by Kari Trumbo
A small smile played over her gentle face. Pati knew it was hard work and also that Lenora hadn’t been used to such chores.
“I’ll be back, unless you’d rather not have me.”
“Far from it. I think the women of Blessings need to stick together. We are stronger when we do.”
Lenora hadn’t thought about it, but Pati was right. When she’d worked for her father, it had proved nothing. He’d sent her away the moment her brother showed up. Working for a woman built the business of that woman, and Pati wouldn’t replace her.
The skin between Lenora’s fingers burned and peeled. She tried to keep from scratching her hands on the way home, since she’d forgotten to ask for more salve. She’d never had to wash so much at one time, and now she’d have her hands in that water every day. Once the miners learned that the seamstress had someone there to do laundry, it would only be a matter of time before she wouldn’t be able to keep up. Blessings needed more women.
The seamstress shack wasn’t far from the land office, but Lenora took her time, glancing around, strolling more than anything, and trying to convince herself she wasn’t hoping to see a handsome scoundrel. She’d been so busy all day that most of her thoughts had been of work, but when she’d been able to stop for precious moments, her mind had, without fail, wandered to the Englishman and how she would manage to see him again.
Her father wouldn’t permit it, but she was of age. While in Boston society, she may have needed her father’s approval, but not in Blessings. She’d never flaunt her disobedience openly in front of him, but neither could she stay away. What Geoff said had to have been a lie, or at the least, skewed for his own purposes. It wasn’t clear to her what those could be as of yet.
When she made it to her door, she could tarry no longer. Victor hadn’t found her. They would go an entire day without seeing one another. Unless he came for her as he had the evening before, but if he did, Father would tell him he wasn’t welcome to see her anymore. If he did that, Victor might take it to heart and never seek her again.
Lenora whipped around to find where the sun was in the sky and how close to the tree line. She still had a few minutes. Propriety didn’t matter when time was of the essence. Lenora gripped her skirt and ran around the building, toward the livery. If Victor was at his tent, she wouldn’t have time to find him, because it was in the opposite direction of the livery. As she approached the dark structure, her heart raced. Dare she go inside?
The fence had been erected around the whole front of the livery and it looked exactly like it should, with the marked exception of paint. They wouldn’t be able to get that until Mr. Mosier came with the delivery wagon in a few days. Lenora ducked between the rails of the fence and slowly made her way into the livery.
“Victor? Are you here?” she whispered, afraid to disturb the silence of a place she knew she shouldn’t be. A bird screamed at her overhead and she startled.
The stalls were clean and wide, ready for their inhabitants. There was a small stove in the back for when it got chilly, or Victor and Cort needed to cook. Mounds of straw lay at the ready in one corner. All that was needed were horses … and Victor and Cort.
“Did you come by just to see me, love?” his voice rasped just behind her ear, his breath lingering over her neck sent a welcome shock through her.
Lenora turned and Victor waited, alone, holding a crate.
“Victor, you frightened me.” And he had, so said the racing of her heart.
“I certainly didn’t intend to.”
He maneuvered around her and set the crate down by the stove then came back to her. She had the strangest urge to curl up into him and make him tell her the truth, dispel all the lies Geoff had told. But this was Victor, and he was leaving, going far across the ocean and leaving her behind. He was the man she couldn’t have because the Lord wouldn’t want her to love a rake. Her poor heart was already going to miss him more than she could stand.
“Victor, how long do you plan to stay here in Blessings?”
He lifted his hand, tracing her jaw, seemingly fascinated by it, ignoring her question for a moment. Then he tilted her face up into the waning light. Lenora held her breath, captivated, as if he’d kept her there with so much more than just a mere finger.
“I’ll stay as long as I must, and not a moment longer.”
“Do you really think there’s enough gold in Blessings to replace all that you’ve lost?” She couldn’t force her voice above a whisper, his hand on her face did strange, sweet things to her belly that she would never be able to explain and wouldn’t admit to anyone.
“I think I will bring back more than I ever lost.”
He came in closer, drawing her nearer as he did so. She bit her lip. Would he kiss her? She’d never done such a thing and he’d shared so many private moments with women much more cunning. Would he find her kiss lacking? Did she want to be kissed by one so … experienced?
He drew his thumb along her lip and her breath caught in her lungs. He lowered his face ever closer.
Cort’s voice came loud, echoing through the empty building. “I see you invited guests for supper.”
Chapter 11
So much tension twisted within Victor that he could’ve punched Cort for interrupting him. He’d almost tasted Lenora. Finally. He’d never waited so long for anything in his life and Cort was a thief for stealing the moment.
Lenora backed away from him, suddenly wary when she’d been warm and willing just seconds before. He reached for her hand to keep her close by, but not as close as he’d like, and she gasped, biting her plump lower lip once again. How he wanted to stop her from doing that, and more, how he wanted to nibble it himself.
“Lenora?”
She flinched. What had he done? He hadn’t attempted to bring her back to him as he’d wanted to, but there was pain in the lines around her eyes. She tugged on her hand and its roughness registered first shock, then anger within him. His Lenora had been perfect, spotless in his eyes. As he raised her delicate hand up, the red angry flesh tested his will not to seek out and maim whomever or whatever had done such a thing.
