Beloved Texas Bride Page 2
His father had passed unexpectedly during a flash flood that had swept out a small, dry creek bed. His father had been celebrating a bit hard when acquiring several head of steer to drive and the water had overtaken him easily. Flash floods were nothing to fool around with if it had been extremely dry. The clay and limestone made it hard for the ground to absorb a large amount of water quickly. Locals called them “gully washers” and dry streams turned into raging creeks, and sometimes rivers, depending on where you were at. The weather could be as mercurial as a woman’s temperament, his father had always told him. This time, the “woman” was right and he was wrong… dead wrong.
Cole had received a telegram announcing his father’s passing and asking him to come down in order to settle the estate. He had left his childhood home in Texas to make his own mark. Now it seemed he would be returning once again to his home with an opportunity to do just that. He hated that he and his father had parted on not so good of terms, but his father understood that “a man needed to be a man” and told him he would always have a home when he was ready. Cole was far from ready, but his home needed him now.
He shook his head to clear his train of thought, grunting at the two that were still commiserating together. “Yes, they are lovely and you are here to do a job, I believe. Not gain a wife,” he said sternly eying the two of them. Last thing he needed was two imbeciles doing something stupid. He did not want to go toe-to-toe with a hired gunman, even if it was a legal one. They were danger waiting to happen.
“Just ‘cause I can read the paper, don’t mean I wrote it! I can look without it hurtin’ no one, Cole” the driver whined, frustrated that he was being called out by a fellow male. “Don’t you like the ladies?” he asked, elbowing his friend with a grin.
Cole had to smother a laugh as the driver chimed in loudly, surprised, “You can read?” Neither was very bright and both were thinking with their pants, not their heads. It ended up with them barking a few harsh terms at each other and a few well-placed shoves for the gunman to back down. Cole observed it all carefully. Apparently, the driver was the bully of the group and in charge, in more ways than one. Cole would have to be careful that he did not end up left somewhere or worse as they traveled. If they teamed up and decided to, it would be two armed men against him.
The thought of leaving three young women, two of which were certainly voluptuous and easy on the eyes, alone in the wilds did not set well with him. The third was a very young girl that would not be able to fend for herself. He felt very protective and had been raised to look after the fairer sex. A lesson he had learned well from watching his father worship his mother until her passing. He remembered his father being so proud that he had surprised her with a small player piano for Christmas one year and how happy she was. “Always take care of the ladies, my boy. They have such gentle, loving souls.” Cole could hear his father as clear as day.
Cole looked back over at the women, eying the staunchly dressed one more so than the other. The young blonde was either the mother or older sister of the young girl. You could see a definite relationship there in their appearance. The brunette was a different matter.
He noticed that she held herself quite rigidly and had a sense of poise about her. The blonde was smiling and laughing, splashing with the young girl. The brunette, however, reminded him of a still, dark lake: cool, smooth, inviting and soothing. There was something about her that called out to him, especially when he caught her staring at him. It surprised him at first to see a spark in her dark eyes, but she quickly covered it and moved on. He would like to see that spark again or see her cool exterior open up.
Cole walked over to where the women knelt by the creek. “Ladies? We will be heading out again shortly. May I offer you a hand up?” he asked gallantly and stretched out his hand specifically towards the women. He watched as the blonde grinned at him and adjusted the young girl’s skirt. He noticed she had a small band on her finger as she placed her hand in his, pulling herself up.
“Thank you so much, mister,” May said politely and called out to the young girl to follow her. He watched them turn away to head back towards the grouping.
Cole reached out his hand once again, this time with a gentle smile towards the dark-haired goddess. “And you, my lady?” he said lightly, expecting her to do the same. He was surprised that she hesitated for a moment and then lightly placed her hand in his.
I was right, Cole thought, her hands are smooth as silk. He tugged gently, aiding her into an upright position. He noticed her lack of movement and thought it a shame fashion caused such restriction. He wondered what she would look like if she had her hair down and her body free from the corset. As she stood, her eyes never met his. He did notice that she barely came to his chin and had the most porcelain skin he had ever seen. He could only imagine those dark curls and that pale skin everywhere. Cole shook his head to lose such thoughts. He felt like he was as bad as the other two from the coach.
Cole watched fascinated as she shook out her skirts, smoothed her hair and returned back to the stage. She was a lady through and through. She deserved much better than a bunch of men leering at her or making comments behind her back. She was class and out of her element.
Here, in this part of the country, she would be surrounded by hard working folks in most cases… unless she was on her way to a husband already. Picturing her with another man seemed like a shame and made him envious for no reason. He had no claim to her, but I’d like to, he thought suddenly, surprising himself.
Elizabeth felt nervous. The polite man that helped her up from her grassy seat was devastatingly handsome and watching her closely. She felt like she was being analyzed or judged. It made her feel very uncomfortable and she wanted to get away as quickly as possible. She was concerned that, maybe, he recognized her from the papers which had announced her upcoming wedding in Indianapolis. That paper had circulated the day before she fled. Elizabeth had flinched at every congratulation on her upcoming nuptials that had been said to her.
