Too many stories circulated around the area about the man’s early days. He had been tough and ruthless, driving his own wife and daughter from their home in his quest for money and power. Samson Fleming might be a useful acquaintance, but probably not a candidate for a good friend.
Mark chewed the inside of his lip and studied the road ahead that led to the entrance of the Fleming ranch. Something about the man’s attitude, choice of words, gave him the feeling that he was lonely, rather than heartless. Maybe he regretted his early years. He certainly seemed excited about seeing the daughter that had been gone for so long.
Mark’s eye caught the sight of dust stirred by two horsemen riding at a fast pace toward him. Behind them, he spotted a buggy going full speed. He pulled the reins tight. “Let’s slow down, boy. See if there’s trouble. Those fellas seem to be in a big hurry.”
The riders didn’t bother to tip their hat as they flashed past Mark. The buggy driver gave a brief nod, but didn’t slow for an instant. Mark stared after them, tempted to turn and follow, see what all the commotion was about. Then again, maybe all the trouble was at the ranch. “C’mon, boy. Let’s get a move on.”
Turning Brander back in that direction, he caught a glance of the stone towers looming in the distance. He had been thirteen years old the first time he’d come to Samson Fleming’s ranch. The sight of the house being built had almost stopped the breath in his throat. The large stone home was magnificent, at least compared to others in the surrounding hills. The turrets at each end spoke of non-existent knights waiting to protect the fortress.
For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine the shining armor and ladies-in-waiting his first glance had summoned. But for all its grandeur, the castle had never been more than a possession to show off to visitors that traveled through its gates. The house had never brought happiness to the man that built it. Was it possible, with Samson Fleming’s daughter coming, all of that was about to change?
Chapter 5
November 30, 1874
I have been in my husband’s home for five months now. It feels more like five years. There are no servants to do any of the work. I have no experience with cooking, yet he expects me to make the meals, as well as care for our clothes and the housework. I fear I have made a terrible mistake. How will I ever survive? I do love him. It must work out some way.
Addie folded the paper and returned it to the back of the Bible. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the thin wall beside her bunk. The cold, damp air had seemed to sink inside of her. Mother had been so alone. And here she was, on her way toward the same miserable hovel where her mother had endured the suffering she described. At least her mother had endured the situation and had a place to escape back to.
But there was no England for Addie to return to, no parents waiting with open arms to take her in. She must make herself a home in the residence of her father. She sighed. Reading her mother’s words gave little encouragement to her troubled thoughts. She would just have to do the best she could. Her memories would be her only comfort if things were as bad as Mother described.
Yet Mother had said she loved him. Confusion filled her thoughts. If Mother had truly loved him, why hadn’t she stayed with him, no matter what the hardships? Wasn’t that what love was all about?
What had happened to change her mind? If only she had spoken with her mother about all of this. Learned the true history of the place in which she was born. But she had thought there was plenty of time for such a conversation. Mother had been taken so quickly by her illness. It had seemed she was almost well, and then she was gone.
Footsteps sounded on the ladder steps outside and drew her attention from her problems. She carefully tucked the leather-bound volume into her bag before looking up.
Rose, her cheeks red from the stout wind on the deck, entered their small room. Hanging her cloak on a hook, she turned a radiant face to Addie.
It was about time she returned. There was only a half hour left for taking breakfast. They would soon close the dining room. “Rose! Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you.” She had been surprised to wake and find her friend gone. Going to breakfast alone was not something she was comfortable doing just yet.
The girl had probably been flirting with that dark-haired man she’d met last week. He seemed to attract her attention much of the time. And Addie had seen the two of them looking at each other across the ship’s deck.
Rose held her finger to her lips, signaling quiet. Addie motioned her to sit on the bench beside her.
Rose made herself comfortable and lowered her voice. “I’m going to be married!”
Addie’s jaw dropped as she stared into her friend’s face. She must have heard wrong. “Married? To. . .” what was his name?
Rose nodded and reached for Addie‘s hand, giving it an excited squeeze. “The captain will marry us, if we like. Or we can wait until we get to Galveston. Michael’s uncle is a lighthouse keeper on Shepherd’s Point, but he‘s been very ill. Michael is going to be his assistant. His uncle is thinking of retiring, so it’s possible that Michael has the job permanently. I’ll be a lighthouse keeper’s wife, Addie!”
What was Rose thinking? “But. . .but you hardly know him!” How could the girl meet a man barely a week ago and already be ready to marry him?
Rose’s eyes clouded with a stubborn stare. “I suppose I know well enough how to make up my own mind.”
Addie swallowed back the words that begged to tumble from her mouth. Rose was her only friend in the world. “Of course you do. I just mean. . .” She pushed aside the hurt that sprouted inside.
If she had felt alone before, this marriage would separate them more. Why couldn’t she have found someone on the ship? It might seem foolish, but the thought of marriage to a stranger was more appealing than going to live in her father’s house.
Addie balked at the jealousy that reared inside of her. She mentally scolded herself for the thoughts. Rose was so happy, she should rejoice with her, not find fault.
