"Cal told you?"
"Yes, we spoke of it on the way here. He tells me you have news for me. I couldn't wait to hear it, so I came looking for you."
"Oh, Ma, you shouldn't have. What I have to tell you can wait. Don't you need to rest after your journey?"
"I'll rest when I'm dead."
"Please, never say that not even in jest. I couldn't bear it." Clarkson squeezed his mother to him.
"Let me go, boy, or I may not live long enough to honor your wishes. I'm stifled."
Clarkson let her go. "I'm sorry. I forget my own strength sometimes."
"Well, desist from reminding yourself of it on me." She laughed. "Now come sit with me, and tell me your news."
"Well, you already know about the ranch, thanks to Cal, though I guess I should thank him for not telling you the rest."
"Of which I'm still waiting to hear. I thank the Lord, for he blessed me with patience, or I should be wringing your ear by now to get the story out of you."
"You’ve never wrung our ears for any reason."
"As I said before, I thank the Lord for his many blessings and saving all my boys from a cabbage ear. Speak, boy. What news do you have for me?"
Clarkson kissed his mother’s cheek. "I'm to be married."
"Married? To whom?"
"Why would you ask me who? When you know I've been in love with Kimberly my whole life."
"I thought it no more than a childhood crush. When did this happen?"
"I'd spoken to Mr. Montgomery, before they moved away."
"And you said nothing?"
"I said nothing because I wasn't sure if I’d be coming back. I must say you don't appear as excited as I thought you'd be."
"Oh, my sweet boy, I am excited. I just think..."
"Go on, what do you think?"
"I'm just wondering if she’s right for you."
"Why wouldn't she be right for me? I've known her my whole life. How could she possible be wrong for me?"
"I'm not saying she’s wrong for you. It’s...it's, well, you are a sensitive boy and you feel things more deeply than your brothers. I'm a little concerned as to whether or not she’s what you need right now—"
"She's all I need. If it wasn't for her letters, I don't know where I would be. You’re wrong about her, Mother."
"I guess I must be. Because she has surely lit a fire in you I've never seen before that would have you questioning my judgment."
"I'm sorry, Ma. I know you mean well, but trust I'm right in this regard."
"I may have my doubts about Kimberly and her motives, but I would never doubt you to do what is right, my son." She cupped his cheek in her hand then patted it gently. "Shall we go inside and be with the others?"
Clarkson helped his mother to her feet, and they walked back to the house hand in hand. But his mother's words troubled him.
Chapter 8
Were it appropriate to bound and gag the fair Kimberly, then stuff her feet first into one of the trunks and store her in the baggage cargo, would be a dream come true. That is how Missy would have liked to continue their journey to the Americas. Kimberly had done nothing but gripe and moan throughout.
One minute she was too hot, then she was too cold. She'd even told the captain to calm the seas, as it was too rough. Her stomach ached, her head hurt, and the sea air was ruining her complexion, and so it went on for weeks, days, hours, minutes and every second of every day, at least that’s what it felt like for Missy.
Kimberly had always been a pain, but she'd gotten worse as the journey continued. It started when she realized Missy couldn't just magic them to California on her magic carpet, or should she say broomstick, as those were the words Kimberly had used.
"I'm tired of this journey Missy, can't you use your powers and just magic us there on your broomstick?"
"If I had such a power, I assure you, you'd be the first to know about it. There are many things I would have disappear."
"Really? Like what?"
"Oh, there's far too many to mention. I wouldn't want to bore you with the details. Besides don't you want me to do your hair, we’re dining with the captain this evening."
"Yes, we are. He really is quite dashing, isn't he? I wonder how old he is."
"His looks and age should be of no consequence to you. We embarked on this journey so you can be married."
"Oh, please, don't remind me. I don't know how I allowed you to dazzle me with promises of balls and social gatherings. We haven't attended any, and if things continue as they are I will be too pale and too fatigued to attend."
