by Lily George
“Well, I am not riding for pleasure,” Ada admitted. “But I do need to work on the ranch while your father is healing.”
“But you aren’t a cowboy.” Laura flopped across her stepmother’s bed. “That kind of work is done by men.”
Ada tugged on her boots. “Nonsense,” she said with a laugh. “All women are thoroughly competent creatures. I’m a good rider, and I can learn things quickly.” Even though she still had trouble distinguishing between baking soda and baking powder and, of course, had nearly set her skirt on fire while lifting the bread out of the oven the day before.
“So…you’re going to be a cowgirl?” Laura smiled with glee. “I can’t imagine what Father will say to that.”
“Your father was amply aware of my independence when he married me,” Ada retorted with a smile. She stood, examining herself in the mirror. “Run and fetch Cathy for me. I need her help to finish dressing. You need to dress, too, young miss, especially if you are going to walk to school.”
Laura jumped from the bed and trotted obediently down the hall, calling for the maid. Amazing how little sulkiness she had exhibited over the past few days. Was that a result of gaining a small measure of independence? Had being allowed some agency given Laura the chance to think beyond herself?
Cathy interrupted these new thoughts with her arrival, and Ada’s day began in earnest. As her maid finished helping her to dress, Ada reminded her, “I need to speak with Macklin before he starts his duties for the day.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cathy stood back, looking at Ada’s riding habit. “He is coming up to the main house before he heads out to work the cattle. I got word to him last night. Pardon me for saying so, but that’s an awfully formal frock to wear on the ranch.”
Ada held the gray worsted wool skirt out to the side as she examined her reflection in the mirror. The habit did seem to belong to an entirely different world—an ancient piece of history from an early part of her life. The gray jacket fit beautifully, revealing a snowy white shirt with a black-and-white striped stock. How she had loved this outfit when she first ordered it from the same Savile Row tailor her father frequented. It had been the perfect outfit for a serious suffragist to wear. Now, however, it seemed like the kind of costume for a masquerade ball, a gross exaggeration of what a wellborn woman with nothing better to do would wear to seem significant and important. “I can’t do anything about that now,” she said. “It’s all I’ve got. I can’t very well borrow Jack’s clothes. They’d never fit.”
Cathy chuckled. “Will there be anything else?”
“No. I’ll follow you downstairs. I’m ready for my coffee.”
She looped her skirt over her riding whip and trailed behind her maid, reviewing her checklist for the day. Once Laura was off to school, she would work with Macklin in the morning. Aunt Pearl was coming over to sit with Jack. Or sit on Jack, if he tried to get up. Then in the afternoon, she would stay with Jack so that Aunt Pearl could attend to matters at her own place.
Laura skipped out of the dining room, holding a piece of toast in one hand and her tin pail in the other. “I’m off to school,” she announced proudly. “See you this afternoon, Ada.”
Ada stooped and kissed her stepdaughter. There were a million things she wanted to say, such as to be careful and watch out for animals. She held her counsel, however. This was a big moment for Laura, and she didn’t want to step on it by making her stepdaughter feel like a baby.
If she wasn’t home within thirty minutes of school’s dismissal, though, Ada gave herself permission to go searching for her. “Have a lovely day.” She opened the door for Laura and nearly ran headlong into Macklin, who was raising his arm as if to knock.
“Mr. Macklin, do come in.” She opened the door more widely and watched as Laura danced down the path to the front gate. “Would you care for some coffee?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He took off his hat and followed her indoors. Ada shut the door behind him and ushered him into the dining room. “I have to say, the ranch is looking better than I’ve ever seen it. I meant to tell you so the other day, but we were a little busy.”
She smiled at this understatement. So many Texans had the gift of phrasing things just so. “The ranch? You mean our home? Thank you. We have been working on it.” She poured him a cup of coffee. “Sugar? Cream?”
“Just black.” He took the cup from her, muttering his thanks. “Yes, the ranch. They never did name it. Some of the ranches around here have names, but not this one.”
