Harnessed Passions

by Dee Jones

  “Julia honey we've only got a few hours," she pleaded. "Why don't we stop here on the way home?" Louise tried to reason with her daughter, hoping they would be so exhausted from their escapade of shopping that the younger woman would have forgotten her desire to stop again.

  "I'll be right back, mother. Just stay here." Julia walked through the tall rod iron gate surrounding the grounds and into the quiet graveyard beyond. She bent down as she proceeded, gathering a handful of wild daisies that grew beside the path’s edge. She glanced up the rows of headstones as she continued down the walkway. The headstones were lined up like small granite soldiers marching off to war. Many were fairly recent, since this was the newer section of the cemetery. Most were buried here within the past ten years.

  One section held several markers with the names of young women; most who were recent mothers, having died in or shortly after childbirth. Mrs. Simmons, Julia’s third grade teacher was there with her husband and ten year-old daughter, all having perished of small pox just after she had moved to Boston. Mr. Collard was there too; he had been the town’s blacksmith for over forty years and had passed away three years ago. Julia remembered hearing about that in one of her mother’s letters. He never married, but left his business to his younger brother, who failed miserably in his stead and finally closed shop and moved back to Nebraska.

  Names of immigrants and farmers mingled among the rows of soldiers and politicians. There were a number of children as well, their tiny headstones marked with dates revealing their short stay on this planet. Most of the tombstones that lined the path she walked were of young men who had lost their lives in the war. A few Julia recognized as former schoolmates, having fought and died for their beliefs.

  What a strange name, Julia thought as she continued to make her way down the rows of graves. Civil War; there was never anything 'Civil' about that war. Death and destruction, all over vanity and greed and the price to pay was lying next to her, six feet beneath the earth. So much lost and so little gained.

  Julia stopped briefly in front of the newest of all of the graves. Her father's headstone had just been set into place and it gleamed in the sunlight. Victor Timothy Turner. Born 5 July 1835, died 19 September 1881. Beloved Husband And Father. Rest In Peace. The inscription caused a frown to form across her delicate brow. Julia wished it said more, but it was her father who had ordered the stone; it was his words, not hers.

  She drew a deep breath, wanting to say something to her father’s grave to ease the empty feeling raking her insides, but she was consumed with so much anger over the conditions of his will, that she couldn't think of anything kind to say. She wanted to curse him for what he had done to her, for the way he had condemned her to a man she barely knew, but she couldn't find the strength. Instead she turned silently and continued down the row of headstones.

  Heather Farnsworth, Born 18 June 1857, Died 7 August 1873. The stone was white marble and etched with the saying, Beloved Daughter And Sister. We Will Miss You Always. Julia knelt down, laying the bunch of daisies she had gathered next to the marker. Tears stung her eyes and she sniffed anxiously to avoid spilling them.

  "I need you Heather," she whispered gently. This time the tears wouldn't stop; they fell to her cheeks and slid down her throat soaking into the collar of her silk blouse. She shouldn't have stopped here; she knew it and she scolded herself verbally for her foolishness as she wiped the moisture from her cheeks. Heather was gone and there was nothing she could do to bring her back. It was best she just forgot the past and concentrate on the present, but it was difficult. Her friend had been in the forefront of her mind since she arrived here; she had to see the tombstone and to talk with her, though she knew it was pointless. Heather would never hear her again, never offer her condolence and never laugh or dream with her as they once had.

  Julia stood, trying to pull herself under control. Seeing this grave was much harder than she had anticipated and memories of that fateful day flooded back to the surface. She could still hear herself screaming; still see the bloated, disfigured face of her best friend as she floated in the murky water of the swimming hole. A cool breeze blew past her face, and Julia realized she was still crying. The tears were cold as ice on her warm cheeks and she once again brushed them away.

