by Lily George
Ada pondered her aunt’s words. There was some truth to them. Like Laura, circumstances had dictated that she find a new home. She and Laura had moved because the men in their lives had, in different ways, made it necessary. It was now up to her to help Laura through this difficult transition.
Providing, of course, that she could make the transition possible herself.
Her own personal history of adjustment around the ranch was less than successful, but every day would have to be better than the last.
Chapter Six
Jack drummed his fingers on the dining room table. If Laura didn’t hurry up, she would be late for school. He had planned to drive her there. It was her first day at the prairie school, after all. His long-awaited dream had come true. He was finally about to take her to the little schoolhouse and talk to the teacher and get her all set up. It was too far for Laura to walk by herself, especially since she wasn’t used to life on the prairie, and it was his pleasure to take her after many years of just dreaming about having his daughter at home. But he also had a cattle ranch to run, and if his daughter didn’t hustle, he’d be behind in his chores all day.
Ada bustled in, two maids trailing in her wake. “I want to make absolutely certain that we turn over the earth near the front of the house,” she informed them. “I think, if we plant zinnias there, we will get some nice summer blooms. It will be important to have flowers all year long, or at least as often as we can get them. Those zinnias have tough stalks. They can stand up to the prairie wind.”
The maids nodded. Ada paused, putting her pencil up to her mouth as she consulted the list in her hand. Then, as though aware of his eyes on her, she flicked a glance his way. “What are you still doing here? You should have left for the schoolhouse already.”
He nodded. “Yup. Should have.” Then he took another swig of his coffee.
“Oh, dear.” Ada rushed over to the stair landing in a swirl of skirts. “Laura,” she called up the stairs. “It’s past time to go.”
“Coming.” Laura sounded sulky. He pressed back the annoyance that threatened to overtake him. His daughter was either sour faced or completely silent or both ever since she had arrived. Why couldn’t she be happy?
She thumped down the stairs, appearing in her boarding school uniform. Ada straightened her hair bow and bade her to pull up her baggy tights. “I’ll see to it that you have new clothes,” Ada added. “This uniform is made of wool. You’ll be stifling in a week or so.” She scribbled a few more notes on her piece of paper.
Laura nodded and turned toward Jack. He tried to give her the same smile he’d used when she was little. Maybe they’d find a connection on the ride to the schoolhouse. “Ready, sunshine baby?”
She nodded, the corners of her mouth turning downward. Ada shooed them out the door after one of the maids pressed a tin pail into Laura’s hands.
“What’s this?” she asked, looking down at it as they made their way to the carriage.
“I reckon it’s your dinner,” Jack replied, handing her up into the seat.
“Oh.” Laura looked distinctly unimpressed and lapsed into silence again as he turned the horses onto the driveway.
He grew silent, too. Nothing he said seemed to help the situation, so maybe he should not say anything at all. If he spoke, he irritated his daughter. She used to be such a sweet little thing. Somehow, none of this was going the way he had expected it to when he’d first laid his plans. In his imagination, Laura was all too happy to get away from that stuffy boarding school; she enjoyed life on the ranch and doted on her father. She approved of her stepmother and thought of her as family. The way he had planned it, everything picked up where it had left off, with the exception that Emily was no longer with them, of course.
Maybe he could try to interest her more in what he did on the ranch. He cleared his throat. “Well, after I drop you off, I’m going to work the cattle. You’ve got to count them every day. I check on them to make sure they haven’t taken sick or gotten attacked by wild animals.”
Laura’s eyes grew as round as saucers. “Wild animals?”
“Sure,” he replied. “You see, out here we have coyotes and even the occasional wolf. Now, usually they go after the very young, the very old or the sickly. Even so, I have to keep them away. Each cow is worth a lot of money.”
“Will the animals attack me?” Laura shrank against her seat.
