by Lily George
Mr. Ledbetter climbed in behind them, and Mr. Starr started the horse. “Where should we go first? Lead the way.”
It would be a lot easier to lead the way if she was driving, but Ada bit back the sharp retort. She needed this man to write a favorable story about Winchester Falls, and that meant putting her own personal preferences aside.
“Let’s drive up to the schoolhouse,” she replied. “It sustained the least damage of all the buildings in Winchester Falls, and the children were all found safe. I declare, we all said a prayer of thanks when we heard that good news.”
Mr. Starr nodded and guided the horses down the road. She would make certain to avoid the area by the chapel, for she did not want to get in Jack’s way while he was running cattle. Then, too, it would be very depressing to show the men the damage the chapel had sustained. They must focus on the positive outcome. If she told them about the chapel and explained what it meant to the community—well, she would burst into tears.
She guided the men all over Winchester Falls the rest of the day. First, they went to the schoolhouse, then down to the western part of the town where Mr. Pollitt and his team showed their plans to rebuild the shantytown. It was no longer going to be an area that housed cheap lean-tos, but a proper little village with stout log cabins.
Then she guided the men down to the post office, where a team of men were working to set the building back onto its foundation, and then over to the train station, where the workers had finished putting shingles back on the roof. At each stop, Mr. Ledbetter unfolded a small, portable camera that looked like a box and snapped several pictures.
While he photographed the area, Ada would explain the buildings to Mr. Starr, who wrote rapidly on a notepad, using the stub of a pencil. He asked intelligent, probing questions that she worked mightily to answer well without sounding like an overeager ninny.
At the last stop, she walked slowly up and down the train platform with Mr. Starr, while Mr. Ledbetter photographed the lingering but mild damage to the tracks.
“You seem to love this place very much,” Mr. Starr remarked, pushing back his straw boater. “I have to say, Mrs. Burnett, I never expected to meet anyone like you out here. How did Winchester Falls win you over?”
She smiled. “I owe a great debt of gratitude to Winchester Falls. Had I never lived here, I don’t think I would truly understand what it is to be part of a community. Or indeed, how being a part of a community can make you feel free.”
“Really?” Mr. Starr opened his notebook, flicking an interested glance in her direction. “Do tell.”
She laughed. “No, this is strictly off-the-record. It’s just a feeling I have. Winchester Falls is a special place, Mr. Starr. I was a spoiled debutante when I arrived. The few months I’ve spent here changed me for the better.”
He smiled, nodding. “Very well. Off-the-record, then. It helps to know, when writing this piece, how people really feel. It’s good to know it’s more than just buildings.”
“Then you should know that Winchester Falls is a special place,” she rejoined warmly, gazing around her. A few workers still clattered about finishing the repairs to the roof, but the station was relatively deserted. “You know, when I was in New York, I thought I understood what friendship and family meant. I can tell you now, I had no clue what those words meant until I came here.”
Mr. Starr gave her an appraising glance and began to speak, but was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Ledbetter. “I finished my snaps,” the older man announced. “I guess we’d better get back to Mr. Pollitt. He said he’d take us to Sparrow.”
“Sure thing.” Mr. Starr offered Ada his arm. She took it reluctantly. It seemed odd to be squired about by anyone except Jack. Not that this meant anything, of course. Mr. Starr was of the city and used to being courtly with all females. There was no need to worry that his attentions meant anything in particular.
He handed her up into the carriage. “I suppose we can drive over to Mr. Pollitt’s. That would mean, though, that Mrs. Burnett would have to drive by herself back home, and that would never do.”
“But—” Ada began to protest. How ridiculous. She drove by herself all the time.
“Remember, Mr. Pollitt is meeting us at Mrs. Burnett’s home,” Mr. Ledbetter reminded him. “No need to make her drive by herself.”
“That settles it, then,” Mr. Starr replied, flashing a winning smile Ada’s way. “Our problem has been solved.”
Ada resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had gotten so used to being treated like a calm, rational creature and one with a brain, to boot. Her husband would not have ever dared suggest she couldn’t drive home alone. He might voice misgivings, but he never thought her incapable.
It was nice to be thought competent.
They made it back to the ranch even though Mr. Starr ignored her directions and went the way he thought they should go—which, of course, was not the right way at all. When they finally turned up the drive to the ranch, Mr. Pollitt was waiting, along with Jack.
Ada started to jump down from the carriage, as was her wont, but was prevented by Mr. Starr, who had already made his way over to her side. With a flourish, he helped her down from the carriage and kissed her gloved hand.
“Mrs. Burnett, it has truly been a great pleasure,” he effused. “Thank you for all you have shown me today.”
“Of course,” Ada replied, struggling to free her hand. “It was my pleasure.”
She caught a glimpse of Jack, leaning up against the fence. How much more genuine he was than a slick talker like Mr. Starr. She’d had to work all day to give Mr. Starr the correct impression of Winchester Falls, making sure he understood how hard the town was working to rebuild. Even after all her efforts, though, there was no guarantee Mr. Starr would write truthfully about their town.
