Once More a Family

by Lily George

  “Ada, I was really frightened.” Laura rolled over to look at her. “I thought I was going to die.”

  “We would never have abandoned you out there to the elements,” Ada reassured her, keeping her tone soothing and light. “We would have found you no matter what.”

  “I know. It’s just that—” her lower lip began to tremble “—nothing like that happened to me in St. Louis.”

  “I never went through anything like that, either, living in New York,” Ada agreed. It was important that Laura not feel completely alone and isolated in her experience. “I suppose tornadoes are common on the plains, though. Your father knew what was transpiring and took precautions to protect us.”

  “It’s just—can I just say that I don’t like Texas very much right now?” Laura’s eyes filled with tears. “I miss St. Louis.”

  “Of course, you can say that to me.” Ada crossed over to Laura’s bed and gathered her, quilt and all, into her arms. Laura probably shouldn’t say that sort of thing to Jack, for he was likely to take it as a slur on the home he had created for his daughter, but she could vent to her stepmother. “You’ve been through a lot today, and you are exhausted.”

  “I hate a lot of things about living here,” Laura admitted, her tears beginning to stream down her cheeks, unchecked. “Grasshoppers are about the ugliest bugs I have ever seen, and they are everywhere out on the prairie. Some of the boys and girls at my school still smell bad. It’s hot here, too.”

  Ada patted her stepdaughter’s back. “I know, I know,” she murmured. A child who had faced a tornado thinking she was about to die was entitled to vent her frustrations about her new life.

  “Sometimes I think I’d like to go back to St. Louis,” Laura muttered fiercely. “My classmates didn’t smell bad. There weren’t any grasshoppers or tornadoes.”

  “But your father wasn’t in St. Louis,” Ada reminded her gently. “He’s created a home for you here. He wants you to live with him so badly. He made many changes in his life so that he could bring you home.”

  “Can’t we all move to St. Louis together?” Laura picked at the fringe on her quilt and gave Ada a hopeful glance. “There are a lot of pretty houses in town, close enough to the school that I wouldn’t be a boarder anymore.”

  “I think your father is a Texan through and through.” Ada tried to smile. “It would be hard for him to leave the ranch and go to a city. He loves it here so much. This is his home.”

  Now it was her turn to tear up. Jack had worked hard to bring Laura to Texas. What he wanted was simple—a comfortable home and his own family. Thanks to her disastrous reception of St. Clair’s attorney, he was likely in danger of losing everything he had worked to create.

  Then, too, there was the question of what Laura wanted. Was her stepdaughter merely tired and upset, as she had originally suspected? Or was Laura being honest about what she wanted, after giving life in Texas a try and finding it lacking? If she really disliked life here so intensely, would she welcome the chance to go back to boarding school if the attorney pressed for her return?

  There was a knock at the door, and Maggie and Cathy came in, bearing a steaming tub of water between them. “Time for your bath, Miss Laura,” Cathy announced cheerfully. “Miz Burnett, we set up a tub in your bedroom, as well.”

  Ada thanked the maids as they departed. “See if you don’t feel a little better after your bath.” She gave her stepdaughter a final pat and rose. “I’ll check in on you after a while.”

  She made her way toward her bedroom, and as soon as she closed the door behind herself, she allowed her own tears to flow freely. What a terrible day. What a mess of a day. The tears continued even after she had bathed and dressed in dry clothes. Somehow, it was as though she would never be happy and purposeful again.

  Her ankle had swollen to the extent that putting on boots was impossible. She switched to her slippers. There had been no noise of men coming in from checking on the cattle while she was changing, so Jack must still be gone. If she sat on her chaise longue and stared out the window, no one would know that she had slacked off for a few moments. It would do her ankle some good if she rested, and she must compose herself before seeing anyone. Going to cheer Laura up while she had red eyes and tearstained cheeks was not a smart plan.

  She rested on the lounge and gazed out over the prairie. The sun was shining, painting the bizarrely trampled fields with light. The complete destruction of the chapel was laid bare. Ada swallowed, blinking rapidly as she gazed down at the ruins of the building to which she had pinned such hopes. She would not cry any longer. Tears wouldn’t help repair the damage done both by her actions and the storm.

