by Lily George
“I won’t.” He walked so slowly that Ada made her way down the hill a bit to help him. “I’ve stayed in bed for a month now. There’s only so much of that a man can take.”
When they crested the hill, he paused, taking in the view. “They sure are working hard.”
“They are, indeed. I think they are going to get all four walls up by the end of the day.” She was right. It was better to take this all in with Jack beside her. Even though he wasn’t supposed to be here, and even if he ran the risk of reinjuring himself if he wasn’t careful. This was a part of his life, as well, and it was good to share in it.
Jack settled himself against a tree stump. “I reckon so. Wish I could help them. It takes all the fire out of a man to be laid up for so long.”
“Don’t fret,” she admonished. “You’ll be hale and hearty again in no time.” In truth, that had been worrying her since she had found him that terrible night. What would happen when Jack was well again and able to go back to work? What if he had another terrible accident? What if he didn’t merely escape with a few broken ribs? She had been working this land for a month now, and while it was beautiful and wild, it was also harsh and unforgiving. More than anything, she wished to lay her head against his chest and beg him to take up something less potentially violent. He should be a bank president or a postmaster. Then he might be safe.
Not that it was any of her business, really. She was just looking out for him as a friend. It would be terrible for Laura to lose two parents in her young life.
The sudden clanging of the triangle on the front porch broke through her reverie. It was odd that the bell would be ringing now—dinner wouldn’t be for another couple of hours yet. Ada turned and spotted Cathy, waving a towel, beckoning her to the house.
“Cathy must need me for something,” she mused. “Shall we walk back together?”
“If I won’t slow you too much,” Jack agreed. He offered her his arm and she took it, marveling anew at his strength. Even after a month of recuperation, he was still far more muscular than any other man of her acquaintance. What would it feel like to have Jack partner her at a dance? He was likely a strong lead.
Ada broke off that train of thought. She must simply overcome her attraction to Jack, for he did not reciprocate. Moreover, as a staunch advocate of women’s rights, she mustn’t give way to the jellylike feeling in her knees whenever he touched her. It was unbecoming and ridiculous to behave in such a fashion.
They made their way slowly back to the house. Cathy ran to meet them halfway. Worry was etched in the frown on her face.
“What’s the matter?” Ada cried with alarm. Never before had Cathy been quite so urgent. Not even the time when Ada allowed the bread dough to rise all over the kitchen counter until it spilled onto the floor.
“It’s—it’s a lawyer.” Cathy panted, fanning herself with the towel. “A fancy city lawyer. He says he was sent here by her grandfather to check on Miss Laura.”
“St. Clair,” Jack growled. Beneath his sunburned skin, the color drained from his face. “That dog.”
“Now, now.” Ada used her most soothing and placating voice, even though her mouth had gone dry the moment Cathy had started explaining the situation. “Mr. St. Clair did say he would send his man of affairs to check on Laura. He must have received my letter and decided it was time for a fuller report.” Ada turned to Cathy. “Did you show him into the parlor?”
“Yes.” Cathy mopped her damp forehead with the towel.
“Did you offer him refreshment?”
“No. I forgot.” Tears sprang to Cathy’s eyes. “Oh, Miz Burnett,” she wailed, “I plumb forgot.”
“Don’t cry.” Ada patted her shoulder. “You did the right thing, fetching us without delay. Go into the kitchen and see what Mrs. H. has to offer. Give us a few moments to settle in and then bring everything in on a tray. Have Maggie help you if you need assistance. I made lemonade this morning. Be sure to serve it.”
“Okay. But shouldn’t I announce you first?”
Ada shook her head. Cathy needed to calm herself, first. If she appeared flustered, it could reflect badly on the household. “We will announce ourselves. What is his name?”
“Mr. Davidson, I think. Or was it Mr. Robinson?” Cathy shook her head. “I can’t remember. Miz Burnett, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s quite all right.” Ada gave her an encouraging smile, even though her stomach was quivering with nervousness. “We shall make the proper introductions.”
