“All right, sis.” Peter climbed out of the car and walked around and helped her to the ground. He watched as she moved forward to meet their parents as they came swiftly out of the house, smiles on their faces. He saw her return a smile as they embraced her, and yet at the same time he knew this was not the same Priscilla who had left Wyoming for New York City. She’s been pretty badly scarred inside, he thought as he gathered her bags and carried them into the house. She’s going to have to get over that.
Dan Winslow studied his daughter as Hope led Priscilla inside. When Peter came in with her bags, Dan saw that his son’s eyes were on the young woman as well. Dan ran his hand through his brown hair and followed as they went into the kitchen. Hope bustled about, setting out coffee and slices of fresh pumpkin pie.
After serving them all, Hope sat down and began to sip at a cup of strong black coffee. She was happy to see Priscilla after so long—she had spent many sleepless nights praying for this beautiful daughter of hers. She listened as Priscilla spoke with animation of the play that she had been in, and then Hope said, “Cass and his family will be here, maybe tomorrow.” She spoke of their older son with considerable pride in her voice.
“Oh, that’ll be wonderful! I’m so anxious to see them. Are they coming on a visit?”
“I don’t know,” Dan Winslow murmured. “Something mysterious about it. We got a letter from Cass that just said he was coming. Nothing else.”
“He can be pretty closemouthed about things when he wants to,” Peter observed, shoving an enormous wedge of pie into his mouth. After he had washed it down with half a cup of coffee, he said, “How long are you going to stay, Priscilla?”
“Not as long as I’d like.” Priscilla reached over and took her mother’s hand. “I ought to stay and help you with some of the work. And I want to visit Cody, Laurie, and their family.”
Cody Rogers was Hope’s son from a previous marriage. He had married Laurie Winslow, and they had settled near Dan and Hope on their own ranch. Laurie’s parents, Tom and Faith, had also settled nearby after Tom’s recent retirement from the army.
Hope Jenson Winslow, at the age of fifty-eight, still had traces of her youthful beauty. She had fair hair and blue-green eyes, and her skin, though tanned by the hot Wyoming sun, was still clear and finely textured. “I wish you never had to go again, but I suppose you do.”
They talked for a while, then Priscilla said, “That train ride was long and tiresome. I think I’ll have a bath and then take a little nap.”
“Been a few changes since you been here, Priscilla.” Dan Winslow locked his hands together and nodded. “We’ve got an indoor bathroom now with a copper tub and all. I’ll get some water heated for you.”
When her father had filled the tub, she went into the new bathroom and closed the door. Taking off her travel-stained clothes, Priscilla lowered herself into the hot water with a gasp. For a long time she lay there, soaking and letting the fatigue drain out of her. It was quiet in the house. She could hear Peter outside calling out to one of the hands. Sleepily she wondered about how he would do with his venture into race car driving. It was dangerous, she well knew, and she feared for him, but her brother was a headstrong young man who did not know the meaning of fear and would do as he chose. Then she thought about Cass, her older brother, and about his wife, Serena. She did not know Serena too well, but her impressions of her were that she was a strong-willed young woman with a great deal of emotional force.
“I’ve got to get out of here or I’ll melt,” she muttered and rose out of the copper tub and toweled herself down with fluffy white towels that her mother had laid out. She put on a knitted cotton chemise and a robe, then went to her bedroom and lay down at once on the bed. Just before she dropped off to sleep, she looked around the room, noting all the familiar things. Dotted swiss curtains that her mother had made framed the window, and the wallpaper with tiny roses that she had put up herself still covered the walls. Over against one wall was a large bookcase full of the books she had grown up with—schoolbooks, novels, poetry. There were books about the theater by the dozens. Even as a young girl she had always been fascinated by acting and the stage. Along the wall hung various items from her childhood, including a small trophy she had won for reciting a poem at a school contest when she was only seven years old. It was the statue of a woman holding a torch over her head. Made of some inferior metal, it was now tarnished and turning green. As she lay there, eyeing it sleepily through half-closed eyes, Priscilla remembered how proud she was the day she had gone up to receive it. Her parents had been proud, too. Her father had hugged her until her breath left her body, and her mother’s eyes had filled with tears. “I don’t think they’d have been so proud,” she murmured aloud, “if they had known I was going on the stage.” Thoughts of Eddie Rich invaded her mind, and she shut them off, closing her eyes. It seems like a hundred years since I left here was the last conscious thought before she dropped off to sleep.
