by Etta Foster
“Regina, why ever did you stop? You’ll collect dust if you stand there all day,” her mother tittered. Then the woman glanced to where Regina was staring. “Ah. We redecorated. How do you like it?”
“I don’t,” she managed after a moment.
“Now, now.” Her father stepped between the two women before her mother had a chance to speak. But her mouth had dropped open and she looked at Regina as if she’d just killed her dog. “Regina, why don’t you put your things in your bedroom? Freshen up while you’re there. We have a surprise for you.”
They both looked at him dubiously. Recovering from her dismay, her mother gasped dramatically as she put a hand to her heart. “Oh! Yes, our holiday soiree. Oh, I’d completely forgotten.” And she hurried down the hall to the kitchen.
Unable to hold it back any longer, Regina groaned. “I know it’s nearly been a year since I’ve been home, but did you have to change everything? This doesn’t even look like home anymore. Why would you do this?” She flung out her arms. “It doesn’t even look proper. Those drapes don’t match.”
Her father grunted. “It was your mother’s choice. You know how she is. Now, be kind to your mother. Go up to your room.”
Though she was very much affronted, Regina found herself obeying her father’s wishes. Every year she was sent off to school, returning for the holidays and summer. Yet that past summer she’d gone to Europe with her dear friend, Bethany Tripleton. It had been a wonderful summer even though she had missed home. But it looked like home hadn’t missed her.
At least her bedroom looked the same. Regina sat on her bed with a sigh. Coming back home was like eating the same pastry over and over. At first, all was well. But the more one had of it, the more one grew tired of it.
“This is no way to enjoy Christmas,” she told herself sternly. So, Regina washed her face, pinned up her hair, and changed her dress. Her black and blue dress would contrast perfectly with her ivory skin and sparkling eyes, she decided, as she pondered who might attend the party.
Most guests would be her parents’ friends, of course. One couldn’t help that. But perhaps they might bring their families and others of her own age. Perhaps it wouldn’t be boorish after all.
Yet two hours later, she found her fears of boredom were coming true.
There were only six guests her age, but they were all engaged one with another. Nancy and Patrick were to be wed the following week and Regina couldn’t stand another minute of small talk about laces or doilies. They had grown up, indeed, but when had everyone grown so dull? Skirting around the room, she managed polite nods as she started to make her escape.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Her mother came out of nowhere, looping their arms. Regina froze at the sight of that smile. It was her mother’s fishiest smile. The woman tugged her back into the crowd. “We have someone for you to meet. Come along, dear.”
What sort of someone? Her parents had hardly acknowledged her arrival to the soiree, not even bothering to introduce her to anyone. She knew they always had higher priorities than their only daughter, but this was confusing. And irritating, Regina decided. Were they really so focused on the tenets of faux relationships in society? She tried to think back in time, but few cherished memories came to mind of her father and mother. They’d never been close.
A slight push on the middle of her back nearly threw her off balance. It pulled her from her thoughts and Regina’s heart skipped a beat realizing there was someone before her. An older gentleman, nearly her father’s age by the looks of his graying hair, beamed at her. Or rather, she realized, he beamed up at her.
“Miss Regina Maythorpe!” the man exclaimed loudly before her mother could prepare the introduction. “What an utter delight. I have long awaited this very moment. You are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. What a delight! Reginald Williamson, at your service.” An extravagant bow followed.
She blinked, turning back to her mother. She was beaming. Regina turned back to the man in front of them, but only grew more confused. “Good evening,” she offered tentatively. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Williamson.”
Finally, her mother interceded. “Mr. Williamson is a stockbroker. He’s recently invested in your father’s company, dear. Quite an investment. We’ve been doing our best to show him our thanks and simply spoiling him over the holidays.”
That made sense.
The man waved his sausage-fingered hand in the air. He had the fattest lips she had ever seen in her life. She bit her tongue, trying not to say anything. “And you’ve spoiled me too much. The parties, the theatre, and now revealing your final masterpiece. You’ve raised quite a young woman, Mrs. Maythorpe.”
Regina forced a larger smile to her face. It wasn’t the first time she was part of a conversation where they pretended she wasn’t there. She just wished it would be the last. “Indeed, my mama is quite the hostess. If you don’t mind, I’ll excuse myself so you may carry on your conversation.”
“Oh,” her mother laughed like she had shared a clever joke. “The two of you have only just met. The music has begun. Join him for a waltz, wouldn’t you, Regina?”
The look on the older woman’s face was tight, spread thin to tell her this was not an invitation. It was an order. Regina’s stomach flipflopped but she didn’t know what to do. At least nothing decent she could do while surrounded. It was only for that reason, she told herself, that she permitted Mr. Williamson to lead her across the room.
