***
Addie sat on her bunk and pulled the bundle from beneath her pillow where she had hid it while unpacking. The package was still closed, just as she had promised Cook. Rose had gone in search of passengers that might be from the same area of Ireland that she had left several years ago. She was certainly a friendly girl. Possibly there was much to learn from her about dealing with others.
Glad to be alone, Addie’s fingers gently pulled away the string that held the brown paper together. The parcel fell open to reveal a mass of coral yarn. Her mother’s favorite shawl. She buried her face in the softness and breathed in the lingering scent of roses. It meant a lot to know how much they had all cared for her. If only there was something she could do for them in return. But they were all part of her past. There was only the bleak future to look forward to.
Sounds from the ship were starting to soften. The family section had settled down and only an occasional snore or a cry from a baby was heard. The women in the partitions around them must all be asleep. Everyone but herself. She had held back the tears as long as she could after Rose returned. But now, she could not longer stop them. Turning her head, she buried her face in her pillow and began to sob.
There would be no more mornings at Long Meadows, no familiar face to greet her for the day. Tomorrow, she would wake on this horrid ship, and still be on her way to Texas. Her life was forever changed.
She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder.
“It’s only me, Addie. I couldn’t help but hear your unhappiness. Are you alright?”
Addie turned onto her back and blew her nose into the handkerchief wadded in her hand. She swallowed hard. “I’ll. . .I’ll be all right. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“Oh, I wasn’t asleep. Just lying there thinking about home. I suspect that’s what you’re doing, too.”
A harsh laugh sounded from Addie’s lips. “I don’t have a home. Not anymore.”
“Ah. I. . .I couldn’t help but notice your fancy clothes and your fine ways. I’ve been wondering why a lady like you isn’t sailing in first class. If you’ll forgive my forwardness, please.”
Addie stared into the darkness, wishing she could see the girl’s face. “There was a time I would have been in first class. But my grandfather’s estate is entailed. My cousin has turned me out. He has no room for me in the house.”
Rose’s voice was soft in the darkness. “I’m so sorry. But at least you’ve decided to go to America to make a new life. That‘s something good, isn‘t it? And your father is waiting for you. That should make you happy, shouldn’t it?”
Addie cleared her throat. “I don‘t know. I. . .I can‘t remember my father. He. . .he and my mother separated years ago.”
“I see. Well now you’ll have him to take care of you. That‘ll be good.”
“More than likely, I’ll have to take care of him. He’s old now, I think. He is much older than my mother was.”
“I’m sure he is looking forward to seeing you,” Rose offered in consolation, her soft voice smooth and calm in the darkness. “Having family with you will make all the difference.”
Addie suppressed another round of tears. It did no good to cry. She must get a tight grip on her emotions so she could see this journey through. Best to begin right now. “I hope so.” And maybe sleep would ease the sick sensation in her stomach.
Chapter 3
Addie stared at the bottom of the bunk above her. Her only view for the past four days. A strip of muslin had escaped the underside of the mattress and swung back and forth with the sway of the ship. Her stomach had danced back and forth with it for the last few days.
She closed her eyes from the motion. At this moment, Cousin Vance and his family were busy making Long Meadows their home. Had one of the little daughters taken her room? It had the prettiest view of the rose garden in back. Mr. Lawrence, the gardener, grew the special pink ones just for Addie. Now, they would be for some other girl. Addie of Long Meadows existed no longer.
She would now become Addie of Chance, Texas. The very thought sent a shiver of fear down her spine. But the sickness that had come upon her would end the likelihood of that scenario.
She turned her eyes and stared into Rose’s kind face. She had been there to care for her every day. “Do you think this is the day?” Her voice was shaky and weak. But what did it matter?
The girl’s brow crinkled as she dipped a cloth into a basin of cool water and applied it to Addie’s forehead. “The day for what?”
“That I’m going to die.” Surely it would be soon. She’d never felt so ill.
A small giggle erupted from Rose’s lips. “This is the first you’ve spoken to me since yesterday. That means you’re on the mend, Addie. Most folks adjust to the sea in a few days.”
If this was ‘on the mend’, how did it feel to get worse? “Perhaps you’re right,” she managed through clenched teeth as the room began to sway. She closed her eyes and prayed for sleep.
“You try to rest, Miss. You’ll be better soon enough.”
***
Rose straightened the wrap around Adeline‘s shoulders. “There now, doesn’t the sea breeze feel nice and fresh? And you have your mother’s favorite shawl to keep you warm.”
Addie turned and smiled. Rose was no longer her Irish roommate, a girl that had spent her life serving in houses of those better off. Now she was a friend.
“Yes. And it’s nice to be out of the hull of this ship.” The odor below deck was something less than appealing. The salty air would do her good.