She sent the maid on her way and then turned to Jack. “Remember, we agreed to this.”
“I know.” Jack’s jaw muscle twitched.
“So we can’t be angry at the poor man for doing his job.” Ada threaded her arm back through his elbow.
Jack gave a terse nod.
Ada said a silent prayer as they made their way to the house. In the entry, she gave her appearance a quick check, tucking a few strands of hair back into place and smoothing her bodice. Jack looked fine. A trifle thinner than before, but of course the solicitor would not know how Jack had looked before his accident.
Jack led her into the parlor, and she cast quick, searching glances throughout the house. Yes, the furnishings could stand to be updated, but the house itself was much cleaner and nicer than it had been when she arrived.
The lawyer, upon seeing Ada, rose, extending his hand. He was a slight, nervous-looking man with pale green eyes and dark hair. One strand of it stubbornly stuck straight up in the air, despite his liberal use of Macassar oil. “You must be Mrs. Burnett,” he said, taking her hand in his. His hand was damp, and Ada resisted the urge to wipe her own palm on her skirts after shaking it. “I’m Donald Davidson, Mr. St. Clair’s attorney.”
“How do you do?” She smiled and turned to Jack. “My husband, Mr. Jack Burnett.”
The two men shook in a polite enough way, but Jack pointedly rubbed his hand on his waistband after greeting Mr. Davidson.
Ada took her place on a low velvet chair with needlepoint cushions. “Won’t you sit down?” she queried. “Refreshments will be brought in shortly.”
“Thank you, thank you.” The man had a curious nervous tic, one that caused his mouth to dart to one side after he spoke.
Jack eased himself into a chair, grimacing as he did so.
“Are you all right?” The lawyer glanced curiously over at Jack.
“My husband had a run-in with a bull,” Ada replied, putting on her best socially polite expression. “You can imagine. Broken ribs and a sprained ankle. But he is on the mend.”
“How very peculiar,” the attorney replied, nervously folding and unfolding his hands. “I always heard that you should stay far away from those animals. Everyone says they are ruthless.”
“Yes, Asesino has quite a temper,” Ada rejoined. “Unfortunately, he got out of his pasture and caught my husband unawares.”
Mr. Davidson darted a glance over at Jack. “How did he escape?”
Jack shrugged. “I guess someone forgot to close a gate.”
“Yes, but isn’t that a rather large mistake to make?” Mr. Donaldson shook his head. “It sounds to me as though you don’t have the proper checks and balances in place to make this a safe environment. Suppose, for example, that Laura had wandered into that pasture. This bull—Asesino—might have killed her. By the way, isn’t Asesino Spanish for killer? Doesn’t that seem like enough warning to be more careful?”
Ada swallowed. Despite the man’s nervous gestures and tics, he was quite acute. She glanced over at Jack. The muscle in his jaw twitched. Jack would lose his temper in a moment if she didn’t intervene.
“Laura never goes out into the field alone.” Ada gave him a reassuring smile.
“Where is Laura? I should like to speak to her.” The lawyer glanced around the room as though waiting for Laura to jump out from behind the curtains.
“She is in school,” Ada said reassuringly. “She should be home in a little bit. It takes her about half an hour to walk
from the school house.”
“She walks?” The lawyer drew back as though Ada had slapped him. “From the school? Across the prairie? Alone?”
Jack turned to Ada. “I never agreed to her walking to and from school by herself. Not until she got to know the prairie better. You were supposed to be taking her and picking her up when I was laid up. I thought Pearl was working with you on that.” His expression was dark and unreadable.
Fear leaped into Ada’s chest. “You would be amazed at how independent she has become,” Ada responded, directing her answer to the attorney. She could not face Jack now. He was furious, surely. “She knows how to drive a horse and buggy, so I decided she was old enough to walk to and from school.”
“You decided this without consulting me.” Jack’s voice was quiet and even, but it still made Ada shake with nervousness. “You knew how I felt about it.”