Many fine homes had names, come to think of it. St. Clair had mentioned his home, Evermore. Her father’s family had lived at Silver Birch. Her mother’s people had nested at Aingarth. Was it Jack’s democratic manner that had kept him from naming the house? Or his strife with Emily?
“I understand you want to help on the ranch while the Boss is laid up.” Macklin sipped at his coffee.
“I do.” Ada poured a cup for herself and sat at the table. Once she had settled, Macklin also took a seat. “I think it will be easier for Jack to stay abed if he knows what is happening on the ranch each day. If I help out, even for half a day each day, I can give him a report.”
“It’s a good plan,” Macklin admitted. “I wondered how you were going to keep him off the range.”
“We can try it.” She smiled and stirred her coffee. “I don’t know that it will work, but I’m willing to give it a go if you are willing to have a greenhorn along with you.”
“Sure thing.” He placed his coffee cup, now empty, on the table. “I’m ready to go when you are.”
Ada nodded. She would have liked to linger over her coffee a bit more, perhaps wait until Aunt Pearl arrived, but Jack’s day always started early. Hers would, too. She rang the bell for Cathy.
The maid entered. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Is Mr. Burnett still sleeping?”
“He is. I just checked on him a moment ago.”
Ada placed her half-full coffee cup down. “Very well. My aunt should be here in less than half an hour to sit with Mr. Burnett. Be sure to be on hand if she or my husband needs anything. I’m going out into the pasture and will be back in time for dinner.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cathy smiled. “We’ll make a hearty meal for you.”
There was nothing to do but jump in. She had her riding gear on, and Macklin had said it would be all right for her to come along, even if she was woefully unqualified. “Well, Mr. Macklin, shall we go?”
“Yup.”
Nervous excitement grabbed her. She was going riding, and she hadn’t done so in ages. Even though she did not know how to accomplish the job she was setting out to do, at least she would be riding on the range. She would be helping Jack, too, and that thought was nice. When she had found him, crumpled and broken, unconscious on the pitch-black prairie, her first fear was that he was dead. Somehow, if he was dead, she had failed him. It was utterly ridiculous to feel that way, of course, but that persistent thought would not leave her. If she could help him a little every day, perhaps the horror of seeing him so helpless and alone after she had been sure he was off somewhere venting his temper would abate.
She rose, facing Macklin. “All right. I’m ready.”
*
Jack was drifting down from the ceiling of his room. His nose itched unbearably, like in the spring when ragweed ran rampant and everyone sneezed. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, he knew his body hurt. But then again, he didn’t really care if it did. He was floating along, like a feather on a breeze.
“It’s about time you woke up.”
Jack’s eyes flew open and fixed upon Pearl Colgan, who was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. He blinked several times, trying to clear the fog from his mind. “Pearl?” His voice was raspy. “Where’s Ada?”
“She’s out with Macklin and the rest of the boys, learning how to be a cowgirl.” Pearl set aside her knitting and rose. “Would you like some water?”
He nodded. It would feel good to ease the fire in his throat. “Why is Ad
a out on the range?” he demanded. Not that he minded having Pearl here, but it wasn’t the same as having Ada beside him.
“She is picking up the slack. Never thought my niece had it in her, although she does have a can-do spirit.” Pearl poured some water from a jug into a glass. “Can you ease yourself up a little? I can arrange your pillows for you.”
“I’ve got it.” With a mighty effort, he heaved himself so that he was using the headboard as support for his head and back. Pearl handed him the glass of water and then moved the pillows around to accommodate him better.
He drank, savoring the cool water that tasted of the well in the front yard. No other well on the property had water this sweet. Many times he’d considered having that well water bottled so he could carry it with him wherever he went.
“How do you feel?” Pearl drew her chair alongside his bed and took up her knitting.
“Half-past dead, but also as if I am floating on air,” he admitted, taking another drink. “What has Doc been giving me? I hate this feeling.”