“Look at the gulls traveling with us!” Rose exclaimed, pointing to the mass of white birds, filling the air. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”
Addie shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up. The birds floated along in the breeze. Their lovely white against the blue sky reminded her of the times she’d reclined under the trees in the orchard at home, her eyes staring up through the blossoms at the sapphire sky. A most un-ladylike thing to do. She swallowed back the sigh that threatened to escape her lips. Her former home. At this moment she was as homeless and free as the sea birds keeping them company on their voyage.
Pain sunk to her stomach as she recalled her destiny. Dirty, filthy Texas. Texas. Just the word left a bad taste in her mouth. Her mother had hated it and so would she. Her father’s house could never be her home. Anyplace that had made her mother so unhappy, would never weave its way into her heart.
Tears stung the back of her eyelids and she blinked them away. How she longed to stand at the window of her bedroom at Long Meadows, watching the butterflies flit from plant to plant in the flower gardens below. But the hope was in vain. She had to face the fact that her life would never be the same again.
October 17, 1874
We arrived late last evening and I was surprised to see only two barns in the distance. When I asked my husband how far we were from the house, he pointed to the smallest barn and replied that the squat building before me was our home. How can he expect me to live in such a hovel? My father and mother would be devastated if they knew of my true situation. Yet, I have married him and must make the best of it as long as I can. How I long for mother and father and home. How shall I ever survive in the desolate place?
The rocking of the ship awoke her and she listened for the sounds that were becoming familiar as the days wore on. A slight roar in the distance told her they were in for another storm. She shivered and folded her arms over her chest, snuggling deeper under the thin blanket. She would not be going to breakfast. Best to burrow under the cover until the gale had passed.
It rarely stormed at Long Meadows and when it did, the servants would gather together in the kitchen, light the lamps and make tea. Addie would join them, sipping the hot beverage and listening to the stories that Larson told of his childhood in London. She smiled at the memory of his clever imitations of people he had known. She would miss him. The staff had been a part of her life since childhood. They were part of who she really was. What
was life like for all of them now? It hurt to think they would love the new children as much as herself. But it would be only natural. Life had to go on for all of them.
She turned in her bunk and fought to see through the darkness. But it would remain black until the maids and stewards lit the lights in the morning. She could hear Rose’s soft breathing in the bunk across from her. No one in third class could claim loneliness. Someone was always near. A scattering of Irish voices sounded somewhere in the black air and she listened to their quaint phrasing of the language as they talked quietly about life back home. So far, only Rose had befriended her.
Her cousin, Maggie Wood must know what it was like to live without privilege and money. She had been such fun. Whenever Addie was in London, they had spent the afternoon together, giggling and drinking tea, taking long walks through Hyde Park with their maids trailing behind them, lost in their own conversation. Maggie had been so energetic, full of life. And she’d had strange ideas about something she called equality of the classes. She said dividing people into classes was wrong. And someday she would prove her point.
Addie sighed. Maggie had done that very thing when she ran off with an artist she’d met in the park. Was she happy now, living on the slim wages of her husband? Had she learned to clean and cook for herself?
It did no good to wonder. She would never see her cousin again. Maggie had written a letter to her after the elopement, but grandfather had snatched it from her fingers, refusing to let her read it. She could still see the crumpled paper in his hand as he threw it into the library fireplace. The pages had curled and folded in the heat until they turned to ash. How her heart had ached to have at least a few last words from her favorite cousin. She didn‘t care what Maggie had done. In fact, admiration for her was growing day by day. Maggie had released herself from the stringent rules of society. Was there a way to do that in America?
She swallowed back the lump in her throat. Grandfather had only done what he thought best. But surely he knew that Addie’s future might be much the same, considering the circumstances of the estate’s entailment. Unless he had hurried and married her to some eligible young man. But that had not happened, nor had he tried very hard. He had seemed to love her company and want her there in the house with him.
Had he realized what would become of her? That she would be on a ship to America sailing third class? Not that it mattered if he had. It wouldn’t change her future. Once she left the ship, her entire life would be third class. Would she have to take a job as a servant? Her mother’s notes painted a grim picture of their former existence in Texas. The flies and mosquitoes seemed a big enough horror, but her mother kept referring to something called a copperhead.
There was a copperhead in the kitchen this morning. How do these people live with such creatures? Samson was quick to kill and remove it from my sight. He has assured me that it is not common to find them inside. I am beginning to doubt his word.
What could it be? Perhaps, after twenty years, they had been killed off by the settlers in the area. She could only hope.
Chapter 4
Mark splashed the cold water around his eyes and washed away the bits of dirt and sand. He grabbed for the cotton towel hanging near the basin. The clean cloth scraped across his unshaven face. He stared at his image in the mirror above the water bowl. His blue eyes were bloodshot from working late last night and his sandy hair needed some scissors taken to it. His aunt would be mentioning it any day, now.
He grinned. Aunt Della was a stickler for running his life. She was on to him about a lot of subjects, these days. Namely, that he needed a wife. He rolled his eyes. Well maybe someday. He understood that she only wanted the best for him. But for now, he was too busy to find some giggling female to take up his time.
