Mark knelt beside her, his hand reaching out to hers, taking it from the horse. “I don’t like it, either. I never do when I have to do this job. But it’s not fair to him to let him suffer. See how much he’s hurting? You understand that, don’t you.”
She jerked her hand away and grabbed the side of the overturned buggy. She pulled herself to her feet refusing his help. Her voice was rigid and cold. “I don’t suppose that I can stop you. After all, you’re a man, and men always know best. What about that ranch we just passed. We could go there, get them to help him. But I don‘t suppose you will do that, will you? Go ahead, kill the horse. ”
Mark‘s jaw set. “Miss Fleming, I raise horses. I’m only doing what I know is right. Now let me help you back over to that pine tree. And turn your head when the time comes.”
Addie concentrated on the ground and covered her ears with her hands. But the pop-pop of the pistol still made its way to her ears. She would never forgive him for this.
Chapter 14
“There now, I think all the mud is out. Your dress will be good as new when the spots dry,” the rancher’s wife smile at her, brushing away an imaginary fleck of dirt with her hand. “I’ll just put it right here beside you and you can get dressed. I’ll be glad to help if you need some assistance.”
“No thank you, Mrs. Nagle,” Addie shook her head.
The woman seemed reluctant to leave. “Well, alright, then. I’ll go check and see if my husband has a buggy and horse ready for you. I’m so sorry about your horse, but it had to be done, of course. Mark loves horses so much. It‘s a shame he had to be the one that put the poor thing out of its misery.”
“You know Mark Murphy?”
The woman nodded and turned to adjust the dresser scarf, smoothing the embroidered edges and straightening the cloth. “Oh, yes. We have a lot of friends over around Chance. In fact, I’ve met your father several times.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I had better go on and let you dress.”
Seated on the bed, Addie watched the rancher’s wife retreat, closing the door softly as she left. They were miles from Chance, yet this ranching family knew Mark. And they agreed with the actions he took? Addie shook her head. Life in Texas was already more complicated than she had guessed.
She gingerly moved her foot. She was surprised her ankle was feeling no worse, and the swelling seemed only to be on one side of her foot. She stood and put her weight on the injury. She gasped as a sharp pain shot through her foot, but she held her steady and refused to sit back on the blue calico coverlet on the bed. In a moment, the intense pain subsided, leaving only a dull throb. Good. At least she would be able to hobble along without assistance from Mr. Murphy. Mrs. Nagel’s words still swam in her head. Maybe he had done the right thing. But, the poor animal’s cries still echoed in her ears. It hurt to think there had been nothing they could do to help him.
The dress on, she took a comb from her bag and limped across the scrubbed plank floor. She gazed at her reflection in the beveled mirror hanging above a small cherry dresser. Dark hair hung in strands around her face, thanks to the rain and mud. But it was beginning to dry. With her comb, she pulled out the bits of dried dirt and pulled back some wayward hair. In a moment she had the wayward wisps re-pinned. It was the best she could do for now.
The green fabric of her dress was still damp, but Mrs. Nagel had done a wonderful job of removing the mud. It was amazing that the garment wasn’t torn to bits, the way she had spilled onto the rocky ground. She was tempted to change into her one pretty gown to meet her father, let him see her at her best before she told him what she thought of him and the way he had treated Mother. But if the rest of the trip was anything like the past few hours, her good clothes would be better to put on once they reached the ranch.
***
“Now you be careful, Mark,” Mr. Nagel encouraged, as he handed the reins to him. “I’ll ride along in front and lead you down another way. Shouldn’t be any trouble. And I‘ll take care of the other horse and buggy.”
“Thank you, Oscar,” Mark nodded, wrapping the leather straps around his hand.
“Not a problem. I know the livery back in New Braunfels well. I’ll be headed that way tomorrow morning and I‘ll be stopping in. I’ll send one of my men over to Seven Buffalo’s to retrieve this rig next week.”
“I’m sure Mr. Fleming will much appreciate that, sir,” Mark tipped his hat as the rancher mounted his big Roan and began to lead them ahead. He turned to Addie, “Are you comfortable enough?”
“I am fine, thank you.” Her reply was a bit terse, even to her own ears. She bit her tongue and forced a smile to her lips. “I am glad you were already acquainted with the Nagels. They’ve been very helpful.”
Mark nodded and urged the horse to pick up its pace. “They’re good people. Like most you’ll meet out here.”
Can he mean my father, also? But she couldn’t bring herself to ask the question aloud.
***
“Just over the next rise, Miss.”
Addie took a deep breath as her father’s house came into sight. A tremor of surprise washed over her as she stared ahead. This was not the hovel her mother had described. Sometime in the last twenty years, he had made good on his promise to her mother. There was no doubt that a successful man lived inside of the structure before them.
Small compared to Long Meadows, but so much more than she had expected. She smiled as she looked up at the stone turrets. He seemed to have included a touch of England when he had the structure built. Had it been for her mother? Was it possible he had hoped, all those years, that she would return to him? The thought sent her emotions scurrying. Maybe there was more to Samson Fleming than her mother had spoken of all those years.