At that moment, Cathy and Maggie burst in, laden with a hodgepodge of refreshments on two trays. With much rattling and clanking, they served everyone. Ada’s head began to pound and perspiration broke out across her brow. Could anything else go wrong?
After the maids left, the attorney turned to Jack. “It sounds as though your wife has made a rather important decision about your child without consulting you.” He served himself a sweaty glass of lemonade.
“Jack was laid up, and I was helping the ranch hands with the cattle every morning,” Ada protested. “I knew Laura could walk to and from the schoolhouse just fine. She has made a success of it every day for about a month now.”
Jack folded his arms across his chest and fixed his glare out the parlor window.
“Is this your progressive viewpoint on life, Mrs. Burnett? I heard from Mr. St. Clair that you are a suffragette.” Mr. Davidson sipped at his lemonade and then froze. His face contorted, and tears filled his eyes. He glanced about desperately and then ran across the room to a potted plant in the corner. He spit into it, heaving mightily.
“Are you ill?” Ada stood in alarm. “What happened?”
Mr. Davidson gasped. “Salt in the lemonade? Is that your attempt at levity, Mrs. Burnett?” He grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. “I have seen and heard and experienced enough. I will have to make a report to Mr. St. Clair about all this.”
“It was a simple mistake,” Ada retorted, her head giving a painful throb. “My housekeeping skills lack polish, Mr. Davidson, but I would never do anything like that on purpose.”
Jack still sat in his chair, staring out the window. He did not make a move to protest.
“Even if you hadn’t salted the lemonade, I would still be making a report to Mr. St. Clair.” Mr. Davidson wadded up the handkerchief and stuffed it into his pocket. “It is obvious that this is a dangerous environment to raise a child in. Moreover, you and Mr. Burnett are not in accord when it comes to key points about Laura’s upbringing. That would create a stressful environment for her, and my first thought must always be about Laura’s welfare.”
“But—” Ada stared at him, horror rising within her. “Can’t I just—”
“If I leave immediately, I can just catch the afternoon train. Before I depart, though, I will send a wire to St. Clair from the station. Good day.” The attorney showed himself out of the room, leaving Ada alone with Jack.
*
As the parlor door slammed shut, Jack looked over at Ada. She was as white as a sheet.
Served her right.
At best, he was going to get a scolding and a visit from Edmund St. Clair. At worst, he was going to lose his daughter.
Ada had one job to do—to make his home the kind of environment that St. Clair would find agreeable for Laura. He privately thought she had been doing a good job of it, even with her frequent kitchen and housekeeping mistakes. Allowing and encouraging Laura to walk alone to school, however, was an entirely different matter.
“Jack, I’m so sorry.” Tears streamed down Ada’s cheeks. “I thought I was doing so well.”
He wanted to yell with frustration, but he couldn’t do that without hurting his ribs. He wanted to hurt Ada as much as he was hurting now, knowing that his daughter might be lost to him forever.
She sank back onto her chair and began to sob, cradling her head in the crook of her arm. She clearly felt bad. She should feel awful. Jack stared at her heaving back and had the oddest sensation of wanting to pat and soothe her until her sobs ceased.
That was a dumb thought. He shouldn’t be comforting her. She should be finding a way to fix this problem.
At the same time, the incident with Asesino had started this whole mess. Had it never happened, Ada would not have taken on his chores and he wouldn’t have been completely out of it this past month. His accident had been just as alarming to Davidson as the fact that Laura was walking home.
What infuriated him most was that Ada hadn’t consulted with him first. She had made the decision on his behalf and given Laura permission. She had overstepped this boundary when she allowed Laura to drive the first time, and, against his better judgment, he had allowed it to pass without making too much of a fuss.
For someone who insisted on equality, Ada certainly did take the lead on a lot of matters dealing with his own daughter. There was no partnership there, even though she asked to be treated as his equal. Instead, she treated him as someone to be kept in the dark while she allowed Laura free rein. For her stubbornness, he might now be losing Laura to boarding school.
“Let’s go,” he finally said, rising stiffly.
