Her eyes scanned the scribbling and she read it once more. Of all the things she had expected, this was not it. She had been dreading her first face to face meeting with the man she must call her father, but the very idea that he would shirk his duty to come and meet her was absurd. What kind of man was he?
A disgusted laugh passed her lips. She already knew him in her heart. He was the sort of man that couldn’t face the daughter he had all but deserted so many years ago. A man who felt guilty for the cruel way he had treated his wife.
She crumpled the note and tossed it to the planks beneath her feet. “I take it my father was too busy to come? So he sent you, a servant to greet his only daughter?”
Well, she would have plenty to say to Samson Fleming the moment the two of them were standing in the same room. For now, she would make do with this employee who would be escorting her home. She shook her head and swallowed the bile in her throat. To call Texas home still left a bitter taste in her mouth. Someday, no matter what it took, she would go back to England.
The sandy haired man studied her face before he bent and snatched the note from the ground. He smoothed the crinkled pages and refolded the paper. “I don’t know what the message says, Miss Fleming, but your father was in a serious accident. He is unable to be here. He asked me to come and fetch you.”
His answer sent her thoughts reeling. Even to her own ear, the words from her mouth had sounded cold and calloused. Maybe her father had truly wanted to be here. What must this Mark Murphy think of her? She swallowed hard. “Oh. I. . .see. And how is he?”
His brow furrowed and he hesitated before answering. “The doctor says that he is improving every day. But it will be a long recovery for him. He is still in a lot of pain.”
She nodded. “You said an accident, sir. What happened to him?”
Mark held out his hand and took the satchel she held close to her side. “He was hurt by a wagon overturning. Both of his legs are broken.”
She winced. Now her previous words seemed more rude than ever. Would she never learn to curb her tongue? Mother had often warned her of the consequences for her hasty speech. She must learn to think things through before she spoke. “I see. I’m sorry. . .I didn’t realize. . .” there really was no excuse or explanation for her outburst.
He cleared his throat and offered his arm to her as he switched the bag to his other hand. “If you’re ready, Miss, I’ll escort you to the hotel. And, by the way, I am a neighbor of your father’s, not an employee.”
Addie sighed and muttered, “I should have known he would have no servant to send.” Instead, he’d sent a local cowboy. So her new life of poverty was beginning.
The young man appeared to ignore her statement and stood waiting for her to take his arm.
She slid her gloved fingers around his elbow and went with him in silence. They made their way through the throngs of the newly arrived, stepping around the piles of baggage, and small children sitting at their parent‘s feet. She caught snatches of German conversation, an Irish lilt now and then that sent a fleeting wish to her heart to still be on the ship with Rose. Cries from babes in their mother’s arms, and the laughter of little boys playing games of marbles and chase. They all mingled together and sent her thoughts spinning with no place to land.
Most seemed excited to be on the breezy wharf in Galveston. Was she the only one with fear in her heart? But they were together with their loved ones. And, of course, they had planned to come to Texas. Wanted to come. None but she had been forced from their home, like a cast-off item of furniture, not worth caring for.
All she had was the kindness of a stranger. A stranger who probably suspected she had a cold heart. It was her own fault if those were his thoughts. Forgiveness had never come easy to her. Even her mother had seemed at peace whenever she’d mentioned Addie’s father the last year or so of her life. So what made it important for her to hold on to the troubled wedge that had separated her parents? No doubt, her mother would disapprove of her current attitude.
***
Mark kept his eyes straight ahead, feeling her fingers digging tightly into his arm as he led her through the throng of immigrants. If he looked at her, it would be hard to take his eyes away. Despite her first biting words, she was a beauty. Why hadn’t Fleming’s lawyer warned him she was so attractive? And so bad tempered? Possibly he had no idea.
Mark sighed inwardly. This first meeting had not gone as he had planned. Why had he imagined she would be a sweet, shy, cautious kind of female, happy to be off the ship and excited about her new home in Texas? Instead, she was sharp-tongued and rude. Samson Fleming was going to have his hands full with this girl.
But no doubt she would be turning a lot of heads, he thought, allowing himself a sideways glance to her. A true olive complexion with dark hair and eyes were rare in Chance. She would stand out from all the blond, blue-eyed young women.
There would be a long line of young men asking her to dance at the next barn dance. He resisted the smile that tugged at his lips. Many a young woman was going to be jealous of Samson Fleming’s daughter.
Chapter 10
The hotel restaurant was busy with patrons waiting to be seated. A soft, salty sea breeze wafted through the door each time someone entered. Mark leaned back in his chair and sighed. Miss Fleming was late. Fifteen minutes, judging by the clock near the entrance, as well as the one in his pocket. Just another thing that annoyed him about women. His sister-in-laws were always taking extra time to get ready for any event. Even insisting the wagon be stopped after they started off, in order to return to the house and get something else.
Except for those confounded suffrage meetings they were always attending. Either of them could be ready for one of those assemblies faster than you could light a match. He shook his head and chuckled to himself. No doubt females would get the vote if the Murphy women had anything to say about it.
