The Kissing Tree

by Bice, Prudence

  Samantha forced her thoughts toward more pleasant things. At last, Ridge and Georgiana would be together! She knew somehow, someday, everything would work out. She almost couldn’t contain the joy in her heart for her two friends. Still, she kept her face neutral. Now was not the time. Georgiana was confused, afraid, and harboring a profound sense of guilt about the man outside her window who loved her. She opened her arms, and Georgiana immediately came forward again to be comforted.

  As her friend cried softly in her arms, Samantha continued contemplating Georgiana and Ridge. After Georgiana had all but disappeared, she had remained friends with Ridge. At one time, she fantasized she might be falling in love with him herself. But that had been the summer she’d met Mitch Tyler. She had been drawn to Mitch immediately. That was when she knew she never really had any romantic feelings for Ridge. Mitch was everything she’d ever wanted.

  Samantha felt another pain pass deep through her heart. If it hadn’t been for her friendship with Ridge, she might have never made it through the last two years. For a long time she had held out hope that Mitch would ride up one day and take her in his arms. She wouldn’t even care why he’d stayed away so long, if only he’d return. It had taken her over a year to finally admit what she had felt in her heart that first week, the week Mitch had left, was the real truth. Something had happened to him. Something cruel and unfair had ended his life, and she would never see him again.

  Ridge had been with her that day when she had at long last taken off the ring Mitch had given her. Oh, how she had cried. They’d sat on her porch swing together for hours as he’d held her, tenderly caressing her hair, never saying a word, just offering comfort.

  Samantha was startled from her thoughts when Georgiana pulled away from her and stood up, once again walking to the window.

  “Oh, Sammy, how can I still love him after all these years? When he never wrote me back, I was so angry and hurt. I swore I’d never let him do that to me again.” Fresh tears began to trickle down her cheeks. “He’s been avoiding me since Dawson arrived. He won’t even look at me.” Georgiana swiped at the tears on her face. “Why is everything so mixed up? Dawson is in love with me, but I love Ridge, and now Ridge, I fear, may be in love with Cordelia Jamison.”

  “Cordelia?” Had Georgiana really just suggested Ridge might be in love with Cordelia Jamison? “No, Georgie, certainly you must be mistaken. Ridge would never fall for Cordelia! Why she . . .” All at once everything about Cordelia, especially her strange behavior, started to come together.

  Samantha stood up and walked over to Georgiana. She looked down absentmindedly at the man below playing with her brother as she considered Cordelia’s actions further.

  It was strange that she abruptly moved back to town and the way she had so quickly latched onto her for some reason. Since Cordelia had arrived almost six weeks ago, Samantha could hardly find any respite from her endless questions. Questions about the bank and its investments, who she thought were the wealthiest families in town, and so on.

  When she had somehow found out Ridge was considering buying his own land, she began asking questions about him. How much did she think it would cost to start your own cattle ranch, and were she and Ridge just friends?

  At first Samantha thought she was just curious about how the town was doing since her father had been practically run out for mismanaging the town folks’ money. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Cordelia’s questions concerning Ridge hadn’t really set off any warning signals. Ridge was one of the handsomest men around these parts, and eligible too. All the young girls swooned over him and made regular plays for his attentions. But Samantha knew Ridge. He wasn’t interested in any of them. He continued searching for the right woman, but she’d known he would likely never find what he was looking for. At least not until the day Georgiana returned.

  Then, miraculously, Georgiana did return.

  When that happened, Cordelia had, of course, begun a new line of questioning. How long had she and Samantha been friends? Did she think her friend would really stay very long? One afternoon, she seemed especially irritable, and her questions became even more personal. What did Ridge and Miss McLaughlin think of each other? And had there ever been a romance between them?

  How had she known about Ridge and Georgiana? Samantha wondered. She surely would never have divulged such personal information, especially to Cordelia. Samantha would surely be glad after tomorrow night when the social was finally over and done with. Cordelia had definitely been more of a hindrance than a help.