Ada lifted her tearstained face from the crook of her arm. “Where?” Her eyes widened, as though she were frightened.
He heaved a sigh. “To school,” he replied. “I don’t want Laura walking home alone anymore, no matter what you say. For the few days I still have her, she will abide by my rules.”
Ada choked on a sob but rose to her feet. She reached inside the sleeve of her gown and withdrew a handkerchief, dabbing at the tears coursing down her cheeks.
He led her outside onto the front porch. There was an odd silence across the prairie. Something wasn’t right. The sky had turned a strange color of green.
“Ada, we need to make tracks,” he said, keeping his voice low and even. “I don’t like the look of that sky. Can you hitch up the buggy?”
She nodded. “I’ll hurry.” She jammed the handkerchief into her sleeve and ran toward the barn, her skirts flying behind her.
He glanced up at the hilltop, where the men had been building the chapel. They had departed, and the hill no longer rang with the sound of hammer blows and men shouting. Against the eerie green sky, the chapel looked exposed, as though its skeleton had been left there by some wild animal after the flesh had been consumed.
He fought to keep his anxiety in check. The men must be on a break. They would go find Laura and bring her home. A storm was brewing, and like all storms in Texas, it would come in with a great deal of fury, then burn away quickly.
Ada brought the buggy around to the front of the house. The horses, normally so placid that they would stand still without being tied, pranced nervously, pawing the ground. He leaped into the seat, forgetting in his haste about his cast. He jerked around awkwardly and grabbed the reins from Ada.
Without a word, he whipped up the horses, giving them their heads. The beasts responded by streaking across the driveway and lurching the carriage along the main road. Ada braced her feet and hands against the sides of the buggy, watching him with eyes that were huge, but she didn’t say a word.
They were driving straight toward a towering wall of clouds. The sight of them made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but there was nothing to do to avoid them. If he were going to get Laura home safe and sound, he would have to drive straight at the storm.
Rain began to spatter, huge drops that hurt as they hit his skin. Then the wind began to slice at them, strange, cold swaths of air utterly unlike the sultry atmosphere that had hung over the prairie all day. Although the temperature was dro
pping, it was not a refreshing feeling. Instead, it drove him onward, and he urged the horses forward with all his might.
Hail pinged against the carriage, bouncing and rolling all around them. “Get in the bed of the buggy and wrap yourself up,” he shouted to Ada.
“No,” she shouted back. Then she reached behind them and grabbed a canvas from the back of the buggy. Leaning forward, she sheltered both of them with the canvas as the hail continued to fall.
The horses whinnied and danced sideways. Jack pulled over to one side and urged the horses to stop. Turning to Ada under the makeshift cover, he admitted his greatest fear.
“I don’t think we can reach Laura.”
Chapter Twelve
“Don’t say that. Of course we can,” Ada said and grabbed Jack’s arm. Her stomach had grown icy at the realization that this disaster was completely and utterly her fault. She had put Laura in danger. She had no idea that storms on the prairie could be this violent.
Jack whipped up the horses again, and she sheltered him with the oilcloth as he drove. He was urging the horses forward, but they were running against both hail and wind, sliding sideways and causing the buggy to jounce wildly. Ada braced her feet against the floor of the carriage and used all her might to hold the canvas over Jack. If he could see, he could try to drive.
“Maybe her teacher held them at the schoolhouse.” Ada was still going to cling to hope. “Perhaps if Miss Carlyle saw this storm coming, she kept them from leaving.”
Jack’s brow furrowed as he focused on the road before them. “Could be.”
Ada’s heart lurched. Jack was an experienced cowboy. He was used to life in Texas. If he was concerned and upset, it was because there was good reason to be.
Please, God, just let her be safe. Just let her be safe. She repeated the prayer over and over in her mind, scanning the horizon for any sign of Laura.
The schoolhouse was a short distance from the house, but merely reaching the halfway point was taking an eternity thanks to the deplorable weather conditions. Jack had to slow the horses to a crawl as they picked their way along the road, now slippery with mud and rivulets of water.