She made straight-away for the coach to hide from his intense gaze inside its walls. She felt as if she would never get to her destination fast enough. They had been traveling for several hours now and had traveled approximately 40 miles. Unfortunately, they still had well over five hundred miles to go. It would take almost a week of traveling non-stop to get to Fort Worth. This would be the furthest she had ever journeyed, much less alone.
Her parents would be distraught that their chances of making a match had been ruined. She wished that it would be the fact that their daughter was gone, but Elizabeth knew better. It was all about appearances and who you knew in town.
“That is how you get anywhere in this world,” is what her father would state repeatedly to his friends and family. It was always about appearances and how you were viewed or received. That is why she was always in the accursed corset when she would like nothing more than to be able to relax and breathe. Her mother insisted upon them daily to ensure that her daughters were the ultimate in form and grace.
Elizabeth joined the two females in the coach and made herself as comfortable as possible. She watched the cowboy mount his horse and saw him tip his hat towards her. She’d been caught, yet again, watching him. Bravely, she gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and turned her face away, still watching him from the corner of her eye. He had been so polite to assist them all up from the creek and it was much appreciated since her stays held her so tightly. She adjusted herself in the seat again and prepared herself as the coach lunged forward with no notice, once again. Elizabeth stared out the window to view the area, silently lost in thought. She dreamed of her old life she left behind and wondered what her new life would bring in the land ahead.
The rest of the afternoon flew by as Elizabeth chatted amicably with May, learning all she could from the young woman. May had been married to her husband since she had been sixteen. Her groom had been a friend of her father’s, who had lost his wife in childbirth.
May seemed e
xtremely happy and content that he had offered for her, even if he was almost twenty years her senior. He had been making ends meet for their family but with the offer of land in another state at such a cheap price, they had made the decision to start out anew to make something of themselves. They had taken their savings and purchased over seventy acres along with thirty head of cattle. John, May’s husband, had been working on their homestead for quite some time and she was more than ready to join him to help set up.
“I do hope John put the pump near the kitchen door. It’s the little things that make a woman happy,” she explained with a laugh.
“At my mother’s house, where I was staying waiting for him to finish, she didn’t want the pump near the house because it caused my father to track in mud. She insisted the pump be in the yard, but it made for a terrible trek carrying all those buckets for a bath,” May explained, expecting Elizabeth to understand the ordeal.
Elizabeth blinked, confused for a moment. It never dawned on her that there would not be water in the house! Her childhood home had a pump inside of the kitchens and the servants would heat the water for the copper slipper tub mother had. She knew things would be different but it was still surprising to hear it mentioned so casually and matter-of-factly.
“Tell me more about how your day would go and how it was at your mother’s home. What else do you want, if you could have anything in your home?” Elizabeth hedged, trying to get as much information as possible. She was fascinated and bemused at the same time. She was ready for change, but it might be a bit of getting used to!
May went on for some time about things she would love to have: a large pantry, a hen house nearby for fresh eggs, and a stove with more than two burners to cook. Elizabeth swallowed slowly, intimidated by the idea of actually wanting a stove.
Do people seriously dream of this? she wondered and felt instantly ashamed at how unprepared she was for what lay ahead. What if, as a nanny, she was expected to cook? She had never made any meal as of yet!
Mornings consisted of a pot of chocolate and a slice of toast. Surely she could make that on her own? Afternoon luncheons were usually small cucumber sandwiches, her favorite, and tea. Dinners were typically an affair for her household. Mother would have a roast or pheasant prepared by the staff, along with gravy and vegetables. Soft yeast rolls were always on the table when her father sat down with the family for dinner. If they were going out for the evening, the maids would prepare something easily for the family, such as a stew or meat pie. All of which she had no idea where to even start to make.
Elizabeth could feel her mouth watering and asked calmly, “May, how do you make your favorite meal? Step by step, if you please,” she added.
Excited, May grinned to be able to share with her new friend. “Let me tell you, John adores a lovely apple pie. I always try to have one waiting for him when the trees give up the fruits. The apples I cut into chunks and sprinkle with a bit of sugar, if we happen to have it. But you don’t have to use it. Sometimes, we have a great season at the market and we have sugar and cinnamon. Other times, not so much. But if you have really tender apples you don’t need them. I like to use a bit of mace, too. That gives it a nice flavor, as well. The crust is a bit different. I make a larded crust like my mother makes. You can’t work the dough too much or it won’t go into the tin right. Mother says you need to use a bit of cold water, so I usually make the crust first thing in the morning else the water is too warm and it sticks to everything.” May rambled about John’s pies for quite a while. Elizabeth nodded encouragingly, listening to every word and asking May to elaborate if she didn’t understand what the woman was explaining.
Occasionally, Abigail would chime in that she helped her mama make the last pie for her father which embarrassed Elizabeth. This young girl could make a pie but she, a grown woman, could not. She honestly had no idea that there was so much involved in it!
Maybe she could just purchase a pie if the need ever arose to have to serve one. After all, how expensive could a pie be? The ad stated that the nannies would never lack for work, so she assumed she would be comfortable financially once she got settled into her new life.