“Nope.” He said it bracingly, as though he could stiffen her spine with a single word. It wouldn’t do to have her start being afraid of life out here. She needed to be cautious but not afraid. “Not while I’m around.”
“But you said they went after the young ones. Does that mean young people, too?”
She had a point there. He shifted uncomfortably, focusing his attention on the horses. “Nah,” he responded after a pause. “Just animals.”
She raised her eyebrow at him and then turned her attention back to the road.
He’d have to try again.
“These horses are some of the finest you’ll find in Archer County.” He waved to indicate the magnificent matched bays pulling the carriage. “One of them is an offspring of the horse I bought when I met your mother. I went to Charleston to get Lady Guinevere, and that one on the right is her daughter, Jenny.”
Laura leaned forward in her seat, fixing her attention on the horses. “Really?”
“Yes.” Finally, a flicker of real interest from his daughter. He’d talk to her about the horses as much as she wanted if it made her start feeling like a part of things. “Lady G was a fine animal. It broke my heart when she got colic. It was a really severe case, and she didn’t make it. Jenny’s just as good as her mama, though. I save her and Bets for pulling the carriage. They look so flashy I figured they’re the best for showing off.”
Laura nodded. “They are very pretty.”
His heart warmed. “Yep, they sure are.”
Laura turned to face him, her blue eyes pleading. “Can I drive them?”
He laughed. When she wasn’t being sullen, she was being cheeky. “No, you may not.”
Her face fell. “Why not? I wouldn’t let them run away.”
“Bets and Jenny may be used to the prairie, but you aren’t,” he reminded her gently. “What if a jackrabbit bounded out in front of the carriage and you jerked the reins?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I would not.”
“Sorry, sunshine baby,” he responded. “It’s just too dangerous. You are too young.”
She went from defiance to anger in the bat of an eye, turning her entire body away, focusing pointedly on the prairie horizon. Jack lapsed back into silence. He just wasn’t going to win anything with this stubborn little girl.
The schoolhouse appeared before he knew it, a small wooden building on land donated by his neighbor, Jacob Stillman. Children of varying ages and sizes were playing outside, and their shouts seemed to force Laura further into her shell. When he pulled the carriage up to the fence, she hesitated before jumping out.
Miss Carlyle, a young woman with brown hair and spectacles, came up to the fence to greet them. She had been boarding with the Stillman family since her arrival in Winchester Falls a year ago. He knew her in passing but had never really spoken to her.
“Mr. Burnett, how do you do?” She shook his hand over the fence. “This must be your daughter, Laura. Mrs. Colgan came and visited me on your wife’s behalf while you all were in St. Louis. I believe your daughter will be joining us?” She gave Laura a kind smile.
Laura adopted a half smile in return, digging the toe of her boot in the dirt.
“I’m not familiar with what she learned at her boarding school,” Jack began. He didn’t know anything much about Laura’s education—or anything much about his daughter, at all. He only knew what he wanted there to be. Ada had been the one to speak to Mrs. Erskine before they left. He should be acquainted with her daily life better. She was his daughter, after all, and it was embarrassing to admit he knew so lit
tle about her.
“No need to worry, Mr. Burnett,” Miss Carlyle responded briskly. “Mrs. Burnett sent me a letter while you were en route to Winchester Falls, and I have also heard from Mrs. Erskine, Laura’s former headmistress. I’m certain we can get Laura situated quickly.” She turned to Laura. “Come along, dear,” she said. “We must get a slate and a pencil and assign a desk to you.”
Without so much as a backward glance, Laura walked around and let herself in the gate. Miss Carlyle bundled her off to the schoolyard, and the other children followed them inside.
Well, there it was. His daughter was now in school in Winchester Falls. His wish had come true.
If that was the case, though, why did his stomach feel so hollow?
He turned his steps and his attention back to the carriage. He had work to do. He had hired Ada to do the fundamental labor of helping him to raise Laura to St. Clair levels of distinction. She had already risen to the occasion by ensuring that Laura’s transition from boarding school to one-room schoolhouse went as smoothly as possible. It was time for him to head off and tackle what he knew best, and that was raising cattle.