  When she had arrived in Winchester Falls, Aunt Pearl had asked her cryptically if she had faith. Well, of course, she had. Every well-brought-up Christian girl did. Over time, she had come to feel the hand of God working in her life, and in Jack’s and in Laura’s. Though Jack had brought them together as a family because he needed a proper wife, they had been knitting together as if they truly were kin.

  She closed her eyes against the ruins of the chapel and saw Jack’s expression when he found out she had let Laura travel to and from school alone. How painful it was to have him gaze at her with such contempt.

  She was supposed to have faith that God was still working in her life, but that was difficult to believe. In fact, if anything, she felt abandoned and alone. Was He there with them now? Or had He forgotten them?

  Her door opened creakily, and Ada sat up hurriedly, dashing her hands across her eyes. Laura, freshly changed, stole into her room. “You said you were going to check on me,” she reprimanded, fixing Ada with a reproachful glare.

  “I’m sorry, darling. It’s my ankle. I had to put it up for a while.” Ada lifted the hem of her skirt so that Laura could see the swelling. She held out her arms. “Shall we rest together?”

  Laura nodded and snuggled next to her on the chaise. Ada patted her tousled, wet curls as they both gazed out of the window. Her heart surged with love for Laura. Poor thing. She had tried so hard to do right by her stepdaughter, and how spectacularly she had failed.

  As they gazed together out the window, Laura pointed. “Look,” she cried. “It’s Father.”

  Ada leaned forward to get a better view. Yes, Laura was right. Jack was riding across the pasture, sitting more stiffly than usual—probably due to his cast. She had not seen him ride in weeks, and the sight of him in the saddle once more made her feel that everything would be all right.

  “Is that someone riding with him?” Laura queried. “It looks like there is more than one person on Blue.”

  Ada squinted harder. “What on earth? There is someone on his horse, riding pillion. They must have found someone injured when they went to check on the cattle.” She scrambled to tug her slipper on. Rest time was over. If Jack needed help, she would be there to help him. It would do no good to sit in here and feel sorry for herself because she had made such a hash of things before.

  “Come, let us go help,” she said, tugging at Laura’s hand. “Someone needs us.”

  *

  “Jack, you’re just being stubborn.” Pearl snorted, hanging on to the saddle. “I can walk just fine.”

  “Nope,” Jack responded easily. Pearl was alive, and that was all that mattered. He wasn’t taking any risks until he had her back at his house, safe and sound. “Keep holding tight.”

  “If you were my son, I’d give you what for,” Pearl snapped. “Seems like you are treating me like an old lady. Well, I’m not. My house might be gone and my leg might be broken, but I could still sit in a saddle better than you. Especially with your busted ribs.”

  Jack just shook his head. He couldn’t suppress the wry grin that spread across his face as Pearl continued to berate him. When he had seen her house—or to be more to the point, what was left of it—he was certain that if they found her, she’d be dead. Then, remembering that she had ridden away from her house, he searched across pastures for her until
he saw her, still clinging to a fence. Though she had been bucked from her mount and broken her leg, she was trying to walk back home by clinging to the fence and pulling herself along, inch by inch.

  “I suppose y’all will have to put up with me until I can build a new place.” Pearl sighed. “Was there anything left, Jack?”

  “Not really,” he replied. He could be straightforward with Pearl. In fact, if he tried to smooth things over, she would call him out for bluffing. “It was a pile of sticks. Though the odd thing is, your kitchen table was still standing, with a bowl of peppers on it. The whole house was in splinters around it, but those peppers didn’t look like they’d moved an inch.”

  “Sounds like I get to start from scratch. Well, that’s all right. I’ve always wanted a smaller place, ever since R. H. died.” Her voice was crisp and practical, but a thread of sadness ran through it. “I’ll never forget when we finished that house. We hosted a barbecue and a dance for everyone in the county. Back in those days, you can imagine how many people that was. Just a handful compared to today. But it was a mighty happy time.”

