Della smiled. “I can‘t imagine what it would be like to sail on the ocean, but it sounds as if they do a lot to entertain you. And I guess they should, as many weeks as you’re out there on the water.”
Addie nodded and accepted another treat from the plate Missy offered to her. “The time went faster than I thought it would. But, still, it was nice to be back on dry land.”
“I’m not sure my stomach could take it,” Missy said, taking a sip from her cup. “Just riding downhill fast in a wagon makes me feel sort of dizzy.”
“It was an adjustment,” Addie smiled, patting her lips with a cotton napkin. “I was seasick for three days.”
“So how are the riding lessons going?” Frankie asked.
“I think well,” Addie said, spooning another lump of sugar into her tea. “I’ve never even wanted to learn before, but I think I’m starting to enjoy it. There’s something very freeing about riding fast through a meadow or down the road, the sun on your head, the breeze blowing through your hair.” She paused. What must they think of her, making a statement like that? Her mother had taught her to be a lady. “I mean, I know you should wear a hat, but. . . ”
Missy interrupted. “But you’re right, Addie! Why should men be restricted to such freedom? What is so bad about getting some sun on your head if you wish? It’s 1900! A new century. Women should have their privileges, too. We are assumed capable of raising our sons to be educated, accountable, ready to take on the world. But we’re supposed to raise our daughters to obey the man in their life, be it father or husband, without question. Why are we so qualified to raise those young boys to be responsible enough to govern the world, but not our girls?” she glanced across the room, then back, “Have you thought much about women’s suffrage?”
Addie hid a smile. Mark had told her that voting rights for women was a frequent, and passionate, conversation in their house.
“All of us fellows scatter once they get to talking.” He had said.
But why should they leave? Did all men think they should be the only ones to make decisions, to have a say in how their life was going to be lived?
“Yes, I have. I’ve thought about it quite a lot. Women in England are starting to talk about it.” At least Cousin Maggie had been thinking about it. If only she had talked of it more with her, she could add more to the discussion today.
Missy pursed her lips for a moment and then glanced at Frankie and Della. “None of us sitting at this table may ever have the right to cast a ballot. But those three over there. . .” she pointed. “They will have the vote!”
Addie nodded, confidence growing inside. “I’m sure they will if women stick together and work toward that goal.”
Aunt Della smiled and picked up the old pottery tea pot, making the rounds to everyone’s cup. “I think you’re going fit in with our little group, Addie. Would you be willing to go to some meetings in town?”
“Most definitely.” If Papa will let me, a small voice spoke inside. But she wouldn’t say the words aloud. She was a grown woman, now. She should be able to decide what meetings she attended, without his permission.
***
“So what did you think of the women in my family?”
“Oh, I like all of them,” Addie replied, glad Mark had taken the reins from her and was leading for a moment. He still questioned her ability to ride over rocky ground. “They invited me to go to some meetings with them in town.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Oh, I’m sure they did. They’ll have you roped into their little suffrage society before you know it.”
“What do you mean ‘roped in’? Do you think there’s something wrong with women voting?” Her voice was sharp to her own ears. She must learn to control her tendency to prejudge another’s words.
He laughed. “Now don’t go changing what I said, Addie. I think women have as fine a mind as any men. Maybe better for some things. I’m just saying they’ll have you spouting all kinds of rhetoric about women’s rights and. . . other things.”
Her teeth clamped tight. Sometimes she convinced herself that Mark was different from other men. But she was wrong. He looked down on women the same way as her father and grandfather. They were nothing more than helpless beings that needed protection.
“Do you want to stop and see the ducks?” he asked. “The little ones ought to be in the water by now.”
Of course she would like to see them. But that meant giving up a little of her irritation at his remarks. Still. . .ducklings would be fun to watch. She sighed. “Yes. I’d like that.”
***
“There they are!” Her whisper was loud and excited.
“Look how perfect they are,” Mark said, standing behind her, drawing her closer, his lips near her ear.
The warmth of his breath on her cheek sent her heart into flutters. Could it be more than just nerves? It was hard to admit, but he made her feel safe, something she had longed for these past months.
She forced her thoughts in another direction before she convinced herself that she was truly attracted to this man. “We had ducks on the pond at Long Meadows. I used to take breadcrumbs to them when I was a little girl.”
“How about we bring a picnic lunch down here next time we’re out and feed them?” He suggested.
She nodded. “That would be fun.”
His hands went up on her shoulder and he leaned away from her. “If we’re really quiet, I think we can get a little closer to them.” He took her hand in his.
Holding tight to his fingers, she stepped gingerly among the soft leaves. The rain from yesterday had left them damp, softening their footsteps as they approached.
The grass became higher and wetter. Her boot sent a splash of mud onto the hem of her skirt. “Oh, I’m such a mess!”
He laughed and shook his head. “You’re still beautiful, Addie. Even covered in mud.”
She swallowed hard. “You think. . .you think I’m beautiful.” Her hand caught his own as he tried to take another swipe at the dark sprinkles on her skirt.
