Suddenly Nick appeared, sliding a hand underneath her elbow. "Steady there, Miss Hamilton." His green eyes twinkled down at her.
A surge of gratitude swept through her. Such a kind man--a familiar face in a strange new world.
"I've given Midas over to Jed," he said, lifting his chin in the direction of a thin, beaky-faced man with a protruding Adam's apple. "John sent him with the carriage. I'll see to your things, then we can be on our way to the ranch."
Elizabeth pointed to the trunks and the wooden crate containing her paintings, which had been unloaded onto the railroad platform beside her carpetbag and hatboxes. "There are my trunks." She glanced around the depot. "Perhaps we can find a porter to help you carry them."
Nick's mouth quirked into a smile. He walked over to the trunks, then grasped the handles of the first one. With a swift jerk, he lifted it up, and strode in the direction of a nearby carriage.
"Wait! It's too heavy," Elizabeth called after him.
Nick kept right on walking until he reached the carriage and deposited the trunk on the rack in the back. When he returned to her side, he smiled at her. "Not much bigger than a hay bale, Miss Hamilton."
Before Elizabeth could respond, Nick stooped down, lifted the second trunk, and carried it to the carriage. In tired bemusement, Elizabeth watched Nick's broad shoulders and the muscles moving beneath his faded striped shirt. She felt a stirring in her breast and wondered at the unexpected feeling.
From this view, she could see how his light brown hair curled several inches below his hat and down his collar. With a smile, she remembered the swashbuckling heroes in the forbidden novels she and Pamela used to read in secret. How they had swooned over those stories, their hearts beating rapidly in their not yet blossoming chests. Did Pamela ever remember those books when she looked at Nick?
He placed the second trunk on the back of the carriage and returned for Elizabeth's trio of hatboxes and carpetbag. Still thinking about Nick and her childhood fantasies, she trailed after him. He turned and caught her speculative stare. A flustered look flashed across his face, answering the warmth rising in her body. Did he suspect her thoughts?
To cover her embarrassment, she glanced at the pair of chestnut-colored horses hitched to the carriage. The nearest horse tossed its head, then turned to assess her. Something seemed different about the harness. It took her a few seconds to realize the animal wasn't wearing blinders.
Of course, she thought, there was no traffic to distract them.
Elizabeth had never petted a carriage horse, but something about these two made her forget proper behavior. She stroked the lustrous chestnut hide of the nearest one.
"That's Sandy."
"She's beautiful." Elizabeth turned away from the horse and realized the carriage was the very one John had purchased in Boston when he married Pamela.
The glossy black body and dismantled wheels had traveled in the baggage car of the train the Carters had taken West, to be reassembled in Montana. The original paint was no longer as glossy, and the once bright yellow wheels had faded, but to Elizabeth its familiarity felt comforting.
"All aboard!" The conductor's call swiveled her glance back toward the train station. A tall man, dressed in a gray broadcloth suit, dashed up the steps of the depot. How nice to see a man correctly attired. At least some Western men had proper sartorial taste. Then she glimpsed his face--that dear, beloved face--and for the second time in her life, Elizabeth almost fainted.
The blood drained from her head into her pounding heart. The edges of her vision blurred. As if to stop him, she reached out a shaking hand, then watched helplessly as the man with Richard's face boarded the train.
Elizabeth grabbed her locket, and her knees buckled. Before she could fall, strong arms grasped her elbows. She swayed against Nick.
"Miss Hamilton, are you ill?" Anxious green eyes scrutinized her face. His arm tightened around her. "You're pale."
With a rush of steam and churning wheels, the train pulled away from the station, stealing the vision of Richard from her. Her mind gasped. Who was he? In a minute, the train had vanished, and only a lifetime of rigid training in ladylike deportment kept her from totally collapsing.
Waves of weakness washed over her, but Nick held her firmly against his side. "Let's get you into the carriage," he said.
As Nick guided her toward the conveyance, she allowed herself to lean on his arm. It had been so long since a man had been this attentive. Not since Richard....
