by Jane Peart
She did not want to spend another night under the roof, nor eat another meal Mrs. Amberly had paid for, she would have to wait until morning to make arrangements to leave. And there were hours and hours of the night to get through.
It started to rain. She heard the staccato patter of raindrops on the tin roof. She went to stand at the window peering out into the night. Was Brook out there somewhere in the rainswept dark, alone, desperate, hunted? Addie felt almost as alone and desperate.
Addie prayed for clear direction. It came in the name Freda. What Freda had said that afternoon. "If you need anything, if there's anything I can do, any way I can help, please let me know."
Going to Freda meant sacrificing her pride, asking for help. After all, she had known Freda only a matter of months, weeks really since they had become friends. Addie's pride held for another few minutes. She had prayed for guidance, hadn't she? She had to believe she had received it. Trust and obey. The title of the old hymn sang itself into her mind.
In another moment Addie threw a few things into her valise, flung her cloak around her, slipped quietly into the hall, then out the front door.
It was raining hard. As she stood on the little porch the wind whipped her cape around her and blew her hair stingingly into her eyes. She reached for the hood, pulled it up over her head, and tightened the drawstrings under her chin. Then, bending her head, she started walking fast in the direction of town. There she would go to the livery stable and hire a horse or a buggy to ride out to Freda's ranch. She hoped she remembered the way.
Chapter 17
Addie had not remembered the way into town being so long. The wind-driven rain pelted her relentlessly as she struggled through the dark. Frantically she searched her memory to remember where the livery stable was located. After two wrong turns, she saw its wooden sign swinging wildly back and forth in the wind, and she hurried toward it. There was no light and no one anywhere about. She banged on the door with both her hands, calling hello at the top of her voice. Finally she heard the creak of the stable door and saw a lantern held up in front of a sleepy groom's face.
"Hey, what's all the racket for?" he asked grumpily. "We're closed, been closed since seven."
"I'm sorry, but I'm in urgent need of a horse and buggy. I must get out to the Wegner ranch tonight."
He shook his head. "Well, now, Miss, the boss ain't here, and I got no small buggy fit for a lady to handle, and all the fresh horses went with the sheriff and his posse. Sorry."
Addie's heart sank. She could not go back to the Springs. She must get out to Freda's some way. "Could you drive me? I'll pay you, of course," she offered even as she mentally counted her small amount of cash.
The boy shook his head. "No, Ma'am. The boss'd have my hide if I left the stable and horses unattended." He backed away and started to slide the door shut again.
"Wait!" Addie pleaded in sudden panic. Making another desperate decision she asked, "Have you a horse I could ride?"
The groom hesitated, "Well, there's old Sal, but she'd be a handful if I got her out on a night like this. I mean she's gentle enough but old—"
"That would do fine. I'll take her. How much?"
"—haven't got a sidesaddle—"
"That doesn't matter. I can ride a regular one," Addie assured him, grateful for the denim skirt cut from Freda's pattern she was wearing.
The boy still sounded hesitant. "I dunno what the boss would say—"
"Look, I'll pay you extra for your trouble," she offered rashly.
"Well—" the word was dragged out as if he were mentally considering a nice sum for his own pocket, then he said, "—all right."
A few minutes later he led out the nodding mare. Addie stepped up on the mounting block and slid one foot into a stirrup. Gripping the pommel she settled herself securely in the unaccustomed saddle, wedging the small valise behind.
"Sure you're all right, Miss?" the groom asked, doubt strong in his voice.
"Yes, fine," she said, sounding much more convinced than she felt. "Thanks. I'll bring Sal back tomorrow." She clutched the reins, gave the horse a gentle kick in the sides to urge her forward. Resentful of being roused out of a warm stall where she was comfortably settled for the night, old Sal shook her head indignantly, and not until the groom slapped her flanks did she move.
