by Lisa Prysock
“It’s my cousin, Lady Hazel Brayden. She has clashed with her stepmother. Her father, the Earl of Buntington, Lord Brayden, Uncle Davis to Alfie and I, has written to prevail upon us. He has been in occasional correspondence with my father and remarked with praise concerning my work as your daughter’s governess. He also sends his congratulations upon our marriage. However, he has sent Hazel on board a vessel bound for America. He wishes for her to join us here in the wilds of the Wyoming Territory for an indefinite period of time as he settles into his new marriage with a, uh...” She reached for the letter once again and scanned the contents. “Aw, here it is, Ms. Beatrice Riggs, by now the new Countess of Saxheim Manor. I believe I remember Hazel writing to me about her. I think she was the recent widow of a banker, a Mr. Riggs. Hazel wrote to me months ago, convinced she was after her father’s title and wealth. Uncle Davis hopes I can be of some help to my cousin and has asked me to provide her a refuge and influence her in a positive manner. He also sent a bank draft for her expenditures.”
Joshua poured a cup of coffee and sat down beside Mia. “Well, we cannot know the motives of Ms. Riggs, but as far as your cousin joining us, a little company never hurt anyone.”
“But my father and brother are still here and we’ve only been married such a short time.” Mia sighed.
“One month, one week, and two days of pure heaven.” Joshua grinned, nuzzling her cheek with another kiss. He was envisioning her in the stunning white silk gown with the lace bodice and veil created for her by the Pettigrew sisters, the owners of the new seamstress shop located in Belle. He would never forget how beautiful a bride she was on her wedding day.
She giggled and pushed him away, her expression becoming serious. “Joshua, I don’t want my family to become a burden or a nuisance. My uncle writes that his letter should precede her arrival by two or three days if the journey goes as planned. She could arrive any day now.”
“To be honest, I’m enjoying having a big, happy family around. It’s been very good for Ambrosia. She’s taken a liking to your father and brother. The wranglers, they’ll always be a part of the Silver Aspen family, but for Ambrosia and me, this has been good. Your family is always welcome here.” He drank some more of his coffee. “And it’s good for you too, I can tell.”
She nodded, unable to argue with his reasoning.
“I like the sound of that,” Lady Mia Stanton’s father said as he entered the dining room.
“Good morning, Papa,” Mia looked up and smiled as she watched her father, Earl Charles Morley, shuffle toward a seat across from her husband. “I hope you slept well.”
“I did,” he replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee as Fern greeted him from the kitchen. Before he could finish filling the cup to the brim, the cook slid a plate of scrambled eggs, buttermilk biscuits, and thick slices of bacon before him.
“Thank you, Fern. This looks delicious,” Joshua’s father-in-law grinned as the cook positioned a jar of elderberry preserves in front of the Earl.
Turning back to her husband, Lady Mia Stanton continued their discussion. “I don’t know, Joshua. Hazel can be a handful. I can’t tell you how difficult she’s been on her stepmother from the things mentioned in this correspondence. I believe my uncle mentions she is accompanied by her personal maid. Are you sure we are up to this?”
“Family is family, and accompanied or unaccompanied, it sounds like your cousin, Hazel, needs some kind of safe haven from the turmoil,” Joshua commented. “Your father sent you with Miss Flora, and she’s no trouble at all. In fact, she’s a tremendous help around here.”
“Cousin Hazel is coming to Wyoming?” Mia’s brother, Alfred, had entered the room at some point. He stood blinking in the morning sunlight streaming through the windows.
A glance through the windows at the early January winter landscape caught Joshua’s attention even as he nodded in the affirmative for Alfred, mumbling a yes audibly. He was so in tune with his new wife, he could feel Mia’s eyes follow his to look outside at the snow as his brother-in-law settled into a chair at the plank table.
