Legacy of Honor

by Renae Brumbaugh Green

  Riley had taken up the corner table at Rebecca’s Café for nearly four hours now, and frankly, his backside was getting numb. He thanked Rebecca, gathered his things, and went for a stroll around town. First, he fed Medina a leftover biscuit, and she thanked him with a whicker-snort. Then he walked her to the livery, which hadn’t yet been open earlier this morning, and asked old Ben if he could find a shady spot and a bucket of oats for her. He hated to leave her in town for so long, but at least at the livery she’d have other horses to keep her company. “Just a little while longer, girl.”

  During his amble along the walkway, his thoughts turned to the mayor’s plans for the town. Why was Dad against it? Wouldn’t it bring jobs to Lampasas? Surely a boon to the economy would benefit everyone. But Dad didn’t care as much about everyone as much as he cared about himself. He liked being the richest, the most powerful, the most important.

  Maybe Dad didn’t like the idea because somebody else came up with it.

  Riley was no more than two blocks up the boardwalk when he ran into the mayor.

  “Riley. It’s been too long, son.” He laughed at his own joke and offered a hand.

  “Yes, last night does seem like a long time ago, sir.”

  “What brings you into town today? Ranch business?”

  “Not exactly. I....” An idea slipped in. “Could I schedule an appointment with you? I have a few questions.”

  “Why certainly. You free for lunch? I have a meeting in about ten minutes, but I’m available after that.”

  “Lunch sounds great, sir. Just tell me when and where.”

  “How about my house? My cook always prepares more than enough. Twelve thirty?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

  Mayor Bridges hurried to his meeting, and Riley wandered along, paying little attention to his surroundings. His mind still pondered the verses he’d studied that morning, along with his mother’s voice, speaking as clearly in his mind as if she stood next to him.

  He wandered into the mercantile, looking for a journal in which to record his thoughts and responses to the verses and his mother’s counsel. He knew he was about to embark on a thunderous journey fraught with lightning and hail and heavy boulders blocking his path, and he didn’t want to let a single drop of wisdom slip through his grasp.

  He turned the corner to the aisle where stationery was kept and nearly ran smack-dab into Emma.

  “Oh, pardon me,” she said before looking up.

  He watched her face transform at the realization of whom she’d bumped into, from surprise to remorse to discomfort. That was the effect he had on her, and it felt like a slap in the face. If only his presence brought joy, instead of pain, to her lovely features. Well, so be it. “My fault. I should have watched where I was going.”

  “No, it was entirely my fault. Please accept my apology.”

  He nodded and moved aside so she could pass. But she didn’t pass. Instead they stood there, inches apart, a wide chasm between them. It hurt all over.

  “Riley, about last night...” Emma whispered.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “I think there is. The things I said...they were deplorable. I have no excuse. I...I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  He looked at her a moment, at the pain in her deep green eyes, as if a sad storm brewed just on the other side. The sight injured his heart even more deeply, and he looked away. “There’s nothing to forgive. Everything you said was true. Good day, Miss Monroe.”

  He squeezed past her to his destination, hoping she wouldn’t follow. Praying she wouldn’t press him for more conversation. He just...couldn’t.

  She didn’t. But around the corner, at the other end of the aisle, was Skye, cradling a miniature porcelain doll.

  “Oh, hello,” he told her.

  She looked up at him, and her enormous brown eyes reminded him of a newborn spotted fawn, full of innocence and hope. The tiniest of smiles crept across her face.

  He took that as a good sign. Maybe it wasn’t too late to make things right with his niece. “What do you have there?”

  She angled the doll so he could see better.

  Kneeling to her level, he said, “She’s beautiful. Almost as pretty as you are.”

  Still no words, but her smile deepened.

  “Would you like that doll?”

  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t respond.

  “I’d be honored to buy her for you. But only if you promise to name her after me.”

  She giggled then, and the sound offered a mild respite to the throbbing ache in his chest.