A memory of her beloved fiancé laughing as he clasped her in his arms taunted her, only to be supplanted by the vision of him on his deathbed ... the loving words of farewell she'd whispered in his ear ... the tears she'd dropped on his still face as she gave him a final kiss. She'd imagined reuniting with him in heaven, but never in her wildest dreams had she thought she'd see an image of him on earth, much less boarding a train in Montana.
#
Nick mounted Midas, gathered the reins, and with a nudge of his heels, started down the road to the ranch. The horse jumped sideways and jerked at the reins, working the kinks of the journey out of his body. "Easy, boy," Nick crooned.
Behind him, he could hear Jed start up the horses and the rumble of the carriage as it moved. His stomach felt as if he'd swallowed a bucking bronco. He needed time to think about what he'd just experienced.
Having his arms around Elizabeth had felt so right. He shook his head. He just wished it hadn't been because she felt ill. If only he had another excuse to hold her. He smiled to himself. He'd just have to look for opportunities, or maybe make them....
When he remembered her reaction to his carrying her trunk, his grin widened. While the trunks looked about the size of a hay bale, they'd actually been much heavier. But after his smart remark to her, he had to make carrying the darn chests look easy! His fool pride was going to make him pay tomorrow. Ranch work made for sore muscles, but never before had he earned any from showing off for a beautiful lady.
He hoped she'd take to life on the ranch. He remembered some of Miz Carter's initial impressions of the ranch. Of course when she'd arrived, there'd been no woman living in the big house since John Carter's mama had died. The ranch hands might be good with animals, but not housekeeping.
Although most of the men had lived in the bunkhouse, the house had still become dilapidated and none too neat. And even though he and John bathed regularly, the men ... well they managed a couple of dips in the river in the summertime.
He and John were used to it, just more farm smells, but one twitch of Miz Carter's nose had been enough to change the men's habits. They'd joined the ritual of regular Saturday night baths. Miz Carter had set into a whirl of cleaning, decorating, and planting. Now the old place was a fine sight. But would Elizabeth think so?
The dirt road wound into the foothills surrounding the town, and he turned his full attention to guiding Midas. The horse shied at every strange noise or movement and slowed to check out clumps of grass along the way.
They'd head through Saddleback Pass to reach the Carter's valley on the other side. He wondered if Miss Hamilton appreciated the mountain scenery. Snow still capped the tops the mountains, but spring had arrived in the valley. Buffalo grass covered ranges that, until a few weeks ago, had been mud. Peeking up through the thick grass, the first of April's wildflowers unfurled their buds.
He knew Miz Carter was eager to have Elizabeth stay on. Maybe if she came to appreciate this land, she'd remain. He looked forward to showing her his favorite places, the swimming hole, his thinking rock, the land he planned to buy. Maybe she was too fine for him, but there wasn't any harm in being kind to her. After what she'd endured in Boston, she deserved some happy times.
He straightened in the saddle. Life had certainly taken an interesting turn, and he wondered what might happen next. He certainly hoped she'd take to the ranch. The sight of a lady like Miss Elizabeth Hamilton would sure brighten a man's day.
#
Richard's brown eyes filled wi
th love. He reached out to her. "Beth." The tenderness of the softly spoken word made it an endearment.
"Richard," she cried, filled with joy. She stretched out her hand to him and felt her fingers warmly clasped.
"Miss Hamilton?"
The question jerked her awake. She realized she was inside Pamela's carriage, holding the hand of a man who leaned in the doorway. Nick Sanders, not her dear Richard. She almost cried out at the loss. She snatched back her hand.
"Are you all right, Miss Hamilton?"
"Yes," she whispered, but she wasn't. She'd never be. Richard had taken her heart with him to his grave.
Still disoriented, she asked, "Have we arrived?"
"No, ma'am," Nick replied. "I had Jed stop so you could see a view of the ranch before we start down into the valley."
"We're not there yet, and you woke me up," she choked out, groggy with sleep and disappointment. "This horrible journey has been endless, and I was finally getting some rest."
He pulled back. "I'm sorry, ma'am."