He ran his fingers across his jaw. He could definitely do with a shave. But those cows on the back five hundred acres hadn’t noticed. And now that they were in, he was free of the pesky bovines for a few weeks.
A good thing since he had to finish up the special order from Samson Fleming. He was used to carving cattle, mountains, and horses on the mantels he made for the ranch houses around the hills, but this was his first time carving a scene like Samson Fleming wanted done. The intricate vines and roses with bows tied around them, not to mention the quaint cottage, were giving his carving skills a true challenge.
And he had one more question about the design the rancher had requested. Samson Fleming’s daughter would be here in another week or so, and the man expected the mantel to be finished and installed before she arrived.
Lathering his hands with soap, Mark smeared it across his face and dipped his razor into the small bowl of hot water his aunt had brought to him. No need showing up at the Blue Seven Ranch looking like an out of work cowboy.
He gave a low whistle as the razor scraped a little too close. Dipping the sharp edge into the water, he grabbed the towel and dabbed the drop of blood on his cheek. Getting this order right would be a big boost to his fledgling business. Fleming was an important man in the area. His recommendation would make a difference. So far, the three commissioned items Mark had completed for the rancher had more than met his approval, but this mantel would be something special, a little more out of the ordinary than the usual order from the man.
Face shaved and hair slicked back with water, he gave a nod of approval to the image reflected in front of him. Surely he would be satisfactory for the business meeting.
A tap sounded on the door and his oldest brother Jared‘s voice spoke. “Are you finished gawking at yourself in the mirror? Seth and Frankie are here and everybody is anxious to eat.”
“Coming.” Mark straightened the collar of his shirt and headed to the kitchen. Most of the extended family was already gathered around the table. Aunt Della had wisely seated most of the children among the adults instead of putting them at the end by themselves.
Seth’s almost four year old twins, Emma and Ella were busy rearranging the squares of cornbread on the platter in front of them. He could only hope that their mother, Frankie, had scrubbed their hands before seating them. Might be best not to think about it.
Taking a seat next to Jared’s oldest boy, Isaac, he resisted patting the nine year old on the head. It had been years since the child was the lively four year old that used to follow him around asking questions about everything, but the image still came to mind whenever he thought about his nephew.
“Well don’t you look all handsome,” Aunt Della smiled, as she brought a platter of fried pork to the table.
“I need to meet with a customer about an order,” he nodded. “I figure most folks would rather I show up clean instead of covered in cattle dust.”
Della Murphy settled herself and motioned for everyone else to take a seat. “When you look that nice, you need to ride on into town and let the girls see you. I heard Daisy Wright mention your name the last time I was in the mercantile.”
Mark steeled himself against the shudder that ran down his back. Daisy Wright. When would his aunt learn that he wanted no part of the girl. She was young and pretty, just the right age to make a good wife, but her incessant talking and personality kept most of the young men away from the girl’s company.
“You know, no one is seeing her right now,” she added, reaching for the bowl of beans.
“Mark’s probably got a special girl in mind, already,” sister-in-law Frankie came to the rescue. She softly slapped away the twins’ hands from the cornbread and passed the platter down the table.
“Well he’s taking his time in showing us to her,” Della observed.
Missy, Jared’s wife, laughed and grinned at Mark. “She’ll have you married off before you know it.”
Mark sighed and took a sip from his cup. At least his brothers were keeping their mouths shut on the subject. With all these women around, a man barely had time to think for himself.
“Let’s everybody bow our heads,” Jared spoke from the head of the table.
Aft
er the blessing, his aunt was ready to return to her previous subject, but Seth managed to get a sentence in first.
“You having trouble with an order?”
Mark picked up his fork and moved the beans around on his plate. “Not really. Just wanted to know a little more detail on what the customer wants. I’m more comfortable making tables and chairs. Seems lately people are starting to want more carving done on their items.”
“I’ll help you, Uncle Mark,” Charlie, Frankie and Seth’s oldest, chimed in.
Mark grinned at the boy. “You just might be able to do that. You’re getting pretty good with the tools in my shop. I may have to take you on as a partner someday,” he added.
Charlie nodded and shrugged. “Maybe. But I figure I’ll be helping Pa and Uncle Jared with the horses and cattle most of the time.”
Mark took a sip of coffee and wiped his mouth with a checkered napkin. He’d been in the same position as Charlie a few years ago. But now he was finally able to accomplish some of his own plans. It would be a shame if it didn’t work out the same for his nephew.
***
Another slight kick to Brander’s side and white horse began to pick up the pace. They could have a leisurely ride together on the way home. For now, he’d like to get this meeting over. Samson Fleming was a tough man. Most people stepped lightly around him. But Mark had pegged the soft spot in the rancher the moment the older man began to talk about his daughter. Still, with the type of reputation Fleming boasted, the less time he spent with him, the better.
Chance Creek Brides (Volumes 1-3 & the Stagecoach Bride) Page 21