She tried again to tug her hand from his grasp. He ignored Cort’s grumbling behind them and led Lenora over to a pot on the wall that one of the miners had left behind for anyone working with the roughhewn wood. It was a glass jar with a large cork on top. He popped the lid with one hand, then dipped it in the cool paste within. He wasn’t sure what it was made of, but the slick substance helped the men keep their hands from turning to bloody stumps after working with the unforgiving wood.
Lenora’s wide eyes searched his as she continued to hold her lip captive between her teeth. Ever so gently, more tentative than he’d ever been with a woman, he coated her lovely hand with the salve. Slowly covering it, taking perhaps more care than was necessary to make sure every inch of skin on her hand was covered with the healing concoction, and enjoying every leisurely stroke of his fingers over her skin.
He reached for her other hand, but his eyes were drawn to her face. What had been pain and perhaps a little fear, was now smoldering. His little Lenora had hidden her feelings for him, but was it enough? Could passion last forever? Now he wanted her to more than desire him, he wanted her to stay with him.
“What did you do today, love?” he whispered, wanting those eyes only on him.
She froze, her soft mouth opened for a moment, still entranced with the workings of his fingers, then blinked as she returned to herself.
“Father didn’t need me anymore, so I went to work for Pati.”
“The seamstress?” Why would her hands be raw from the seamstress?
“The only thing she needed help with was the washing. It’s work, and the miners need it.”
She tried again to tug her hand away and now that he was done caring for them, he let her.
“And do you feel accomplished?” He’d worked his own hands to the bone the last few days and it was something to be proud of. Though his family back home
wouldn’t think so.
She nodded, hiding her smile as she tucked her chin. Victor rubbed the remaining salve on his fingers into his own work-worn hands so that if he was ever able to marry this amazing woman, she would let him put those hands on her.
“I should get back home, it’s getting quite late and I still need to make supper.” She slid to the side to get around him, just as she’d done on the ship.
“Lenora, love?”
She stopped, and her eyes raked all the way up his body and finally landed on his eyes.
“I will finish what we started.”
Her eyes went wide for a moment as she understood his full meaning, but she didn’t respond.
“You have but three days left on my wager. I’ll take you back to England and give you a life like you’ve never dreamed.”
Instead of the joy he’d hoped for, Lenora turned from him.
“I can’t. I can’t go to England with you and I won’t. Father will not let me see you anymore. I’m here … to say goodbye.”
“No. I’ll take you whether he wants me to or not. I’ll not be kept from you.” His anger built faster than he’d expected, clenching something deep within him.
She turned back to face him and this time, it was true fear on her face, unexpected and pure.
“Take me?” She stepped back further.
“I will not be parted from you. I can’t. I can’t go a day without seeing you. Tell me you don’t feel the same. Tell me that’s not why you’re really here.”
He crossed his arms and prayed she felt what he did, like there was a cord between them that was unbreakable and tightening with each passing day.
Lenora dodged around him and headed for the door. Either she was incapable of feeling what he did, or of admitting it. As she dashed from the stable into the night, Cort laughed. The sound grated against Victor’s ears.
“You think that’s humorous? That she would walk away?” He clenched his fists to keep from starting a fight he couldn’t win. Cort would best him physically, but that didn’t stop his boiling temper.
“I don’t. But I did warn you. She’s got you hog-tied, or perhaps in vernacular you can understand a little better, strung tighter than a piano. I told you to be prepared, that she wouldn’t want to go with you, and now you’ve got to decide, mother country, or mother of your children.”
Cort turned and walked out of the stable to bring more of the items they would need to make their home in the loft.
The mother of his children… He’d never even considered that one day he might want them, but if any woman could make him, it was Lenora. To see her beautiful crystalline eyes looking up at him from the face of a daughter… A fierce need to protect a daughter he hadn’t yet made took over him. He’d never let her near someone like him, ever.
And if that was the case, would Mr. Farnsworth ever let a man like Victor near his?
Geoff and her father had been right. Victor would take her, wouldn’t be kept from her. While Victor had been right, she couldn’t imagine even a day without seeing him—it was the very thing that had tempted her to disobey her father’s edict—she wouldn’t go to England. Never would she board a ship again, not even for Victor. The sickness, the smell, the heartache; she feared she’d never make it alive.
A heart-stopping terror had clutched her as soon as he’d mouthed the words, take you. Since they’d reached Blessings, preventing him from realizing she wanted to be with him had been difficult, because her feelings had grown to where she couldn’t stand to be away. However, his idea of the best life she could imagine was most likely vastly different from her own.
She slowed her pace and held her hands out in front of her, hands that had felt Victor’s tender ministrations. His soft caress had built a desire to feel his lips on hers even more than when he actually had almost kissed her.
As she entered the land office, Geoff stared at her, taking in her disheveled appearance. The harsh lines of his face leaving a sense of dread over her.