***
Addie felt her hand tremble as she reached for Marks assistance. The moment she had dreaded had finally arrived. He gently swung her down from the buggy, setting her lightly. Her feet touched the rocky ground and the fear stirring in her stomach began to churn. If her ankle didn‘t hurt, the urge to run might win. But where would she go? Out in the pasture in front of the house, or back down the road they had just traveled?
“Are you alright, Miss Fleming?”
Mark’s voice was soft, yet it burned into her thoughts with the image of him beside the dead horse. Irritation flitted through her. She nodded. “Yes. I’m fine. Just. . .just looking around.”
He nodded. “You’ll have a lot to see for this next week or so. After that you’ll be settled in and ready for life on your father’s ranch.” He cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry about the accident, Miss. I’ll go fetch the doctor to look at your ankle as soon as I’ve spoken with your father.”
She shook her head dismissing his offer. Living on a ranch in Texas might be a nightmare come true. If so, now it was beginning. For a moment, the pain of knowing she would never return to England burned into her heart, sending an ache through her entire body. How would she ever reconcile herself to this situation?
She forced a smile to her lips. “The doctor won‘t be necessary.” She pulled her hand from his, glad to be rid of his touch. “And I’m sure ranch life will agree with me.” The lie stung her lips, but she must be polite. A few more moments and he would be out of her life. Forever, she hoped. The large front door of the house swung open and a small, dark woman stood in the open doorway.
Chapter 15
The study was dark, late afternoon light filtering through the slated shades that covered the western most windows. Soon a maid would be in to draw the dark red velvet drapes and close the room for the night. Mark blinked and allowed his vision to adjust to the grey light of the room. He couldn’t resist a quick glance at the bookcases that lined the walls. The first title he caught was The History of India. A man could do a lot of reading, a lot of learning in this room.
He grinned at the thought of what a waste of time his brother Jared would think a room like this held. Not that he disapproved of reading, but it must always be for a purpose,
and pleasure was not a good enough purpose for Jared.
“So you’ve brought her home safely?” The older man was seated in a rolling chair, both legs propped up in front of him. A red, white, and blue quilt rested across his legs, covering all but his feet.
Mark forced his eyes from the books. “Yes sir. Your daughter is fine, except for an ankle injury she sustained during an accident over west of New Braunfels.” Seeing concern on the rancher’s face, he hurried on with his explanation. “It came a heavy rain and there was a rockslide on one of the hills. I’m afraid the horse had to be put down and the buggy was destroyed. It was near Oscar Nagel’s place and he loaned us a buggy and horse to continue on. He will send someone to pick it up next week.”
Samson Fleming scooted around in his chair leaning his head forward as he spoke. The expression on his face reflected his displeasure. “An accident? You put her safety at risk? How could you let something like that happen?”
Mark cleared his throat. Normally, he wouldn‘t stand for anyone accusing him of something he had no control over. But the man was concerned for his own child. “It was an accident, sir. I think her ankle got a little twisted when the buggy went over. She is walking on it, but limping. I’ll be glad to fetch the doctor in.” And maybe that would be a good idea. The doctor seemed to have done wonders for Samson Fleming. The color was back in his face and his temperament was certainly getting back to its usual disagreeable state.
The old rancher leaned back in his chair, anger flashing in his eyes. “If my daughter needed a doctor, why didn’t you procure one for her when the accident occurred?”
“There wasn’t one available, sir. I thought it best to bring her home and get Dr. Stratton.” Not that she would have gone to one if he suggested it. In fact, she’d probably never take another of his suggestions. She still blamed him for the death of the horse. As if he could somehow have saved the injured animal.
“Well I can tell you that she’d better be all right, Murphy. If I find any negligence on your part. . .” he cleared his throat, “I’ll think again before I hire you for another job, if I discover you could have done better for her.”
Mark clinched his jaw for a moment before he answered. The anger might show red in his face, but his words would be civil. “Yes sir. And you didn‘t hire me, Mr. Fleming. I went to meet your daughter as a favor. A kindness from one neighbor to another.” The calmness in his words surprised his own ears.
The senior rancher’s eyes flickered. He shook his head. “There’ll be no more discussion about this, young man.”
He’d been dismissed. About time. He was ready to see Chance Creek Ranch. And get that dark-haired beauty and her sometimes presumptuous attitudes out of his mind.
***
“This way, Miss,” the housekeeper motioned toward the staircase as she took the bag from Addie‘s hand.
They paused at the bottom of the steps and Addie glanced back at the entryway. Large and airy, she could see Mark as entered what must be her father’s study.
“Your father will want to see you once you’ve had a moment to freshen yourself.”
Addie turned back to meet the curious eyes of the woman Mark had introduced as Birdie. Her stare was open, as if she didn’t care if Addie noticed. An awkward silence fell between them as each observed the other.
Skin the color of weak coffee, deep lines around the woman’s mouth and black eyes stood stark in the afternoon light that poured through the large glass windows. Strands of silver and white laced her black hair she wore in a thick bun on the back of her head. Her face was strong and sensible, but the stoop of her shoulders gave away her age. Addie resisted the urge to insist on taking the bag back from her, as the woman had seemed so sure she could carry it.