"Well then you should be happy to know there will be a ball on board the ship tonight. I've had it on good authority from one of the crew members."
The ball aboard the ship seemed to quiet Kimberly for a while. She had met some like-minded people and found a way to entertain herself until they disembarked in Spain and then the whining started all over again. Why couldn't they get off in Spain and continue their journey at a later date. Missy was about ready to throw Kimberly overboard.
Then something changed and Kimberly began to take an exorbitant amount of time getting ready for meal times. More time than usual, always checking her appearance before leaving their cabin, she'd go on deck alone, telling Missy she needed solitude or sneak out when she thought Missy was asleep. Missy would have paid more attention had she not been grateful for the few moments of peace from Kimberly's nagging.
After a spell, Missy became curious as to where Kimberly went to find her solitude. So she asked.
"Oh, there are a number of places one can go to be alone. But I've not been alone for a while now. I have made a few friends. I would introduce you, but they would simply bore you like all my friends do."
"Oh, that’s quite all right. I wasn't angling for an invitation to join you. I was simply curious, that is all."
"So we are in agreement for the rest of this voyage, you will do whatever it is that you do and I will entertain myself the best way I know how. And no more questions."
"For once, I think we are in perfect alignment. Please don't let me stop you having your fun."
"You won't. I must take my leave. My friends will be waiting."
Kimberly was barely out of the door when Missy removed her key from around her neck and opened her little box of treasures to retrieve the latest correspondence from Clarkson, forgetting the words written on the pages were never meant for her eyes.
And so the two women continued their journey, a little more distant than when they first embarked on their adventure to join Clarkson in California.
Kimberly spent a copious amount of time secretly involved with her new found friends aboard the ship, and Missy explored a fantasy life she knew would never be hers, until they docked in California.
Clarkson had chartered a stagecoach to ferry the women to the stagecoach terminal in Longchapel, where he would meet them.
Missy surveyed Kimberly as she emerged from the dressing room aghast at her attire. Surely Kimberly didn't think what she was wearing was appropriate for the journey ahead—her own attire much more sombre "Shouldn't you change into something more practical?" Missy asked.
"Whatever for? Did you not assure me where we were going could be likened to my beloved Charleston? I’m quite sure Clarkson will expect nothing less."
"I believe my words were, it's possible. However, like yourself, I have never been to Longchapel and therefore could not say with any certainty. What I am sure of is that your clothes will offer you no comfort on a long stagecoach ride. Whether Clarkson will approve or not."
"It's too late for me to decide on anything else. The rest of my clothes are packed and probably being loaded onto the stagecoach as we speak. Therefore, I suggest we get going. Here, you can carry my bag." Dropping the bag at Missy's feet, Kimberly proceeded out of the cabin door, leaving Missy to carry both carpetbags.
Missy paused for a brief moment at the top of the gangway, as she watched Kimberly and a tall, handsome stranger, who
brought both of Kimberly's hands to his lips kissing then in turn, as they exchanged salutations, before letting them go and boarding his own carriage. He was gone before Missy got to where Kimberly stood waiting at the side of their carriage. The stagecoach driver removed the bags from Missy. Opening the stage door, he lowered the steps.
"Will you ladies need any help getting in?" he asked.
"One of us might." Missy answered in response, looking at the sheer volume of Kimberly's gown.
"What is this place? I feel as though I'm being made to stand in the devil's armpit. This can't be where Clarkson wants us to live. There is nothing here but heat, sand, dust, and dirt. I shall surely die if I have to stay here. Please tell me I don't have to stay here."
"You don't have to stay here. This is the harbor. We have at least three hours travel ahead of us, if not more."
"We're not there yet?"
"No. Now let me help to pile you and that dress into the carriage. I’m just thankful we’re traveling alone. I don't think anyone else would fit in there with you and your dress."
"I must say I agree with you ma'am," the driver said, as he helped push more of the fabric through the open door. "I think we can try and see if I can find space for you, Miss, on the other side."