  “What’s so funny? I think Riley is a fine name.”

  The giggles turned to a chortle, and he scooped the little girl and her doll into his arms and walked to the register. He set her on the counter, where Virginia greeted them with mild shock. She looked from Skye to Riley, as if trying to figure out the relationship. Thank heavens she didn’t say anything out loud. “You ready?”

  “Yes. I may have some more purchases. But if the young lady agrees, I’d like to go ahead and buy this doll.”

  “That’s a fine choice. She’s one of my favorites.” The woman examined the price tag without taking the doll from Skye, wrote the price once in her ledger, and again on a receipt pad.

  He turned his focus back to Skye. “What else do you think Riley will need? Does she want a piece of candy? Fabric for a new dress? How about that cradle back there?” He motioned to a doll cradle, displayed behind the counter.

  “I can’t give her a boy name,” Sky whispered, but the look of glee on her face, the delight in her quiet voice, enveloped his heart, and in that moment he was ready to buy her the whole store.

  “All right, all right. How about Rilene?”

  More giggles, but this time she nodded.

  “Please add enough fabric to make Skye and Rilene matching dresses. Whatever she chooses. And a bag of peppermint candy.”

  Virginia filled a small sack with peppermints and brought several bolts of yellow and blue and pink fabric to the counter. “Which is it gonna be?” she asked Skye.

  Skye looked from Riley to the fabric, then back at Riley, as if making sure he really meant it. Then she looked over his shoulder, and he presumed Emma stood behind him. He wouldn’t turn, though.

  Emma must have given her a nod, for soon Skye pointed to a pretty pink dotted pattern.

  “The dotted Swiss. That’s the one I would choose, too.” Virginia cut several yards and placed it with the candy and the cradle.

  He paid for the items before lifting Skye to the floor. “I’ll take the fabric to Mrs. Wesson and have her make your matching dresses.” To Emma he said, “Would you mind taking Skye by there, so she can be measured?”

  “I’d like to make the dresses, if you’ll let me. I...would enjoy it.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll make sure you’re appropriately compensated.” He hadn’t said that to hurt her, but a marked pain shuttered her eyes before she nodded.

  Even when he tried to do the right thing, it was the wrong thing.

  Emma had made a grand mess of things. Last night, it felt like a release to retch her vile rationalizations onto Riley. Today, she could see the acid of her words eating away at a life-long friendship. She had wounded Riley, and he’d never shown her anything but kindness. If only she could rewind the clock and play the whole scene over, she’d do it differently.

  But she couldn’t. And she didn’t know if she’d ever outlive her regret.

  She was about to apologize again, about to tell Riley how she’d been out of her mind with fatigue and grief over her mother and worry about Skye, when the bell jangled behind her, signaling another customer.

  “Why, Riley and Emma. Fancy meeting you both here.”

  Clara floated in on a cloud of peach linen and lace, with her flowered bonnet and matching parasol, which she now used as a walking stick. A dainty peach reticule hung from her wrist, and good gravy, she even smelled like peaches.


  “Emma, I’m so glad you’re not wearing that dreadful uniform. I hope you don’t mind...” Clara lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I mentioned to Allison that it was the new thing to have household staff dress like members of the family. They call them assistants, or companions. It’s very British. I told her a well-dressed assistant is the mark of the truly elite. I think I read that somewhere, but I may have exaggerated. But when I saw you in that black-and-white monstrosity, I just had to come to your defense. You may be getting a whole new wardrobe.” She giggled as if she’d done something truly naughty.

  Emma smiled. This was why she loved Clara. They were worlds apart in both status and interests, but a more loyal friend, you’d never find. “Actually, I haven’t seen Mrs. Stratton this morning. Thank you for your...help, though.” She wasn’t sure if that was the right response, or if there was a right response to Clara’s declaration.

  Clara turned her attention to Riley. “I just came from Papa’s office. He said you’re joining us for lunch? I’m delighted. If you’ll wait for me, I only have a few purchases to make, and you can escort me home.”

