by Jillian Hart
“Now, I didn’t say I couldn’t help you.” Dobbs grinned—slyly, O’Rourke didn’t miss that—and tossed a few coins on the bar to pay for their drinks. “I know of someone.”
“He’ll pay for the girl?”
“Sure. As long as you aren’t concerned about getting a wedding ring on her finger.”
“I want a son-in-law to work the farm for me.”
“Sure, I know, but the man I’m thinking of is always looking. He can pay you right away and, as they say, beggars can’t be choosers.”
That he knew for a fact. His mouth soured thinking of McPherson wasting his time and that old woman making promises her grandson couldn’t keep. He hadn’t even thought to doubt her claim. The family had always had deep pockets. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been fooled, and it wasn’t his fault that Johnny had died to leave him in this predicament. He would send another telegram to that old woman in Kentucky, and in the meantime it was time to do what was best for himself. That’s all a man could do in this world.
“As long as she can help out around our place, I don’t much care about a ring.” He thought of Maeve, sallow-faced and a burden to him. One woman to support was all he saw fit for. “Time to make that girl of mine useful.”
“He’ll want to get a good look at the girl before he decides.” Reasonable, that’s what Dobbs was. “He’ll want to make sure she’s innocent, as you claim. Got a problem with that?”
“Nope, not as long as I get my money.”
“If he’s happy with her, you’ll get it.” Dobbs reached into his vest pocket for a cigar. “How about I bring him along to our poker game tonight?”
“I’ll have Maeve bake up that bean soup you like.” He searched through his pockets for the last of his tobacco. Either way, it looked like he wouldn’t be having to skimp and save when it came to his little luxuries, not anymore. After tonight, his problems would be at an end for some time to come.
Chapter Seven
While the bell tolled in the tower overhead, signaling the end of the school day, Fiona slipped into her wraps in the crowded foyer. She was all thumbs trying to button up. She had to hurry if she wanted to drop by Miss Sims’s dress shop on the way home. She had finished her sewing over lunch, and she wanted to pick up more work for tonight. After what Ian had told her, it would be best to make as much extra money as she could before—
Well, maybe she would function better if she didn’t look ahead. She fit the last button through, pulled her scarf around her neck and reached for her hood. She would keep walking her path step by step, trusting that she was going in the right direction. Trusting that she wasn’t alone.
“I’m definitely going to caroling practice.” Lila shouldered close, ignoring the jostle and tussle of the crowd. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”
Oh, it was simple as pie to read what her friend was thinking. Fiona shook her head. Really. She did not want the opportunity to be any closer to Lorenzo. She tucked her hood in place and tied a quick bow. “I’m too shy to sing in front of people.”
“You sing at church.”
“Yes, but everyone sings there. Even tone-deaf people.” Fiona couldn’t help it. She cast a glance down the row of hooks and shelving to where Earlee was gathering up her family’s lunch tin.
“Hey, I’m not exactly tone deaf. More like tone–hard of hearing.” When Earlee smiled, it was like the sun shining. Everyone around her smiled, too. “You’ll be glad to know that the caroling group will not have to suffer through my attempts to sing this year. Ma needs me at home.”
Smallpox had been hard on Earlee’s family, too. Fiona held the door open as her friends paraded through, reminded that rain fell in everyone’s life. She should not dwell overly on her own hardships. The snow struck her face like a punch; the storm was still putting up a fight. She thought of the cold walk home and sighed.
“I won’t be there, either.” Kate swept down the steps. “It’s too long of a drive. We wouldn’t get home until well past supper and the evening chores. So you town girls will have to tell us country girls all about singing with Lorenzo tomorrow.”
“Shh! There he is.” Lila gripped the closest girls to her by the arms. Both Kate and Scarlet winced, turning pink as Lorenzo lumbered past.
“Fiona.” The strapping young man gave her a brief nod as he headed in the direction of the church. He was persistent, she had to acknowledge that.