"Thank you." Together Missy and the driver pushed against the carriage door in an attempt to shut it, before walking around to the other side to let Missy in. They fought down the material and Missy got in. Missy worked her way through the sea of fabric and sat next to Kimberly. "Who was the stranger I saw you talking to?"
"Oh, that's Mr. Perez. I met him on the ship. He says his sister lives ten miles out of Longchapel."
"And him?"
"He lives in New Mexico."
"Why was he holding your hand?"
"He wasn't holding my hand. He gave me a letter to give to his sister... that is all."
"Why did he give the letter to you? Why not post it?"
"He says his sister is the housekeeper at Clarkson’s ranch, and so I offered to take it to her for him."
Missy fell silent. Kimberly didn't do anything for anyone, unless it was of benefit to her. What was she up to? Missy wished she had paid more attention to what Kimberly had been doing while they were on the boat.
What troubled her even more was the knowledge Clarkson had been living alone with a female housekeeper. Somehow that didn't seem at all proper, maybe she was old. Then again if she was the man’s sister, she couldn't possibly be that much older than him.
“Mr Perez, did he say whether his sister was younger or older than him?”
“I believe she’s his younger sister,” Kimberly said.
Missy suddenly felt sick.
Chapter 9
Clarkson rubbed the clammy sensation from his palms on his lap, as he sat in wait with his mother, brother, Rilla and Jewel at the terminal. He was grateful for the company. However, he wondered if maybe he should have come to meet Kimberly on his own. The old Kimberly thrived on attention, but the Kimberly in his letter might have been hoping for something a little more intimate.
It was too late now and couldn't be helped. It wasn’t like he had invited them to be here. Calvin had taken the choice away from him by telling everyone and collectively they had decided they would accompany Clarkson to the meeting point.
He hadn't been this nervous while on the front line being gunned down under enemy fire. He stood and walked a little way from everyone, needing a moment away from the chatter. He stopped and shoved his hands in his pocket. What if this turned out to be a complete disaster? His mother could be right and Kimberly was not what he needed at this time.
"Are you very excited?" Clarkson heard by his ear. He turned to face Jewel smiling back at him.
"Ah, Mrs...I mean Jewel. I think I can safely say my nerves have adequately removed all trace of excitement from me and reduced me to a quivering mess I'm afraid."
"I find that hard to believe. You look so composed."
"I suppose I can thank my training for that, but believe me on the inside I feel less than comfortable. I fear the years may have changed the both of us. It’s almost like meeting a stranger for the first time."
"You will be fine. It has been a long time since you've seen your fiancée , but once you are reunited it will all seem like much ado about nothing. If you truly love her, your nerves will quickly disappear once you see her again."
"I hope so. At times I wish I were more like my brothers."
"I disagree, you have many qualities woman admire. A man who wears his heart on his sleeves being the most agreeable. A woman will always feel confident of her meaning to you."
"Thank you. I feel calmer already."
"Then my job here is done," Jewel said, tapping his arm, before returning to the others.
The stagecoach pulled into the terminal, and the driver jumped down to open a door. The first out of the carriage was Missy. Clarkson felt a twinge in his chest as he looked at her. She was much more than her photograph. It had not done her justice. He greeted her with a kiss to her cheek and looked beyond her to the carriage as the driver opened the other door and unfolded the steps. As Missy greeted the others, Cal followed Clarkson to the carriage to assist in removing Kimberly from its interior.
Fold after fold of material was unraveled, Clarkson wondered when it would end. Cal hissed and gave a final yank on the garment and Kimberly came tumbling out and into Calvin's arms.
"Oh, dear, thank you, Clarkson. It's so good to see you again."
Without breaking stride, Cal deposited Kimberly into Clarkson’s arms. "I think this is yours," he said stepping away.