  Riley nodded, then turned away as if he were embarrassed. Of course he’d be embarrassed, after her tirade last night. Emma was the one who should be ashamed.

  Hot liquid bit at her eyes, and she fumbled with her purchases, which she had yet to pay for. They could wait for another day, though. She set them aside. Right now, she needed to get away from this place. “Skye, are you ready?”

  The child nodded, and, carrying her new cradle with her new doll and the fabric inside, she followed Emma through the store to the waiting buggy.

  She had just helped Skye aboard and was climbing on when Riley called her name. But when she looked his way, he averted his eyes.

  “You forgot this.” He handed her the package with her discarded items, and their gaze met for the briefest of moments before Emma looked away.

  “Thank you. That wasn’t necessary.”

  He nodded and circled the wagon to stand on Skye’s side. “Take care of Rilene, okay?”

  Skye giggled again and held the doll to her chest. “Okay.”

  Emma clicked to Sugar, and soon the two girls and the doll were on their way back to the Stratton Ranch.

  The world kept shifting. How could she make things right? Would things ever be right again? She looked at Skye, holding her doll, and forced herself to breathe deeply. One thing was certain—he couldn’t make everything right all at once. But she could start now, and do one right thing. Make one right choice. Where that would lead, she didn’t know. But for now, that was the only course of action that made sense.

  Chapter 13

  “What’s on your mind, son?” Mayor Bridges leaned back in his chair and pushed his plate away.

  “I’d like to hear more about how you think the natural springs can draw people to Lampasas. Do you really think you can sell this as a tourist town?”

  “I know I can. I just need a few more supporters.”

  “People in town don’t want tourists here?”

  “Oh, they want them here just fine. But ranchers and farmers privately own all the land. Nobody wants to give up their ranch or their farm that they’ve worked so hard to grow, to build a hotel or a spa. Most of them don’t even want their waters tested.”

  “How many healing springs do you think there are?”

  “Judging from my unofficial research, five or six. Maybe more.”

  “And what is your unofficial research?” Riley’s curiosity was full force.

  The mayor laughed. “My nose. The springs that stink on a hot, windy day? Those probably have some sulphur.”

  Riley didn’t think they had any of those on their property. The smelly springs were closer to town. Closer to the Monroes’ land.

  “If we can access the mineral springs, the problem won’t be getting the tourists here. The issue will be acquiring a place for them to stay once they arrive.”

  Riley took a long sip of the sweet iced tea. “Have you talked to all the landowners, or just a few?”

  “Only a few, but so far I haven’t made much progress. The Bowmans have agreed to dedicate one corner of their land, but they’d want someone else to develop it. And they want to retain ownership.”

  “I think I may know a farmer who’d be willing to develop his property.”

  The mayor leaned forward. “Really? Who?”

  “I’d rather speak with him before I disclose his name. I’d also like to speak to the Bowmans, if you’re not opposed to that.”

  “Be my guest. I’ll take all the help I can get.”

  Clara offered Riley another piece of pie, but he declined.

  “What do you have up your sleeve, Riley Stratton?” Clara did that fluttery eyelash thing. She was good at that. Could teach classes, if she wanted to.

  “Just a couple of ideas. I hate to eat and run, but I have some business I need to see to, and I don’t want to hold you up.”

  Mayor Bridges stood and offered his hand. “Nonsense. You’re not holding anybody up, but by all means, go take care of business. Clara, walk Mr. Stratton to the door.”

  Riley stood and offered his arm to Clara, and she walked him onto the porch.

  “I hope I didn’t overstep my place or come across as critical to your sister-in-law about Emma’s uniform. Emma and I have been friends a long time, and she’s very dear to me. I can’t imagine she enjoys dressing that way, but perhaps it wasn’t my place.”

  Riley laughed. “When Allison gets something in her head, it’s hard to change her mind. But you’re right. The thing looks ridiculous.”