She took a deep breath and forced a smile to her lips. “Well if it’s what you want, that’s wonderful! I’m happy for you. Just make sure he will be good to you.” She would make herself happy for Rose. What else could she do? “I don’t suppose I’ll be seeing you much the rest of the voyage.” The thought of being alone on the ship for another week and a half was not something she was looking forward to.
Rose’s face seemed to glow as she shook her head and patted Addie’s arm. “Of course you will. Michael is working on the ship. That’s how he paid his passage over.”
“I see.” So he was poor, barely making his way to America. What sort of prospects did Rose have with a man like that? They would be grubbing it out for the rest of their lives if his uncle recovered and took back over the lighthouse.
Addie swallowed hard as a feeling of uneasiness washed through her. A man with a job was more prospects than she herself had. She was solely dependent on a heartless man she had yet to meet. At least Michael had declared his love for Rose, and was willing to make a promise before God of loving her forever.
“So, are you ready for breakfast?” Rose asked.
Addie nodded and pulled her wrap closer. “Yes. In fact, I’m very hungry.” Or at least she had been before Rose’s news.
***
Addie stared at the date again. Why had her mother waited so long to make another entry? She flipped through the small paper notebook. Not many entries were left. She had obviously given up, once she left Texas for her home in England.
June 21, 1875
Last week, our precious baby girl was born. She looks so like Samson. It grieves me that this is so. If I had only known the truth, I would not have a child to bear this awful burden. There is no choice but to leave with her when I can. It may be a year or more, but I will take my daughter home to England. The secret he hides so carefully will not affect the life she will enjoy at Long Meadows.
Secret? What had her mother kept from her
that caused such a disturbance in her thoughts? Her mother had been consistently guarded in her words and thoughts that she spoke aloud about her past. But there was one phrase that Addie remembered her mother speaking of Samson Fleming. He lied about who he was.
She had never considered the memory much. A lot of people lied. But perhaps his lie was more serious. Was he a criminal? If so, what sort of life was she headed to when she got to Texas?
“You seem in a foul mood this evening,” Rose observed, standing in front of the tiny mirror on the wall, carefully tying a faded satin ribbon in her hair.
Addie shrugged and moved to assist her, taking the ribbon from her friend‘s fingers. “I guess I’m just a little bit melancholy. I hardly know what my life holds. It seems so bleak when I think about the future.”
“Why don’t be so silly! Of course there’s a lot to look forward to. You’ll be meeting a nice young man near your father’s ranch and marrying up before you know it.”
Addie gave a strangled laugh as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. “I guess it would be best if he wasn’t too young.”
“Now you’re just being daft,” Rose declared, sending her reflection a stern look. “You’re not an old woman! Look at yourself! You’re a beauty if I’ve ever seen one and you’ve got years ahead for raising wee ones and taking care of your husband.”
Taking care of her husband? No man would want such a sharp-tongued woman as herself. At least not the kind of man Rose was talking about. A life of giving birth to babies, cooking over a hot stove, and doing laundry was not very appealing. That was work for. . .for. . .she stared at Rose. Is that what she thought? That it was work for people like Rose.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thoughts from her mind. Had she learned nothing from the past few weeks? Rose and the other Irish women weren’t so different from herself. They all wanted the same thing; to be loved. And she hoped it would come true for them. But for herself. . .
***
The sea was calm and black, like ice on a cold winter’s morning. The air was salty in her mouth. Not a gull stirred in the dusky sky. Were they in for another storm? She dreaded feeling the terror that would race through her when the water began to move so violently. How could anyone love this kind of travel? Once her feet were on dry land, she was never going to step on a ship again. Except to get back to England, if it was ever possible.
She searched the deck for a sign of Rose, but she was nowhere in sight. Probably talking to Michael, making plans for their future. Addie yawned and covered her mouth. A bit of sleep sounded nice, but the loneliness was unbearable in that space below deck. She willed the tears behind her eyelids to dry.
She was going to be strong. Face whatever life was ahead of her. But the interminable waiting was almost too much. She was ready to be at her father’s ranch and take on the hard life work that awaited her.
She felt beneath her skirt band and found her mother’s Bible. She hadn’t read much of it, but just having it with her was comforting. How many times had she seen Mother opening it, sharing a verse or two with grandmother or even one of the maids?
Why did you have to take her from me, God? A sob rose in her throat. She swallowed it back and concentrated on the vast horizon. There was no use talking to Him. He was the one that put her in this situation. There would be no answer. If it was true that He loved her so much, she wouldn’t be on this ship, miserable, sad, and lonely.
If she believed that anyone had ever loved her, besides her mother, it was her grandfather. Yet he had done nothing to prevent this from happening from her. Had he loved his money so much more than he loved her? He could have done something to see that her life after he was gone would be more than the heartbreak she was feeling at this moment. No one cared. And truth remained that it had been men that ruined their lives, she and mother’s.
She stifled another sob. She had missed her mother more these past few weeks than the entire years since she had died. If only she was here to tell her what to do, give her some advice. Instead, God had left her on her own. How would she ever cope?
