“I never thought that I would live to see this day,” she mused in silence, reaching upward to pat the upswept, diamond studded strands of her luxurious ebony hair. “The day that I married for love.”
Stepping into the barn that had morphed into a wedding chapel, she watched with a smile as a laughing Ellie—dressed this day in a formal dress of lilac patterned calico with puffed sleeves and a long full skirt—ran in front of her on a makeshift aisle layered with a long sheath of scarlet red carpeting, enacting her designated role of flower girl by showering a rain of golden rose petals across the sleek fabric of the carpet. Then she nodded toward the assembled family members who had gathered that day to witness her nuptials; including her parents who had begged her forgiveness for passing her into the hands of a madman like Leon. Now they looked on with quiet pride as their resplendent daughter walked down the aisle for a second time; this time venturing forth to meet the man of her heart.
Dressed that day in a glorious silver jacquard vest with a matching long string tie and a high brown hat, Clayton also wore a smart, form fitting shirt of white cotton and black silk pantaloons; sporting a luminous white smile to enhance and complete the look.
And as the hero and his princess joined hands at an altar blooming forth with their favorite yellow roses, both knew that they would never let go.
Second Chances
Sleep was a friend to Elena O’Reilly; and, sadly, this distant crony grew more and more elusive with the passing of each day.
When sleep arrived in grand fashion at the end of an exhaustive day, it would whisk her away to a place of dreams and fantasies; a place where she could rejoin the man of her life in a haven of love and romance.
She’d enjoyed five years of blissful living with her husband Blake; a friend she’d met back in the school house on the border of the prairie; the same expanse of gem green grasses that separated their family farms.
With the passing of years their friendship ignited into something far more; a romance that filled their hearts and beings with the greatest love, inspiring Blake to propose marriage to the blonde beauty that he deemed the woman of his dreams.
Settling after their wedding on a Dallas ranch where they grew golden roses side by side in the fragrant fields of their 50-acre ranch, a wedding gift from their families, Elena and Blake seemed to be living a dream—talking and laughing through their toils before retiring to the modest two story ranch house where they planned to raise a family.
Whether enjoying a robust homemade dinner at their intimate dining room table, or kissing and spooning on an even more intimate loveseat that formed the center of their drawing room, the couple basked in one another’s company and celebrated their passion; also planning for a future that they hoped would include children, pets, and increased prosperity out on the ranch.
This dream died one cruel winter, when—determined to try and save their crops in the wake of brutal snowstorms—Blake contracted a nasty case of pneumonia; one that quickly confined him to his bed.
Abandoning all of her duties at the ranch, Elena stood steadfast by her husband’s bed; working with the country doctor to help and heal the man who was slowly slipping away.
Even as the color left Blake’s face and the strength slipped away from his dissipating limbs, Elena refused to abandon hope; wishing and praying that some God-given miracle would save her husband’s life.
All hope—and love—abandoned her weeks later when her husband died in her arms; taking with him all of the love, laughter and divine promise that had marked their life together.
Soon their big house, built by hand for two, became the habitat for one; one lonely person who sat alone on their loveseat, pondering as to how she would manage this ranch without the aid of her life partner.
All too often she would heave a resigned sigh and retreat to her bed; escaping to the calico confines of her sole retreat, shutting her eyes tight so she could finally and fully rejoin the man of her heart.
They danced in her dreams, stealing kisses and sharing secret smiles as they left their troubles behind.
Then, all too often and abruptly, she woke up; alone once again.
Pulling herself from her bed, Elena ventured alone into the fields and tended the crops they’d planted together; straining her back and chapping her hands as she struggled to harvest the corn, the wheat, the beans, that would line both her tables and her pockets—and especially the beautiful, rich petaled yellow roses that had once counted as her favorite crop.
Elena had once taken great joy in tending her garden of velvety gold florals; the pride and joy of the Belena Ranch, and the source of her sense of wonder and joy as she sometimes took a step back to behold their sheer, nature made ebullience.
Now, however, there was simply no time to stand back and admire the fruits—or flowers—of their labors. The death of her romance had rendered useless the power of the flower; with all beauty and sentimentality dissolving quick as she ripped the florals from the ground beneath them and prepared them for market.
Now the roses, much like any crop, represented little more than a marketable commodity for Elena; and as the days wore on, she quickly became overwhelmed by the burden of her duties.
Often working until late in the evening, she sighed relieved as she welcomed the opportunity to retreat once again to her private haven; the basic but clean lined bedroom enclosed by placid cream colored walls and adorned only by the presence of some wood framed portraits of yellow roses in full bloom—and by a grainy photograph of her and her husband on the day of her wedding.
It was this image that now captured her attention as she reclined once again in the warm cocoon of her rainbow patterned calico comforter; focusing on the handsome chiseled face of the muscular man portrayed in the portrait.
No grainy black and white image could convey the masculine beauty of Blake’s carved face or the effervescence of his smile; and it couldn’t even begin to capture the sweet azure hue of his vibrant eyes, which crinkled with sweet affection whenever they looked at her.