****
Priscilla awoke to a loud banging on the door and Peter’s voice calling out, “Sis! Get up and get your clothes on! Cass and his family are here, and supper’s on the table!”
With a start, Priscilla sat bolt upright, uncertain as to where she was for a moment. Then she leaped off the bed, threw open one of her suitcases, and began pulling out clothing. They were all wrinkled and would have to be pressed, so with a grimace of disgust she walked over to the closet. A smile came to her lips as she pulled out a pair of faded blue jeans. She slipped them on and then pulled on a checkered blue-and-white shirt that had once belonged to Cass. She had always liked to wear her brother’s hand-me-down clothes. Now as she pulled on a pair of socks and well-scuffed short riding boots, she felt at home for the first time. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she studied the image, thinking, I’m different than when I wore these clothes—when I was growing up. But she shoved that thought from her mind, went down the stairs, and greeted her brother Cass.
He had tawny hair and blue-green eyes like his mother, and his skin was tanned a deep golden brown from years in the open. He put his arms around her, squeezed her, kissed her on the cheek, then said, “You look great, sis. I’ve sure missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Cass.” She hugged him and then turned to go to Serena, who was waiting, a smile on her face. She was a tall young woman of twenty-six, with blue-black eyes and dark hair. She was wearing a two-piece jacket of a light orange with darker orange horizontal stripes around the skirt. Her shoes were white, and she wore white hose, which was unusual.
“Welcome home, Priscilla,” Serena said.
“Thank you, Serena. You look beautiful.”
“She is beautiful,” Cass said. “You didn’t think I’d marry an ugly woman, did you?”
At that moment a young boy suddenly appeared in front of Priscilla. His dark eyes had a brash look, and his hair was the same tawny color as Cass’s. “What’s your name?” he demanded.
“I’m Priscilla. What’s your name?”
“Why, I’m Benjamin. Don’t you know that?”
“Ben, calm down!” Cass admonished him. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and shook his head, a look of mock despair on his face. “Watch out for this one, Priscilla. He’ll run over you if you let him.”
“You were just a baby the last time I saw you, Benjamin,” Priscilla said. “I held you in my lap and changed your diaper a time or two.”
“Ah, I don’t remember that!” There was an electric energy about this young boy, and he began at once moving about the room examining the various pictures and the guns that were in the rack on the corner.
“I better watch that boy,” Dan grinned. “He’s liable to shoot one of us.”
“This is Elizabeth.” Serena reached down and picked up the two-year-old who was standing behind her sucking on her thumb. She glanced bashfully at Priscilla with her blue eyes and then buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.
“She’s very shy,” Serena said. “I wish
she had some of Ben’s gall.”
Priscilla was enchanted with her niece, who was, indeed, as shy as any child she had ever seen. She made it her business to win her affection, and by the time supper was ready, Priscilla was holding Elizabeth on her lap and reading to her from a storybook she had gotten from her room.
Hope came to the door and called them all to supper, and they went into the large dining room where Priscilla had taken almost every meal of her life until she had left home. She glanced around at the enormous rack of antlers mounted on one wall and the Mexican blanket on another, then took her old seat at the table, surrendering Elizabeth to her mother.
As everyone took their seats, Benjamin continued to pump Peter with questions about automobiles. Finally, Dan Winslow said, “Doesn’t that boy ever give his tongue a rest?”
“Not very often.” Cass shook his head ruefully. “Be quiet, son. We’re going to have the blessing.”
