by Sandra Kopp
Davon stepped in front of them and extended his hand. “Congratulations and best wishes.”
“Master Marchant.” Eldor nodded curtly, clasped Davon’s hand, and released it immediately.
Davon shifted his gaze to Melinda. He smiled pleasantly enough, but Melinda sensed his smile was forced. “I trust you will be happy, Melinda. If you ever need anything—”
“She’ll need nothing,” Eldor interrupted. “I will take care of my wife.”
Davon ignored him. “My estate lies a mile to the south. We’re not far and I’ll often pass by when I visit my brother.”
Davon turned his attention to Eldor again. “Take care of her,” he said softly, his gray eyes boring into Eldor’s smoldering dark ones. “Her uncle’s a dear friend of mine and a wartime confederate.”
Eldor’s mouth twisted to one side. “You needn’t worry, Master Marchant. I reserve my ire for stubborn Wyars who refuse to listen and obey. I deem my bride a treasure. Good night.”
Walking swiftly, Eldor escorted Melinda to his waiting buggy, ignoring her difficulty in keeping her feet as he dragged her along. Melinda stumbled after him, throat tight as though encircled by icy fingers.
Eldor’s sorrel mare raised her head and flattened her ears as they approached. Eldor took Melinda’s hand, and as he helped her into the seat Melinda saw her oak chest already loaded.
“I don’t remember Peter loading my box this morning. I thought we would have to stop by the Rainers to get it.”
Eldor’s brows shot up as he glanced over. “What? Oh, that. Pete Rainer brought it over. He and Gilda took care of everything. They always do.” He chirruped and the horse leapt ahead. Melinda grasped the side as the buggy lurched forward.
Eldor whistled merrily as the horse trotted briskly through town. Melinda sat silent, pummeled by a thousand emotions and unanswered questions, not the least of which was: Who, really, was this man whose name she had taken and with whom she now traveled into the dark countryside?
They reached the outskirts as the church bell tolled nine. Melinda shuddered. That somber, relentless knell floating into the nocturnal air carried an ominous note. She bit her lip, wondering if she dared ask Eldor to remain in Teptiel one more night, but before she could speak Eldor reined onto the broad thoroughfare circling the town and whipped the horse into a gallop.
Thrown back against the seat, Melinda gasped. The wind blew some of her hair across her face and she smoothed it back, turning her head a little so that it streamed out behind her. The breakneck pace made the chilly air feel colder.
After barely a half-mile they reached a dirt trail leading north and, without slowing, Eldor swung onto it. Melinda clung to the frame as the wheel on her side lifted off the ground and dropped again. Silently, desperately, she prayed for safety as they bounced and lurched through parched, powder-fine soil. Hooves and wheels churned up a choking fog of grit and dust that filled her throat and stuck to her face and clothing.
“Terribly sorry.” Eldor pulled the horse down to a trot. “I’m used to taking these roads much faster, I know them so well. So does this nag here.” He flicked one hand toward the horse. “Her name’s Meg, by the way. She’s yours—for going into town and such. Gentle, for the most part. Just don’t ever put a foot or a strap in her flank or you’ll lose some teeth for sure.”
Melinda slowly relaxed her grip on the buggy and heaved a quiet sigh. “It’s all right,” she croaked. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” She sat straighter, but an uncontrollable coughing fit wracked her body.
Eldor reached over and slapped her on the back. “You alright, love?”
Melinda nodded. Still coughing, she fished a handkerchief from her bag and pressed it to her mouth and nose, fighting to stem her wheezing gasps. Gradually the spasms subsided. Melinda wiped her weeping eyes and blew her nose. Her pounding heart calmed a little as the tension drained from her quaking body.
Eldor withdrew his hand.
Melinda drew a shaky breath. “Thank you.”
Eldor remained silent. Melinda glanced ahead and then up, marveling at the incredible carpet of stars as far as she could see. “’Tis a beautiful country you live in, Eldor Rand,” she said softly.
Eldor nodded. “Aye.” He looked askance and clicked his tongue. Meg’s ears pricked up. She leaped into a gallop, but Eldor pulled her back down. “Sadly, I’m too busy most of the time to even notice.”
