He tugged the lead rope once again and this time, Brutus plodded docilely at his side. Reese rubbed absently at his arm.
Faith opened the front door of the ranch house and stepped inside.
The interior of the house was as much a surprise as the exterior had been. She had expected the inside walls to be the same natural log as the exterior, but found they were paneled in a light oak. She expected rough plank floors and discovered they were hardwood, polished and sanded to a high gloss, and covered in places by Turkey carpets like the ones in the railroad car.
The room was, in fact, a larger version of Reese’s private car. Only the stone fireplace and the paintings were different. Faith relaxed, suddenly very comfortable with her surroundings. She removed her coat and gloves and carefully laid them across the arm of the leather sofa. She pulled the hatpin from her hair and balanced her hat atop the pile before moving to warm herself in front of the fire.
Faith took a deep breath. The delicious aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the house. She sniffed the air. Someone was in the kitchen, cooking. Moving away from the fire, Faith followed the enticing smells through the house and into the kitchen.
“Hello? Is anybody home?” She peeked inside the doorway of the kitchen.
A young woman labored over the huge, black stove, stirring the contents of a large pot. An older woman emptied loaves of bread from the pans onto a work table. They chatted to each another in a tongue foreign to Faith. They jumped at the sound of her voice, turning to face her.
Faith froze in the doorway, staring at the women. She hadn’t expected to find anyone in the kitchen when she arrived and certainly not these women who were obviously relatives, yet Indians. “I hope you don’t mind. We just arrived. I was waiting in the front room, but I smelled your delicious cooking and followed my nose.” She shrugged. “It led me here. I’m Faith Col…Jordan, Reese’s wi…” She held up her left hand, displaying Hannah’s wedding ring. She tried again. “Reese’s wi…” Faith gave up. “Reese’s…outside,” she finished lamely.
The younger woman spoke. “I’m Mary Alexander, Reese’s cous―”
“Cousin,” Faith interrupted, smiling at the smaller, feminine version of the Alexander men. “I met David in Washington, and Mr. Alexander and Sam, today.” Faith knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “There’s quite a family resemblance.” She stepped closer to the stove.
Mary nodded. “This is my mother, Sarah.” She shrugged, in a gesture of apology. “She doesn’t speak English.”
Mary studied Reese’s bride. She was very different from the first woman Reese had chosen. She talked to cover her nervousness, but she didn’t mean to be rude. Her smile was genuine. Her black dress was old and worn, even threadbare in places. Her hair was mussed, and she had dark circles under her eyes, but she didn’t seem to mind. There wasn’t a vain or malicious bone in her body. She was beautiful, on the inside where it mattered, and pretty on the outside as well. But she wasn’t even aware of the beauty shining out of her lovely gray eyes. She would do Reese proud.
“Oh, I see. The language I overheard you speaking was―”
“Cherokee.”
Faith whirled around. “Goodness, Reese, you startled me!” Reese was standing inside the kitchen door. “I thought you were out in the barn with Joy and Brutus.”
“Sam offered to tuck Brutus into his stall for the night. I let him.” Reese rubbed at the bite on his arm. “Brutus seems to like Sam a helluva lot more than he likes me. Joy stayed to help. I came inside to see about you.”
“Me, why?”
“I didn’t realize it was this close to supper until Charlie reminded me. I forgot that Mary and Sarah would be here. I was sure you would walk into the kitchen, find Red Indians cooking supper, and run screaming for help.” His words were sarcastic, cutting.
Faith recoiled. She stared at him, coldly. “I don’t have a problem with Red Indians in the kitchen or anywhere else, but you seem to.” She pulled herself up to her full five-foot height, straightened her spine, and looked him in the eye. “Now, if you will just point me in the direction of my bedroom, I’ll remove my prejudiced self from your noble presence.”
Reese was too stunned by her remarks to say anything. Mary came to her rescue. “Go back to the main room and up the stairs. It’s the last door on the right.”