Their dance made her think of a child dancing with their toys. Clumsy and awkward. Regina couldn’t decide if she was the human or the object and spent all seven minutes looking for an escape. When he asked for the next dance, Regina feigned a headache. That’s what all the finest women did, after all, and then she hurried out of the party.
That was supposed to be that. Regina thought nothing more of him until her mother spoke to her two days later on Christmas Eve, letting her know she had a gentleman caller. Mr. Williamson was on the steps and the door closed behind Regina before she could refuse him.
When she returned only minutes later, her mother frowned. “You’re back so soon.” And Mrs. Maythorpe took a step back as Regina slammed the door.
The young woman whirled around, breathless from the chill and furiously bewildered. Two minutes with that man had been more than enough. The moment they’d reached the end of their street, she had faked an ankle injury and hurried home.
“I- you- I can’t believe you,” she sputtered. “Mr. Williamson, a caller? He’s as old as Father. What were you thinking, Mother?”
Her mother fixed her pile of blonde hair, making sure no strand was loose. “You danced with him the other night, did you not?”
“At your request,” Regina reminded her in exasperation. “And only at your request. He smells like old milk and is going blind in one eye. I don’t care how rich he is, because I’m not going to be courted by him. I’m only nineteen, Mama.”
Standing, her mother tutted and shook her head lazily. “I was nineteen when I had you. It’s about time you found yourself an upstanding gentleman. You’ve turned away every caller, and we worry about you. Besides, what else are you going to do?”
Regina scrambled for an answer, trying to think. She was still young and while yes, most of her friends were engaged by this point, it seemed impossible to commit to such a promise when there was still so much she didn’t know. “I don’t know! Anything. Anything else! I could go to university and continue my education. I could become a teacher, a scholar, and help the country. Help the city. Or go west. I could go west and see if all the stories are true!”
Even as her heart skipped a beat at such a notion, one she had hardly dared to even dream about, her mother laughed. “Don’t be absurd! No daughter of mine is going to work, and she isn’t about to leave civilization for those dusty cowboys. Ha! No, you’ll get married, and soon.” With that, her mother strutted down the hall as she held what looked like an empty champagne bottle.
No matter what she wanted to do with her life, her parents wouldn’t accept it. They wouldn’t accept her.
It was like they didn’t even listen. Every time Regina thought she had made herself clear about Mr. Williamson, somehow her mother wheedled the man back in. Mrs. Maythorpe seemed to treat it as a game. As for Mr. Maythorpe, there was too much business to get distracted with something like that. Perhaps, Regina realized, that should have been her first clue when he actually attended Philadelphia’s New Year’s Ball.
She was talking to her father, trying to convince him to see the potential in her pursuing another tour of Europe, when Mr. Williamson showed up and cleared his throat. Annoyed at his interruption, Regina cut him off early. “Hello, Mr. Williamson. In case you didn’t notice, I’m rather busy speaking with my papa. I’m not-”
“Hear him out,” her mother hissed, elbowing her way in between them. She pushed Regina forward. It threw her off balance for a moment but then she straightened her skirt and wondered why they’d all gathered in such a ridiculous manner. Regina found the answer when she looked up just as Mr. Williamson was going down on one knee.
Or rather, he was trying to. “Now, Miss Maythorpe,” he rumbled, putting a hand on the floor to steady himself. “I have treasured our every moment together.”
Covering her mouth in dismay, Regina looked around as the music quieted and everyone turned to stare. The blood drained from her face. If he was doing what she thought he was doing, then he had already received permission from her parents. What had they been thinking? Were they that tired of her? She felt both offended and embarrassed.
She couldn’t let this happen. Immediately she waved her hands frantically in the air. “No! No, don’t you-” she tugged on his arm, forcing him back onto his feet. “You’re not going to kneel and you’re not going to propose. Please don’t, you’re just embarrassing all of us now. Because, wouldn’t you believe it? I’m not marrying you. Not now, not ever- no matter what my parents tell you!”
Her mother gasped in horror the loudest. But Regina didn’t wait to see what else the woman might have to say. If Mr. Williamson was the only topic of the woman’s interest, then they had nothing to discuss. Regina lifted her skirts and made a break for the exit, knowing she couldn’t just stand around there any longer. Everyone was so surprised, they hardly budged as she made her escape through the crowd. She had to get out of there. That was the only thought on her mind.
She had to get out. Out of the party, out of Philadelphia, out of this life.
Chapter 2
No matter where the road led, one route always pointed to the sunrise. Pink hues streaked eagerly through the sky as the sun prepared to start another day.
Xavier stood leaning against the porch as he looked out to the horizon. The sunset was all nice and well, he decided, but there was nothing quite like a desert sunrise.
He fixed his hat and turned away. He couldn’t keep wasting time. There was work to do, always more work, and he wasn’t about to become a slacker now. No matter how tired he was. Stretching his arms, Xavier headed down the path towards the barn to find his horse. It was time to head into town.
