by Sondra Grey
Then as the carriage turned its final turn and came to the top of the cliff, a thin long hand shot out of the window. It was white and pale. Nicholas knew that hand. It had so many times gone around his neck or smoothed his unruly curls over his temple. A silver bracelet hung from it. He knew that one too. In fact, he had put it there just the other day, saying it was his mark on her till he could put a ring on her finger. The hand stretched out and the thin long fingers made as if to catch something from thin air.
“Jessica…I am coming.” He said riding harder. Another hand, muscular and hairy shot out of the carriage and pulled the thin, fair one in. And then he heard that clicking sound. The unmistakable sound of the loops of the hinges coming loose from the hooks. The sound and more than that its implication made him sick to the core of his stomach.
He cried out trying to warn them. But the carriage was going too fast, and the wind was too loud and blowing in the opposite direction. Then he saw the horses rearing as they suddenly reached the side of the cliff. One horse tried to dig his legs but slipped over the slope of the hill taking the other one with him. The carriage had come undone and was hurled in another direction, going over the cliff side. As Nicholas reared his horse, he saw the buggy, hung in the thin air for a split second, before it went hurtling down the valley.
He woke up shouting and screaming as always. He had been flailing his hands at thin air, he was shivering, and his body burned hot and then cold in flashes. Nicholas was bathed in his own sweat and fear, tasting coppery and salt like in his mouth.
“Get a grip buddy.” A steady, reassuring voice said. Strong hands held him by the shoulders and shook him hard once, but did not linger. Nicholas opened his eyes to look into the green gaze of his best friend and lead wrangler Vincent Parker. They were in the barn and apparently, it was the middle of the night.
Vince shook him once hard then let him go. He did not linger nor did he try unnecessary comforting. As soon as Nicholas sat up, he turned away continuing with the work in his hand.
“One of your nightmares again?” he said with his back to his friend, busy winding a rope.
“Man, it wasn’t a nightmare. I relived the whole incident again, just like always. It all happens again and again to me, and it is as real every time as it was that day.”
Once again Vincent offered no foolish solace. He continued to work in the adjoining stall. He lifted the saddle then put it on the side of the stall, then lifted the blanket from the horse’s back and gave it a good shake before putting it next to the saddle.
“Why are you sleeping in the barn?” he asked of his friend disapprovingly. In fact, Vincent was sick with worry over Nicholas’s frequent episodes. But he knew that unnecessary prodding would only make Nicholas draw back into his cocoon and would distance him from his friend. Instead, he tried to sound as nonchalant about it as possible.
“Molly is here. She chewed my head all evening about inviting Elizabeth down. She wants me to marry a girl from around here. She threw pots and skillets at me.” Nicholas said sitting up on the hay bed, scrubbing his face with his hands and threading his fingers through his hair.
Vincent smiled then sat down beside him. He took a long gulp from a flask that he had pulled out of somewhere, then offered it to his friend. He stretched his arms and legs then, while his friend drank his fill.
“I go away for a couple of days, and you cannot handle a stubborn mare.” He said teasingly.
“Man, she is more of a banshee than a mare when she flies into one of those rages.”
“She just likes to put up a show. She is all mushy and sweet inside.”
“Have you been sleeping with my mother, Vince? In that case, I need to call you out.” Nic squinted at his friend.
“No…no…Sir Nicholas…Your women’s virtue is safe with me.” He said leeringly, and Nic elbowed him hard. Then he bubbled up a laugh saying.
“Sir Nicholas…” Then the two friends laughed together once again. As they laughed, Nicholas could not seem to shake off the feeling that Vince had said women, in the plural.
“Is everything okay Nick?” Vincent asked. That was as far as he was ready to go into his friend’s personal life.
“Juan sent a message. He wants the mare back. He sent Franco to threaten me. Said it would become ugly if I refused.”
“Franco, the second dwarf, eh?”
“Umhum…he was, in fact, the third. Doc was second.” Nicholas said taking a swig and waving the flask in Vincent’s face. Vincent took the liquor, drew on it then said
“Man, I always get those two mixed up.” Then he straightened and said.
“Boss, you should not have slept out here alone after Juan’s threat. Someone could have come along to make some mischief.”
“That was exactly why I was out here guarding...” He stopped in midsentence as Vince’s meaning seeped in.
“How was the roundup?” he asked covering his embarrassment.
“Your bed grounds are full. Come spring you will have a big herd to take to the market. But there have been incidents.”
“What incidents?”
“The fences on the north boundary, near the brook were cut in several places.”
“Juan!” Nicholas muttered, and Vincent nodded.
“Old man Alvarez is planning to join the association. If he does that we are going to be the single largest independent ranch in the region.”
“Jim was acting weird besides.”
“Jim? He is a good kid. What’s up with him?”
“He has gotten it into his head this notion of giving up ranching and going off to Boston.”
“Boston?” Nic asked sardonically
“Yeah,…he wants to go to college.”
Nic guffawed.
“Don’t worry, it’s just an infatuation. It will pass.”
“If you were in my place spending the whole last week listening to him babble endlessly about making it big, you wouldn’t be so slapdash about it.”