Mia responded while keeping her eyes locked on the scene outside the window. “Apparently Uncle Davis wrote and mailed this letter dated for the twentieth of November a few days before she set sail aboard the passenger vessel, The Star.” She turned away to glance at the calendar, appearing to make a few quick calculations in her head. “If the ship took the customary thirty days to reach the East Coast and landed a few days before Christmas, if the weather was good, then Cousin Hazel would arrive by coach within approximately ten to fourteen days from the thirtieth day. So, yes, I expect she’ll reach Belle at any moment, providing the journey went well. After spending the holiday alone in a foreign country on a long and harrowing journey, I imagine her nerves are plum frazzled raw. We should send someone to check the livery each day now that we have a daily coach in Belle.”
Joshua had a feeling he and Mia were both thinking the same thing as they stared out at the thick January snowfall covering Silver Aspen in a blanket of white. As beautiful as it looked glistening in the sunshine, they couldn’t help but be mindful of how dangerous the journey could be crossing the Atlantic in winter, sometimes even more so in the spring as the icebergs in the north broke apart, sending smaller ice floes down the coast.
Mia’s uncle must have been desperate indeed to send her cousin across the ocean this time of year. Her brother and father had made the journey in time to avoid the frigid, icy waters to attend their late fall nuptials. Her family didn’t plan to return to England until late spring or early summer. In a few days, when Hazel’s coach would be expected, Wyoming could be a sea of blizzard. They could only hope and pray the good weather would hold on a little longer and that her journey would be a safe one.
Chapter 3
* * *
Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. James 1:2-3, ESV
Two days hence, January 3rd, 1882, Belle, Wyoming
“Do tell me again how Lady Hazel is related to you and my Uncle Alfred,” Ambrosia insisted as the ladies of Silver Aspen settled into stitching their samplers in the front sitting room.
Their morning chores and Ambrosia’s lessons were complete. She had finished a chapter of geography, French, and grammar. Mia had said that would be enough for the day if her stepdaughter promised to read from Pilgrim’s Progress later that evening. Now they had time to work on their winter embroidery projects, an alphabet sampler for Ambrosia, and a wedding sampler for Mia. They chose the two rocking chairs near the warm fire Henry had stoked for them, the logs beginning to burn at a steady pace in the massive stone fireplace. Miss Flora, Mia’s lady’s maid, joined them, preferring a spot on the corner of one of the wooden parlor benches. She set about the task of darning socks for one of the wranglers.
Mia, now Lady Stanton, glanced nervously out of the two front windows, wondering if the weather would hold. They could all hear the howling winds begin to whip around the main cabin and witnessed enormous gusts of snow being driven across the prairie meadows. Joshua had dispatched one of the new wranglers after breakfast, Wade Jefferson, to fetch her cousin from the livery in case the stage arrived that morning bearing her English relation.
Thankful for the distraction of her stepdaughter’s question, Mia turned her attention back to the sampler in her hands as she prayed for their safety. Then she began her attempt to respond. “Well, my mother, Gabriella Mia Romano, was from Venice, and as I mentioned before, my father met her on his Grand Tour of Europe before marrying her and bringing her to live in England. My mother had a sister, Blythe Lucia Romano, who came to visit. Blythe eventually met and married my uncle, Davis Brayden, the Earl of Buntington, Lord Brayden. He was a friend of my father who arranged the connection. After my aunt married Davis Brayden, also an Earl like my father, Blythe was then granted the courtesy title through marriage of Countess of Buntington, or Lady Brayden. They had n
o sons, but their only daughter, Hazel, was given the courtesy title of Lady, as is customary for daughters of an Earl. Blythe passed away, God rest her soul, when Hazel was about the age of eleven.”
“I think I understand now.” Ambrosia sighed as she made a few tiny stitches, not looking up from her work. “What a complex thing to understand English titles. What is that other word you used associated with it?”
“The peerage.” Mia’s lips turned up, curving into a smile as she pulled the thread through the needle she held in her hand.