  Looking down, she noticed Dawson and her brother were winding up the string to the kite. Dawson would be expecting Georgie to come back down to be with him. Quickly, she turned to Georgiana and took both of her hands in her own.

  “Georgie, listen to me.” Her friend’s eyes were swollen from crying. She needed to quickly help her friend repair some of the damage so she looked presentable. “I don’t know what you saw or what makes you think Ridge has any feelings for Cordelia, but I can promise you that you needn’t worry about that.”

  “But Sammy . . .” Georgiana shook her head sadly and kept her eyes to the ground.

  “Look at me, Georgie.” Samantha waited until Georgiana finally looked up. “I’ve known Ridge a long time. We stayed friends after you left. I know only one girl, or rather woman, who will ever be the one for Ridge.”

  “But I told you, he never bothered to write,” Georgiana complained.

  “Do you know that for sure?” Samantha questioned her. “I wrote to you, and you wrote to me. Where are those letters? Maybe he wrote you dozens of times. Until we find out what happened, we can’t assume anything.”

  Georgiana still didn’t look convinced. She’d have to worry about that later. “Now listen, Georgie, we’d better hurry. If you don’t want to have to explain to Dawson why you look the way you do, we need to fix you up a bit.”

  Samantha quickly walked over and poured some water from a pitcher onto a washcloth. Directing Georgiana to sit at her vanity, she handed her the cool cloth.

  “Now, hold that over your eyes while I straighten your hair. It won’t take the redness and puffiness totally away, but it certainly will help.” For a minute Samantha feared Georgie was about to start crying again, so she put her arms around her friend’s shoulders and they both looked silently into the mirror for a moment. “Don’t worry, Georgie. Everything will work itself out.” Even if I have to help it along, she thought. She added out loud, “I promise.”

  As she stepped back and reached for the brush, Georgie grabbed her hand again for a moment.

  “Thank you, Sammy. Thank you for being here for me.”

  “What are best friends for?” Samantha asked, smiling.

  16. Lost and Found

  “Grandad!”

  Georgiana walked over to the edge of the corral on the south side of the barn. Her grandfather looked up from his examination of the new colt. Georgiana smiled. Two new colts had been born in the last several weeks, one just shortly after she had arrived, and now this other one barely a week ago. Both were fillies, a blue roan and a black. She knew her grandfather was pleased. She watched as he sauntered over to the fence to greet her. Though he wore a smile, she could tell by the faraway look in his eyes that he had been thinking of her grandmother again.

  Nana McLaughlin had possessed a great love and skill for working with horses. In Ireland, her father had raised and trained champion bloodlines and Shannon had inherited his great talent. Though they hadn’t made it their livelihood, her grandmother had continued breeding and training horses when she and Angus began the cattle ranch. Those she bred had good bloodlines too and were proven stock. They were well sought after in the area for many years. These two colts would be the last her grandmother had a hand in breeding.

  Georgiana watched as her grandfather brushed a few loose strands of hair off his forehead. Even at his age, it was still thick, showing only a sprinkling of gray. Grandmother had always been the one to cut h
is hair, and it was long overdue for a trim. He’d either have to make a trip to the barber soon, or she’d have to try her hand at cutting it.

  She imagined he’d been a considerably handsome man in his youth. Her father had been a younger version of this wonderful man, and surely her father’s good looks bore testament to the truth of it. Even though Granddad was soon approaching his sixty-fifth birthday, he was more than a fine specimen in any woman’s eyes. She wondered if he would ever take a fancy to one of the widows in town. She didn’t doubt a few had already taken a fancy to him. The pleasant sound of Mrs. Swansen’s voice came to mind.

  It hadn’t really been long enough, though, since he’d lost the love of his life, and she suspected it would be some time before he could look at another woman with any romantic notions. Georgiana was grateful she was with him now to offer whatever comfort she could.

  She smiled as he finished ambling over to where she stood waiting.

  ◁ ◊ ▷

  Angus warmed at the sight of his granddaughter.