Chapter 6
Addie quietly closed the door behind her and listened for any footsteps sounding on the wooden stairs of the ship. Nothing. But the music that had seemed a soft hum, was louder now as she made her way down the long hallway and out on the deck. Taking a deep breath, she followed the sound, letting the soft strains of a familiar tune draw her to the dance she would be attending if she was in her rightful place onboard the ship. After all, she was the granddaughter of Lord Benchley. He would never have traveled third class.
She shook away the voice inside her head that warned her away from the lies she told herself. She had been the granddaughter of Lord Benchley. Today, Cousin Vance held the title. She was just plain Adeline Fleming. True. But not for tonight. She would have one last night as one of the wealthy and privileged.
She swallowed hard as she approached the stateroom. The nerves inside her stomach jumped like the little green frogs that lived down by the pond on the estate. They had been a childhood delight to watch as they jumped among the rocks and sticks along the banks of the water. But tonight, she would just as soon the image go away and leave her to enjoy what was left of her last night to be Adeline of Long Meadows.
Light flowed through the door and windows, spilling its golden glow onto the wooden deck. The sound of tinkling glass and laughter mingled with the music that filled the air. Taking a deep breath and holding her head high, she swept through the door opened for her by a steward. She must be natural, confident. Act as if she was still one of them, belonging to their world.
Just inside, she paused near a large potted tree and let her eyes travel around the lavish room. Green wallpaper with flecks of gold covered the walls. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling above. The ladies, dressed in their finest, gathered in groups talking with the gentlemen.
She glanced down at her own gown. It was last year’s fashion and not as up to date as those worn by most of the women. Perhaps she shouldn’t have come. But it was so nice to feel the soft Oriental carpet beneath her feet and stand in a beautiful room.
The middle of the stateroom boasted a bare floor for dancing. Numerous couples floated across the area in time to the music. At the back of the room, tables lined the wall, loaded with fruit, cake, and punch. Her parched throat led her in that direction. A nice cool drink would calm her nerves. And it was only for one dance, she told herself. Just one.
“Thank you.” She reached for the crystal cup the server held to her. Before she could take it, a masculine hand swept between them and took the drink.
“No lady should have to get her own punch. Please allow me, Miss–?”
Addie started and turned her face to him. Dressed in a brown suit, he was several inches taller than herself. His trim dark hair was combed perfectly into place. His eyes, black as his hair, twinkled in the light of the room. The thin moustache over his upper lip gave him a dashing look, as if he was one to come to a lady‘s rescue at a moment’s notice.
She felt herself blush as she took the cup from his hand. “Thank you, very much, sir.”
He gave a slight bow of the head, his eyes never leaving her. “Adam Zimmer at your service, Miss.”
An American. And definitely not a cowboy. She smiled. “Adeline Fleming, Mr. Zimmer.”
“I’m please to make your acquaintance, Miss Fleming. And, if your card is not already full, may I ask to have the next dance when you are finished with your refreshment?”
A wave of panic swept through her. Her card! She didn’t have one. She looked at her wrist and offered a weak smile to the man. “I seem to have misplaced it.” Another lie, to go with the rest of the night.
“Ah,” he smiled. “Then I would say that makes you free to dance with me.”
Her fingers trembling, she set the cup on the table next to her. “Yes. I suppose it does.”
He held his arm to her. “Looks like another is about to start.�
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They were on the dance floor at once, his arm tight around her waist. She had attended only a few parties such as this in her past, but her training was more than adequate for tonight’s festivities. And she fit in his arms perfectly, as if it was meant for them to be here, together.
“You are a wonderful dancer, Miss Fleming,” he complimented, his cheek close to hers.
She ignored the warm trail his whispering words left on her face. “Thank you, sir. And I may say the same for you.” A tingling of fear mingled with her excitement. Maybe she should get away from this man. She knew nothing about him. And so close to him, her heart was pounded in her ears and she found herself searching for words that should come easily. She would make an excuse as soon as the session was over. And it should be soon.
He bowed as they finished. “Would you do me the favor of another?”
She hesitated. She had promised herself to stay for only one dance. One last taste of her former life. “I. . .really, I’m quite warm. I think I’ll take some air, first.” It would be her chance to escape.
Concern washed over his handsome face. “Of course. The air is rather stuffy in here with so many people. Allow me to escort you to the deck, Miss Fleming.”
Her heart sank. This was not working out the way that she had planned. And she couldn‘t stay much longer. Rose would be wondering about her.
He offered his arm to her. “Come, let’s get away from the crowd. Take a little stroll around the deck. The air is unusually warm for this time of year.” He smiled and touched her hand, sending a tremor through her arm.
The air was muggy, rather than warm. She shouldn’t stay out there too long, as she had neglected to bring a wrap. And what must her hair be doing in this damp atmosphere?
“Did one of the sea gulls fly away with your tongue, Miss Fleming?
Chance Creek Brides (Volumes 1-3 & the Stagecoach Bride) Page 22