“Thank you.” Faith remembered her manners, even if Reese had forgotten his. “It’s a pleasure to meet…you both.” Her voice cracked. She turned to stare through Reese. “Please send Joy upstairs as soon as she comes in. She’ll need to wash up.” She pushed back her shoulders and hurried out of the kitchen, through the main room, and up the stairs.
Mary waited until she heard the bedroom door close before she spoke. “You were very cruel to her, Reese.”
“Cruel?” Reese was astonished. “It was no more than she deserved for―”
“Being surprised?” Mary asked softly.
“You saw the expression on her face. She was shocked to find Indian women here.” Reese began to pace the length of the kitchen.
“She was surprised to find anyone in the kitchen cooking a meal for her, just as I would be surprised to return to my home and find someone cooking for me. She didn’t expect it. She didn’t mean to be rude.”
Reese stopped pacing and stared at his cousin. Sweet, docile, even-tempered, Mary was angrily defending a woman she had just met. A woman who wasn’t even Cherokee.
Mary pointed her wooden spoon at him, giving Reese cause to be thankful it wasn’t a carving knife. “Did you tell her about us? Tell her we were here?”
“I told her I had a housekeeper,” Reese defended himself.
“Just as I thought.” Mary said smugly.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you didn’t tell her anything about your family or how we live. It means that you left your new bride in ignorance and expected her to understand. Very typical.”
Reese winced at her words.
But Mary continued. “This is her house now, Reese. According to Cherokee law, the house belongs to the woman. And that woman upstairs has every right to put your shoes outside the front door. You embarrassed her, hurt her feelings in her own kitchen and in the presence of relatives. You were wrong. You should apologize. You need to go up there and make peace with your bride.”
Reese opened his mouth to protest, to tell them Faith wasn’t his real bride, simply a temporary one, that there was no reason for all the fuss, but when he saw the look of grim determination in Mary’s eyes, he thought better of it.
Sarah rounded the corner of the table to stand next to her daughter. She spoke a few words in rapid Cherokee, frowning up at Reese as she spoke.
“Well, I guess that makes it unanimous.” Reese expelled a slow, martyred sigh, before heading toward the stairs.
He hated to admit he was wrong. He hated to apologize to Faith, but Mary had a point. Perhaps he had been hasty in his judgment. He hoped she wasn’t crying. He didn’t think he could handle her tears. He sighed again, running his fingers through his hair. It had been a bitch of a day! A day that had appeared so promising at dawn when he’d been making love to Faith. God, but it had gone downhill since then. It bothered him to think how badly the day had turned out. And if it bothered him, how must Faith feel?
Reese shook his head, as if to clear it. He hadn’t thought about anyone else’s feelings in a very long time. He paused in front of his bedroom door, then turned the knob. He expected the door to be locked, but it swung open.
Faith lay on her stomach, fully clothed, across the reassembled bed. She didn’t move when Reese opened the door. She didn’t bother to acknowledge his presence.
“Faith?” He took a couple of steps into the room.
“Please go away.” She didn’t turn over.
“I was told to come up here and apologize.”
“Fine. Now go away.”
“I came to apologize.” Reese moved next to t
he bed. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.” Her voice was dull, flat.
“I said I was sorry!” Reese was rapidly losing patience with her.
“No,” Faith corrected wearily. “You said you were ordered to apologize to me.”
Reese was uneasy with the situation. “Well, at least I know how to follow orders.”
“Then follow mine. Go away and leave me alone.”
“No.”
Faith rolled over to look at him. Her gray eyes brimmed with tears. Her face was blotched and swollen from the ones she’d already cried. “Why not?”
“Because you haven’t said you forgive me.”
“I forgive you.” She said the words, but her heart wasn’t in them. “Now please leave me alone. I’m too tired to fight with you.”
She should have forgiven him by now, Reese thought. She should be telling him how sorry she was for all this fuss. Faith had said the words, but she didn’t mean them. For some reason, he couldn’t leave it alone. “I won’t leave until I know you’ve forgiven me.”
“Forget it. There’s nothing to forgive.”
“Faith, I―” he began.