He stood and faced her. “Sure. And confident, and smart…able to speak your own mind.” His hand touched her cheek, his thumb stroked back and forth to her chin. He leaned down and she closed her eyes as their lips met. Soft at first, then more urgent.
She leaned into him as his arms went round her, his lips still possessing hers, his fingers searching through her hair, caressing her scalp, sending tingles down her neck.
He was first to pull away. “Addie! I’m sorry,” his voice was ragged with emotion as he turned from her. “I shouldn’t. . .we shouldn’t. . .”
“Sorry?” she whispered. She staggered a moment and clutched at the tree branch near her. Her hands at once went to her hair, searching for wayward pins, pushing them back in place. What had overcome her for a moment? Her mind flew back to the kiss from the handsome stranger on the boat, a feeling both pleasant and jarring in its shock.
Grandfather would have been horrified by that moment, by this one as well. And her father. . .it wasn’t something he would put up with. Mark was an employee, nothing more.
“I think we’d better go,” Mark said, his back to her as he headed toward the horses.
She watched as he picked up their reins and came toward her, handing the leather to her without meeting her eyes. Humiliation burned through her as she mounted by herself. He must think her shameless to have behaved as she did. And he apologized. Was he sorry that he kissed her? Or that it happened? No amount of courage would allow her to ask. But it seemed an insult that he had felt the need to express regret.
She followed close behind him as they headed toward the ranch, the house visible on the hill before them. She held back the urge to kick Pepper and race home as fast as she could. To be out of his sight was her only wish. If only there was a way to erase the last half hour and keep the kiss from happening.
Remembering that split second could ruin her life forever if she was not careful. No other man would make her feel the way she
had for that brief moment in his arms, she was certain; not even the intriguing stranger on the boat held that kind of power over her with such an impulsive touch.
But Mark was not destined to be the man for someone like herself. Her father had far grander plans in mind.
***
Mark helped her down from the black and took the reins from her. “I’ll take her on over to the barn for you.”
Her jaw was stiff and hard to open. “That will be fine, thank you, Mr. Murphy.” It was the only appropriate way to address a stable hand, or an ordinary rancher from this plain Texas settlement, her proper manners reminded her.
He stared into her eyes. “Addie, I. . .you know that what happened was not the right thing. We’re. . . we’re friends. Riding together most days has just made us a little more than we. . .I can only apologize.“
Fury flamed inside her chest. How dare he treat her like a child, insinuating she didn‘t understand what happened between them? “Are you saying that you took advantage of the situation?”
His cheeks reddened and he spoke slowly. “I never meant it that way. I–”
She balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms, wishing, for a brief moment to strike him. Or cry. When she spoke, her voice trembled. “You and I are from two different worlds, Mark Murphy. Yours is dirt and sweat and hard work. Mine is everything opposite. I would never want to fit in yours and you would never be able to fit in mine. Don‘t think a simple kiss could send my heart pining after a mere ranch hand.” She turned and stomped up the steps, turning back once she reached the top. “Don‘t bother coming back.”
***
Her words still stung his ears as he pulled the halter from Sugar and hung it on the post near the stall gate. He picked up the curry brush and touched the horse’s soft nose with his fingertips to calm her before he began her grooming. But his thoughts were not on the horse. As usual, they were with Addie.
He never should have kissed her. Fleming would be furious if he knew. And the state she had been in when he left might have sent the girl straight to her father. If she told the man, he would hear from the rancher soon enough. No doubt he had only been allowed in Addie’s presence to help get her ready for the life her father had planned.
And Addie couldn’t be the woman God had in mind for him, he knew. He had known that from the moment he saw her on the dock, yet he had allowed his thoughts to drift in that direction. She made him feel as no woman ever had. But God knew the kind of wife he needed. She would have to love ranch life, family life.
The pain he felt was of his own creation. Now he would have to live with it. Samson Fleming would marry his daughter to a wealthy rancher or businessman, and make sure she was set for a life that would supply all she could want.
These feelings would make him as foolish as Seth had been over that silly Violet Summers, the banker’s daughter. Violet’s father would never have allowed her to marry a poor man like Seth, either. Poor Seth had come to his senses before it was over, luckily enough.
He, Mark, would come to them, too. But the hurting in between was getting harder to take.
It was a little different in his case, he wanted to believe. After all, Addie wasn’t the silly, giggling, empty-headed girl that Violet was. She was a woman with a heart. It was hard to see at times when she got that conceited look on her face, as if Texas was some sort of uncivilized location. But it was in her eyes when she patted her horse, when she picked a wildflower and twined it into her beautiful hair. And she still came close to crying whenever she mentioned the horse they lost in the rockslide the day he brought her home.
At the same time, she casually spoke of her open account at the dress store in town, without a second thought to tearing or ruining her clothes. They could be replaced in an instant, without the tedious mending and pressing that his sisters-in-law endured. Addie couldn’t imagine life without all the luxuries that she wanted. He would never be able to give those to her.