  Clara nodded. “I feel protective of Emma somehow. She’s had enough hard knocks against her lately. I know wardrobe is a minor issue, but for a woman, it plays a big part in how we feel about life. If we look pretty, we feel more confident. If we look dowdy, it just...I don’t know. It affects our mood. I’m sorry...I’m probably not making much sense to you.”

  Riley looked at the woman before him through a new lens. Clearly, there was more to Clara Bridges than met the eye. She had depth as well as beauty. And her protectiveness of Emma caused his respect for her to lift considerably. “No, ma’am. I think you make perfect sense. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be going.”

  He replaced his hat on his head, tipped it, and headed for the livery. He and Charlie Monroe had some business they needed to discuss.

  Emma served lunch to Allison and little Davis by themselves. For the second time that day, nobody told her about any changes in plans for mealtime.

  Oh, well. She supposed they didn’t owe her an explanation.

  Allison practically ignored Emma. She had a stack of newspapers and ladies’ journals at her side, which she read out loud to Davis. He responded with laughter and cooing as if she were reading him a bedtime story. As much as Emma disliked her employer, she had to admit, she seemed to be a good mother.

  Tension clawed through Emma’s shoulders and neck as she waited for Allison to comment on her dress, or her lack of uniform. But Allison seemed not to notice. Should Emma say something, or wait for her employer to address it?

  She finally decided to just take the calf by its hind legs and rope the issue herself. She placed a piece of cherry pie in front of Allison and waited for her to pick up her fork.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Stratton. I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I might have a word with you when you finish your meal.”

  “Certainly. I have something I’d like to discuss with you as well. I’ll see you in the parlor as soon as the dishes are cleared.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Skye sat on the back porch steps and hummed softly to her doll. The memory of Riley’s tenderness with his niece only amplified Emma’s own guilt over her outburst last night. For a moment, she’d allowed herself to lose control and unleash all the anger and frustration within her, and for a moment, it felt good.

  Unfortunately, that moment had a high price. The cost of a
friendship.

  She pushed open the screen door. “Skye, I’ll be in a meeting with Mrs. Stratton for a few minutes. Will you wait here for me?”

  “Okay.”

  When Emma returned to the dining room, Allison and Davis were gone. Emma cleared the dishes and set them in the sink to soak, then went to the parlor. Davis sat on a quilt at Allison’s feet, and alternated between shaking his rattle and chewing on it.

  “Emma. Come in. Have a seat, please.” Allison’s tone was dangerously neutral.

  Emma sat across from her employer.

  “I see you’re not wearing your uniform. Would you like to explain why?”

  “I’m sorry about that, ma’am. I used both of them yesterday, and they were dirty. I didn’t have time to wash and dry them before this morning. I’ll make sure they’re clean before tomorrow.”

  “I see. Well, that won’t be necessary. I’ve decided you may wear your own clothes.” When she said, “your own clothes,” she wrinkled her nose and looked Emma over from head to toe as if disgusted by the thought.

  “The problem is, from what I’ve seen, your clothes are little more than rags.”

  Emma stiffened. That wasn’t true. She was an excellent seamstress. The fabrics she wore may not be imported silks and satins, but she certainly didn’t dress in rags. Sure, she wore her older things to work in, because after all, she was a cook and a maid. Why would she wear her Sunday best to do this kind of work?

  “I’d like to have some dresses made that are more...appropriate for a servant of your status. I’ll use my personal seamstress and deduct the cost from your pay.”

  Emma could feel her blood pressure rising. Could feel the anger clawing at her stomach lining, as if it would surely tear through and jump all over Allison at any moment. What was it about this family? Emma had to get hold of this anger before it took over her life.

  God, help me. I don’t know how to respond.

  Calm surrounded her like a warm blanket, fresh from the clothesline on a sunny, summer day. She couldn’t control Allison. She could, however, control herself.