"And please don't call me 'ma'am.'" It makes me feel old.
He looked down at his feet, the color rising in his face making slight freckles stand out through his tan. "I didn't mean to upset you, Miss Hamilton." His gaze shifted back to her. "It's a beautiful sight, and I thought you'd like to see it."
By this time, Elizabeth was fully awake and ashamed of her rudeness. "I'm sorry. I'm just exhausted." She attempted a weak smile. "It might do me good to get out for a few minutes to see this view of yours."
A relieved smile brightened Nick's face. He held out his hand.
Elizabeth couldn't help smiling in return. She placed her fingers in his palm and allowed him to help her out of the carriage. At his touch, she shivered in unexpected pleasure. Then, uncomfortable with her reaction, she pulled her hand away. Taking a few deliberate steps away from him, she gasped in delight at the vista before her.
Distant purple mountains framed lush green meadows speckled with brown dots of cattle. A silver river threaded through clumps of trees. In the middle of the valley, ranch buildings clustered around a large white house.
Elizabeth inhaled crisp air into her lungs, as deeply as her corset allowed; all the staleness of the journey faded away. In an instant her tiredness and irritability dissolved, replaced by fresh excitement. Montana. I’m so glad I’m here. In absorbing the grandeur spread below her, she forgot Laurence, Genia, and her life in Boston.
She turned to Nick, who watched her closely, his look one of tenderness. Absurd thought. He barely knew her, and she'd been rude to him.
"I'm so glad you stopped," she said. "This is the most beautiful view I've ever seen."
Nick flushed with pleasure at her words and seemed to once again lose his ability to speak. Finally, he cleared his throat and gestured to the carriage. "It'll still be some time before we reach the house. I reckon we'd best be goin'."
Although impatient to end her journey, Elizabeth wouldn't have minded lingering with Nick for a few more minutes. But she remained silent, allowing him to help her back inside.
No longer sleepy, Elizabeth stared out the window. Ahead, the muddy road still held puddles where the moisture hadn't soaked into the rich brown soil.
Unfamiliar trees and bushes caught her interest. She'd never been much of a horticulture student and was only familiar with the types of flowers growing in her garden or given to her by an admirer. Curiosity arose within her. She wanted to know the name of the little brown bird that flitted away, startled by the passing of the carriage, and what kind of overgrown evergreen it took refuge in. Surely Pamela would know.
She certainly had a lot of questions for Pamela. Beginning with the man she'd seen getting on the train. She hoped as soon as possible, they'd have some privacy to talk. Luckily, the new surroundings continued to capture Elizabeth's interest, distracting her from her thoughts of that man, otherwise she'd be climbing out of her skin with impatience.
Finally they reached the bottom of the mountain road, and it straightened like an arrow pointing toward the ranch. They drove past a herd of reddish-brown cattle, the nearest ones veering away from the carriage.
Several men on horses attended the cattle. Like Nick, the horsemen wore faded indigo or tan denim pants, striped shirts, and colorful handkerchiefs tied around their necks. Wide-brimmed hats shielded much of their faces from Elizabeth's view. As the carriage passed, each man tipped his hat to her.
In the distance, she heard faint shouts. Leaning out the window, she saw two young boys galloping their ponies toward the carriage.
"Aunt Elizabeth!" called the taller one. He swept off his hat and waved at her. As they neared, Jed slowed the carriage to allow them to pull up and ride beside Elizabeth's window.
The older boy's sorrel pony danced closer to the carriage.
"You must be Mark," Elizabeth said to him.
His blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and he flashed her a contagious grin. "Yes, ma'am," he said. Elizabeth couldn't help but return his smile.
"And I'm Sara," piped up the younger child, whose grin showed tiny white nubs growing into gaps left by missing baby teeth. "We've watched for you all day!"
"Sara!" exclaimed Elizabeth, shocked that the boy was really Pamela's daughter. "I never would have guessed. You look so ... big."
"Mama says I'm tall for my age."
"Indeed."