“Perhaps I can ease the load. I’m strong and a hard worker. I love being outside.”
Eldor made no response.
“How far have we to go?” Melinda asked.
“No more than a couple of miles now. Never fear; you’ll be home soon, Medella.” He began whistling again.
Melinda’s shoulders sagged. What manner of man made no effort to remember his bride’s name?
The inky shadows pooled together to form the silhouette of a small house beside a tall, half-dead willow. This had to be a herdsman’s cottage, Melinda thought, for it seemed little more than a hovel. Her heart sank when Eldor turned in and stopped.
“Here we are, love.” Eldor swung out of the buggy, picked up Melinda’s oak chest and nodded toward the house. “Come along.”
Filled with dread, Melinda slowly alit and followed him to the door, waiting outside while he went in and lit a lamp.
“Well, don’t stand out there; come in.”
Timidly she entered. Despite its outward shabbiness, she found the cottage’s interior pleasant enough and very clean. Spicy pine and cedar mingled with cinnamon and lamp oil lent a homey, welcoming feel. The hardwood floor had been polished to a high gloss, as were the pine boards paneling each wall. The wide stone fireplace at one end of the room promised cozy warmth during long winter evenings. At the end opposite the fireplace stood a small table with two chairs.
Something glimmered on the floor near the fireplace. Curious, Melinda approached, but stifled a scream as she spied the gaping mouth and blazing eyes in a gigantic bearskin rug. The legs, still bearing the claws, splayed out at right angles to the shaggy pelt. Razor-sharp fangs lined jaws once as strong as iron.
Eldor laughed. “You didn’t expect that, I’ll warrant. Don’t worry, love. He’s quite harmless now, I assure you, although he wasn’t a month ago. I’d begun losing cattle by droves in the foothills. Rumors about another Baugonril had the herdsmen too afraid to watch at night so I went out myself and found this fellow. Once I put him down, the cattle killing stopped.” He proudly regarded his prize. “I must say, he makes a deliciously soft bed.”
Eldor wiped his hands on his breeches and glanced around. “Well then. You must excuse me tonight, love. I’ve had a long siege of it and am utterly spent. I’m off to bed. Come when you’re ready.”
“Might I see the rest of the house?” Melinda ventured.
He looked at her sharply. “Not much more to it, but suit yourself. The cookstove’s in the shed out back and the well’s beside it. Being it’s dark, you’ll have to wait till morning to see it.”
Eldor led her through an arched doorway into a tiny room furnished with a feather bed and a little table and chair. A few clothes hung on a row of pegs fastened to the wall of a narrow alcove just off the main room. A coarse, heavy green curtain separated this room from the front room.
Eldor made a sweeping gesture. “Here’s the bedroom, and there. . .” He stepped back into the front room and motioned to another arched doorway at the other end. “I use that room for foodstuffs and my archery gear, but you’ll probably just want to make it a kitchen. The root cellar and smokehouse are out back, along with the tack shed and barn. Which reminds me—” He rolled his eyes and put a fist to his forehead. “I have to put the horse up.” He smiled wryly. “You see how exhausted I am.”
A bemused smile crossed Melinda’s face. “I see. Let me help you.”
“Put your things away,” Eldor returned brusquely. “I’ll see to the horse.” Whistling, he strode back outside.
Melinda knelt down and ope
ned the chest. Carefully, lovingly, she pulled out each item: Linens, blanket, frock, dishes, and purse. Nothing had broken, despite the reckless drive. She ran her finger along the rim of one cup. How proudly Emily Greene had presented these gifts to her! A lump rose in her throat. She would have given anything to return to Garris now. But she had made her choice. She closed her eyes and held her breath a moment before exhaling again. She would make this work. She and Eldor just needed time to adjust.
She opened her eyes again and slowly returned the items to the chest. Tomorrow, after becoming more familiar with her new home, she would decide where to put them.
Eldor burst through the door and raised his brows at the still-packed box. “Not unpacked yet?”
“I think I’ll wait until morning,” Melinda answered.