She glanced at her husband again. Jack was, aesthetically speaking, a more handsome man than Mr. Starr. In the short time she had been in Winchester Falls, she had come to appreciate a man who worked with his hands rather than a man who made his living behind a typewriter. Jack was taller, broader and more muscular than Mr. Starr, who actually looked a trifle effete in his city clothes and straw boater.
Not that she should be looking at another man when she was married.
Not that she was actually truly married and should be comparing Jack’s looks to anyone else’s.
Had she gotten too much sun that day? Her head was spinning.
She took her leave and went inside, removing her hat as she crossed the threshold. She sank onto the settee, ready for a few moments of blessed silence.
Instead, Jack came inside and propped himself against the doorway to the parlor. His hat was in his large, callused hands.
“Ada.” He said her name as though it cost a tremendous effort.
“Yes?” She leaned up against the cushions of the settee, trying to look as though she hadn’t just been thinking of him and comparing him to other men. Despite her tremendous effort, she knew a telltale flush had spread across her face, heating her cheeks.
“That man kissed you.”
*
The moment he said the words, he wanted to grab them back. Why had he followed her in here? There was no need. The newspaper man was going, along with his photographer. The man talked a big game about coming back to do another story on Winchester Falls once the rebuilding was complete. In his experience, though, city folk who passed through Winchester Falls rarely returned. They had no roots here.
Yet he could not deny the white-hot frustration that had boiled up within him when he saw that newspaper fellow kiss Ada’s hand.
Ada was his wife. If anyone should be kissing her, it should be Jack Burnett, not some reporter from Fort Worth.
“He kissed my hand, as any gentleman would,” Ada retorted. The flush on her cheeks deepened to a pretty rose red. “There was nothing untoward in what he did.”
Of course not. His own father-in-law had treated Ada in the same courtly manner, but it hadn’t ar
oused the same feelings of jealousy that Mr. Starr had kindled within him. Why?
Starr could have been a rival.
St. Clair was not.
“I trust you.” He said the words without even thinking, because they were true. He trusted her with so many aspects of his life that he could not entrust to another human being. He’d had confidence in her ability to run the ranch when he was confined to his bed—something he did not trust anyone else to handle. He’d counted on her ability to be a good mother to Laura. He had come to rely on her opinions and missed her company when she was away.
His feelings for Ada Westmore ran deeper than he’d suspected before. He wanted her good opinion. He desired to prove himself worthy.
He yearned to be her husband.
This last thought knocked the wind out of him. He hadn’t wanted to be anyone’s husband in years, because marriage meant fighting, disappointment, loneliness and despair. How did Ada feel? Did she like him at all? Did she think of him as anything beyond a friend?
“Thank you,” Ada replied quietly. “I can assure you, his attention wasn’t something I craved. However, I had to go with him to show him the ways the town has been rebuilding. I wanted to make sure they photographed and wrote about everything positive, so that we could show St. Clair that the town will recover. If the newspaper prints all of that in black-and-white, it might be harder for him to argue that Laura is in an improper environment.”
She had done all of this for Laura. Somehow, this didn’t surprise him. He crossed the room and eased down beside her on the settee. He had a hankering for her company, and perhaps he could catch just a whiff of her scent of lily of the valley. Ada’s eyes widened a little when he turned to look at her. It was invigorating to be this close to her, outside the confines of a buggy or gig. They had not been this close since the moment they had shared at the top of the hill—a moment he had played over and over in his mind while drugged on laudanum.
He would take her hand in his. He would apologize for being so angry with her when the attorney visited. He would tell her that he was a new man because of her.
“Ada?” Laura bounded into the room, her blond curls bouncing. “Are you done with the reporter? I want to talk with you.” His daughter stopped short as soon as she spotted him sitting with Ada. “Oh, hello, Father.”
“How’s my chickadee?”
“I’m fine.” Laura nodded briefly, but then turned her attention back to Ada. “Can we speak privately? Please? Only if you are done.”
“Of course.” Ada rose, giving Jack an absentminded smile as she passed by. “We can go up to my room. I need to freshen up for dinner, anyway.”
Jack sat on the settee for a moment after they left the room, breathing in deeply to savor the trail of perfume left by Ada as she walked past. This was dumb. He should go do something—anything. Otherwise, he’d sit here and pine for Ada like a lovesick fool.
“Jack, you look like a schoolboy.” Pearl tottered into the room, leaning heavily on her cane. “I do believe you’ve got it bad for Ada. What do you want to do about it?”
He gave her a rapid, assessing glance as she took her seat. “How can you tell? Maybe I just wanted to sit down and relax for a while.”
Pearl gave one of her loud, chortling laughs. “Aw, come on, Jack. I’ve known you too long for this kind of silliness. Let’s get down to brass tacks. I heard you talking to her about being kissed by that reporter fellow. I’ve seen the way you look at her. I don’t think I ever saw you look like that at Emily.”
He shrugged, toying with the hat in his hands. “So what if I am. That doesn’t mean anything. Ada might not like me.”
“What’s not to like, aside from your stubborn streak and your willful atheism? Are you really building the chapel for her? Macklin said you are. He told me not to write to the missionary group to cancel anything.” Pearl smiled at him in a gentle way, with the most tender and sentimental expression he had ever seen on her face.