“Leave it alone! Don’t you see? You were right. I was shocked! I’ve always prided myself on my lack of prejudice, and yet I was shocked to find Mary and Sarah in your house. Shocked to find they were relatives! Do you know what kind of person that makes me?” Faith choked on her words, choked on the bitter taste of self-recrimination.
“Human.”
“What?” She met his gaze, her gray eyes were wide with astonishment.
“I said it makes you human.” Reese sat down on the corner of the bed. “All human beings have prejudices of some kind.” He moved to touch her, but she rolled away.
“But to stare like I did. I knew it was rude, but I couldn’t stop.”
“Have you ever seen an Indian before today?” he asked gently.
“No, but that’s no excuse for being―”
“Curious.” Reese pulled her into his arms. She didn’t roll away. “I was Joy’s age when I saw my first black man. I was terrified. I ran crying to my mother.”
“But why? There’s nothing to be afraid of. People are people.”
“That’s exactly what my mother said. She said it was foolish to fear something as natural as skin color. It was like fearing a red-haired man because his hair was different from mine and not fearing a black-haired man because my hair was also black. Skin color is superficial. The blood underneath is the same.”
“I’m ashamed.” Faith began to cry in earnest. “I feel so foolish! When I saw Mary I remembered asking Charlie how he came to settle in Wyoming. And now I realize he must have followed the trail from Georgia to the Indian Territory. Oh, Reese”―she clung to his shirt― “how he must have suffered coming all that way. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…but you never said anything, and then”― she sniffed, and Reese handed her a handkerchief―“when I met Mary she looked at me so…I thought you didn’t tell me because you were ashamed of me… Maybe you should have chosen someone else. I mean, I haven’t a cent to my name, and I’m dressed in rags…and I shamed you in front of your family.”
“Shh.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Shh, sweetheart, you haven’t shamed me.” He kissed the tip of her reddened nose. “And Mary likes you very much.”
“She does?”
“She does. In fact, she ordered me to make peace with you.”
“She didn’t.” Faith hid her face in his shirt.
Reese touched the underside of her chin with his finger, tilting her face up so he could see her eyes. “She did. She chased me around the kitchen with a wooden spoon”―Faith smiled at the image―“and ordered me to come upstairs and make peace with my bride.”
Faith’s smile died on her lips. She stiffened in his arms and tried to pull away. The lie hung between them.
“Well, now, you’re safe.” She smiled brightly. “I’m not your new bride. I’m only rented. Temporarily.”
“Faith, I’m sorry.” He tried to kiss her. She avoided his lips. Reese stared at her face. He saw the pain in her eyes. For the first time, he damned his contract and his elaborate scheme. “Faith, please…”
Faith studied his face. She saw the look in his eyes, and for the first time, she was glad of the contract and his crazy plan. It was too easy to love him, and much too painful. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him, telling him with her lips the things she couldn’t say aloud.
Chapter Nineteen
The Trail T was home to four families—all relatives of Reese. The arrangement of the ranch resembled that of a plantation, and at supper her first night on the ranch, Faith learned it functioned in a similar manner.
Charlie, Sarah, and Sam lived in a log house behind the main house. Reese’s grandparents, Duncan and Elizabeth, lived in the cabin closest to Charlie and Sarah. Mary lived by herself in a cabin several hundred feet away. The cabin next to the smithy belonged to Joe, the blacksmith. He was also part Cherokee, from another clan, a relation by marriage. His wife was dead. He shared the cabin with his two children. The ranch hands shared a dormitory-like building, called the bunkhouse.
The Cherokee were a communal society and well as a matriarchal one. Everyone worked for the good of the ranch and the ranch provided food, clothing, and shelter for the people who lived there. Reese had even provided a schoolhouse for the children. Mary was the teacher. She had three pupils—eleven year old twins, Jimmy and Kate, the blacksmith’s children, and fifteen year old, Sam. The lessons were taught in English and in Cherokee. Faith quickly decided Joy should become Mary’s fourth pupil.
