joining them.

  “Looks like you did pretty good for yourself, Amhurst,” Logan said, taking a seat at the table.

  Mary Lewis entered, bringing him a huge platter of food. “I saved this for you, Logan.”

  “Much thanks, Mary.” He bowed his head for a moment before digging into the steaming food.

  Everyone at the table looked on in silent accusation at Logan Reed. Even Mattersley would not presume to take his meals at the same table with the more noble classes. Logan Reed seemed to have no inclination that he was doing anything out of line, but when he glanced up he immediately caught the meaning of their silence. Rather than give in to their misplaced sense of propriety, however, Logan just smiled and complimented Mary on the food as she poured him a hot cup of coffee.

  “Will Jonas be taking you out again tomorrow?” Logan asked as if nothing was amiss.

  Amelia saw her father exchange a glance with Lord Gambett before answering. “Yes, I suppose he will. I understand you have offered to assist my daughter in gathering information for her book. I would like to discuss the terms of your employment after we finish with the meal.”

  Logan shook his head. “I didn’t offer to be employed. I suggested to Lady Amhurst that I act as a hiking guide and she refused.” He looked hard at Amelia, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes and his mustached twitched in its usual betraying fashion.

  “It seemed improper to accept your suggestion,” Amelia said rather stiffly.

  “Nonsense, child. The man is fully qualified to assist you,” Lord Amhurst stated. “I’ll make all the arrangements after dinner.”

  Amelia felt Logan’s eyes on her and blushed from head to toe. The discomfort she felt was nothing compared to what she knew would come if she didn’t leave immediately. Surprising her family, she got up rather quickly.

  “I beg your forgiveness, but I must be excused.” Without waiting for her father’s approval, Amelia left the room.

  Much to her frustration, Jeffery Chamberlain was upon her heels in a matter of seconds. “Are you ill, Amelia?” His voice oozed concern.

  “I am quite well,” she replied, keeping a steady pace to her walk. “I simply needed to take the air.”

  “I understand perfectly,” he replied and took hold of her elbow as if to assist her.

  Amelia jerked away and once they had rounded the front of the lodge, she turned to speak her mind. “Sir Jeffery, there are some issues we must have settled between us.”

  “I quite agree, but surely you wouldn’t seek to speak of them here. Perhaps we can steal away to a quiet corner of the lodge,” he suggested.

  Amelia shook her head. “I am sure what I desire to speak of will not be in keeping with what you desire to speak of.”

  “But Amelia—”

  “Please give me a moment,” she interrupted. Amelia saw his expression of concern change to one of puzzlement. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.

  “You must come to understand,” she began, “that I have no desire to follow my father’s wishes and marry you.” She raised a hand to silence his protests. “Please hear me out. My father might find you a wonderful candidate for a son-in-law, but I will not marry a man I do not love. And, Sir Jeffery Chamberlain, I do not now, nor will I ever, love you.”

  The man’s expression suggested anger and hurt, and for a moment Amelia thought to soften the blow. “However, my sisters find you quite acceptable as a prospective husband, so I would encourage you to court one of them.”

  At this Jeffery seemed insulted and puffed out his chest with a jerk of his chin. “I have no intentions of marrying your sisters,” he said firmly. “I have an agreement with your father to acquire your hand in matrimony.”

  “But you have no such agreement with me, Sir Jeffery.”

  “It matters little. The men in our country arrange such affairs, not addle-brained women.”

  “Addle-brained?” Amelia was barely holding her anger in check. “You think me addle-brained?”

  “When you act irresponsibly such as you are now, then yes, I do,” he replied.

  “I see. And what part of my actions implies being addle-brained?” she questioned. “Is it that I see no sense in joining in a marriage of convenience to a man I cannot possibly hope to love?”

  “It is addle-brained and whimsical to imagine that such things as love are of weighted importance in this arrangement. Your father is seeing to the arrangement as he would any other business proposition. He is benefitingthe family name, the family holdings, and the family coffers. Only a selfish and greedy young woman would see it as otherwise.”

  “So now I am addle-brained, whimsical, selfish, and greedy,” Amelia said with haughty air. “Why in the world would you seek such a wife, Sir Chamberlain?”

  Jeffery seemed to wilt a bit under her scrutiny. “I didn’t mean to imply you were truly those things. But the air that you take in regards to our union would suggest you have
given little consideration to the needs of others.”

  “So now I am inconsiderate as well!” Amelia turned on her heel and headed in the direction of the cabin.

  Jeffery hurried after her. “You must understand, Amelia, these thingsare done for the betterment of all concerned.”

  She turned at this, completely unable to control her anger. “Jeffery, these things are done in order to keep my father in control of my mother’s fortune. There hasn’t been any consideration given to my desires or needs, and therefore I find it impossible to believe it has anything to do with my welfare or betterment.”

  “I can give you a good life,” Jeffery replied barely keeping his temper in check. “I have several estates to where we might spend out our days and you will bring your own estate into the arrangement as well. You’ve a fine piece of Scottish land, or so your father tells me.”

  “But I have no desire to spend out my days with you. Not on the properties you already own, nor the properties that I might bring into a marriage. Please understand, so that we might spend our days here in America as amicably as possible,” she said with determined conviction, “I will not agree to marry you.”

  Jeffery’s face contorted and to Amelia’s surprise he spoke out in a manner close to rage. “You will do what you are told and it matters little what you agree to. Your father and I have important matters riding on this circumstance and that alone is what will gain consideration. You will marry me, Amelia, and furthermore,” he paused with a suggestive leer on his face, “you will find it surprisingly enjoyable.”

  “I would sooner marry Logan Reed as to join myself in union to a boorish snob such as yourself.” Silently she wished for something to throw at the smug-faced Jeffery, but instead she calmed herself and fixed him with a harsh glare. “I pray you understand, and understand well. I will never marry you and I will take whatever measures are necessary to ensure that I win out in this unpleasant situation.”

  She stormed off to her cabin, seething from the confrontation, but also a bit frightened by Jeffery’s strange nature. She’d never seen him more out of character and it gave her cause to wonder. She knew there had always been a mischievous, almost devious side to his personality. The memory of hanging over the banister in fear of plunging to her death on the floor below affirmed Amelia’s consideration. Jeffery had always leaned a bit on the cruel side of practical jokes and teasing play. Still, she couldn’t imagine that he was all that dangerous. He wanted something very badly from her father and no doubt he could just as easily obtain it by marrying one of her sisters. After all, they adored him.