“As you wish.” Eldor proceeded to the bedroom. Melinda sat still, listening as he got ready for bed. She heard the smart snap of material as he shook out his trousers and folded them, the rustling of bedclothes being pulled back, bed slats creaking as Eldor settled in. Melinda waited, hoping he would call to her, but the last sound from the bedroom was the heavy, rhythmic breathing of deep slumber. Melinda closed the chest and laid her head on the lid.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eldor was gone when she awoke. Melinda shifted on the hardwood floor, wincing as the sensation of a thousand needles pierced her numbed legs. Eldor had left her where she was, sitting on the floor slumped over her box.
Impulsively she scooted onto the bearskin rug and stretched out, moaning as the resuming blood flow restored warmth and feeling to her stiffened extremities. For several minutes she lay still, staring at the vaulted knotty pine ceiling. Despite its modest exterior, the house—this room, at least—possessed fine qualities and, with a few touches of her own, could be made quite beautiful. She closed her eyes, wondering if Eldor would approve or even notice anything she did. Sighing heavily, she rubbed her face, still gritty and caked with dirt and sweat.
“The wretch! He wouldn’t even offer me water to drink or a place to wash.” She lolled her head from side to side. “What have I done? I should have taken work at the bakery rather than yoke myself to this unfeeling cur!”
She relaxed a moment longer and then prodded her tired body to its feet and outside to the well. A heavy wooden pail, secured by a thick rope tied around its handle, perched on the low rock wall encircling the shaft. Melinda pushed it off and watched the rope unwind as the pail’s weight took it down. A hollow splash told her the pail had hit water and she took hold of the iron crank to draw it back up. It turned more stiffly than she had expected, requiring both hands to the task.
The water proved cold and sweet. Greedily she gulped it down, grateful to slake her thirst and clear her parched throat. Refreshed, she reentered the house and moved from room to room, opening the heavy curtains to let in the morning sun.
The bedclothes lay strewn about the floor. Melinda made the bed and, as she did so, noticed a large tub in one corner. A bathtub! Or, at least, she intended to use it as such. Finding it clean, she wasted no time in filling it and then prepared for a very welcome and much needed bath.
Gritting her teeth against the cold, she carefully lowered herself in, bathed and washed her hair, then dried herself with a coarse towel from Eldor’s closet. She donned the blue frock Emily Greene had given her and combed her hair.
“Much better!” She glanced at the tub of dirty water. “Eldor can help me empty that later. Now, let’s see to the kitchen!”
The spacious, airy room made a splendid kitchen, she thought. Rows of shelves stocked with cooking and butchering utensils lined two walls. A long table laden with canisters of flour, cornmeal, and spices stood along the third. A tall cabinet containing a crossbow, arrows, and an axe filled one corner. A large window above the table looked into the back yard, bare except for native grasses, an occasional wild rosebush, and the outbuildings. The back door consisted of an upper and lower half latched together. Upon closer inspection, Melinda found she could unfasten the latch to open and close the halves independently.
“Clever. I’ve seen these in stables, but never in homes.” She sniffed wryly. For all she knew, this house had once been a stable. At any rate, throughout the warmer months, it would be pleasant to open the top half and allow the cool breezes flowing off the Alpenfels to pass through.
Melinda stepped outside and looked around. Seeing no sign of Eldor she went to the small building closest to the house and peeked inside. The cast iron stove, table, and row of cupboards proclaimed this the cook house. She continued on, wandering past the smokehouse and root cellar to the large barn. The door stood open. Melinda paused. “Eldor?” Her voice scarcely carried, seemingly absorbed by the dusty air within. “Eldor!”
A horse nickered softly. Melinda stepped inside. The building boasted six stalls, a tack room, and plenty of space beyond the stalls for the buggy and farm implements. Melinda stopped to stroke the nose of the barn’s sole occupant, the spirited sorrel that had pulled the buggy the night before. Five other horses milled about the paddock adjoining the barn.
Melinda left the barn and stood outside, shading her eyes as she surveyed the surrounding fields and mountains. Gentle swells of lush green grain and sweet alfalfa rolled out in every direction, flowing across the rich red earth to the north and east to meet the succulent pastures of the foothills, beyond which soared the sheer cliffs and jagged snow-capped peaks of the mighty Alpenfels. To the southeast, fields of yellow mustard captured the morning sun and radiated resplendent golden hues. Wildflowers of every kind and color imaginable formed vibrant rainbows along both sides of the rust-red road meandering through the fields. The morning air, fresh and bracing, caressed her cheeks.