“Of course. I am anxious to see him, too.” Addie nodded and began to follow the woman up the stairs.
Third door from the landing, they turned in to a large room, papered in a beautiful cream and rose striped paper. A fresh vase of greenery stood on the small oak table beside the bed. The bed, covered with a blue and white quilt, looked cool in the afternoon light that filtered through the filmy curtains on the open windows. She watched as the lacey fabric danced in the warm afternoon breeze.
Her eyes at once found the fireplace mantel. Her breath caught as she looked at the scene carved into the beautiful wood. She blinked hard. If she didn’t know better, she would say it was the gate cottage at Long Meadows. She crossed the room and ran her fingers over the scene so expertly preserved in the wood.
“You look like her.”
Birdie’s voice startled her from her thoughts. “I. . . .look like my mother?” Surely this woman hadn’t lived here when her mother was living in the hovel she described.
Birdie shook her head and set the leather case on the bed. “No. Nothing like your mother. I speak of your grandmother.”
“But. . .are you saying. . .” She must mean her father’s mother. “You knew my father’s mother?”
Birdie nodded and pulled Addie’s rose-colored dress from the bag. She unfolded the wrinkled fabric and smoothed it on the bed. “I knew her all her life. There is a painting of her in your father’s study. If you look at it, you will see the resemblance.”
Addie caught a glance of herself in the mirror over the large oak dresser. She knew her dark appearance came from her father’s side. Everyone on her maternal side was blond, blue-eyed. It would be interesting to see if Birdie was right. “Can you tell me about her?”
Birdie shrugged and took Addie’s other dress from the bag. “If your father wishes.”
***
“Turn around again,” he commanded.
She bit her lip and considered refusing. She was not a cow on the auction block. She was his daughter. She turned to the left once, twice, the third time and finally faced him again.
“You look nothing like your mother.”
It was a statement. And true. His tone left her guessing as to whether or not he was disappointed. “No. She always told me that I looked like you.”
“I need more light, Birdie,” he said to the housekeeper, his eyes never leaving Addie’s face.
Birdie turned up the wick on the lamp on his desk and brought another one from a table across the room. She lit it and set it beside the other.
He nodded. “Yes, your mother was right. You do look like my side of the family.” He glanced to Birdie. “And you are a true beauty, too. I wish my mother could have seen you.’
“Birdie tells me you have a painting of your mother. May I see it?” What was wrong with her? She sounded like a small, timid child.
Anger flitted across his face. He turned a glaring glance to the housekeeper.
Addie was happy to see the stoic look on the woman’s face. Maybe through the years Birdie had learned to stand up to such a tyrant.
Or maybe she was being unfair in her judgment. Maybe her father wanted to tell her things about their family, rather than have the housekeeper gossip about their heritage.
“The portrait has been sent away for a few minor repairs,” he pointed to an empty area on the paneled wall. “When it is back, I’ll be glad to show it to you.”
Addie nodded and summoned up a bit of courage. “Do you think I look like her?”
His eyes flickered and he threw a momentary look to Birdie. “I suppose that you do resemble her. Especially your eyes. They are very like hers.”
She smiled. At last she looked like someone to whom she was related. If nothing else, this trip to America was answering a few questions she had spent her life wondering about. “I’m looking forward to the portrait’s return.”
The door behind her opened and she turned to see a woman wearing a plain blue dress enter the room. The white apron she wore over her gown was ironed and starched, as was the tiny white cap perched on top of her head.
“Mrs. Milton, this is my daughter, Addie. Mrs. Milton is my nurse,” he added to his daughter.
“Very nice to meet you, Miss. And now,
time for your bandage change and bed,” she addressed her patient.
Relief swept through her. An easy escape. At least for tonight.
Chapter 16
Samson Fleming set his fork on his plate and gave his daughter a thoughtful look. “And he carried you to safety?”
Seated sideways to the table in his wheeled chair, his stare made her uncomfortable. Addie stirred more sugar into her cup of coffee and nodded. “The rocks were coming down very fast. There was nothing else he could have done.” There. That ought to satisfy her father that Mark had done what he thought best. And that he had kept her safe. Her father’s line of questioning had suggested to her that he held Mark with some sort of negligence in his duty to bring her home.
Her father folded his napkin and dropped it on the table. “I see. Possibly I’ve misjudged him. He has always seemed very competent and been punctual in the projects I’ve hired him for.”
“Exactly what sort of projects?” Her father had plenty of ranch hands. Surely Mark wasn’t hired to help out. He had his own ranch to work.
Her father smiled and reached for his coffee cup. “That fireplace mantel in your bedroom, for one. He did a good job on it, don’t you think?”
Addie nodded in surprise. “It’s very pretty. Did he make just the mantel or do the carving?”
“Both. Had the talent for it since he was just a boy. I’ll show you a few more things around the house I’ve commissioned him to do.”
So Mark Murphy had an artistic streak in him. She’d only seen the cowboy rancher side of him on their trip home. Maybe there was more to him than she first thought.
Chance Creek Brides (Volumes 1-3 & the Stagecoach Bride) Page 26