“Yep, I am.” Jack stood. “I’ll go check on the progress now.”
“Hold your horses.” Aunt Pearl hooked his knee with her cane, forcing him to sit down again. “If you like her, you need to court her. Ada might be a suffragette, but she wants to be wooed just like anyone else. She’s been working her fingers to the bone for you and for Laura. How’re you going to repay her?”
“Never you mind.” Jack flashed a grin at Pearl, one of his old mischievous feelings stealing over him for the first time in months. They had been working hard, and there had been too much indecision and fear and pain in their lives. He wanted to show Ada that no matter what happened with Laura, he still wanted her as his bride. “As long as I have your blessing.”
“You do.” The old woman nodded sagely. “Now run along and plot your wooing.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ada closed her bedroom door behind Laura, who immediately plunked herself down across Ada’s bed.
“Ada, I’ve been thinking.” She picked at the yarn ties on the quilt.
“About what?” Ada sat at her dressing table and began unwinding her hair, rapidly removing hairpins as she did so. Her hair was a mass of dusty tangles, and it would take more than her customary one hundred strokes to make it manageable again.
“About going back to St. Louis.” Laura buried her head on the bed, muffling her voice. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not going to be angry,” Ada reassured Laura, even though her mouth went dry at her stepdaughter’s words. She reserved the right to be privately hurt and upset, though she would keep those emotions from her stepdaughter. It was better to listen to what Laura had to say than to react immediately. Laura needed to be able to talk to someone. “Tell me why you feel that way.”
“I don’t know why, exactly,” Laura began in a hesitant voice. “I know I told you the same thing after the tornado came through town. I guess I thought I was sad. The feeling won’t leave me, though. I just get the impression that St. Louis is where I belong. I liked my school. I had friends. The weather wasn’t so…violent.” She shuddered, and her eyes filled with tears. “I like being around Father, and I love you. I just hate it here.”
Tears trickled rapidly down her cheeks. Ada put her hairbrush aside and rushed over to the bed, gathering Laura into her arms. “Oh, Laura. You poor child.”
Laura burst into sobs, and Ada held her as best she could, gently rocking back and forth to soothe her, as though Laura were a baby and not a big girl.
“I know it’s hard here,” Ada murmured. “I know it’s a big change. You’ve done so well with it. I’m proud of you.” If only someone would say those words to her. They had all been through so much, and they needed to tell each other how much it meant to be victorious over adversity.
“Oh, Ada.” Laura sniffled. “I want to go, but I don’t want to. I’ll miss you so much if I go. I’ll miss Aunt Pearl. She’s so funny. She and I laughed so much together this morning.”
Ada smiled and kissed the top of Laura’s head. “She’s an acquired taste, to be sure. But then, so is salt or pepper, and look at how much flavor they bring to life.”
Laura laughed and hugged Ada. They fell silent as Ada searched for the right thing to say. Of course, they could just send Laura back to Mrs. Erskine’s. That would break Jack’s heart, though. Everything they had done, including getting married, had been to bring Laura back to Texas. If Laura returned to school, there would be no need for Ada to be married to Jack any longer. Jack had made it clear he only wanted their marriage for Laura’s sake, so if Laura were gone, he would surely want their relationship to end.
That thought caused her more pain than she expected.
What would happen if they weren’t married? She would have to try to set up a home somewhere else. Her sisters were already planning on coming and might not return to school if they decided to live with her, instead. Aunt Pearl no longer had a home. Where would they all go if Jack decided that marriage was no longer his desire?
Y
es, then there was Jack. How would he feel about it? If Laura left, he would likely be torn between heartbreak and anger. How he might feel about the breakup of their sham marriage was less clear. There were some days when it seemed they cherished a beautiful mutual friendship, the sort of relationship she had never enjoyed before.
Then, other days, it seemed she was nothing more than a nuisance to him, and that he could be happy to be rid of her. It hurt to know that he often must wish that she were gone. She had never wished that Jack would leave. In fact, she spent most of her time trying to make him stay, encouraging him to speak out if angry or upset and not vanish for hours on end.
As complicated as their relationship was, there was another issue to consider—Edmund St. Clair. Laura’s grandfather still had the authority to take Laura away from Winchester Falls, no matter what Ada or Jack thought.
“Laura, I spent most of my early years in defiant rebellion with my father and my place in life,” she began slowly. “I did not like being treated like some precious, brainless, spineless creature who didn’t have a thought beyond what I would wear to my next ball. So I broke away from his world as fiercely as I could. I didn’t become a suffragist to spite him. I became involved with the suffrage movement as a way to mend what I find are fundamental wrongs in the way women are treated by the law.”
She paused, wondering if this was at all helpful. Somehow, it made sense in her mind, but was it making sense as she spoke? Laura remained quiet, her sobs lessening.
Ada patted her stepdaughter’s back. “I suppose if I had just felt as though my father heard me, just once in my life, our relationship would have been different. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so rebellious. I think I still would be me, though, and would still fight for women’s rights.” She paused. “Perhaps you haven’t been heard much, either. After all, you’ve been moved from pillar to post and had no say in the matter.”