May chatted amicably for quite some time. She enjoyed being able to share and Elizabeth seemed eager to learn all about her recipes. Maybe she would like to learn how to fix something, May offered her newest acquaintance.
Seeing her nod in agreement, May beamed in delight. “First meal in my new home will be John’s favorite. He likes a nice chicken for supper. The chicken I don’t care for as much. It’s a bit too much work. John will snap its neck for me and bring it to me for the plucking… Elizabeth, are you okay?” May stopped suddenly seeing the other woman’s pale visage.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and felt her stomach turn. “I’m fine,” she whispered. She could not believe that someone had to snap a chicken’s neck, but it made sense. There was never a chicken’s head on the platter Bessie brought to the table for Mother. It was always crispy-skinned and dressed with vegetables. “Please, continue. I’m sorry. I am just hungry and ready to stretch my legs once more,” she explained.
May nodded sympathetically. “Me, too,” she said enthused. “But I am frankly thrilled I am not on top of the coach this round. As I was saying, John loves chicken. Once he takes the head, I will boil the body for a few minutes to help with the plucking. I save the feathers and make a pillow or ticking for the bedding. That is my least favorite part. The feathers get everywhere! I will then gut it, yanking the gizzard, heart and intest-… oh my word! Elizabeth!” May exclaimed as she watched the young lady slide into an ungraceful heap onto the floor of the coach beside her feet.
“Driver! Stop the coach!” she screamed trying to get his attention by beating on the wall of the coach. She felt the coach pull to the side and come to a stop fairly quickly. The cowboy that had assisted them up from the river was the person that swung open the coach door.
Cole was following beside the coach when he suddenly saw it veer to the right and the driver yank back on the reins. That’s strange, he thought. They were not due to stop for another hour or so and it would be the last stop for the night. As it slowed, he heard a high-pitched voice inside yelling, “Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” He leapt off his horse once the coach came to a stop. Cole yanked the door open and was alarmed to see his dark-haired lady out cold on the floor. The blonde was kneeling over her and tapping her face frantically.
“What happened?” he demanded harshly, making the woman reel back as if burned.
May was beside herself and hoped that Elizabeth was all right. The cowboy, who had been on horse, climbed forward into the coach, grabbed Elizabeth bodily like an avenging angel. She watched as he pulled her from the coach and swung her into his arms like a limp doll. May clamored out of the coach and Abigail was quick on her mother’s heels behind her to see the excitement.
When Cole had picked up Elizabeth’s limp form from the floor of the coach, frustration and surprise clouded his thoughts. What had happened? Was she all right? He could feel her body warm against his and struggled not to identify what was Elizabeth’s body and what was the corset he was feeling. He carried her over to a small bit of shade beside a tree.
They were early stopping but this might be desperately needed if she could not handle the trip. She would be in for a long several days out here crossing the plains. Afternoon thunderstorms, Indians, wild horses, and open land as far as the eye could see … all very much different from the life that she must have come from judging by her apparel and demeanor. He set her down, grasped her chin and patted her cheek several times.
“Elizabeth, wake up. Are you all right?” he prodded, trying to get a reaction from the woman. Was she overheated in that getup? He felt her forehead and tried again to wake her. Cole turned back to the group that was gathering around him.
The driver spat a wad of tobacco and unceremoniously announced, “If she’s dead, we’re leaving her. I got no use in hauling a corpse to Fort Worth.”
“What happened, ma’am?” he asked again, a bit nicer as to get an answer out of the woman. “What’s your name and what happened before she fainted?” he asked.
Standing together, May spoke quickly trying to elaborate on what happened inside the coach. “I am May and this is my daughter, Abigail. I am not sure what happened with Elizabeth. One moment we were talking about cooking and the next she was on the floor. Maybe she needs some water? She said she was feeling sickly but asked me to keep telling her about my husband’s favorite foods. I was explaining how to fix a chicken and when I said I gutted it, she slumped down. You think that made her pass out?” she asked, amazed that someone could be that sensitive to dressing a chicken for dinner. Surely not! May watched curiously as the tall cowboy grinned and turned back to Elizabeth.
Cole said “May and Abigail- it’s very nice to meet you. Could you get her some water, maybe?” He turned to the driver and the hired guard, both laughing and exchanging a few lewd comments.
“Maybe we should set up for supper here and take a break. That will give us a chance to water the horses and for her to come to,” he said trying to distract them. They slapped each other on their backs and moved to feed and water the team of horses.
Cole turned to Elizabeth once again with a grin. Apparently, she did not fancy gutting a chicken. She was as delicate in constitution as her hands were to touch.
“Elizabeth, it’s time for you to wake up,” he said softly and ran a finger lightly over her cheek, admiring how smooth and flawless it was. He saw her blink several times and shake her head as if to shake the fog.
“Elizabeth, are you all right? You passed out in the coach,” he explained simply and moved to tuck a curl behind her ear. Her dark hair looked like heavy brown swirls of chocolate and her perfect, pale shell of an ear looked so delicate against the curls. He traced the swirl of her ear, mesmerized by his tan hands against her pale skin.