  With a sigh of distress and sorrow, she turned to leave, noticing a woman walking down the path toward her. Her dark dress and veil looked familiar, but after seeing so much black over the last weeks she didn't pay it much notice. The woman stopped a few inches in front of Julia and looked down at the grave she stood beside. She laid a single rose to the grass next to the daisies and lifted her veil. Her dark brown eyes, high cheekbones and thin lips looked hauntingly familiar, but it was her voice that made Julia's eyes widen and her pulse race.

  "How are you Julia?" the woman asked and for a brief moment, she thought she'd seen a ghost. Heather? It couldn't be, Heather was dead, but then who...

  "Sharon," she whispered, remembering the cruel young girl from so many years ago.

  "I wasn't sure whether you would remember me or not. It's been a long time." Julia stared at the woman, blinking her disbelief. The resemblance was uncanny, she felt as though she was looking into Heather's eyes, instead of her younger sister's.

  "What are you doing here?" Julia asked, pulling her voice back under control, though weakly at first.

  "I'm living here. Father still owns the property next to yours, so I've decided to take it over. It's pretty run down, but with a little work I can return it to a livable home again."

  "It was you the day of my father's funeral, wasn’t it?" Julia remembered where she had seen the woman just recently. “Here, when we buried him. I thought I recognized you, but I wasn’t certain.” Not entirely a lie, she assured herself.

  "I didn't know about your father, I'm sorry. I'd just arrived in Kentucky and wanted to visit Heather before I unpacked."

  "Why didn't you say something? You would have been welcome to come back to the ranch with us?"

  "I didn't want to intrude. Besides, I wasn't sure you'd want me there. After all, I'm the one who blamed you for my sister's death." Julia lowered her eyes. Julia had always felt Heather’s death was partly her fault. If she had been there as promised, there would not have been any accident; she wouldn’t have fallen and hit her head; she wouldn’t have fallen and drowned in her grandfather’s pond. Perhaps that was why she could never put her friend completely out of her mind.

  "I don’t believe that anymore,” the girl was saying, causing Julia to pull herself out of the dreadful past. "I admit I was angry and I did blame you at first, but I know it was an accident and nobody could have prevented what happened. But enough of all that. Tell me, how are you enjoying married life?"

  "How did you know I was married?" Julia frowned at the woman's cleverness in changing subjects so quickly.

  "Actually, I came to say hello just as you were tossing your bouquet. I seem to have intercepted it from some little redhead. I hope you don't mind?"

  "Of course not, but I wish you would have told me you were there. I would have loved to have had the chance to talk with you."

  "That's quite alright dear. I'm here for good now and I'll stop by and visit one day soon. But I am curious, who was that very attractive young man who caught your garter?"

  "I'm afraid I didn't see him," she answered with a blush.

  "Oh that's right,” she laughed softly. “Your husband was a little too anxious to get you upstairs. Not that I blame him. He is quite the catch, isn't he?" Julia cleared her throat and began walking toward the waiting carriage. A friend she may be in need of, but Sharon Farnsworth would not be it. She was no substitute for her lost sister.

  "You haven't mentioned your parents. How are they?" Julia asked, when the other woman fell into step beside her.

  "Oh fine, I suppose. I haven't really spent much time with them since I went off to college. You know, we grow up and interests change, they got older and I got more involved with other thi
ngs." The two continued to talk, making light conversation until they reached Julia's carriage. Sharon greeted Louise with a forced smile before turning back to Julia.

  "Can we offer you a ride?" Julia asked, staring into Sharon's brown eyes. They were as clear as glass and as cold as stone. They almost appeared to belong to a statue rather than a living person.

  "No thank you, I have my carriage waiting for me, but I do hope to see you again soon. Maybe I’ll stop by the stables and you can introduce me to that handsome husband of yours."

  "Of course,” Julia smiled, though a strange surge of jealousy began to boil in the pit of her stomach. “You're welcome to stop by for tea if you'd like?"

  "I'll do that; until then good-bye Julia, Mrs. Turner." The woman walked off back toward the graves with the grace of a stalking panther. Julia couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something very unsettling about that woman. She just didn't appear to be the sort of person who would be interested in sharing tea with the one person she had so blatantly accused of killing her sister. Perhaps it was just the shock of seeing her again that made Julia so nervous; whatever it was, a tiny quiet voice inside her head warned her to stay on guard.