  “Hello, Georgie girl. What brings ye out in the wee hours of the mornin’?”

  “I went to bed too early last night, Grandad, so I woke up restless long before the roosters did. I thought it would be a nice change to take a walk before breakfast.” Georgiana pulled her shawl a little tighter around her. “I didn’t think about it being so cool out,” she said, shivering slightly.

  “It’ll warm up soon enough. Take heart,” Angus replied optimistically.

  He knew a certain cowhand that could warm his granddaughter up well enough if she was willing. At that thought, a plan took root in his mind.

  “Any of the men up yet?” she asked casually.

  “Surely, ye haven’t forgotten that mornin’ . . .”

  “. . . comes early on a cattle ranch.”

  He chuckled softly as she finished his sentence. “I haven’t forgotten,” she assured him.

  Angus reached down, picked a blade of sweet grass, and began chewin’ on it thoughtfully. “Lookin’ for anyone in particular?” he questioned her.

  “Why would you think that?” she answered, eyeing him curiously.

  “No reason. Just wonderin’ what ye have on yar mind.”

  “What I have on my mind is taking a walk. What’s on your mind, Grandad?” she replied, needling him for an answer. She suspected he was up to something. When he stared at her innocently, she changed the subject. “Incidentally, one of the men told me you weren’t planning on coming to the social tonight.” As he nodded, she added, “There’s sure to be more than a few disappointed ladies if you don’t make an appearance, at least.”

  “I’m feelin’ a bit too old these days to be a dancin’ and a socializin’. Besides, I never really liked them shindigs much. Only went to be pleasin’ yar grandmother.”

  Georgiana was quiet for a moment, and he waited patiently. Suddenly she asked, “Where’s Dawson about this morning? Is he up yet?”

  Angus quickly hid his disappointment. He had hoped she’d been wondering about someone else altogether.

  “To be sure,” he replied. “Good lad, that fella. Been helpin’ out ’round here as much as he is able. When he isn’t with ye, that is.” He was indeed a good sort. Would do right by his girl were he the lad she were to be choosing. “Headed out ’bout an hour ago with Tiny,” he finally told her.

  “Well,” Georgiana said, looking at him purposefully. He was certain she was contemplating inquiring about Ridge’s whereabouts, but she didn’t ask. “I suppose I should be on my way or breakfast will be late,” she finally announced, sounding somewhat unsure. Turning away from him, she walked in the direction of the meadow.

  “Georgie,” he quickly called after her. Grabbing the empty bucket he had just fed the horses oats in, Angus held it out to her and tried not to grin. “Why don’t ye take a walk over by the crick this mornin’? Saw me some bushes of wild berries plum overloaded last week not too far down. I ’spect they ought to be about ripe by now. If the critters haven’t got to them, that is. Would make an awfully tasty pie, come Sunday,” he added, looking hopeful.

  She smiled at him endearingly and took the bucket from his hand. He quickly suppressed the sudden guilt he felt as she kissed him on the cheek and headed toward the creek whistling merrily. It had not been much more than a half hour ago he had talked Ridge into heading over to the creek to catch him a few trout, since he’d been assigned lunch duty again.

  Georgiana had offered to spend the day helping the Wallaces get everything finished up for the social tonight. If he was going to have to cook lunch, he was going to fill his hankering for grilled trout. Leastways, it was something he knew how to cook. After watching his granddaughter until she turned from his view, he walked back over to the new colt.

  “Oh, Shannon, she is a beaut, ain’t she? Just look at her.” Glancing briefly back down the lane, he snickered for a moment. “Now ye can’t blame me for meddlin’. Those two lovesick pups need a little nudge. That there Dawson’s a good lad, but I’ve felt a long time Georgie and Ridge were belongin’ to each other. ’Tis a match made in heaven, just like ye and I were.” Suddenly he sighed, deep and long. “ ’Tis missin’ you I am, Shannon, me dear. Havin’ our bonnie girl home this last little while has surely been easin’ my pain a bit, but the nights are so long without ye in me arms.”