“You’re off early,” a voice piped up as he stepped inside. “Off to beat the morning coyote to the kill?” Bianca peaked her head out from around her horse and gave him a wicked grin. “Did I scare you?”
Clucking his tongue, he shook his head. “I’m always awake before you. Perhaps old age is catching up to you. You haven’t been able to scare me in years. Even the boys aren’t frightened by your cucaracha scares.”
She threw a brush at him, tossing names in rapid Spanish.
He waved it off, moving to the next stall to his own horse. The creature was a beautiful gray Appaloosa, one he had caught on the plains of Colorado nearly ten years ago. They’d had a lot of good memories together since then. A grin came to his lips as the horse greeted him with his usual nod. One didn’t need a lot of chatter for a good relationship.
On the other hand, his older sister was still talking. “Xavi? Xavier, where’s your head? I was talking to you. Xavi, what about the trader?”
“Trainer,” he corrected her. “He calls himself a trainer. To train horses.”
“Trader, trainer,” Bianca groaned. “English. Don’t be stupid, you know the words I mean. This handsome monster needs his owner. We’ve raised him long enough. Any more and he’ll be as lazy as Emmanuel and Dominic on the Sabbath. Look at him, would you? He’s getting fat.”
Xavier shook his head as he looked over at his sister brushing the horse. Just brushing him. The animal was fed, washed, and now overly brushed so his coat nearly sparkled. On top of the ranch the two of them ran, she wanted to be involved in horse breaking.
“He’s not fat. You’re fat,” he told her.
And Xavier caught the next brush and ran it across his horse before grabbing a blanket and saddle. As he opened the gate, Bianca straightened and leaned around. “You didn’t say. Why are you leaving so soon? Usually you help Dominic with the feed.”
Tipping his hat to her, he closed the gate and started walking his horse out towards the sunrise. “It’s a court date.”
She grunted and followed, wiping her hands on her apron. As she stepped out into the open air, a wind grabbed at her curly black hair. Fondness for the woman wrapped around his heart. The two of them had been through a lot. Even with the hard work, she still smiled. And she kept her hair loose, just like their mother used to.
“What cowboy is it this time? Another drunk?”
Scoffing, he climbed into the saddle in a single move. “We don’t waste our time on them in court, you know that. No, it’s the rustlers from the O’Henry farm.”
She spat in the dirt. “They killed all the chickens for fun. I remember. Bueno. Let me know what happens. How are the O’Henry family? I should take them one of our chickens. How many do they need?”
Sighing, he shook his head. “We don’t need to give them all our chickens, Bianca.”
“We’re neighbors,” she reminded him. “We’re good neighbors. I’m going to give them five chickens. The white ones.”
The woman was crazy. But she was family. “Three chickens and not a chick more.” Even before they ever had anything to offer, Bianca was always trying to help and give things to people. Two years ago, she had sent all three of their goats to help a struggling family. Now the family owned the café in San Miguel and gave him free coffee anytime he ate there. It was a blessing, but sometimes Bianca could outdo herself.
“Xavi! Can I come?” Dominic arrived in a breathless huff. The thirteen-year-old boy grinned hopefully. “I want to see the rustlers.”
Before he could refuse, Bianca snorted. “Then who would feed the chickens?”
“The O’Henry family,” Xavi reminded her mildly. As she turned to him with a hard look, he fixed his hat and turned to his nephew. “Not today. Make sure she doesn’t give away the entire hencoop. I’ll be back late. Hiya.” The last word was for his horse that he started off at a trot.
Only when he reached the turn in the road a mile away did he glance back. The sun was just peaking its head above the ground, but the sky was much more visible now. In front of it sat the barn beside two large horse pens. And just a few yards across from them was the house.
It was a good house. Strong and sturdy after eleven years. The shutters had recently been painted white, something Bianca had been wanting to do for years. They had put it off time after time, of course, since they always worried something might happen.
Yet it had been thirteen years since they’d had to move. He sighed. Thirteen years spent in the middle of New Mexico. That hadn’t been something either of them had expected.
But h
e was glad of it. Xavier turned back to the road. He and his sister had been on the move since he was six years old. It was most of what he remembered in his life. And now, they had built a new life there for them and the boys.
There was a strong temptation to start whistling, but he decided against it. There was work to be done, after all, and he would be late if he didn’t move faster. He nudged the horse to a trot, and they reached town before the sun had disturbed most of the town’s residents. With his horse put up in the nearby stables, he went to his office to review his papers and then hastened to the courthouse.
It was also their town hall, the dancing hall, and was used for any event that the townsfolk wanted. The building was wider than it was tall, but it worked well for them. Adobe walls enveloped him as he stepped inside.