The second he was out of earshot, Lila, Kate and Scarlet squealed. “That’s it. He likes you.”
“Definitely.”
“I would die if I were you. He is so nice.”
What was she going to say to that? She wasn’t interested in a schoolyard crush. And if she pointed out that Lorenzo wasn’t nearly as handsome as another man she could think of, then she would have to explain all over again about Ian. Surely her friends knew her well enough to guess at what she might—just might and only a very tiny itty bitty bit—be feeling for her former betrothed.
“Hurry up, Kate,” Mr. Schmidt called out from the road, where he was tucked in the family’s small, homemade sleigh.
“Coming, Pa!” Kate tossed her braids behind her shoulders. “I’ll see you all tomorrow. Lila, don’t get into trouble at singing practice. Or if you do, you have to tell us all about it. Fiona, you ought to change your mind about Lorenzo. You’re free now!”
Free? That word mocked her. She felt as if chains shackled her to the ground while Kate and her father zipped away behind their fast horse. The falling snow still hid any glimpse of the prairie beyond town, silent and waiting like a reminder. If Da found another groom for her to marry, then she had a plan. She clutched her schoolbag tightly. She would do what she had to.
“Fiona?”
Someone touched her arm. She shook her head to scatter her thoughts, realizing they had taken her away. Earlee was at her side, concern on her heart-shaped face. Her friends watched her with similar worry.
Shame flooded her, scorching her face. How could she tell them what had happened? That her father was more concerned with having a roof over his head than his daughter’s welfare? Lila might not get along with her stepmom, but she was safe and loved. Earlee might not have much, not with nine children in her family, but her father would give his life to keep her safe. Scarlet’s family might be unhappy, too, but they would never dream of harming her. As for Kate, her father drove her five miles and back every day so his daughter could have an education. Her caring friends would all support her, but if she told them, then it would bring her sadness into their circle of friendship.
“Fiona?” Earlee touched her sleeve again. “That man there, the one with the black horse and the sleigh, I think he is looking at you.”
A man? What man? Panic skittered through her. She swirled toward the road, her mind turning. Ian had gone on the noon train—then again, maybe he hadn’t. She had thought of him when she’d heard the train’s departing whistle. Had he stayed? Gladness swept through her, as cheery as a Christmas candle. She longed to see his grin and the spark of his poetic blue eyes, but the figure in brown leather standing beside a fancy red sleigh was not Ian.
He hadn’t come for her. Logically, at the back of her mind, she knew there was no reason for him to have. But her hopes cracked like a heart broken. Foolish, really, to care so much about someone long gone. It was her decision not to care for any man so much. So it had to be the relentless snow making her eyes tear and not emotions. She was quite in control of her feelings. Really.
“Do you know him?” Lila stepped close, as if to protect her from the stranger’s assessing stare.
“He’s tipping his hat.” Scarlet dropped her schoolbooks. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Does he know your father?”
“I don’t think so.” She blinked, trying to bring the man into focus. He was rather short and lean, his features hidden beneath the brim of a black hat. Her da’s words replayed in her mind. If McPherson won’t take her, there’s others who will.
No, he wouldn’t have found someone so soon. Her bones turned to water. She shook so hard, her lunch pail rattled. No, she reasoned. Certainly not so fast, or someone older than her father. Silver locks peeked out from beneath the man’s hat as he tipped it one last time, grinned not entirely nicely at the group of them and climbed back into his sleigh. See how he was leaving? He wasn’t approaching her, so she was safe.
Then why was she trembling? Her lunch pail continued to rattle. They all watched the man drive away. Although he never looked back, she couldn’t get rid of the strange feeling taking her over, as if her blood had turned to ice.
“Fiona, are you all right?” Lila wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“You’ve gone completely white.” Earlee did the same.