  Giving the colt one last pat, he watched her trot to her mother. He headed back toward the house, pondering further on his granddaughter. When Jonas came back down from town yesterday, he’d handed him a post from Ms. Cecelia Harrington herself. She had demanded to know when he would be sending her niece back home. When he’d written Charlotte asking her to send Georgiana until he could find some permanent help, he hadn’t held out much hope. To his everlasting surprise, he’d received a return post from Charlotte saying she would send Georgiana as soon as he sent the funds for the trip, since her aunt had refused to pay for it. He had mailed it that day. He was supposed to be trying to find a permanent cook and housekeeper, but none of that mattered anymore. Angus smiled secretly to himself, remembering the telegram he’d received over a week ago. At last, he thought.

  His mind quickly returned to Charlotte’s sister, and his smile fell away. Cecelia Harrington had never forgiven Charlotte for running off and marrying his son. The poor son of an Irish immigrant, she would call him in her letters. It was true he was an immigrant. He and Shannon had come to America when Michael was but fourteen years old. They had all traveled across the ocean together, his young family, father, mother, and brother Brody with his young wife. When they arrived, the war between the North and South over slavery had just ended. They saw much destruction as they worked their way across the states. When they reached Colorado, Angus’s mother said it was as green and lovely as the rolling hills of Ireland, so Angus’s father purchased enough land to run cattle on. Angus, his father, and his brother had worked hard to build it up and make it into a successful working ranch, and they’d made themselves a pretty decent living.

  After their parents passed on, Brody decided to head farther west to California. On their way, the wagon train had been attacked, and his wife and two young daughters had been killed. Brokenhearted, Brody had gone back to Ireland.

  Angus was the only one left here in America, except Charlotte and his grandchildren, and up until now, Cecelia had managed to take them away.

  Well, Angus had half a mind to write her back, give her an earful—a written one anyway. He had a few hard questions for the woman. From what he could tell, she had been less than honest with both his daughter-in-law and his granddaughter. Angus stopped to calm his raging emotions before opening the door to the house. He would bide his time a little longer and see what would become of this new development. Maybe when all was said and done, he’d finally be able to forget Ms. Cecelia Harrington for good.

  ◁ ◊ ▷

  It didn’t take Georgiana long to find the wild berry bushes her grandfather had spoken of. The bushes had indeed been filled
with big ripe berries, more than she could fit in her bucket. She would have to return on Monday and pick the last of them. She would make them into some jam her grandfather and the men could enjoy during the winter months.

  Popping a plump berry in her mouth, she walked over to the creek, took off her shoes, and sat down on a large stone that overhung the water’s edge. Easing her feet slowly into the water, she sighed contentedly as the water rushed over her bare skin. The temperature had been dropping steadily as fall set in, so the water was cool, but it felt especially good on her wound. She pulled her hurt foot out and examined her cut. It was healing nicely, though it was still painful to walk on. She figured she wouldn’t be able to do much dancing tonight. Dawson was sure to be disappointed.

  The thought of Dawson made her think back to her discussion with Samantha the day before. It had certainly given her some things to consider concerning both Dawson and Ridge.

  When she had come down from Samantha’s room to meet back up with Dawson, she tried not to look at him directly. She didn’t want him to notice the redness of her eyes and the splotchy tone of her face. He had noticed anyway, but when he questioned her about it, she had brushed him off by mumbling something about missing her mother and two little brothers.

  After supper, she had gone straight to bed. She was exhausted, more emotionally than physically, and was certain she would not sleep well, for the troubled thoughts that plagued her. Surprisingly, she had fallen asleep quickly and slept soundly.

  Georgiana put her foot back in the creek. Reaching up, she unpinned her hair and began running her fingers through it absentmindedly as she watched a cluster of colorful leaves that had fallen in the water float downstream. If only she had time to get her easel and paint the scene. She would have to remember this spot for later.