Patricia Rice

by Wayward Angel

  Dora hesitated until Josie intruded. "For land's sake, Dora! He's just asking you to tell what you remember. He isn't asking you to stand up in court. Men who brutalize women should be publicly whipped, but this is the next best thing."

  That was true. If her testimony would in any way prevent her father or Gareth from ever hurting another woman, then she had a duty to give it. Haltingly, Dora repeated what she had told Pace, carefully emphasizing that much of that day was more nightmare than concrete memory.

  Sir Archibald nodded, took a few notes on paper he withdrew from his pocket, asked a few questions, then tucked the document away. "I regret that you had to carry that nightmare with you all these years. Lady Alexandra. I also regret that I believed your father's explanation of events and dismissed the charges of the young man who declared you alive. Recent occurrences have opened my eyes. I have offered the earl my resignation, and I fear he will have great difficulty finding another solicitor or barrister to represent him once your tale becomes public knowledge, as it most certainly will if I have anything to say about it."

  Dora clasped her hands in her skirt and stared at the floor. She didn't notice as Josie slipped from the room to put her sleepy daughter to bed. "I suppose I should despise him for all he's done, but I cannot help thinking that all turned out for the best. This is where I belong. I could never go back there."

  Pace placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The solicitor nodded approvingly.

  "That's as it should be. You won't be called upon to return to England if you have no desire to do so. I would just like you to know that your testimony today has saved another woman from suffering as your mother did. My sister was prepared to accept the earl's offer until Gareth asked my help in locating you. Until then, I'd understood you had died with your mother. The change in story concerned me, particularly when I realized the earl had suffered financial reverses. I have always considered him a devout and Christian man, one who did not succumb to the temptations and licentiousness so frequently indulged in by men of his wealth and upbringing. I never had reason to question his word. His denial of your existence until you stood to inherit a substantial fortune led me to question his credibility. I have already made my sister aware of my doubts and she has agreed to wait for my decision. I will notify her immediately that the earl is not a suitable husband. All of England will know that as soon as I return."

  Dora looked up to meet the man's cool, gray eyes. She nodded. "Thank you. I would not see anyone suffer as my mother suffered. I only wish I could warn others of Gareth's cruel propensities too. I do not know if this is something that is passed from father to son, but Gareth does not even make a secret of his cruelty. He is a weak man who seeks to control those weaker than he. I wish I were in a position to warn others."

  "As to that, I can make no promises. He has bought off the daughter of one of your father's tenants when he beat her so severely that she couldn't walk again, but that is a confidence I cannot make public. Should I hear that he is thinking of taking a wife, I will make it my place to warn off her parents, but he will be an earl someday. Not many will heed my warning. Perhaps he will change. Stranger things have happened."

  Pace squeezed her shoulder, and Dora covered his hand with hers. Pace could have developed into a man even more violent than Gareth, but he had an innate decency that Gareth would never have.

  She nearly missed what the solicitor said while she stared into the loving depths of her husband's eyes. Only when Pace's eyes grew wide, and he tore his gaze from her to look at their guest did she return her attention to the conversation.

  Harriet snorted and pounded her cane on the floor in a demonstration of glee. Josie came back downstairs and stood in the doorway, smiling. When Dora returned a blank gaze, Josie huffed into the room, forcing Sir Archibald to rise.

  "She didn't even hear you, Archie! You just gave her more money than this town is worth, and she wasn't even listening. I swear, it would be easier if you just took the money and dumped it into the ocean. It would do just about as much good."

  Dora turned back to the red-faced solicitor. He pulled at his tight collar and looked down at Josie as if she were a banquet for a starving man. Josie didn't even notice.

  "Perhaps you'd better repeat what you just said, sir," Pace said politely. "Something about Dora's grandmother?"

  Sir Archibald cleared his throat and tore his gaze from the woman hanging on to his coat arm as they reseated themselves. "Your maternal grandmother changed her will after your mother's death, Lady Alexandra. She despised Lord Beaumont and blamed him for everything, despite his proclaimed innocence. She chose to believe our one witness to the contrary, and even donated large sums to the Society of Friends in later years. She was convinced you were alive and well somewhere, and she left her entire estate to you, should you be found. The balance was to go to various charities as well as the Society should you not be found by the date of your twenty-fifth birthday. It is yours now. I've arranged for the transfer of funds."

  Dora stared at him blankly. Pace spoke for her.

  "I thought there was some objection to me as a suitable husband."

  The solicitor beamed. "After hearing you speak so eloquently that day in the courtroom, I notified the trustees that you were more than suitable. I've since sent ample evidence verifying it. They are satisfied."

  Still, Dora didn't speak. Pace squeezed her shoulder and sought the catch in this unexpected prize. "Under Kentucky law, Dora's husband has complete control over her assets. I'm sure your trustees will wish to reconsider."

  That brought Dora to herself. She stamped one small shoe and glared at her husband. "Don't be ridiculous, Payson Nicholls. What would I do with a fortune? You may have it if you like. If we're to have half a dozen children, you will need it."