  They were nearing the house, and when they arrived, there would be a bustle of activity. He might not have a chance to speak privately to Pearl for a while.

  “Seems like it happened a year ago, but St. Clair’s lawyer came to see us today,” Jack blurted. It would be better to just come out with the truth. “He took one look at my busted ribs, one sip of Ada’s salted lemonade and heard that Laura was walking home—and he lit out. I reckon he’s going to tell St. Clair that this isn’t a proper place to raise a little girl.” The pain in his ribs gave a twinge. “He could be right. After all that’s happened, I’m not sure.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Pearl replied sharply. “A girl’s place is with her father. If Ada is still having trouble with housekeeping, I’ll help her while I’m staying with you.”

  “Her housekeeping is the least of our troubles,” he admitted. “What about the dangerous part of life on the prairie? I’ve got broken ribs. Laura got caught in a twister on the way home from school—walking home by herself, something I’d never approve. Your house is gone. The chapel is blown to bits. Maybe it is just too rough in this part of Texas to raise a family.”

  “Now, hold on.” Pearl grabbed his arm and shook it to get his full attention, even though she was riding behind him. “First of all, you are a cowboy. Dealing with animals is part of your job. It’s a risk you take. If you worked in a city, you’d have to worry about danger, too. Pickpockets might try to rob you. You could get knocked down by one of those newfangled streetcars.”

  “True,” he admitted.

  “As for Laura, well, that child is more protected than any other on this prairie. Didn’t you and my niece go after her, even in the teeth of a storm? Wasn’t I riding out to find her in case y’all didn’t reach her in time? Meanwhile, the adults around her are bruised and broken because we rushed to save her.” Pearl chuckled.

  Why did everything Pearl said make sense? She was the kind of person who should be the county judge. She was just so good at laying out and answering every side of an argument. After all, she had brought a truce between Jack and St. Clair and had come up with the plan of having Ada marry him.

  “Thanks, Pearl.” Jack couldn’t sigh because it would hurt too much. Some of the anger and frustration ebbed away from him, though. They could find a way to make this work.

  “Jack, there’s danger wherever you go. Poor housekeeping skills can be mended. Laura can start riding a horse if you want her to get home faster. If Ada can learn to use and carry a gun, maybe Laura can, too, when she’s older.” Pearl tugged at his sleeve. “Now whip up this horse of yours. I’m tired of riding. I want some coffee, and I need to rest this leg of mine.”

  He obliged. He was tired, too. He wanted to see Laura and Ada and reassure himself that they were still safe. Until he saw them again, he had this feeling that making it back to the ranch as a family had never really taken place.

  They arrived home, and as he neared the front porch, Ada and Laura burst out the front door, followed closely by Maggie and Cathy.

  “Aunt Pearl!” Ada ran forward, her gait strangely hobbled. “What happened?”

  “I had a fresh horse that couldn’t stay calm in a storm,” Aunt Pearl explained, her tone nonchalant.

  Jack rode over to the mounting block. “I think her leg is broken,” he told Ada. “She was going after Laura, too. I found her in the middle of a pasture, clinging to a fence.”

  “Talking about me like I’m not here,” Aunt Pearl muttered, swatting his arm. “This is the second time I’ve wished you were my son today, just so’s I could give you what for.”

  “He is your nephew-in-law,” Ada reminded her with a wan smile. “Will that do for at least one lecture?”

  She and Cathy and Maggie huddled together, helping to create a sort of human sling. Pearl slid off the back of the horse and into their outstretched arms. For the first time since he’d spotted her, the color really had drained from her face.

  The three women lifted Pearl and carried her up the porch and into the house. He sat for a moment. It was all right now. Laura was safe, and so was Ada and so was Pearl. In a few hours, the men would be back with the cattle count. His house was still standing, even if Pearl’s had been wiped off its foundation.

  The pain in his ribs returned, and nausea overwhelmed him. It had been a long day, the longest of his life.

  “Father?”