Once out into the drizzle and on the road Sal gradually started into a bumpy trot. The rain continued steadily, soaking through Addie's lightweight cloak. Her hood slipped back with the motion of the horse. Her hands were too busy holding the reins taut to attempt to cover her head again. Soon her hair was wet, streaming down her face and plastered against her forehead.
Clinging to the pommel, the reins twisted around her cold hands, Addie felt desperate. Between clenched, chattering teeth, she prayed using for a prayer the only thing she could remember at the moment, the words of the hymn "Lead, Kindly Light." Sal tugged stubbornly against the reins, tossing her head to show her distaste at being ridden in this wild, dark night on an unfamiliar road.
Addie squinted into each side road they passed, trying to recall just where the one leading to Freda's was. At last, in the distance she thought she dimly saw lights. She pulled sharply on the reins. With effort she turned the still recalcitrant Sal into the winding road she was pretty sure led to the Wegner ranch.
Through sheets of rain she spotted the outline of the house. By the time she awkwardly dismounted, every muscle stiff and aching, Addie was completely drenched and exhausted. Looping Sal's reins about the small iron hitching post, she stumbled up the steps of the porch. She leaned against the door frame and twisted the metal doorbell. After a few minutes, through the glass oval of the front door she saw a wavering light, as if someone carrying a lamp was approaching. When the door opened Addie nearly fell into Freda's arms.
With a startled exclamation Freda drew Addie into the house, calling to Elena as she did. "Ring the farm bell for Rico to come up to the house, take Miss Pride's horse to the barn, and rub her down and give her some oats." As a wide eyed Elena scurried off to do her mistress's bidding, Freda led Addie into the kitchen.
"You're shivering. We'll have to get those wet clothes off you quick," she said briskly. "You can do it in here by the stove. There's no one here but Elena and me."
Shuddering with the cold seeping into every pore Addie proceeded to drag off the soaking garments.
"Here, put this blanket around you. I'll get some water heated for your feet and to make some tea."
Still shaking but now swathed in a cozy blanket, Addie sat in a rocker pulled close to the stove. She gratefully accepted the steaming mug Freda handed her. Cupping it with both hands, she sipped it slowly. Gradually the hot liquid took off the edge of chill, and warmth began to spread through her.
Freda knelt on the floor in front of Addie and with Elena's help tugged off Addie's boots and pulled off her stockings, then gently placed her numb feet into a pan of steaming water.
Freda's sympathy showed in her expressive eyes as Addie poured out the whole story of what had taken place at Silver Springs since Freda's visit.
"So, that's how it is," she sighed. "I'm sorry, Freda. It's really inexcusable for me to come here without warning like this—imposing upon you this way. I had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. I don't mean to sound like a poor homeless waif, but—"
"But that's exactly what you are!" Freda cut in, finishing for her. Then they both began to laugh, although Addie's laughter was close to tears.
"Now, look here," Freda said firmly, "I don't want to hear another word about imposing from you. You are more than welcome no matter the circumstances. I get very lonely out here night after night all by myself. I love having company. Even unexpected company, or maybe I should say especially unexpected company! You know what the Bible says don't you? 'Be not hesitant to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unaware.' Hebrews 13:2. That's chapter and verse even though I may not have quoted it just right."
&nbs
p; "Thank you, Freda, you're very kind."
"My goodness, no need for thanks. We're friends, aren't we? That's what friends are for. All right, now, the best thing is for you to get a good night's sleep. Everything will look better in the morning. Although I detest people who quote adages, I know from experience, that life always seems 'darkest before the dawn.' So, let me show you the guest room."
She took Addie upstairs, to the room where Elena had already turned down the bed.
"First thing tomorrow we'll send word to the hotel for your clothes and other belongings to be packed and delivered out here," Freda said firmly.
Addie could just imagine a red-faced, furious Mrs. A. standing over Letty, the hotel maid, as she packed, watching to see nothing that was not strictly Addie's got put in by mistake or intent. She was too weary to protest. Tomorrow would be time enough to make plans, to decide what she should do next.