“I‘m sorry I‘m late.”
Her voice startled him, bringing his attention back to the present. She was standing beside the table, the restaurant host by her side. Mark stood from his chair so fast it tilted backwards and hit the chair occupied at the table behind theirs.
Embarrassed, he grabbed it and pulled it forward. “My apologies, sir,” he said to the startled patron. He stepped forward and offered a chair to Miss Fleming, waiting as she arranged her dress and reticule.
“The waiter will be with you in a moment,” the host said, as he turned away.
Mark watched the retreating man, wishing maybe he would stay and make conversation. Ridiculous, yes, but this woman made him nervous.
Mark settled himself in his place and turned his attention to his charge. At least, that was the way he viewed her. Like a special package he’d picked up for a friend. A package that would forget him the moment he brought her safely to her father‘s front door. She would end up on the arm of a wealthy businessman, or possibly a son set to inherit a vast spread of Texas land.
She had been pretty when she stepped off the boat, but it was obvious in the low electric light of the restaurant that she was truly beautiful. Her long hair was swept up in the latest fashion and the deep rose dress she wore complimented her dark eyes and complexion. A silver locket hung around her neck, twinkling in the light of the lit candle on the table.
From the small amount of luggage he had carried to the hotel for her, he guessed she only owned a few articles of clothing. This one would not be an everyday dress. The lawyer had been telling the truth when he said Adeline Fleming’s grandfather had left her destitute, her fine garments only worth a little more than the rags of the poor Irish immigrants who disembarked on the same shore today.
“I trust that you managed to get rested?” He hoped he sounded polite enough. What did one say to an English lady of good breeding?
She nodded and gave a slight smile as she reached for her glass of water. She took a sip and patted her red lips with the white silk napkin. “It is nice to be back on dry land. The voyage was onl
y a little over three weeks, but it seemed much longer.”
He couldn’t comprehend seeing nothing but water for weeks and weeks. Just the thought made his stomach roll. “I can’t imagine. Was it a good trip, or did you have a lot of storms?”
She refolded her napkin and put it in her lap. “There were storms. I’m. . . .I’m not used to them. We rarely have them in England. Are they common here?”
He didn’t like to squash the optimistic look on her pretty face, but he had to be truthful. “As a matter of fact, they are. Especially at home in Chance. It’s just a regular weather pattern here in Texas. You’ll get used to them.”
Her face fell. She nodded and studied the scene out the glass window panes.
Glad to find an excuse to tear his eyes from her, he did the same.
***
Taking another sip of water, Addie studied Mark Murphy’s face. A nice face. Handsome with the kind of reliable look that grandfather’s solicitor from London had possessed. The man had always arrived promptly at the estate whenever grandfather had sent for him. Always attentive, helping the older man with any questions about the estate.
Of course, Mark was not as sophisticated as Mr. Langley. Much younger, and a little clumsy, she thought, covering a smile as she remembered the chair incident. But probably a man one could trust. It was no wonder her father had been confident he would bring her safely home. Despite his age, he looked the epitome of honesty and reliability. Or very conventional , as cousin Aggie would say.
She bit her lip to hide another smile. She looked away, letting her curiosity wander to the group of people gathered inside for the evening meal. The harsh electric lights had been dimmed, giving a pleasant atmosphere to the dining room. The beautiful turquoise and coral wallpaper gave one the calm feeling the colors of the sea had been brought indoors. She sighed. Viewing the ocean from land was so much better than the other way around. Especially here in Galveston. She had never thought the sea to be so beautiful.
Outside the large windows, she could see couples dressed in evening wear walking arm in arm along the sidewalk, pausing to gaze inside some of the lighted store panes. A woman glanced at her partner and pointed to a floral upholstered chair arranged with a desk in a window setting. Perhaps they were planning a future purchase for their life together. Or maybe they were only courting, walking and talking, getting to know one another.
A brief thought of Rose and Michael crossed her mind. They would be married by now. The thought left a pang of loneliness in her as a melancholy shroud dropped over her thoughts. Would she ever find someone to love her in this new world she’d come to? Or would her experience be the same as that of her mother?
The waiter interrupted her thoughts as he set the white china plate in front of her. She breathed in the aroma of the freshly cooked beef. The jacket potato and peas made her smile. It had been a while since she‘d sat at such a nice table. A stab of homesickness pierced through her and she blinked back the tears.
“I hope it’s all right that I ordered for you. I knew you were tired from the trip and I didn’t want you to have to wait.”
She smiled. “Thank you. It is fine.“ Beef had never been her favorite, preferring lamb, but anything would seem appetizing after the weeks of sea travel, dining on tinned meat and aging fruit.
She picked up her fork and glanced at Mark. His eyes were on her face as he bowed his head and began to pray. She quickly cast her eyes down and stared at the napkin in her lap.
Chapter 11
Mark was finishing his second cup of coffee when Adeline Fleming entered the dining room. This morning, she was dressed in a green calico, suitable for traveling.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she apologized, as he stood to pull out the chair across from his own.