“Blast it, Blake, why did you leave me?” she asked aloud, her voice cracking as she seized the soft borders of her beloved calico quilt. “Why did this have to happen?”
She tried at this point to force her eyes shut and relax; welcoming the sleep that she knew would take her to the side of her beloved.
Yet for this night, at least, sleep wouldn’t come; the worries and grief that seized her mind refused to release her, rendering her tense and fully awake in her bed.
Finally she bolted upright, reaching for a discarded newspaper that lined the surface of her polished cherry wood bedside table.
Desperate for a distraction, her work worn fingers combed through the pages of The Dallas Bugle, a periodical delivered daily to her ranch; a publication she read mainly to keep apprised of grain futures and other facts and figures that affected and influenced her daily business.
On this night, however, she had had enough of business; and, furthermore, of her life in general. On this eve she yearned for nothing more than a distraction; a way to escape from the complete and utter tragedy that had become her life.
Finding herself for some unknown reason in the classified ad section of the newspaper, her teary gaze fell between the borders of a bold lettered announcement printed at the center of the page.
“Handsome cowboy seeks his rose,” read the headline, which drew a loud, sharp snort from the throat of its current beholder.
“Sheesh, what a cornball,” Elena scoffed aloud, arching her eyebrows as she read further and forward.
“After riding the range for five years and striking it lucky with some Texas tea, this Lone star boy recently settled on his own ranch to the west of Dallas,” the ad continued. “Now I am seeking a queen for my palace; a strong and loving woman to share my newfound wealth, and to
help me build my new empire further still. If interested, please reply to the address posted at the bottom of this ad. Thank ya kindly, Justin Whitaker.”
Tossing the newspaper aside, Elena broke out into gales of laughter as she considered the words she’d just perused—or had she actually read them, or just imagined them?
“Did this—ahem—gentleman actually use the words ‘striking it lucky,’ ‘Texas tea,’ ‘lone star boy,’ and ‘queen for my palace?’” she queried, adding as she rolled her eyes heavenward, “Oh, and lest we forget, empire. This must be some sort of a joke.”
Even so, Elena had to admit that the ad she’d just read more than intrigued her; prompting her to reread its copy again and again as she considered the man behind them.
“Now let it be known that I have no earthly desire to become a mail order bride,” she asserted with a sniff, straightening her slender back and lifting her regal chin up high. “I have no earthly desire, furthermore, to be anyone’s bride. The love of my life has come and gone, and Blake is simply irreplaceable. It’s just that I have to wonder at the true character of this man behind this advertisement; if, indeed, the ad in question is something more than a preposterous joke.”
Either way, Elena reasoned, in some odd way it might benefit her to answer this ad. If indeed it was a hoax, then she still would be able to escape the ranch for a day and take off across the plains in her rickety covered wagon—making a trip that was sure to lead to some sort of an adventure.
Or, at the very least, she truly hoped so.
*****
Rising at dawn the next morning, Elena forsook her drab selection of plaid and gray work dresses in favor of a day dress that—while not elegant or particularly eye catching—always had served her well as a social dress; the kind of frock that she would wear for dinners out with Blake, or on their rare outings to meet with family and friends.
A pure foot length dress of ivory cotton that flattered her slender form, the frock was a prim buttoned down effort with a rounded neckline, a long flowing skirt, puffy sleeves, and prim pearl buttons down the front and on the lace lined cuffs.
After endless days of working alone and unadorned out in the fields, Elena relished the process of feminizing and prettying herself for the purpose of the trip; washing her long wheat blonde hair in a basin of rainwater before brushing out its luxurious strands and topping her head with a sharp azure blue bonnet.
Donning at last a shiny, delicate pearl necklace that ranked among her few ornamental adornments, she headed out to hitch her sleek ivory palomino to the front of her covered wagon; hopping on the driver’s seat and surging forthright through the open front gates of Belena Ranch.
She smiled as she noted that her journey would be blessed by the beacon of the glowing sun; its luminous rays lending a radiant cast to the emerald leaved trees and golden fields that passed her in an ebullient kaleidoscope by the side of the road.
Finally she brought her carriage to a lurching stop before a pair of golden front gates that seemed far too elegant to front a common ranch.
And once she took a peek beyond these gates to the vast expanse of land that lie beyond, she realized in an instant that this was no regular ranch.
First she beheld a sun soaked field just brimming with golden roses; lush petaled, dew glistened florals that seemed a natural extension of the clear diamond blue sky above them.
Off in the distance she saw what she immediately identified as a small field of oil rigs; one tended by a small but serious looking team of ranch hands that also toiled in the fields surrounding.
Serving as a stellar centerpiece for this obviously prosperous parcel of land was a ranch house that looked more like a fairy tale manse; a peerless three story ivory stone home that boasted stained glass windows, sprawling balconies and pillared front porches, as well as a pair of brass handled cherry wood front doors that now opened to reveal one that she assumed had to be the host of the house.