“He’s turned the corner. He’s gone.” Scarlet tromped back through the hip-high drifts. Only then did Fiona realize her friend had taken off toward the stranger, probably to confront him. That was Scarlet, ever fearless. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
“How did you know he was looking at just me?” Her words came out scratchy, like she had a sore throat.
“It was pretty clear.” Scarlet was flushed, as if she was ready for a fight. “It was scary.”
“Maybe he thought she was someone he knew?” Earlee wondered.
“Maybe.” Lila didn’t look convinced. “Should we all walk Fiona home?”
“No.” She spoke loud enough to drown out their resounding yeses. She had a suspicion she knew what the man had been doing. Her lunch pail was still squeaking and rattling as she knelt to pick up Scarlet’s books. “You can’t miss singing practice. What about Lorenzo? This might be your big chance to get close to him.”
“There will be other chances,” Lila answered, stubbornly loyal.
“He’s not likely to even notice me,” Scarlet confessed.
This was why her throat stayed raw. Her friends were the best part of her life. She looked from Lila and her chin set with determination, to Scarlet dusting snow off her schoolbooks with more ferocity than necessary, to Earlee standing protectively at her side. Surely, this was not the last time she would see them.
“You can’t risk it.” She shook her head, and snow rained down off her hood. “This might be the turning point. The critical moment when Lorenzo notices one of you and falls deeply in love. So you have to go sing.”
“But what about you?” Lila asked.
“I’ll be fine knowing my friends are right where they are supposed to be.” It was hard forcing her boots to move; the first step away from her friends was the hardest. “Have fun, you two.”
“Yeah,” Earlee called out. “But not too much fun! Hey, Fee, wait up. You’re going too fast.”
“Am I?” She was. She’d charged through the snow and onto the broken path by the road like a runaway bull. Her skirt hem and the bottom half of her coat were caked white, and she was huffing as if she’d run miles. Goodness, she was more upset than she’d thought. “Sorry. I’ve got to stop by the dressmaker’s shop. That might take some time, so if you want to head home, I’ll understand.”
“Ma needs me, but I can spare a few minutes. Besides, poking around the dress shop is fun. There are so many pretty things to look at.” Earlee sighed wistfully.
Fine, so she sighed, too. What Earlee hadn’t said was that there were so many beautiful things in that shop, things they could never hope to afford. “It is nice dreaming a little, isn’t it?”
“Being wealthy isn’t what’s important in life. It’s not what makes you rich. I know that. But it would be something to be able to own one of those dresses.”
“It would.” It didn’t hurt to dream a little, to wonder what if, right? “If you could have any dress, which one would you pick?”
“The white one in the front window display, with the tiny rosebud pattern. What about you?”
“There’s a yellow gingham dress hanging on one of the racks. That’s the one I would pick.” They turned the corner and tapped down the boardwalk. The town passed by in a blur of lamplit windows and merchants out sweeping the snow off their walks. She dodged a boardinghouse worker with a broom, preferring to think about the possibilities of her daydream, of being someone else with a different life, whose greatest worry was choosing between the exquisite dresses in Miss Sims’s shop instead of where she would go, where she would sleep, if she would be safe when she left on tomorrow’s train.
“Do you think your pa is going to try to find you another husband?” Earlee’s question came quietly, with great understanding. “Was that why that man was staring at you?”
“I don’t know for certain, but I’m afraid so.” She gripped her book bag more tightly, but she was too frozen inside to feel anything.
“I think I’ve seen him somewhere before. Like maybe around town, but I couldn’t say for sure. Now, if he were Lorenzo’s age and half as cute, I’m sure I would have noticed.” She flashed her contagious smile, obviously wanting to lighten the mood.
Fiona couldn’t help grinning, but it felt like a fake one and it died quickly. Miss Cora’s shop was down the next street. It would be hard to tell the kindly lady that this was the last piece she could sew for her. It was time to tie off the loose threads of her life in this small railroad town.