  All heads swerved to stare at the demure young woman sitting with hands crossed in her lap. Pace spoke for them all, with a nervous catch in his throat. "Half a dozen children?"

  Lifting her skirts, Dora stood up and started out of the room with a regal tread that would have suited a queen. She didn't even turn her head as she replied, "One in the cradle and one on the way seems a good start as far as I am concerned. I'll check on Amy while I'm upstairs."

  She stopped and turned around, her gaze fastening on her dumbstruck husband. "And you'll need to provide for Amy too. Charlie would have wanted it that way."

  The riotous laughter outside echoed the merriment in the room as Pace sank, speechless, to the chair his wife had just vacated while Harriet and Josie talked excitedly.

  Dora might not say much, but when she did, she certainly made her presence felt.

  Pace stared at the ceiling overhead where his wife's footsteps could be heard. With a curse, he said adamantly, "I will not name any son of mine Charlie."

  Josie laughed and offered a wager to the opposite effect. While Harriet and Sir Archibald agreed on sums in Pace's favor, Pace rose from his chair like a man struck from too many directions at once.

  He left a roomful of approving smiles as he started toward the stairs, his speed increasing with each step closer to the woman above. Below, his audience waited expectantly and were rewarded for their patience by the sudden hoarse creak of a bed.

  As the guests hastily said embarrassed farewells, laughter drifted through the halls and down the stairs—carefree laughter that hadn't been heard in years.

  The harps of heaven couldn't have made a sweeter sound.

  The End

  Author's Note

  Since this is a romance, I make no apology for not depicting the actual horrors of child abuse. I do apologize, however, if anyone reads this and believes that abused children can overcome their devastating emotional scars simply through their own motivation. Miracles can happen, but generally it requires the intervention of a third party.

  Instead of offering actual scenes of abuse, I have attempted to portray the results of abuse through my characters. Children who suffer rejection from their families are freq
uently hostile and aggressive, emotionally unstable, lack self-esteem, and have a negative view of the world. Neglect often results in antisocial behavior, indulgence in drugs or alcohol, and inappropriate behavior such as fighting and recklessness. Often, a child who has never been praised for good behavior but is constantly punished for perceived faults will think the attention he receives for misbehaving is reason to continue the bad behavior.

  With that kind of background, it is no wonder that abused children often grow into adults who cannot deal with life in any normal fashion. Girls, in particular, seek approval. As women, they continue seeking the approval of the kind of men who most resemble the parent who rejected them, thus inviting further abuse. Boys, being more aggressive, tend to take the opposite route. As men, their behavior is hostile, and they seek the kind of women who lack the self-esteem to fight back, women often like their mothers.

  My characters may overcome these handicaps through their own strength of character and with the help of outside forces, but in reality, abused children, abused spouses, and their abusers need the kind of counseling the 1860s couldn't provide.

  Excerpt from

  Texas Lily

  by

  Patricia Rice

  Chapter 2

  Lily tried not to think about what she would say to Ralph Langton when she found him. A planned speech would just terrify her. As she cantered the gelding down dusty roads, she set her mind to wondering what Roy was doing right now, worrying that she wasn't there to continue their lessons. Running a ranch and trying to educate her son at the same time would be difficult.

  For the hundredth time she wondered if she had done the best thing for Roy by uprooting to Texas where books were few and far between and teachers were nonexistent. But at the time, the alternative had been too painful to consider. She had come to accept her life here, and Roy knew no other, but the suggestion to sell the land had set all the old worries loose.

  The thought of abandoning Jim's dream prevented Lily from seriously considering selling. She didn't know for certain that her husband was dead. Perhaps the horse had just thrown him, and it was taking him a while to walk back. He could have hurt himself and some friendly Indians could have taken him in and were nursing him back to health. In Texas anything could happen. She would hope for the best and do as Jim would have done.

  That thought held Lily as she found the group of riders making a circuit of the Langton ranch. She hailed Ralph, and the older man halted his horse to greet her. The others ambled onward, expecting him to catch up when he was done.

  "Lily! Good to see you. What are you doing out here all alone? Jim would be furious."

  He said this with a genial smile that acknowledged his polite phrases had little to do with reality. Lily returned the smile. Ralph Langton was one man who understood that she could hold her own. He had nothing to prove by thinking of her as his inferior. He was old enough to be her grandfather and had been married for more years than she had been alive.

  "The way things stand, I'll be doing everything on my own shortly," said Lily. "I may as well get used to it. The men are threatening to leave rather than take orders from a woman. I can't fool them much longer into thinking Jim will be back, Ralph."

  Lily shook her head to keep him from offering sympathies. She didn't want sympathy. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to keep going until she couldn't go anymore. "I heard you have a man named Cade here who has the experience to act as my foreman. What do you think?"

  Ralph immediately looked concerned. "Well, I don't know, Lily." At her stubborn expression, he hesitated. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" He yelled over his shoulder, and one of the riders ambling down the road swung his horse around.