Tall and muscular, the man before her wore a slick white cotton shirt with a metallic bolo tie and tight blue jeans; along with a sleek polished pair of black leather cowboy boots and a tall ivory hat.
As he took leave of his front porch and became one with the golden fields that he himself had grown, she noted that the seeming lord of the manor also boasted a chiseled face that came complete with sculpted cheekbones, sky blue eyes, and full moist lips that parted to reveal a gleaming white smile.
The luxurious strands of the man’s silky jet black hair blew behind him in the light winds of a temperate Texas morning; seeming to propel his strong form as he made fast but smooth tracks across the ranch.
Soon she stood face to face with her breathtaking host; mustering a tentative smile as all coherent thought managed to flee her psyche.
“Good mornin’ Ma’am!” the gentleman greeted her, tipping his hat to her in a gentlemanly fashion as he asked with arched eyebrows, “How may I help you?”
Elena stared at him in silence for a full moment, all preconceived notion of discovering the truth behind that preposterous ad abandoning her mind as she struggled to speak.
“Nice face you got there!” she sputtered out finally, snapping her pearl pink lips shut as she realized what utterly preposterous words had just passed them. “I mean, that is, nice place you got there! A more beautiful ranch I’ve seldom seen in these parts, I really must say.”
The man nodded.
“Why thank ya, Ma’am,” he allowed with a nod, at the same time narrowing his gem blue eyes as he seemed keen to question her intentions in making this visit—if not, for that matter, her very sanity. “Is there something I can help you with this mornin’?”
Elena shrugged, shifting awkward in the cushions of her driver’s seat as she considered this question.
“At this point,” she managed, adding with a defined nod, “I am sure of nothing.”
“Oh, I see,” The man nodded in kind return, making a chivalrous effort to appear as if he had the remotest idea as to what this lovely lunatic was talking about, “Well let me just take a random shot here.” He paused here, adding as he inclined his head sharp in her direction, “Would you happen to be calling in answer to the mail order bride ad that was placed on my behalf, yesterday in the Dallas Bugle?”
Elena’s eyes flew wide, and she let loose with an audible sigh of relief in response to these words.
“So you were in fact not the one who wrote that preposterous ad?” she blurted out, adding as she clapped her hands together before her, “Hallelujah! So you are not a complete and total egotistical cretin—and you’re handsome and rich to boot!”
An uneasy silence fell between them; one finally broken when Elena slapped a restraining hand—albeit all too late—across the surface of her rebellious mouth.
“Oh my,” she released on a sigh, “I just said that out loud, did I not?” she paused here, adding as she arched some curious eyebrows, “Would it help my case if I told you that it’s been a really, really long time since I got out of the house?”
Without awaiting an answer, Elena took her reins firmly in hand and averted her gaze to the road before her.
“I am so sorry that I wasted your time here, Sir,” she told him, still not daring to meet his eyes as she leaned forward in her seat. “I shall be going now, before I venture to embarrass myself further.”
She froze in her seat seconds later, as the air above her resounded with the sound of a resounding, robust laugh; one that broke the tension that suffused the atmosphere as she joined free in its ethereal chorus.
Soon she and her host shared a good laugh as the illusive golden gates flew open before her.
“Miss, I must say it,” her host spoke up finally, waving her forward onto his ranch, “It has been quite a while since a lady made me laugh. I have got to get to know you, Miss.” He paused h
ere, adding with a charming smile, “First, though, please allow me to introduce myself. I’m Justin Whitaker, the owner and keeper of the Yellow Rose ranch.”
*****
Soon Elena found herself standing knee deep in a lustrous growth of her beloved yellow roses; their fragrance filling her senses as she admired their lush golden glow.
“Like what you see, Lady?”
She jumped then as her placid meditation was disrupted by the sound of a deep sonorous voice; one that drew her attention to its handsome bearer as she graced him with a dreamy smile.
“Well as a rose grower myself—one who has won more than her fair share of blue, red and on an off day white ribbons at both garden shows and state and county fair competitions, thank you very much—I must say that those are among the most beautiful blossoms I ever have seen.” She paused here, adding as she inclined her head sharp in his direction, “So you must tell me. What is your secret?”
Her host shook his head.
“Well now with all due respect Ma’am, I can’t properly answer that question without giving away my trade secrets,” he revealed, accenting his words by raising a confidential finger to his full, moist lips—and, she couldn’t help but notice, in a most appealing manner. “In order to discover that secret, in fact, you’ll simply have to agree to become the lady of the ranch.”
Elena blinked.
“Pardon?” she asked, adding as she shook her head from side to side, “I tell ya, the scent risin’ up from these prized roses is a little TOO intoxicating. I thought for sure that you just asked me to marry you.”
Justin chuckled.
“Well you did come here for the express purpose of answering my mail order bride ad,” he reminded her, adding with eyebrows arched in a show of keen curiosity, “Did you not, Elena?”
Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance) Page 80