“Look. I think that’s him.” Earlee nodded once at the red sleigh and black horse parked just up Main. “He’s going into the bank, so he must be from around here. We just haven’t noticed him before.”
That didn’t explain the icy ball of dread sitting in the middle of her stomach. She had a bad feeling, and she walked faster down the next street. She didn’t feel safe until the man’s horse and sleigh were out of her sight.
A nicker rang out from the back of the stables the moment Ian set foot in the Newberry livery stables.
“She’s one fine horse.” The owner met him with a pitchfork in hand. “She kept lookin’ me over like I wasn’t good enough to take care of her. But after I gave her some of my best warmed oats, she at least deigned to let me rub her nose.”
“She’s a character, all right.” He’d missed his girl, his best friend. “I raised her from a foal.”
“That right? There are few bonds closer, except for the human kind.” The burly man nodded with understanding as he led the way down the main aisle. “Had someone stabling a horse ask if you’d be interested in an offer, but I can see you wouldn’t. Don’t blame you there.”
“No, I want to keep her.” Grief cut him deep at all the other horse friends he’d been forced to sell. That made it harder to think of letting another go. The mare caught sight of him, tossing her head and scolding him, as if the last thing she approved of was that he had taken an adventure without her. “Sorry, girl. You’ll forgive a poor fellow, won’t you?”
Duchess gave him a hard look and blew out a breath through her lips. She lowered her head, allowing him to rub her neck and ears. “Looks like you took good care of her. Thanks, Russell.”
“My pleasure. I’ll go fetch your saddle,” he called over his shoulder.
Alone with his favorite girl, he leaned close, resting his forehead against her warm velvet neck. “You feel up to heading back home?”
Duchess didn’t complain, although he thought of the deep drifts, much higher now than when they’d first arrived. She’d struggled with them, which was why he’d stabled her in the first place. He hadn’t liked leaving her, but the notion of taking her back out in the hazardous cold and difficult snow gave him pause. Did he leave her here one more night and start fresh come morning? He could always curl up in the stall with her for the night. It was something to consider.
“You would have liked Fiona.” He stroked the velvety curve of his mare’s nose, just the way she liked it. She sighed deep in her throat, a contented sound. Calm filled him like still water, as it always did when he was around the animals he loved. He missed his horses. He missed his way of life and his calling. That’s what he ought to be thinking about. That’s
where his concerns should be. But they weren’t. He could not get Fiona O’Rourke out of his mind. She had burrowed beneath his skin and claimed a part of him.
Duchess nickered low and sweet, leaning into his touch as if she were asking to hear more.
“Nana was right about her.” If betrayal panged deep within his chest, he paid it no heed. Whatever his grandmother had done, she had done it for him out of love. He could not fault her for that. And if places new and surprising within his heart seemed to open for the first time upon thinking of Fiona’s dear face, then he denied that well and good. Aye, a smart man would not acknowledge anything that could not aid his life’s plans.
“The farm was not in good shape. The barn poorly maintained, the fence posts sagging in the fields. But the land was something. I like these wide-reaching plains. What do you think, Duchess?”
She tossed her head up and down as if in agreement. He supposed the endless prairie called to her spirit, too, calling her to race the wind. Unbidden, the image of Fiona sprang into his mind, the one that had kept him up much of the night trying and failing to get it down on paper. He had captured the curve of her cheek as her dark curls brushed it, the bold set of her porcelain jaw and the swirl of her skirt when she had first turned in that storm to face him. The first moment he had seen her face was emblazoned in his mind, and he’d been able to replicate her big, honest eyes, perfect sloping nose and rosebud mouth. What he’d not been able to capture was the strength and radiance of her spirit.
Somewhere a bell chimed, muted by snowfall and distance, marking the time. Didn’t sound musical like a church bell. A school bell, he figured, announcing the end of the school day. Ten miles down the rails, Fiona would be leaving the warm schoolhouse. Would she be walking with friends? Did she get her sewing done?