Elizabeth could perceive the children's resemblance to Pamela. How odd to see their father's blue eyes looking at her from small replicas of Pamela's plump, well-loved face. Elizabeth felt immediately drawn to them.
"Come on, you two," Nick called. "Your folks are waiting for Miss Hamilton. Ride ahead and tell them she's here."
They both flashed impudent grins at him, but obediently reined their ponies away from the carriage and galloped off toward the house. Jed snapped the reins, and the horses and carriage followed the children.
Elizabeth leaned back against the seat cushions and watched the children on their ponies. They rode like little centaurs. Although both children dressed like the ranch hands she'd seen earlier, the indigo of their denim pants wasn't as faded, and the blue handkerchiefs hugging their necks looked new.
She shook her head in disbelief. Sara not only wore what looked to be her brother's outgrown clothing, she rode astride. What was Pamela thinking to allow such a thing! Her friend had written how her daughter enjoyed the outdoors, and even mentioned Sara was a tomboy. But it shocked Elizabeth to see how Pamela allowed Sara to run wild rather than teaching her to be a little lady.
Elizabeth's stomach tightened in apprehension. She reached up and clutched her locket. Maybe Pamela has changed more than I’ll be comfortable with. Have I been too impetuous in coming to Montana? Dear God, please tell me I didn’t jump from the frying pan into the fire!
CHAPTER SIX
Two black and white dogs barked ferociously at the arriving carriage. "Whoa, you two. Stop making such a racket," Nick commanded. The barking tapered off to a few friendly yaps. With tails wagging, the dogs kept pace with the carriage until it pulled to a stop.
The large, freshly painted-white clapboard house drew Elizabeth's attention. A broad porch ran the width of the first story, and several dormer windows graced the second story. While the architectural style differed from the residences in Boston, it was still an impressive home, worthy of Pamela.
Yellow daffodils decorated the planters in front of the house, and the beginnings of a big flower garden poked through the earth at the west side. Later in the summer, the yard would be beautiful. Early in Pamela's marriage, she had written Elizabeth a letter complaining of Montana's lack of flowering bulbs. Elizabeth had sent her several packages of tulip and daffodil bulbs, but had never expected to see the blossoming flowers herself.
Her earlier doubts vanished. Happiness bubbled in her stomach and rose until the joy reached her face, causing her to smile in delight. She had to restrain herself from bouncing in her seat like a child.
P
amela, John, and the children spilled out the door to greet her. John barely had time to open the carriage door and assist her to the ground before she and Pamela ran into each other's arms.
As Elizabeth hugged Pamela, tears glistened in her friend's eyes. The breeze tugged at tendrils of Pamela's hair--the same wisps that in Boston refused to stay properly pinned--and blew them across her forehead.
At the familiar sight, Elizabeth could only laugh through her own tears. As always, she reached up and tucked the hair back in place, following the familiar gesture with a kiss on her friend's plump cheek.
The eagerness of the rest of the family to meet her broke the two apart. John stepped forward to take her hand between both of his. "Welcome, Elizabeth." A broad smile lighted his craggy face. "Pamela has been like a cat on hot coals waiting for you the last two days."
"John, thank you so much for having me."
He shook his head and ran a hand through his thinning rusty hair. "I hear you've met two of our rascals," he said, dropping his hand on Sara's head and ruffling her brown bangs.
"Yes, they've given me quite a welcome, but I haven't met this one." She stooped to address the little girl in a pink flower-sprigged dress who peeked out from behind Pamela's blue calico skirt. "You must be Lizzy."
The child gave a slight nod before ducking behind her mother. Then, seemingly unable to resist the lure of a new visitor, she peered back out.
Elizabeth looked closer at the little girl and raised a hand to her mouth to suppress a gasp of astonishment. Lizzy was the image of Pamela's beloved little sister. Mary had died of diphtheria before her fourth birthday, her death devastating to both her and Pamela. A shiver went up her spine. Did Pamela see the resemblance? She'd never written of it. She glanced up at her friend, but Pamela's gaze slid away from hers.
Wild Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) Page 6