“I’ll ask it,” Benjamin said loudly. “I say good blessings, Grandpa.”
Dan laughed aloud and winked across the table at his wife. “All right, Hope. It looks like we’ve got a resident blessing asker. Go right ahead, Ben. Turn that tongue of yours loose.”
“Dan, what a thing to say!” Hope scolded. “You go right ahead, Benjamin.”
They all bowed their heads, and Benjamin said in a clear, determined voice, “Thank you, God, for all this stuff to eat. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
The brevity of the prayer took Dan Winslow off guard. “Well,” he said, reaching for a plate, “that’s what I like. Get right down to business. I don’t think God is too impressed with our long, flowery prayers anyway.”
The table was loaded with food. In the center was a large plate of hot, savory beefsteaks, some of them two inches thick, surrounded by steamy bowls of boiled potatoes in their jackets, butter beans, corn, and carrots, all tender and succulent. The aroma of Hope’s fresh-baked bread permeated the room. At the head of each plate sat full glasses of rich, cold milk. The clanking of knives and forks against the china was covered up by the sound of good humor and childish laughter. Priscilla listened as everyone exchanged family news. She let the pleasant atmosphere soak in and realized, with a pang, how much she had missed her family. I’ve got to leave here as soon as possible, but I’m going to miss all this.
“Well, it looks like good ol’ Teddy will be our president for another four years,” Cass said as he sliced a bite-size chunk of meat with a sharp knife. He considered it for a moment and said, “I haven’t minded having a cowboy president these last three years.”
Dan nodded, a smile on his broad lips. “He is a cowboy, isn’t he? A real one from everything I hear. Teddy Roosevelt’s my kind of man.”
“So you think he’ll win?” Serena asked, looking at her father-in-law.
“Yes, I sure do,” Dan nodded. “His campaign is running strong. I don’t think there’s any doubt that he’ll be reelected. He’s made some mistakes, and he’ll make some more, but they’ll be honest ones. He has the majority of people on his side.”
For some time the talk went on about politics, and then Serena said, “Tell me about the wedding. I wish I could have been there.”
“Oh, it was beautiful,” Priscilla said. She went on to describe David and Ruth’s ceremony, including a detailed description of the bride’s dress, and then she saw that Benjamin was frowning. “I don’t guess that you are interested in fashions much, are you, Ben?”
Benjamin suddenly grinned at her. He was an attractive boy with his father’s charm already evident and traces of his mother’s smooth beauty in his large eyes. “Will you take me for a ride, Aunt Priscilla?”
“I sure will. Tomorrow morning. First thing.”
“Tell us about this movie business,” Cass said, leaning forward with interest.
“I saw The Great Train Robbery at the nickelodeon,” Serena said. “It was so real.” Her eyes grew wide and she laughed. “When that actor pointed the gun right at the camera and shot it, I nearly jumped out of my seat!”
“She sure did—right into my lap!” Cass laughed heartily. “Of course, I nearly jumped out of my seat, too. It was pretty real.”
After Priscilla had spent some time explaining the process of making movies, she said carefully, “Jason’s already out in Los Angeles. He went there to work with a producer.”
Dan shot her a quick look. “I miss Jason around here. He was the best foreman I ever had. I don’t suppose he’ll ever come back now, though. Once you get a touch of big-city excitement, I guess the ranch seems pretty dull.”
“Not for me,” Cass said. “I’ve had enough of big cities. Seattle’s not as big as Chicago, but people are packed in everywhere you look.”
“How’s the lumber business, Cass?” Priscilla inquired. Her brother had gone to the Gold Rush in the Yukon and shortly afterward had married Serena. He had not made a huge strike, so the two had returned to Seattle, where he had gone into the logging business. He had done fairly well, Priscilla knew, but now she saw a sparkle in his eyes.
“I’ve sold out. I’m not a lumberman anymore.”
All the adults looked at him with surprise. Dan Winslow leaned back and examined his son carefully. “I thought you were being pretty mysterious in your letter. So that’s what this is all about.”