He shook his head and smiled. “We still have plenty of time to catch the train. Are you ready to order breakfast?”
She nodded and he signaled for the waiter.
The rail ride to Houston was short and noisy. A group of school girls on their way home took up most of the car and Mark was grateful that he didn’t have to make conversation with Adeline. She seemed to prefer it that way, too, keeping her eyes focused out the windows.
Changing trains to New Braunfels, Mark leaned back in the seat and allowed himself to doze, enjoying the quiet of the ride. He gave a short glance to Adeline, seated next to him. She appeared to be absorbed in a leather book she had taken from her reticule. Good. He could do with some sleep.
***
Addie stared at the last entry of her mother’s notes. No date.
I have found a gentleman to drive me to the train station once my husband has left to round up cattle. He will not return home for three days. By then, Adeline and I will be on our way to England. If only I could leave these memories behind. This is the only my daughter will be spared of the shame her father holds inside of his heart.
She sighed and stared out the window. Shame? Because his wife was leaving? Or something else? If only her mother had not been so cryptic.
She glanced at her fellow passenger. Mark had said there was still a long buggy ride after they left the train. But thoughts of what was ahead sent her stomach reeling with nervousness. If only she could find some hope of what was to come in her mother’s journal, but she had abandoned it as soon as she left Texas. The rest were only notes on Bible verses spoken about by their pastor.
Closing the small book, she allowed herself to smile at the view of the passing scenery. It was becoming greener and she could see the beginning of hills in the distance. Mark had assured her that the countryside around Chance was beautiful. But, of course, he was prejudice toward it since it was his home. She would have to see it for herself. Her mother’s words had conveyed little description of the actual ranch.
***
Dusty and loud, New Braunfels train station was crowded with people greeting each other, all pushing in the same direction. Mark took her elbow and steered her on down the platform.
“This way to the livery,” he said above the noisy chatter. “It’s not far and it will be faster to walk.”
Addie stood quietly in the office, holding her kerchief over her nose. The odor of horses prevailed in the small, dusty room with the open door that led to the stables.
The small, bald man behind the counter ran his fingers down a column of figures, then turned the book toward them. “Just sign here, sir. Mr. Fleming has taken care of the fee.”
She watched Mark dip the pen in the ink and scratch his signature across the space provided. So maybe Mark Murphy was working for her father. At least in a roundabout sort of way. The trip seemed to be costing him nothing but his time.
Mark’s strong, calloused hand grasped hers as he helped her up to the seat, the roughness of his skin scratching against her silky gloves. While she settled herself, he loaded their bags behind them and climbed up beside her.
“Only five more hours.” He smiled at her and slapped the reins on backs of the bay horse. The horse’s hooves began an immediate clip-clop on the brick street of the city.
She bit her lip and tried not to smile at the relief that seemed to come with his words. He must be ready to be rid of her and get back to whatever plodding sort of life he led on his ranch.
Mark pulled the horses to a stop as they came to a wider road. Large wagons, loaded with bales of cotton passed in front of them, leaving a cloud of dirt and dust in their wake. She pulled her hat lower over her eyes and covered her mouth with her handkerchief. She stared after the line of wagons, trying to guess where the cargo was going.
“Part of last year’s cotton crop. They’re taking it from the storehouses to the mills,” Mark said, as if hearing her thoughts. “We’ll be passing one of them when we get ready to cross the river for the first time.”
“Cross the river?” Mother had mentioned several crossing, all terrifying. Addie’s heart pounded and she clutched the collar of her dress. She would have to make herself ready for the hardships ahead
. Maybe this was the beginning.
Mark nodded and turned his eyes to her. “Don’t worry, Miss. We have some nice bridges in the area. It won’t be any trouble.”
She released the breath she’d been holding. Of course. A bridge. It had been over twenty years since her mother had been in this country. There had surely been many improvements. Maybe civilization had come to America.
Once the train of wagons passed, Mark turned left out of the side road and they headed out of town. The odor of horse manure, dust, and sawn lumber filled her nostrils. She pressed the handkerchief harder to her face and counted the moments until they would be back in the fresh air of the country.
Chapter 12
With New Braunfels far behind, there was nothing to look at, save the ever-lonely landscape. Just a glimpse of a thatched cottage would have done her good, but it was not to be.
She must be satisfied with plowed fields of newly planted cotton, looking mostly like sticks rising from the ground. Houses made of boards, with stacked rocks for chimneys, dotted the land, along with an occasional scrawny cow or goat. A few of the homes were constructed of long, round tree trunks. Log cabins, Mark had called the structures. They were surely what her mother had described of her first view of Samuel Fleming's ranch. Probably much like the future home that waited for her.
Mark's voice broke into her thoughts. "You'll start seeing more cattle and sheep once we get closer to home. More cotton, too," he added.
Home? Chance, Texas might be Mark Murphy‘s home, but it would never be hers. She nodded. "Is that what you raise on your ranch?" She might as well make conversation if she was going to be this close to him for so many hours.
Chance Creek Brides (Volumes 1-3 & the Stagecoach Bride) Page 24