She looked around Freda's guest room with gratitude and pleasure and a little nostalgia. It reminded her somewhat of her own girlhood bedroom at Oakleigh with its spool bed, candlewick coverlet, ruffled curtains. For a moment the memories were sweet yet tinged with melancholy.
Addie thought sleep might be impossible given all she'd been through. But almost as soon as she slipped between the lavender-scented sheets, she went blissfully to sleep.
When dawn lighted the room, Addie awoke, unable at first to place where she was. Slowly the events of the day before—the showdown with Mrs. Amberly, the confrontation with Louis, her flight from the Silver Springs cottage in the driving rain—all came back to her. She lay there for a moment, turning each over in her mind, testing her emotions. In spite of knowing that today would require much of her, she felt surprisingly calm. She had several important decisions to make. With God's help, she would make the right ones.
She got out of bed, went to the window, and knelt there looking out at the vineyards. What should she do now? Where could she go—without money, without any references. Surely Mrs. Amberly would keep her word and deprive her of any sort of recommendation. The old anger and resentment knotted Addie's stomach as her hands gripped the windowsill. Mrs. Amberly's had been no idle threat.
She could not stay indefinitely at Freda's but she needed a few days at least to review her options and try to make some plans. The only thing she could do was to discuss her situation honestly with Freda. She had put herself in the position of asking for help. Much as this hurt her pride, she had to do it.
The house seemed very quiet. Addie opened the bedroom door and peered into the hallway. Outside were her boots, cleaned and polished. Next to them were her clothes, dried and pressed, folded over a chair.
Addie dressed quickly and went downstairs in search of Freda. The front of the house was empty, no one about. Then she heard a voice singing. Was it coming from the kitchen? She ventured along the hall where she remembered going last night. Elena turned from the stove and greeted her with a smile. "Buenos dias, Señorita." She told Addie that Freda was down in the vineyards and would be back shortly. "She goes early, sometimes even before the men are in the field." Elena shook her head. "The señora sent Rico into town to take back the horse to the livery stable and to deliver a note to the hotel to send out your belongings. Señora Wegner said I was to fix you a good hot breakfast when you woke up. I'm just taking my bread out of the oven now."
Elena set a place for her at the round oak table by the windows that overlooked the rolling hills. After a huge breakfast of cured ham, fried eggs, fresh warm bread, apricot jam, and delicious hot coffee, Addie felt more able to face the day ahead.
So many things to think about. How could she get back to Virginia? Cousin Matthew, who had been instrumental in getting her the job with Mrs. Amberly, was the last person Addie felt like asking to borrow money from, but he was the only relative she knew who had any. Addie's pride would not let her even consider that. Pride, always that Sometimes that was more a vice than a virtue. In the meantime, she had to remain at Freda's until she could think of some way to earn enough herself.
Addie went back upstairs to the guest bedroom. Her Bible lay on the bedside table where she had unpacked it from her small valise. When she saw it she thought if there had ever been a time for her to seek guidance, this was it. She knew she should pray. How often in times of crisis had Addie seen her mother on her knees in prayer, an open Bible in front of her? And Aunt Susan whose strong faith had seen her through a war that had robbed her of sons, fortune, future.
The Psalms had always been Addie's favorite part of the Bible, maybe because most were written by David: emotional, impulsive, proud —someone she could identify with. She flipped through the pages to Psalm 46: "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble—" She squeezed her eyes tight and tried to pray.
But the scene with Mrs. Amberly was all that came into her mind. She kept seeing that malicious face, hearing those vicious slanders, those stinging insults. Addie felt righteous anger well up hotly within her. How dare that woman accuse her of such things? Addie felt herself tremble with fury.
And Louis! Her original impression of him had been right! Again it made her skin crawl to think she had, even for a moment, considered his proposal! She could never marry someone she could not respect. He had stood by, not lifting a finger to defend her, while she was being verbally attacked by Mrs. Amberly. Worse still, in the lobby, in front of everyone, he had remained silent.