The unspeakable beauty brightened her countenance and revitalized her spirits. Melinda inhaled deeply, holding her breath a moment to savor the fragrance before exhaling again. “So this is Eldor’s realm.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I wonder where His Majesty could be.”
Arris reined in and pointed to a lone black cow. Belly swollen with new life, she paced near the bottom of the hill, lowing as she stared anxiously at the rest of the herd farther up.
“She’s getting close, but something’s not right. I think we ought to put her in the pen. The gate’s already open, so we can take her right in.”
Pharen nodded agreement. “She’s very big; maybe twins.” He stroked his pony’s neck and grinned at Arris. “Big warhorse not like cows and cows not like warhorse. Don’t worry. Makaya and I bring her.” He slapped his leg and the pony stepped out. Pharen spoke softly in the Wyar tongue as, edgy and wild-eyed, the cow watched their approach. As he circled around behind her, she shied and trotted toward the herd. The plucky pony leapt in front of her and, to Arris’ astonishment, gently nuzzled the cow’s ear as if whispering to her. Again the cow shied but the pony stayed with her, massaging the cow’s sleek hide with her upper lip.
“Amazing.” Arris reached out and tousled Barada’s forelock. “You could learn something from that little horse, Barada.”
Barada snorted and curled his top lip over his nose as though he smelled something rotten.
Arris laughed and patted the stallion’s burnished neck. “I know. You’re not keen on cows; however, you did a good job on Thunderbolt.”
Barada’s head bobbed up and down and he champed his bit as he pawed the ground. Arris folded one hand over the other, watching as Pharen’s pony patiently herded the pregnant cow out of the meadow.
Like most Wyar ponies, this one was small but stocky, and as agile as a goat. Pharen called her Makaya. She sported a beautiful dun coat and a long cream-colored mane and tail. Pharen guided her mostly with his knees rather than the reins. Often, when cutting specific cattle out of the herd, he simply pointed to the ones he wanted and Makaya did the rest.
Pharen continued talking, his mellow tone softening the brusque staccato of his native tongue. One hand loosely held Makaya’s reins while the other intermit
tently tapped his leg. Concentration and compassion filled his weathered face, shaded now by a wide-brimmed straw hat.
With Arris and Barada following, Pharen and Makaya conducted the cow around the trees surrounding the house and barn. They proceeded slowly, letting the cow take her time without letting her stray. Finally they reached the pen. The cow ambled inside. Pharen alit and shut the gate.
Arris rode up and also dismounted. “You were right. You do know cattle. And that horse is a wonder.”
Pharen beamed. “I do this all my life.” His smile faded. Fear clouded his face as he stared past Arris down the road.
“What’s wrong?” Arris turned and followed his gaze. A lone horseman, still some distance away, thundered toward them.
Pharen pointed. “Eldor Rand.”
“Get in the barn,” Arris instructed. “I’ll see to this.” Pharen leapt onto Makaya’s back and galloped away. Arris tied Barada to a post and waited until Eldor pulled his puffing mount to a stop before turning to greet him.
“Master Marchant. Good morning.” Eldor rested one hand on the front of his saddle and crossed the other one over it.
“Welcome, Master Rand, and congratulations on your wedding. My best wishes to you and your bride.”
“Um.” Eldor regarded him coolly. “I saw your brother at church but not you.”
“I had two cows in hard labor. Saved one calf, but not the other and nearly lost the cow.”
Eldor smiled. “A kindred spirit. I’d have done the same, even missed my own wedding, for every animal’s valuable.”
“True.” Arris paused. “Where’s Melinda?”
“Still in bed. She had a busy night.”
“I perceive this isn’t a social call else you would have brought her.”
“Not entirely, but no reason we can’t be amiable. I’ve come to take my man back.”
“Your. . .man? Master Rand, we own no slaves in Liedor. A man goes where he chooses.”