Tomorrow, he would tell Samson Fleming that his daughter’s riding lessons were over. She was capable of taking the horse out by herself. Her flair for riding had exceeded his expectations. Her father could be proud.
He sighed. His job was done. She didn’t need him anymore. She had told him so this afternoon. And that was what hurt the most.
“Isaac. . .supper!” Missy’s voice floated across the late evening air, jarring Mark from his thoughts. He smiled. She would be calling up toward Seth’s house. Isaac and Charlie were almost inseparable, more like brothers than cousins. Only mealtime and bedtime at each of their homes seemed to get them apart.
He gave a last stroke to Sugar’s coat and reached for the pitchfork. A little hay in the stall and she’d be bedded down for the night. And he would be ready to face all the questions awaiting him at the supper table.
Chapter 23
“So you’re saying today is the last lesson?” Samson Fleming leaned back in his wheeled chair, allowing him to look Mark in the face.
“Yes sir. I mean, yesterday was, sir. ” Mark cleared his throat and willed the nerves in his stomach to calm as he gazed down at the big man. Even crippled and trapped in an invalid chair, Samson Fleming wielded a personality as strong and fierce as a Texas wildfire. “She’s done very well. I think you’ll be pleased when you see her ride.”
The rancher put the book he was holding in his lap and folded his arms over his chest. “So how much do I owe you?”
Mark swallowed hard. How could he take money for spending time with the woman he loved? “Nothing, sir.”
Fleming shook his head and reached for a small wooden box on his desk. “If you don’t take anything son, I’ll be convinced you’ve lost your heart to her.” He opened the box to reveal a wad of money. Then his eyes went back to Mark. A sarcastic smile formed on his lips . “And you know that just wouldn’t set well with me.”
“No, sir. I understand.” I understand that I’m not good enough. That love is not part of the equation you have in store for your own flesh and blood. That everything in your life revolves around money, rather than what is important.
“You are my neighbor, Mr. Fleming, and I don’t mind helping out when I can.” It wasn’t a good excuse not to take the pay. But how could he charge for time with her?”
Samson counted out several bills and offered them to Mark. “Take it.”
His arms felt welded to his side. It went against everything inside of him to accept wages for the last few weeks. He had become a different man from the moment he met Adeline Fleming. Nothing could change that. And money would only complicate the struggle in his heart.
“I said, take it!”
Mark felt a spark of anger begin to flare in his stomach. The man was insufferable. Looking down at everyone, expecting them all obey his orders like a perfectly trained dog. Well, he wouldn’t do it.
“I’ll see you around, sir.” He turned and was out of the study in a matter of seconds, leaving behind the sound of Fleming‘s voice demanding that he come back. One of the young maids in the open foyer skittered before him to open the massive front door as he left.
Across the stone porch, he was down the steps in a few moments. He mounted quickly and patted the horse’s neck. Glancing up he saw Addie at the window above. Watching his every move. For the last time.
“Let‘s go, Sugar.”
***
Addie stepped behind the gauzy curtain. He had seen her staring down at him. She brushed away the tear that trickled from her eye. She would show him what kind of woman she really was. She had no intention of becoming some poor man’s wife, least of all one who believed she was ignorant of her own feelings. He would see her in the future, walking down the street, arm in arm with a man of substance. A man that mattered in the community. And he would know what he had missed, and perhaps wish she had cared for him.
She turned around and pressed her back to the wall. It was Mark who had first said they weren’t right for each other, and she knew he was correct. But th
e pain inside of her only grew when she looked at him. For some reason, she wanted him to want things to be different. To wish that he could have her for his wife, although it was a cruel notion to wish upon him, given their different stations.
She walked across the room and took the handkerchief from the beneath her own. Adam Zimmer’s. She pressed it to her face and dried her tears. That one evening with him had given her hope that her new life in America might be something good. If only she could find him again, maybe she could erase Mr. Murphy‘s kiss from her mind.
She jumped as a knock sounded at her door. Stuffing the cloth back in its hiding place, she stopped in front of the mirror, checking her face for any signs of distress. Taking a deep breath she opened the door.
Birdie stood on the other side, her eyes probing Addie’s face. “Your father wishes to see you.”
A shiver of fear ran down her spine. What had Mark said that influenced her father to see her at this moment?
She followed Birdie down the massive staircase, her hand gliding down the polished railing. As they reached the bottom, Birdie, one step ahead of her stopped and turned, her thin dark hand taking hold of Addie’s arm. “Do not allow yourself to be unhappy just to please him.”
Addie stared. “I must say that that is very forward advice coming from a housekeeper.”
Birdie shook her head and released Addie’s wrist. “Ask him just who I am.”
***
He was seated, as usual, in the rolling chair. Today he wore blue trousers and a blue and white striped shirt. The blanket on his lap only covered to his knees, leaving his trouser legs and socked feet uncovered. The expression on his newly shaven face clued her to his present bad mood.
Chance Creek Brides (Volumes 1-3 & the Stagecoach Bride) Page 29