“Don’t worry Vince. We will cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“You are right, boss. I will keep vigil for the rest of the night, and you head back to the house now and get your beauty sleep. After all, you are getting married tomorrow.”
Chapter Five
T he long and solemn cooing sound of the train whistle filled Elizabeth with foreboding. It marked the end of her long journey and the beginning of her new life.
Lydia was occupied looking out of the window, reclining on her berth, from across Elizabeth. Her feet curled under her body she leaned out, her elbow resting on the window sill, and her chin resting in the cup of her hand. She was humming a tune under her breath, a habit Elizabeth found incredibly annoying, a sign of an empty, undisciplined mind.
Elenore had thrust Lydia upon her at the last moment. When Martin had told her about Elenore’s decision, Elizabeth had tried to convince him it was a bad idea by giving him at least half a dozen reasons as to why. Poor old Martin had spent the entire journey from Elizabeth’s house to the Cleveland train station agreeing with all that she said.
But in the end, it was Elenore who made the final decisions. And they both knew it. There were only a few minutes left for the train to leave when they had reached the station, and by that time Lydia had already been seated in her compartment. Elenore had bought her ticket and convinced the superintendent to put her next to Elizabeth saying it was an issue of a young woman’s virtue and having her escort with her.
Among her tearful farewell, she had explained to Elizabeth how her father had increased his advances towards Lydia and how she would serve her a good companion.
On that score, she had been absolutely right. Lydia had been a blessing in disguise. If one could ignore some of her irksome habits like humming, gossiping, giggling and daydreaming, she was a perfect lady’s companion. She helped Elizabeth dress and groom, made her bed and did all the odd jobs around without ever been having to be told.
Now as she half sprawled across her s
eat, Elizabeth sat ramrod straight, one long leg crossed over the other, her simple long gown covering her from neck to ankles, the elbow of one hand resting on the window sill for support as she drew quietly on her cherry wood rosaries with the other.
A loud clangorous sound of the metal plates brushing against each other told her that they were about to stop. This was their final destination. A heavy weight settled in Elizabeth’s belly turning into a sharp drawn out ache that worsened with the cooing of the whistle.
At last the train came to a stop, and the two women sat at alert looking at each other with apprehension. Elizabeth was happy that Lydia had finally shown some emotion befitting the situation.
“Get the trunks together I will see what’s happening outside.” She said rising to head out then shook her head in derision as Lydia hurried to pull on her boots.
Elizabeth leaned out of the bogey, holding the bars on both sides of the doorway and got her first view of the wild west. Though it did not seem so wild. It only seemed different. The men and women were all dressed more casually, and there was, in general, a higher level of noise. The landscape appeared to have less color, but more gaiety. She breathed in the air of Jacksonville Wyoming and filled her lungs with it. It smelled of horses and horse shit and recent rain shower on parched earth.
Then she saw him, and he took her breath away. The first thing that she noticed was that he was tall. He was taller than any other man she had ever come across. He was standing there, a little distance away, leaning against a wide pole, his hands folded over his midriff, one long leg crossed over the other. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, a crisp white shirt with short sleeves and solid work boots. Men and women passed between them, but Elizabeth’s eyes stayed glued to him.
He was looking at her with a raptor gaze, a disapproving frown etched into his handsome features, and she wondered for how long he had been watching her. When he saw her watching he casually straightened and even at that distance, Elizabeth was aware of his stilt. He strode quickly towards her, touched the tip of his Stetson then said.
“Miss Price?” For some reason, Elizabeth’s mouth had gone dry, and her tongue suddenly felt heavy, and she temporarily lost all her faculty of language. Her only solace was that she did not simper which she had come close to doing. Instead, she nodded.
“Nicholas Rhymer ma’am he said and offered her his hand. She put her lacy white mittened hand into his covered with fingerless leather gloves. Then he did something that nearly made her faint. He put his other hand on her waist and helped her down from the steep step of the bogie door.
“Was your journey difficult?” he asked, and Elizabeth smiled
“Not at all. Long yes but not difficult. The railroads were actually quite an adventure. Besides, your arrangements were excellent.” Once again, he slightly lifted his hat and rested it back onto his head. It seemed to be his most preferred way of acknowledgment.
Lydia appeared at that moment behind her and declared.
“I have got all the trunks together Dr. Lizzie.” Elizabeth Cringed. She had cautioned the young girl against calling her doctor several times during their month-long journey. But Lydia had been unsuccessful in shedding her habit. It was not her fault either. Everyone back in Cleveland had always called her that.
After all, Elizabeth had attended medical college, passed her exams top of her class, and served alongside her father for as long as she could remember. However, she had not been awarded a degree. Even though she had been better than her male counterparts. If she did not have a formal degree, she did not deem herself fitting to be called by that title. And that was the reason why she had not told Nicholas anything about her formal education.
She had merely wanted to put behind her that part of her life, along with the other bad things that had happened to her and make a fresh start. She wanted to become a rancher’s wife. However, it was too late for that now.
Nicholas was looking at her, his eyes narrowed.
“You are a doctor Miss Price?”