  "Why did you do that?" Louise questioned shifting in the seat to make room for her daughter as she continued to watch the darkly dressed woman's departure.

  "Do what Mother?" Julia adjusted her skirt across her lap, consumed at the moment with her own thoughts.

  "Invite that bitch out to the ranch? I remember how she blamed you for poor Heather's death. How could you just pretend nothing's happened?"

  "Mother, please," Julia insisted, nodding to the driver to leave. "That was a long time ago. She's grown up since then and she's our neighbor again, I can't very well ignore her. I owe it to Heather to be polite. Besides, aren’t you the one who is always insisting on keeping up the social graces? It would be rude to ignore her, living as close as we do."

  "Well, I'm telling you she's not to be trusted. That one never was. She would have screwed her own brother if there was a dollar in it for her."

  "Mother!"

  "Oh, don't look so shocked. Everyone knew the sort of girl she was. And don't try and tell me she's changed, because I know better. That tramp would just as soon turn her parents’ old home into a brothel, as she would sell her soul to the highest bidder."

  "I know what kind of girl Sharon used to be, but I’m sure that’s all behind her now. She’s a well-educated woman and she seems sincere. Look, mother, let's not think about the past today, alright? I have the urge to shop and spend an ungodly amount of money on loads of frivolous things I will never wear, and I don't want to think about anything else except Daniel’s reaction when he gets the bills."

  The women agreed to try and have a good day and not allow the ghosts from the past to haunt them, even though Julia had a feeling deep down that her mother had been right about their neighbor. They wanted to pretend everything was fine and normal, even though she knew better. Maybe it was the unemotional look in the woman’s eyes that made her blood run cold, or maybe it was the way she just seemed to appear from out of the shadows.

  If only she could shake off these feelings clawing at her back, but right now she felt as though a weight the size of all Kentucky had just fallen down on her shoulders and there was no possible way of disposing herself of it.

  Daniel spent his afternoon in a pile of horse manure and soiled hay, fighting to keep images of his young bride from invading his mind. He helped clean the stalls, spread fresh straw on the floors for the horses, fill the oat box and clean the water bins. He inspected a number of hooves, most in need of new shoes and checked more horses’ mouths for decaying teeth than he cared to remember. Finally with over twenty thoroughbreds brushed and groomed, he was able to think about returning to the main house for supper.

  Between his work in the stables and his training of Roustabout, getting him ready for next year's races, Daniel was exhausted and by six o'clock he was in desperate need of a hot bath and a soft bed. It had been too many years since he did this sort of labor and he felt worn clear to the bone. He didn't want to complain in front of the hired hands so he saved his belly aching for when he was alone.

  He was on his way back up to the house when Rally Overton hollered at him to hold up. He had another man with him who looked vaguely familiar, but in his present state Daniel wouldn't be able to distinguish Adam from Eve.

  "'Scuse me Mr. Brownin'," Rally drawled. "This 'ere's Dourn," he motioned to the man next to him with a wave of his thumb. "He's in need of place ta stay 'n I's been tellin' him 'bout the stables needin' a few good workers 'n he'd like ta apply fer the job." Daniel looked at the man, inspecting him cautiously. He was taller than Rally, yet still a good half foot shorter than himself. He had dark curly hair and small grey eyes, a thin scare slashed across his cheekbone and another that ran along his chin, showing signs of a seedy past that had definitely left its mark. He wore a pair of old jeans and a faded cotton shirt, a red bandana tied around his neck and a sun-bleached hat was pulled down over his forehead, making him appear even more hauntingly familiar.

  "Have you ever worked with thoroughbreds before?" Daniel asked, shaking the man's calloused hand.

  "Yes sir, I have. I's worked fer a couple down Texas way fer the past year, ‘n right near five years up in New York. Ya can say, I's done pert near ever'thin' there is ta do, when it comes ta horses."