His mother asked hopefully, “Do you want to come back and be a rancher? Plenty of land around here, and the beef prices are good.”
Cass picked up a coffee cup, drained it, then shook his head. “No, I’m going a different route.” He reached over and picked up Serena’s hand. “We’ve talked and prayed and thought about what to do, and finally it came to us. Tell them about it, Serena.”
Serena was also excited. Her eyes beamed, and she leaned forward as she said, “We’re going into the orange business.”
“Orange? You mean oranges that you eat?” Dan inquired.
“That’s right,” Serena nodded, looking over at her husband. “We’ve bought an orange grove just outside of Los Angeles.”
“How wonderful!” Priscilla exclaimed, a delighted smile on her face. “We’ll be in the same town. That makes it a lot better. It won’t be like going to a place where you don’t know anybody.”
“That’s right. I was saving it as a surprise, sis. Maybe we can get a big house and all live together.” He looked over suddenly at Peter and said, “Pete, you come, too. Why, the three of us Winslows could take that city!”
Peter shook his head instantly. “No, I’m glad for you, Cass and Serena, but I’m going back to Detroit. I’m going to race cars.”
“You’ll get killed in one of those crazy things! Now, the orange business is quiet and restful. Not a lot of hard work like this ranch.” Cass went on for some time attempting to persuade Peter, but it was useless, for his brother was determined to return east.
Peter began to speak about his ambitions to build the world’s fastest car, and in his excitement he rapped on the table, saying, “I can do it, too! I’ve learned a lot from Henry Ford and his engineers. One of these days you’ll see my name on the front page. Peter Winslow, the fastest race car driver in the world.”
“Next thing you’ll be wanting to go up in one of those airplanes,” Cass said, shaking his head. “I read in the paper that they managed to stay up in one of those things for fifty-nine seconds. Well, that’s not enough to do anybody any good.”
“It will be, though,” Peter said. “You keep your eye on those Wright brothers, and keep your eye on me, too. Peter Winslow, the fastest driver in the world.”
“Can I ride with you in your car, Uncle Pete?” Ben broke out.
Peter reached over and ruffled the boy’s hair. Grinning broadly he said, “You sure can. Who knows, you might be a race car driver yourself one day.”
The meal ended, and the men retired to the parlor, leaving the women to clear the table and wash the dishes. As they worked, Serena suddenly reached over and put her hand on Priscilla’s arm. “I’m glad we’re all go
ing to be in Los Angeles together. I never had a sister. Now I do.”
Priscilla was warmed by the young woman’s honesty and forthrightness. “Yes,” she said, “it will be good. We’ll have a fine time when we get to Los Angeles.”
CHAPTER THREE
A New Sort of Minister
Jason Ballard had no trouble seeing over the crowd that had gathered to meet the incoming train at the Los Angeles train station. At six feet three, and wearing high-heeled boots, he easily looked over the crowd as the passengers disembarked. He was the target of many eyes, for he wore a typical western garb consisting of jeans, a colorful red-and-white checked shirt, a buckskin vest, and a fawn-colored Stetson. His red hair showed beneath the brim of the hat, and his steady gray eyes targeted each passenger getting off the train. When a young woman stepped off, he straightened slightly and shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the looks of protests. When he came to stand before her, he removed his hat, and the afternoon sun brought the red glints out even more prominently. A scar beside his mouth deepened as he smiled and said quietly, “Hello, Priscilla. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Hello, Jason.” Priscilla looked up at the tall man and thought fleetingly of how he had been attracted to her ever since he had come to the ranch. She had treated him shamefully and now was sorry for that. “Thanks for coming to meet me,” she said, smiling up at him.
As always, any kind word from this young woman drew a flash of gratitude from Jason Ballard. He shuffled his feet, saying, “I’ll get your luggage.” He hopped on the train, then exited almost at once, his long legs spanning the space easily. “I’ve got a carriage out here.”
The Silver Star Page 3