  He glanced down. Laura stood on the mounting block, smiling at him hesitantly. Then she held out her hand.

  A surge of love shot through him as he saw her small hand. She was alive. She might go back to St. Louis, but she was alive. That was all that mattered. Whatever the lawyer said or did, he had his daughter with him for the time being. He should enjoy it while he could.

  He dismounted carefully, looping Blue’s reins over the mounting block. After the way the horses had been acting all day, he wasn’t taking any more risks. Then he climbed down slowly and took his daughter’s hand.

  Together, they walked into the house.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Miz Burnett?” Macklin called as he entered the front gate. Ada rounded the corner of the porch to meet him. In the few days since the twister had hit Winchester Falls, Macklin had been her primary source of news about the community. With Aunt Pearl laid up with a broken leg and Jack’s ribs having to be reset, she had two invalids in the house. Moreover, both invalids were stubborn and hardworking, making it nearly impossible for Ada to keep them still enough to get the rest they both needed in order to heal.

  In order to accomplish this, Ada had confined her work to the house and relied on Macklin’s twice-daily bulletins to keep the ranch running. Between the two of them, they planned the repair of the house and organized the myriad tasks that had to be completed in the wake of the storm’s destruction, from mending fences to felling destroyed trees. They had also planned to have the leftover splinters of Aunt Pearl’s house burned and the foundation swept clean.

  “Hello, Mr. Macklin,” Ada responded. “Are you off to run the cattle?” It was a fine morning for it, nice and breezy, with none of the sultry humidity that had plagued them before the storm.

  “What’s left of them,” Macklin replied, removing his hat as he approached. “The Boss isn’t going to like it, but we think we lost about a fifth of the herd to the twister. It took us a couple of days to make sure. We’ve checked every inch of the ranch now, and we’re pretty sure they’re gone.”

  Ada’s stomach dropped. “Is that a lot?”

  “It’s not the worst anyone’s ever seen. The Stillmans lost half of their herd. Any loss means hard times for the ranch, though.” Macklin sighed. “We still can’t find the carriage or the bays, either. That’s going to be hard for him to take, too. Those horses were his pride and joy. We haven’t seen a trace of any of them—not even a splinter of the carriage. I’m sorry, Miz Burnett. That’s just the way
of tornadoes. They cause a lot of strange damage.”

  “I appreciate you telling me,” she replied. How on earth would she break the news to Jack? As soon as he heard, he would want to jump on a horse and go investigate on his own. “I’ll let Mr. Burnett know.” Somehow. Some way.

  “One other thing.” He held out a piece of paper to her, stiff with dried mud. “I found this letter bound up in the fence along the west pasture. It’s addressed to you. When the post office got hit, this letter must have gone flying. Thankfully, the fence caught it.”

  “Is the post office still standing?” She accepted the letter. So much had been damaged beyond repair that she was afraid to ask. The post office was the heart of the town, though, the glue that held them together. If it was gone, then it would be difficult for Winchester Falls to get back on its feet.

  “It spun around on its foundation.” Macklin chuckled and dusted off his jeans with his hat. “Craziest thing I ever saw. Its front porch faces back and the back faces front. A bunch of letters must’ve gotten scattered across the prairie, including yours. But the building is still standing.”

  “That’s something, anyhow,” Ada replied. “We’ll see you back this evening. Maggie said they are making chili and corn bread for you and the men tonight. Be sure to let all the hands know.”

  “I surely will.” He tugged his hat back on and waved goodbye.

  Ada glanced down at the mud-covered letter in her hand. The postmark, as smudged as it was, could still be read. New York. It had to be from her sisters, Violet and Delia.

  Her hands began to tremble as she tore at the envelope. Even though she was the eldest and knew what was best for the family, it had still been unnerving to have to tell her sisters she had married and was now trying to raise a ten-year-old on a ranch in Texas. To protect Laura from potential gossip, she had not told her sisters all the details of her situation—they did not even suspect she was a bought-and-paid-for bride, meant only to be Jack’s way of securing his daughter.