Her father’s severe voice interrupted her worry about Geoff. “Lenora, where have you been? Mother will have started supper already. That is one of your responsibilities. If you can’t be home on time, then I will not allow you to go about town while we’re working.”
While her lips said, “Yes Father,” her fury built. She’d worked harder all day than he had, sitting at his desk. She’d sweat and rubbed her fingers raw. She clenched her fists in her skirts at her sides to keep from saying what would only make him angry. She wouldn’t give in and voice what she felt, she would be the respectful daughter.
As she went up the stairs, the scent of her mother’s cooking hit her full in the face. It hadn’t taken her more than a week to learn basic cooking skills, out of necessity. Her mother cared little if what she attempted was edible, she rarely ate more than a few bites of anything anymore.
“Lenora!” she snapped, “where have you been? I waited for you to get here. Surely your father wouldn’t keep you down there when he knows I need you up here. If he continues to hold you past the time to prepare meals, I will make his life even more difficult. See if I don’t. I called down the stairs an hour ago.”
If Mother hadn’t been attempting to stir whatever was burned to the bottom of the pot on the stove, she’d have had her hands on her hips. She’d lost so much weight, her dress hung off her. She looked little better than clothed bones.
“It wasn’t Father. I was out. I’m sorry.” Though she wasn’t. Her mother had traveled the same distance, over the same rough seas and the terrifying Isthmus, there would be no going back. She’d held a grudge since the beginning, a useless grudge that now hurt everyone around her.
“Sorry doesn’t cook the dinner. Finish this.” She slammed the spoon down and strode back to her room.
Her life had been so much easier in Boston, but it wasn’t better. She’d been to parties, danced with more men than she could recall. Had been forced by her father to allow certain men to call. Not a single thing about that life had interested her, had stirred her. Laundering clothes for single men wasn’t what she’d had in mind when they had set out, but if her father wouldn’t support her dreams, and the man who lit her desires wouldn’t either, then it was time for her to save for her own fortune.
A future as a lawyer would keep her mind busy, enough that she might not remember Victor when he was in far off England, romancing the beautiful women. At the mere thought of Victor kissing another woman, anger boiled within her—much like whatever her mother had tried to make for supper. The whole meal would taste like ash, but Lenora didn’t much care. Her stomach was in knots and her family certainly hadn’t helped matters.
Lenora shoved the pot of mystery stew to the back of the stove and set the bowls and spoons on the table. Her father and brother finally tromped up the stairs where they washed up at the basin then came to the table. She clutched the back of her chair, waiting for them to say something. No one had wondered where she’d been all that day, or at the state of her mussed hair and clothes. Father would assume that she’d listened to him, and for most of the day, she had. But weren’t they even a little curious about where she’d been?
Geoff yanked out his chair and slid into it. “Heard that you were working as a washer woman. If you find any nuggets left in their pockets, you should give them to Father.”
Her hands tightened on the chair until the raw red skin was bright white, and her father glanced up at her for a moment before he pulled out his own chair and sat. Neither had gone back to tell Mother it was time to sup.
“I’m sure the miners are more careful with their earnings than that.” Lenora could hardly keep the snap from her words. If her brother hadn’t come home, she wouldn’t have had to change everything.
“I’m going for a walk. I’m not hungry.” She grabbed her shawl and rushed for the door before either of them could say anything.
She had no desire to see anyone. Her family was steadily pushing her out and now she feared Victor would
load her in a wagon and take off, and while she feared that less than staying with her family, there had to be an option she couldn’t see, one that made her heart sing and kept everyone happy. She crept along the path toward the river. There were two tents, all lit, where the Farnsworth camp had been before the land office was built. Men’s voices came from within and she changed her course to give it a wide berth. A woman alone didn’t need to go anywhere near the tents of men.
The crickets sang in the undergrowth as she made her way to the river. Finally, along the bank, she sat quietly and listened to the trickle and play of the water. A twig snapped behind her and she gasped as the woman in the red cloak appeared at her side. She sat down slowly and stared at her with wide, dark eyes, her creamy skin almost glowing in the moonlight. Her hood was down now, and the cloak thrown behind her shoulders like a cape. She was mysterious, lovely, and frightening.
“Good evening,” the woman said in French. “I am Seraphina Beaumont, and you are the first woman other than myself to brave the river alone at night.” Her musical voice was soft, and rhythmic, almost alluring. Lenora recalled the story of the Pied Piper.
“Why wouldn’t anyone come to the river? It’s peaceful.” Lenora couldn’t ignore the woman. As much as she’d been warned, Seraphina held less danger or mystery than the rest of her life.
“They will tell you that they don’t come because of the Miwok, but I know they don’t come because they are frightened of me. My brother tells me what they say.”
“The Miwok?” No one had mentioned anything about them, and she would’ve remembered such a strange name.
“The Indian tribe that lives across the river. Monsieur Winslet granted the parcel of land across the river to them, to keep them happy. Whether it does or not, I don’t know. I have yet to see them.”
Lenora clutched her shawl closer about her. Now Seraphina was definitely the lesser to fear. “Is it safe to be sitting here? Do they know we’re here?”