“I’m sure it’s laudanum or something like that,” Pearl responded, her needles clicking rhythmically. “Two broken ribs—you need something to help with the pain so you can bear it.”
“I can bear it just fine.” He finished off his drink. “I don’t want to be drugged up.”
Pearl shrugged. “Suit yourself. You’ll have to talk it over with Doc and with Ada. I imagine she’ll raise a fuss if you do. Never saw her that white and shaken as the night she found you.”
Images of Ada had drifted through his mind while he had been between consciousness and unconsciousness. He had seen her wide blue eyes and longed to touch a lock of her dark, wavy hair.
She was a friend—a good friend. A dear friend. A friend who happened to be a bought-and-paid-for wife, as well. If he allowed himself to think of her as more, he was certainly headed for heartbreak. Most importantly, he would lose the friend he’d found. Just as he had lost Emily once they moved to Texas, he would lose Ada if he allowed himself to think of her in a romantic way. Marriage had a way of doing that.
“I sent off the letter about the land for the chapel,” Pearl continued, as though she hadn’t spoken of Ada or that terrible night. “I just got the final, official word yesterday that they are willing to send the preacher out when we’ve built the chapel. So they are sticking to their promise. I guess I need to talk with Ada about getting some men together to build it.”
He tried to sit up straighter and winced. “I’d help if it wasn’t for these ribs.”
Pearl nodded. “I know that. Ada does, too. More water?”
“Please.” He was still so very thirsty. It seemed that nothing would quench his burning thirst.
He watched as Pearl refilled his cup. Something else had been bothering him. Thinking of Ada as a bought-and-paid-for wife had brought the matter back to the forefront of his mind. “Pearl,” he said as he accepted the glass of water, “how can I pay Ada? It seems seedy to press a wad of bills into her hand. That was our arrangement, though. She has done so much, and I have been behind in taking care of that part of our agreement.”
Pearl settled back into her chair. “Ada’s main concern is her sisters, Violet and Cordelia. She wants to make certain the girls can finish out the year at their boarding school.” She gave him an amused look over the top of her spectacles. “Though we all know how you feel about boarding school, it’s a good thing for their family. It gave the girls structure. I imagine their lives with Augustus were pretty chaotic. He sure didn’t care very much about watching out for them.”
That could, in part, explain why Ada was so good at taking on things for other people. If she had been raised as the eldest in an environment of instability, she would have much practice making other peoples’ lives more secure.
“If Ada thinks it’s the right thing for her sisters, then I trust her,” he said. “Should I just pay for the boarding school? Send the money for them to finish out the year?”
Pearl took up her knitting again. “I think that would be real nice. I can get you the school’s information.”
He nodded and then sagged against the pillows. Talking and breathing were difficult. The plaster cast that squeezed his torso made him feel as if he were being gripped by a giant’s hand.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and then Ada strode into the room. She was slightly pinker than usual, and her hair was disheveled. She had received, likely, the full benefits of prairie sun and wind.
“Jack, you are awake.” She smiled at him and put her riding crop aside. “He looks better today. Don’t you agree, Aunt Pearl?”
“I do, though I thought it would sound mighty cheeky to say so.” The old woman accepted a kiss on her cheek from Ada and went on with her knitting. “Ada, Jack and I were just talking. He wants to pay for your sisters’ year at their school. I told him that would probably be just fine. I know you were worried about how you were going to meet that expense.”
Strange nervousness gripped Jack. Somehow, speaking of their arrangement aloud was a little strange. “If you want,” he hastened to add. “I just realized you’ve done so much to uphold your end of the bargain and I haven’t upheld mine.”
“Of course,” she replied. Was she blushing, or was her sunburn more readily apparent than he first observed? “I guess I should write and tell them I’m married.”
Pearl threw back her head and laughed. “Child! You haven’t told them?”
“There was so much to do…” Ada trailed off. “It’s difficult to explain, too.”
Ada was usually so decisive. Why was she hesitant to tell her sisters about their arrangement? Was she ashamed of their marriage? The old rising distrust of marriage began to well within Jack.