"Crisis always reveals character," Addie's father used to say. This time it had proved more than true. For all his wealth, education, and sophistication, Louis Montand was weak, not worthy of respect.
How different everything would be if he had been. If she could have depended on him, if he had really shown his loyalty and love, she would not be facing this bleak future. If he had been someone like Rex Lyon She put her face in her hands. She hadn't meant to think of him.
Abruptly, Addie got up off her knees. It was no use. She was in no mood to pray. Her heart was too full of vengeful thoughts. The only Scripture she could think of was, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Who can know it?" The trouble was Addie knew her heart too well. It was proud and rebellious.
She closed the Bible regretfully just as there was a knock at the bedroom door.
"There's someone to see you, Miss Pride," Elena's voice called through the door.
Probably someone from the hotel bringing her things, perhaps wanting her to sign for them. Whatever it was, she would have to deal with it. She hurried down the steps.
There was no one waiting in the hall so she started into the parlor. She slid back the panel door and saw a man standing in front of the fireplace. At the sound of the door opening, he turned. She caught her breath and stared at him,
Rex too was speechless. She looked so beautiful—wide-eyed, lips parted with surprise. All he had come to say departed from his mind, leaving him without words. He looked at her long and steadily.
"Why, Mr. Lyon," Addie faltered, immediately conscious of her appearance. She had rushed downstairs thinking it was probably a hotel employee or maybe Rico with some malicious message from her former employer. She had not bothered to look in the mirror. Instinctively her hands went to her hair, patting the coiled twist at the nape of her neck, tucking a stray curl back of her ear.
Rex cleared his throat. "Addie . . . I . . . I wanted you to know how sorry I am about all that's happened . . . to offer whatever help I could—if you need—I mean Freda says..." He stopped midsentence as if he felt he might have said too much.
"Thank you," Addie murmured, wondering if Freda had sent for him.
"I came to the hotel the other day to see you but—"
"Yes, I know. Freda told me. It was kind of you, but we were called into a meeting. The sheriff wanted to give us a progress report on ..." All at once the chilling information about Brook struck her with full force and her voice wavered. "They think they know who is responsible for the stagecoach robbery, and for some of the others
over the past year and a half."
"Yes, I heard," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. He was your friend, wasn't he?"
"Yes, that's what makes it all the more awful." Addie felt tears rush to her eyes. She tried to blink them back. "I still can hardly believe it." She groped in her pocket for a hand kerchief, and as she did, she felt the edges of Brook's note still there. She thought of what he'd written and was overcome. She sat down on the nearest chair helpless to stop her tears.
In a moment, Rex was on his knees beside her, his arm went around her. She leaned against his shoulder sobbing. He held her, letting her weep. At length, she realized what she was doing and she drew back, wiping her eyes and nose.
"Oh, my goodness, look at me! I'm sorry. It's just that all of this has been such a shock."
"It's all right, Addie. I understand."
Rex got to his feet and moved back over to the fireplace. He stood there, his elbow resting on the mantelpiece, allowing her to compose herself.
"I'm so embarrassed," she said dabbing at her eyes.
"Don't be, Addie. It's only natural after what you've been through."
She sniffled and wondered what she should do now. She had broken all rules of etiquette and propriety in the presence of the man who had until now distanced himself from her and all that concerned her, the man who had been the cause of some sleepless nights and recent heartache, the man whom she had treated with haughtiness the last time they met. Where was her pride now? Shattered like everything else.
"If you know everything about Brook, I suppose you also know that I am suspected of being his accomplice because only my jewelry was returned!"
He nodded.
"Then you probably know I disgraced myself behaving like a harridan in public toward my employer." She smiled weakly and corrected, "My former employer, I should say. I'm dismissed. Not that I care."
"So, what are you going to do?" Rex asked.
At this question the consequences of her rashness hit again.