  "Fine, we'll give you a try," Daniel said, with a tired smile. "Overton will show you the place and get you settled in. The pay is fifteen dollars a month, free room and board in the bunk house and three square meals. You can start work in the morning." He turned around and left the two standing alone in the pink and orange light of the setting sun.

  Daniel swore he knew the man from somewhere, that much was for certain, but he couldn’t place where. His voice, his eyes, even that small scare across his cheek were all familiar, but he just couldn't put a name to him. Daniel made a mental note to ask Harold to check into Dourn's story for him, but right now it was probably safer to keep him under a close eye than to allow him to run loose in the small town. At least Daniel felt comfortable about leaving the man in Rally Overton's care. There wasn't another man in all of Kentucky, who knew everything that went on in twenty-four hours, like Rally did. He was worse than the town’s spinster when it came to gossip.

  "Now ya just play yer cards right son," Rally drawled again, once Daniel was out of sight. "Ya'll be 'ere fer a long spell, if'n ya don't screw up, like last time."

  "Come on Pa," the younger man said, heading back to the stables. "Ya know last time, weren't none of my fault. That ol' man, just got antsy and blamed me fer nothin'."

  "Ya tried ta screw his wife. What did ya think he'd do, shake yer damn hand?"

  "But she was a real looker, that one. Worth loosin' my job over, that's fer sure."

  "Well, ya just keep yer distance from that there house now, ya hear? That Mr. Brownin', he's got Miss Julia fer a new wife and I's ain't gonna relish havin' ta bury ya once he shoots ya, fer comin' on ta the little gal."

  "Well Pa, I's always did think she was worth bein' shot over," the younger man snickered at his father's expression. "Aw come on Pa, ya know Miss Priss ain't ta my likin', no matter how perky them a her's are. As fer fancy breeches, I ain’t gonna take the time fer him to get ta know me. I think its best I stays outta his way, lessen he ‘members where he met me ‘fore."

  Rally shook his head gently as he ran a large weathered hand across his sweaty brow, sighing his surrender. There just wasn't any getting through to this one. He only hoped Julia had enough sense to stay away from the stables and away from Michael Dourn Overton, before something serious happened to her.

  Julia arrived at the house just after sunset. She had spent a wonderful afternoon shopping with Louise, visiting with Margie Leonard and her new baby, Harrison, while the Leonard’s three year-old daughter, Maggie, sat on her lap, playing with the string of pearls around her neck. Th
ey ate lunch at Margie's then shopped nearly every store in the small town before returning to the Leonard's home, where they ate supper and played with the children until it was time for them to go to bed.

  Besides Jeremy, Harold was the only one who suspected the truth about Julia and Daniel's situation. She didn't really expect Daniel would keep his problems confidential from his partner and best friend and could see the suspicions in the man's honey brown eyes, though he never said anything to her about it.

  Margie told all sorts of stories about the life of a newlywed and even mentioned a few things about settling in as lovers, that shouldn't have been told. Of course, the subject was mentioned briefly and only when Louise wasn't within earshot, however, Julia’s deep blush was a telltale sign in itself. Margie had a way of making a person feel comfortable, and Julia felt very relaxed around her. It was no wonder Daniel valued her as his friend.

  Julia could imagine herself as having a best friend again while she sat laughing at the way Harold was bossed around by his wife. Margie was as gentle and loving as she was energetic, forcing Julia and Louise to pick up their pace while shopping with her. Where most women would be resting after giving birth a little more than a week ago, she was eager to explore the town with her new friends. She hurried from one place to another with the pram carrying both Maggie and Harrison. They stopped at one shop after the next and then remember something she had seen in the first, turning and dragging the two back down the street with her.

  By the time they arrived home, Julia and Louise were more exhausted then either could ever remember being. Their feet throbbed inside their heeled boots, their knees threatened to buckle beneath their weight and their cheeks ached from so much smiling and laughing, they thought their faces would permanently freeze that way.