They were a sight easier to raise than little girls, that much was certain.
*
Ada rose from her knees after her morning prayers. Please let the first day of school go well, she added, punctuating her more formal entreaties with a plea straight from her heart. Laura’s face had been so white when she came downstairs after breakfast. She was sure to be nervous, but Aunt Pearl had helped by apprising Miss Carlyle of the situation.
As she glanced out the window, she caught sight of Aunt Pearl and another woman walking up the path. Ada dashed over to her mirror to make sure her hair looked presentable—a concern that seemed never ending, even indoors, in the Winchester Falls breeze.
Cathy appeared in her bedroom doorway. “Miz Burnett, Miz Colgan is here to see you, along with Miz Stillman.”
“Of course,” Ada replied. She must get used to social calling again. It had been so long since anyone had come to see her. When you were on the receiving end of social ostracism because of your father’s scandalous political dealings, you got used to isolation. “Did you show them into the parlor?”
The maid gave a brief nod.
Good. The parlor was the prettiest room in the house thus far, especially now that the maids had taken the time to clean the crystal pendants on the chandelier. Receiving company in that room would be a pleasure.
She followed Cathy downstairs and into the room where Aunt Pearl and Mrs. Stillman were waiting. The woman with her aunt was tall and blond, with skin that showed the effects of living in intense sun and wind. She offered Ada a smile that completely illuminated her somewhat-worn face with kindness and good humor.
“Well, no wonder Jack picked her,” she crowed, turning to Aunt Pearl. “What a looker! Jack will be the envy of five counties, that much is sure.”
Heat flooded Ada’s cheeks, as it always did when people assumed she was his bride in truth and not a glorified hired hand to help him raise his child. “How do you do?” She stretched her hand out in greeting.
“Ada, this is Dorothy Stillman,” Aunt Pearl said, smiling. “She is your other nearest neighbor. The schoolhouse sits on her land.”
“Everyone calls me Dot. You’re welcome to do the same.” The woman clasped her hand tightly.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss—er, Mrs.—Dot,” Ada stumbled. Would she ever get used to the free-and-easy manners of Texas? It was so different from what she was used to.
The two women laughed again and found seats on the velvet chairs nearby. Ada also sat. “Would you like some tea?” she asked, looking for the bellpull. There wasn’t one. Another thing she would have to remedy as soon as she could.
“In this heat? No, thanks,” Dot replied, drawing off her gloves. “Actually, Ada, this isn’t a purely social call, though I have been wanting to meet you ever since I got wind that you married Jack. No, Pearl and I need your help. I think you know that our little town lacks a chapel. We’ve been working with a missionary group to have a preacher sent out here. They’ve finally agreed to do it, but only if we have permanent structures in place.”
“Such as a chapel and a rectory?” Ada inquired. Why, this could be quite helpful. She had been planning to take on Laura’s religious education herself. How much better it would be to have a real man of God instructing them all.
“That’s right,” Pearl replied. “We can get the men in the area together to build everything, but we need more land. Right now, the Stillmans have agreed that the school can have part of their land. I’ve got a railroad running through the southern edge of mine. We were wondering if Jack would grant a piece of land for the chapel and rectory.”
“Of course, he would,” Ada enthused. What an excellent idea. She could just picture herself writing to St. Clair. Our community is growing by leaps and bounds—thanks in no small part to Jack, who donated the land for the new chapel—
“Good, then you’ll talk to him.” Pearl rubbed her hands together as though they were plotting together in a melodrama. “I wouldn’t broach the subject myself, but seeing as how he thinks so highly of you, I figured you could take the bull by the horns.”
She wasn’t exactly sure what that phrase meant, but if Aunt Pearl was reluctant to ask Jack something, should she be concerned, too?