“No.,” she said giving no further explanation. Her eyes strayed involuntarily to the big trunk in which concealed under folds of her dresses was her father’s doctor’s bag. So much for vowing to shed her old life. But Elizabeth had been unable to leave that behind, not so much for its professional value but more for what it represented personally.
Elizabeth remembered having read with her father a story by a man named Edgar Alan Poe, The Tell-Tale Heart, in which the culprit is so overburdened by his guilt that he points out himself where he has buried his victim. But Elizabeth knew she was stronger than Mr. Poe’s madman. She was not going to tell Nicholas where the bag was.
“This girl just called you doctor.”
“As I explained to you Mr. Rhymer, I worked alongside my father as his assistant. So, people back in Cleveland have the habit of calling me that. I assure you I do not possess a medical degree. And this, by the way, is my lady’s companion Lydia” Elizabeth said not going too deep into Lydia’s history, as Lydia bobbed a curtsy.
“Nice to meet you, sir. Dr. Lizzie is telling the absolute truth, sir. She even told me not to call her that in front of you. But I am a fool, and I keep forgetting.” She said sheepishly.
“Well Lydia, to start with, you will do good to heed your mistress’s instruction. Since you are my wife’s lady’s companion, and I appreciate that she had the good sense to bring you along, you will now be in my employ. You will continue to serve my wife in whatever way she sees fit. In return, you will be paid an annual salary and given a set of clothing twice a year. Since you will stay with your mistress, you will be given three meals a day. However, there is something I will make clear to you right now as I do to all my employees. I hate deceit and lies. If you are caught gossiping, chatting unnecessarily or doing any other thing with one of my men, I will send you back to where you came from.” He said pointing to the train.
His speech had silenced Lydia, and she bobbed another curtsy. And though Elizabeth was happy that someone had finally succeeded in shutting Lydia’s mouth she was a little displeased with Nicholas’s high-handedness in dealing with her servant.
Chapter Six
O n Nicholas’s instruction, Lydia rode on the driver’s bench of the carriage with Xavier, whom Nicholas had introduced as one of his caporals. When she had looked at him confused, he had explained it meant a foreman but he also did cattle round ups. Elizabeth had nodded in spite of the fact that she was now more at a loss than before.
Nicholas and Elizabeth got into the back of the closed buggy, and they began to move. It was a spacious carriage with rich leather upholstery. They sat in opposite seats facing each other. Elizabeth wondered how a farmer could afford such luxuries. Then it suddenly occurred to her that it might not be his regular ride but something he saved for special occasions. That he must consider her arrival as special while she was partly deceiving him made her feel rotten inside.
She quietly stole a look at her soon to be husband while he turned behind him to give Xavier some instructions. He was a handsome man. Chiseled features, high cheekbones, broad forehead and a thatch of raven black hair with wayward curls falling across the temple. He resembled some of the marble carvings of Greek gods Elizabeth had seen at the museum in Cleveland. It had been a range of sculptures that were kept in a restricted area, inaccessible to the general public, due to the sensual nature of the art.
However, they had made a trip to the museum as a part of their anatomy class. Elizabeth had marveled at the physical perfection the artist had attained. She wondered now if the rest of this man was as perfect as those statues. The thought shocked her, and a sly smile escaped her lips
“You daydream a lot.” He said with disapproval, and Elizabeth realized he had been watching her. Of course, he had been watching her. She was his new bride, and he would be keeping a close eye on her for some time. She needed to be careful. Besides he had caught her doing something she herself, found intolerable in another person. How could she te
ll this man that he was the one having that effect on her somehow?
“Taking you home with me before we are married would be highly improper. So, I have arranged for us to get married right away. I understand you are tired and must want to rest. I assure you that the ceremony will be short and very private.”
“I learned in a book I was reading that the people in the west are very particular about matters of honor. It stems from their being secluded on acres of wild land. They feel a strong need to keep up the semblance of civilization.”
“You have been reading a book on the West?” he asked as if she had told him that she had killed someone.
Elizabeth cringed.
“It was a gift from a friend. He gave it to me when he got to know I was coming here.”
“He…?” Nicholas asked with a raised eyebrow, and suddenly Elizabeth realized how inappropriate it must seem to him that she had a male friend back in Cleveland. It looked as if she was getting herself deeper and deeper into trouble. The inside of the carriage suddenly seemed very warm, and Nicholas’ proximity was playing havoc with her nerves.
“Martin is my late father’s assistant. He is also my best friend’s betrothed. He calls me his little sister.” She hastened to explain.
“And so, with the help of this book, Martin gave you, you think you have us all figure out eh?” Nicholas asked, and now Elizabeth seethed inside. He was deliberately making her feel uncomfortable instead of making her feel at ease. The fact that in the closed confines of the carriage the scent of his cologne wafted up to her and his knees kept banging against hers on the bumpy roads was not helping at all.
“The book is actually a compilation of real life experiences of a priest who roamed the west for a long time.” She said confident this time that she had made him speechless.
“You will find my dear, that the views of an outsider are very different from those of the people who actually stay here.”
Since the time, she had arrived she had been archiving all that he seemed to dislike for further avoidance.