Mary tentatively broached the topic of school and the other children at supper. She had been surprised to learn Joy hadn’t been enrolled in school in Richmond.
“The school system was rather chaotic after the war.” Faith explained, “I was afraid to send her. I started her lessons back in November, but I’ve been very lax.”
Reese looked at Faith across the length of the long, dining table. “We can hire a governess if you like.”
“Why spend the extra money,” Faith asked, “when she can go to school right here? I’m sure Mary is as good a teacher as any governess.”
“Better.” Reese told her, “How many governesses do you know who speak Spanish, French, English and Cherokee?”
“Don’t forget Latin.” Mary warned him, laughing at Faith’s stunned expression.
Reese explained, “It’s a family joke. Before David and I went off to school, my father hired a British schoolmaster to tutor us. Mary put up such a fuss at being excluded, my father decided she should be allowed to attend our lessons. Mary excelled in all the romance languages. She did better in Latin than either one of us.”
“Do you teach all those languages?” Faith asked.
“Only English and Cherokee.” Mary told her, “Unless you want the works,” she added, hopefully.
“Or, happen to be her brother.” Sam groaned.
“Joy and I want the works.” Faith announced.
“You?” Reese was astonished, “Are you serious?”
“Why not?” Faith asked, “My education was interrupted by the war.” She said defensively, “I would like to be able to complete it. And I hate being the only person on the ranch who doesn’t speak the Cherokee language. I want to talk to Sarah.”
“Are you certain about this?” Reese wanted to know.
“Yes.”
“Good,” Mary announced, “Joy can start in the morning. Faith, you can join us in the afternoon for languages.”
The decision made, Faith worked at blending her life, and Joy’s, into the everyday routine of the ranch. She spent her mornings learning the workings of the main house. She stood through hours of dress fittings while the seamstress Reese brought from Cheyenne measured, pinned, and stitched a suitable wardrobe for her. She selected patterns, fabrics, and notions and set to work on a wardrobe for Joy, including a gray
corduroy to be used for a riding habit.
Though she longed for the opportunity to be smartly outfitted aboard a horse, Faith omitted a riding habit for herself. She didn’t have a horse to ride and couldn’t bring herself to ask for one. But as long as weather permitted, she never missed an opportunity to participate in Joy’s riding lessons.
Faith balked the first time she realized Charlie was teaching Joy to ride astride. She stood at the edge of the corral watching while he held the pony on a lead, coaxing him through his gaits.
“She needs a proper saddle.” Faith told him. “A little girl’s saddle.”
Charlie shook his head. “Side saddle’s too dangerous.”
“That’s ridiculous. I learned to ride in a lady’s saddle. I’ve ridden that way all my life.”
“In Richmond?”
“Yes.”
“You can stay alive in a sidesaddle in Richmond.” Charlie said. “But out here, it’ll get you killed.”
“But…”
“Faith, let me teach the youngun to ride Western style first. Then if you still want her to know how, we’ll teach her the proper way.”
Faith looked at Joy bouncing on the back of the fat pony, skirts flying. Her blond braids moving from side to side in rhythm to the pony’s trot. “Look at me, Faith! I’m riding Brutus!” Joy waved and almost lost her seat as Brutus trotted a bit faster. She giggled.
“Keep both hands on the reins, lass.” Charlie warned, “Else you’ll be dusting off your skirts.”
Joy giggled in reply, but dutifully placed her hand back on the reins.
Faith remembered her own riding lessons. The constant striving for perfection. The straight back, perfect seat, the hours of torture as she strove to maintain her balance on her proper ladies saddle. Joy looked carefree. She enjoyed her sessions. Surely, that was more important right now than propriety. For a moment, she was envious. Riding astride looked fun.
She smiled at Charlie. “We’ll teach her the Western style first.”
Charlie reined in the fat, little pony. “That’s enough for today, lass. Time to wash up for breakfast.”
Joy protested. “I hafta groom Brutus.”
“You go get ready.” Faith told her. “I’ll groom Brutus for you.”
Charlie raised an eyebrow.
Golden Chances Page 17