  Lily had already noted the man. He sat head and shoulders above the others, and his shoulders reminded her of a bull they had in the paddock. Her eyes were always drawn to those few men who stood taller than she, but the size of this one was intimidating. Then she realized why the men back at the store had laughed at her. They had told her about the one man in the territory who could make her look small.

  Anger welled, as it always did when someone made fun of her height. She should have been born a man, she had been told more than once. Well, she had done her best to turn herself into one. She would behave as one now. She sat tall in her saddle and waited to see the rest of the joke that had been perpetrated on her.

  The man's long black hair was straight as a stick but evidently clean. With a shock she realized his bronzed features and angular cheekbones were undoubtedly Indian, although she suspected something of the Spanish in his heritage also, if for no other reason than the proud arrogance of his nose and the jut of his square jaw. This was not a man she could control with a few sharp words.

  Lily was almost willing to admit her mistake in seeking him when she noticed the odd way the man, Cade, held his hands on the reins. They were practically sitting in his lap.

  In another moment he was close enough for her to see the kitten draped across the saddle in front of him. A kitten! Lily could scarcely keep her eyes from the untidy sprawl of fur until she recognized the unseemliness of her gaze. Flushing, she looked up to the man's dark eyes. If there was a flicker of something behind that impenetrable obsidian, she could not interpret it.

  "Cade?" She had been told he had no last name. Looking at him, she could see he didn't need one. It would be akin to giving a family name to a wolf. She just hoped he didn't have the intelligence of a buffalo. As he stared without speaking, she continued nervously, "I've been told you have the experience to manage a cattle ranch. Is this true?"

  "I ran Colonel Martin's operation over near Galveston for a spell," he acknowledged evenly, scratching the kitten behind the ear to keep it still.

  Lily wanted to grab the kitten and tell him that was no way to treat a cat, but aside from the fact that the animal seemed perfectly content, the idea of grabbing anything from such a location warm her cheeks. She turned her concentration back to matters at hand.

  She had heard of Colonel Martin and the size of his spread and was relieved but still suspicious. "How long is a 'spell'?"

  There was a suggestion of a shrug beneath the straining shoulders of his faded blue work shirt. "Couple of years."

  "And why did you leave there?"

  Throwing the big man a look, Ralph intervened. "He was unjustly accused of killing a man. He spent some time in prison before Martin could get him out. The colonel thought it safer if he went elsewhere to avoid angry suspicions. I'll vouch for Cade's integrity. I'll hate to see him go, but you can offer him a better place than I can, if he wants it."

  Lily looked up to see if there was any change of expression on the stranger’s face, but Cade continued looking at her with disinterest. For some reason, his disinterest was as tantalizing as his size and the kitten. She had learned long ago that she was no beauty, but out here men were inclined to pant over anything in skirts. Or trousers, she amended. She was young and had all the necessary female attributes. She expected at least some degree of interest, but he treated her as if she were part of the landscape.

  "I don't suppose you would be interested in working for a woman, would you?" That wasn't how she had meant to ask, but now the words were said, she couldn't take them back.

  "As foreman?" At her nod, he questioned, "Would I be required to sleep in the bunkhouse with the rest of the men?"

  That jarred her awake. Was he married then? Hastily, Lily revised a few estimates and rethought the problem. She was more determined than ever to have this man in her employ. Having another woman on the ranch would be heaven.

  "There's a small cabin one of the hands built for his bride, but they moved on a year or so ago. It may not be in good repair, but I'll see that you have what you need to fix it up if that's what you require."

  He nodded and exchanged a glance with Langton. Gathering up his reins, he gave Lily a perfunctory nod. "I'll be out Sunday morning to discuss terms."

  He rode away, leaving Lily to
stare after him with incredulity. The man was as arrogant as his nose.

  Ralph grinned. "He don't talk much, but you hear it when he does. He'll do the job for you, Lily. All you got to do is persuade your men to take orders from a half-breed."

  Hell and tarnation. Lily shot Ralph a look of frustration. "Why can't anything ever be easy?"

  He laughed as she rode away, but it was a laugh of confidence. Lily turned her mind to persuading a bigoted bunch of peacocks that if they wanted a man to give them orders, it was going to be a red man.

  * * *

  "But, Mama, we always go into town on Saturday." Tall and stringy, with an unruly lock of dark hair falling across his tanned brow, Roy propped his hands on his hips in imitation of his father and glared at his mother.

  "I'm tired, Roy. I would rather just sit here and admire the sunset. Why don't you go see if there's a ripe watermelon and we'll picnic by the creek?"

  "If I had a horse of my own, I could ride into town with the men," he complained, ignoring her suggestion.

  Since Jim's disappearance, Roy had become more rebellious than ever. Lily sighed and stared out over the paddock. Her husband had lost a son by a previous marriage to a riding accident, and he had refused to allow Roy to ride. It had been a mistake, but Jim had interfered so little in the raising of the boy that she had allowed this one anomaly, understanding the reason for it. She supposed Jim had made a good father as these things went, but now she had to pay for that one mistake.