“You better tell them,” Pearl scolded. “Tell them you landed a nice, handsome Texan and have a pretty little stepdaughter to boot.”
“I’ll tell them.” Ada turned away and removed her hat. “Have you heard anything more about the chapel?”
Was she trying to change the subject? He wanted to question her about it, to press forward, but speaking was difficult and the medicine was making him too foggy for concise argument.
“I sure did. I was telling Jack that we need to start breaking ground. The sooner we build the chapel, the sooner we can get our preacher. I know that’s something you have been wanting.”
“Indeed. I wrote to St. Clair about it last week, along with the good news about Laura’s schooling.” Ada placed her hat on his bureau and turned to her aunt. “I’m here now, if you are ready to leave, Aunt Pearl.”
“I guess I’d better mosey.” Aunt Pearl began to ball up her knitting, stabbing the needles into it to hold it together securely. “How was your first day on the range, honey?”
“I think I acquitted myself well.” Ada gratefully sank into the chair Pearl had vacated. “Macklin showed me how to count the cattle. It’s difficult, isn’t it, Jack? They keep moving.”
They were back on common ground. She was his equal partner in this venture once more. He wanted to laugh with relief, but it would hurt too much. “Yup,” he agreed. “It seems like an easy thing, but it’s not.”
Aunt Pearl patted her niece’s shoulder. “You’ll get the hang of it, just like everything around here.” She waved goodbye to Jack and then promised to return in the morning.
Ada fluffed his pillows. As she bent over him, he caught the smell of horses and hay in addition to her usual lily of the valley.
She smelled like home, only better. Somehow, this made him feel worse. If she was becoming like home to him, then perhaps this wonderful friendship, the only one he had really known in his life, would end. Home was not a place where love grew.
“I don’t like you working outside,” he growled. Perhaps if she stayed indoors, he could keep her from growing away from him. “That’s man’s work.”
“You don’t really have a choice,” she sighed. “Come now, Jack. See reason. It’s good for me to get to know the inner
workings of the ranch so I can help you more as I’m needed. I’m doing all right at managing the house, but we both know it’s an effort for me. I am not naturally talented at domestic life, whereas horseback riding comes easily to me.”
“Don’t get injured, then,” he replied gruffly. He had no strength to argue. She would slip away from him as Emily had. There was no hope for it.
“Says the man wrapped up like a Christmas present,” she replied tartly. Then, as though unable to suppress her sudden emotion, she leaned forward and caught his hand, holding it lightly in hers as it was still crisscrossed with barbed-wire scratches. “It’s wonderful out there. I know why you love it so.”
He closed his eyes. Pain pulsed through him. Ada liked the ranch, unlike Emily. But the inner workings of marriage and home life and living together would put strain on their relationship in time. Leastways, he was familiar with that. He was tired, and he hurt and if his experience told him anything, he was going to lose Ada in the end.
Chapter Eleven
Ada eyed the team of men as they hammered nails into place. The foundation had already been laid, just a month after Aunt Pearl received her letter. These men, ranch hands from their place as well as Aunt Pearl’s and Mrs. Stillman’s, were now preparing to raise the first wall. Ada hugged herself with excitement. It was too bad that Jack was still on the mend and unable to see this sight. Perhaps she would have the chance to tell him about it later, once she came in for dinner.
There was a rustling in the grass behind her and, out of practice, Ada whirled around. Her right hand sought the pistol she now carried with her everywhere she went. Too many close calls with rattlesnakes and other varmints, as Macklin called them, had taught her to come prepared.
“Whoa, there,” a familiar but still weak-sounding voice called. “Don’t shoot. I come in peace.”
Ada’s heart surged with gladness as Jack’s head, topped with his usual cowboy hat, came into view. Her happiness faded, however, when she recalled the doctor’s orders. “Jack, you aren’t supposed to be out walking until another two weeks have passed,” she chided. “What if you reinjure yourself?”