Clarkson raised a brow as Kimberly continued talking, seemingly unaware of the transfer of her person between the two men. He blinked as he stared at her moving lips. He couldn't hear a word. He was too stunned. How could the love of his life be so completely unaware which brother she had been talking to, or ignore the fact only moments ago she'd been clinging to Cal calling him Clarkson? How could anyone be that dense?
Sure, it had been a long separation, and the brothers did look alike. But Cal had physically handed her over to him and Kimberly had made no indication by way of an apology that she'd even noticed the change over. Her mouth kept right on yapping. She hadn't even paused for breath. Surely if she loved him, she'd have recognized the differences between them.
Missy didn't seem to have a problem distinguishing who was who. They had both been gone the same amount of time. Clarkson scratched the back of his head as he led Kimberly by her elbow back to the others. Her mouth still moving ten to the dozen, and from what he had allowed to filter through, most of it sounded like complaints.
He sighed and made the introductions after Kimberly let his mother go. At least there was still one Dalton she recognized.
Although everyone complimented Kimberly on her attire, Cal pulled Clarkson aside.
"That's some dress." Cal laughed and shook his head. "Some might even say that's at least two dresses. Either way your fiancée’s clothing poses a problem for getting us back. I have to admit when we decided to come out here with you not one of us foresaw this happening."
"Why don't you take the others and the baggage and I'll rent a carriage and bring Missy and Kimberly with me. Are we still okay for staying over? Although that dress might need a room all to itself.” Clarkson gazed at Kimberly’s frock and grimaced. “I do appreciate her making the effort. It's a beautiful dress and reminds me of home.”
"As nostalgic as her gown may be, it's hardly practical for traveling out here. I'm not surprised she’s complaining. You stay with the women and I'll go find us a carriage to rent." Clarkson opened his mouth to protest and closed it again as Cal continued talking. "It's only fair you stay behind and listen to the nagging, besides you'd best get used to it. Something tells me you have a lot more coming your way." He slapped Clarkson on the back as he stalked off, chuckling.
Clarkson sighed and wished he could refute what Cal said. But he’d glanced ov
er his brother's shoulder earlier when they were talking and seen all the others sitting in silence as Kimberly’s face, flushed from the heat, was animated in her verbiage, her hands flying this way and that.
He stared after Cal a while longer, shoving his hands in his pocket. He kicked the dirt as he made his way toward the group of women. Everyone's attention was on Kimberly, except Missy’s. She glanced over at him smiling, her gaze never leaving his face. He couldn’t help but return her smile.
She always had a way of making him feel better about things...he had forgotten that. Having Missy here should make his life easier. She had a way with Kimberly which had the ability to shut Kimberly down when she became too much to handle. It was Missy’s special skill when they were younger. How had he forgotten?
He moved a little closer to the women but stayed out of earshot and leaned against a pole. Kimberly's voice was like nails on a chalkboard. His heart felt heavy in his chest and he didn't know why. Had he blown the reunion all out of proportion, or was he just peeved with Kimberly because she'd mistook Cal for him? Not to mention she barely gave him a glance, even after her treachery. He may as well not be here.
Either way something was up with him, he wasn't happy. He watched as her mouth moved non-stop and folded his arms. Why didn't he feel as happy to have Kimberly here as he’d been with the thought of having her by his side?
It made no sense. Looking at her, he felt nothing other than the desire to squish her face and close her mouth. If the woman was anything, it was annoying. How in the world did Missy put up with her? As if struck by a catapult of logic and nonverbal reasoning, Clarkson was filled with understanding.
Kimberly wasn't his salvation; she was his penance. He would be saddled with her and her flapping gums until death do they part, and he deserved nothing less. What an idiot he’d been to think he could be happy. He was destined to never know a moment's peace again. He should have known what he'd felt had been false hope.
It was too soon for him to find happiness. When he'd done nothing to deserve it, but live a lie for the past three years—in the lap of luxury, while his men perished. He thought he was in heaven, but he was really in hell and Kimberly was his designated torturer.
Love Letters (Unbridled Book 3) Page 4