No, that was nonsense. Aunt Pearl was just teasing.
“How many acres do you think you’ll need?” She had no idea how many Jack owned, but surely he could spare some of them.
“About three would be more than enough,” Dot responded. “Though we’ll take more if we can get it.”
“We need an answer soon,” Aunt Pearl added. “They can send a preacher out here to live in a few months when one comes back from ministering in China. I declare, I didn’t think we’d ever get a dedicated preacher out here. I figured we’d have to make do with someone riding in once a month or so. But having a minister all the time will mean so much to everyone.”
Ada nodded. Her aunt was right. It was not a good idea to bring up a child with no sense of Christian community. In fact, it was downright odd to live in a place with no established church. Jack had mentioned that Winchester Falls was raw and new and only just starting to come into its own. How much better would that process be now that they would have a church of their own?
“Go ahead and write back to them. I’m certain we can spare three acres,” she responded, trying to keep the excitement from ringing through her voice. “I’ll speak to Jack about it when he comes in for dinner.”
The two women looked sideways at each other but smiled and said nothing. After a bit more polite conversation, they took their leave. Ada busied herself with planting zinnias until dinner, for if she thought too much about the chapel, she was ready to dance all through the house.
Jack came in for the midday meal, more quiet and morose than usual. She sat with him in the dining room, fairly bursting with the news. When she had said the blessing and he’d started eating, the story erupted from her in a torrent of words.
“I told them that we could easily spare three acres,” she finished, spreading jam on her buttered bread. “Jack, just think of it. A chapel right here in our own town. How exciting that will be!”
Jack chewed thoughtfully, saying nothing. At length, he pushed his plate aside. “You told them I would give my land for a church?”
“A teeny, tiny piece of it, yes.” She bit daintily into the crust.
“Ada.” His voice held a note of warning. “I’m not a praying man.”
Ada glanced over at him. Was he really going to throw a fit about this? “I don’t think it matters if you are or not,” she responded crisply. “What we care about is having a place of worship and a home for a man of God. Surely you don’t object to that.”
He drank his coffee slowly, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t just agree to something like that. Not without consulting me.”
�
�I’m an equal partner in this venture, or so you told me.” She put the bread down and faced him squarely. “Three acres is a mere trifle when you have so much.”
“That’s not what I’m objecting to,” he rejoined. “First of all, you donated land for a church when I’m not a praying man. Second, you didn’t even ask. You should have thought to check with me.”
“You wanted me to create an environment for Laura that would be acceptable to Mr. St. Clair.” She straightened her spine. “One of his biggest objections was that Winchester Falls was too new and too ramshackle a place for a young woman of a certain class to be raised. I can tell you right now that if Winchester Falls doesn’t get a church, it won’t become a place the St. Clairs will consider suitable.”
He sat there, staring at her. She would not look away. At least he was still there, arguing with her. Just a few days ago, he would have flung himself out of the house and into the pasture for hours.
“You still should have consulted me first. As an equal partner.” He said the last few words quietly, so faint that she had to strain to hear them.
“You are right.” And he was. She was barging ahead without thinking, and if he had done the same to her, she would have been furious. “I apologize.”
“Apology accepted.” He stuck his hand out down the length of the table. “They can have the land. You’re right. St. Clair will be pleased, and I guess it will be good for Laura, too. Do we have a truce?”
She took his hand in hers. His was rough and callused, the hand of a man who worked long, vigorous hours, using reserves of strength and vitality. He was not a man who frequented a ballroom or a gambling den, or who spent his time in political dealings behind closed doors.
Despite his temper and lack of faith, there was a fundamental genuineness about Jack that spoke deeply to her.
She pulled away sharply, suddenly aware that she had let her hand rest in his for longer than absolutely necessary. Mumbling an awkward apology, she rose, nearly knocking her chair over in the process. Leaving the rest of her meal untouched, she hurried back out to the garden.