“Yes, that was the word.” Ambrosia continued to work at stitching the capital and lower case letter ‘E’ in her sampler as Alfred, Mia’s brother, wandered through the sitting room and into the library to return the book in his hands. They’d grown accustomed to him fetching new books from Joshua’s study, and every so often, Mia’s father, Charles, would do the same. A few moments later, and Alfred emerged through the square arch from the library with a different book. He returned to the dining room where he joined his father again to indulge in reading their books.
“So, Blythe would have been your aunt?” Ambrosia asked, looking up at Mia, her needle poised before she made the next stitch.
Mia nodded. “Yes, you are absolutely correct. Blythe was our maternal aunt, mine and Alfred’s. However, I’m a few years older than Hazel, so I do remember Aunt Blythe quite well from holiday family gatherings.”
“I see you’ve progressed to the letter ‘E’ Miss Ambrosia. What word will you stitch to represent it?” Miss Flora inquired from her perch on the bench adjacent to Mia’s rocking chair.
“I was thinking elephant or egg, but probably egg because it’s shorter and requires less stitches.” Ambrosia giggled, drawing smiles from both Miss Flora and Mia. “Besides that, making an egg would be much easier than designing an elephant for the picture to accompany each letter.”
“Agreed.” Miss Flora nodded as she held out the sock she’d finished.
“You are so quick with the needle, Miss Flora,” Mia remarked as she carefully began stitching the number five in her wedding date of November twenty-fifth. “Just as I remember my mother with a thread and needle.”
As they made steady progress on their various sewing projects and the conversation turned to what items they’d make for Joshua’s spring birthday and next year’s Christmas gifts, Henry paced on the opposite side of the room. Henry had served as a faithful manager over the wranglers and ranch hands at Silver Aspen for many years. He was married to Fern, the ranch cook, and they lived with their grandson Frankie in a cabin on the property.
Mia occasionally glanced up at him as he walked back and forth from the sitting room front windows to the dining room windows. He paused occasionally to peer outside at the drifting snow before continuing on through the front hall. Now that Henry was beginning to show signs of his age, he spent more time at the main cabin than he had in previous years, a fact she only knew because her new husband had informed her.
Mia’s brow furrowed with concern, hoping the new wrangler, Wade Beauregard Jefferson from Cheyenne, would make a good decision to remain in Belle overnight if needed. The winds were growing more frequent as the morning sky turned to a strange kind of white with a hazy blue and gray attempting to blot out a ball of orange sun. She couldn’t help but notice the growing concern on Henry’s face as he continued to look outside and watch the weather.
Fern remained in the kitchen where the comforting smells of chicken gravy simmering for a chicken pie and fresh coffee wafted through the rest of the cabin home. Mia was sure Fern was probably still working her way through peeling a large bowl of apples for the apple crisp she planned to serve along with that evening’s supper. Fern also planned to bake a few loaves of banana bread and some traditional English scones, both among Mia’s favorites, and items she recalled Hazel being especially fond of from their childhood years of being together, usually during a few weeks of summer and sometimes Christmas.
Somewhere out there on the property of Silver Aspen, Joshua, Fern and Henry’s grandson, Frankie, and the other wranglers, Patrick and Edward, were working hard to take care of the ranch. Likely, they were busy feeding the livestock and mucking the stalls. Frankie would be busy adding more logs to the woodpile already stacked to the moon on the covered front porch. It was too cold to wander out on the range to look after the herd. The snow was beginning to come down hard and fast. Joshua always said Wyoming cattle had a knack for surviving harsh winters, so they needn’t worry about bringing them in out of the cold.
Henry had already attached a rope to one of the main posts of the railing on the front porch in case of a white out. The long rope went all the way to the barn where he’d securely tied it to a post inside. Another rope went from the kitchen back door to the ranch’s original log cabin beyond the rear stone terrace and one to Henry’s cabin, but Mia knew Joshua wouldn’t allow Ambrosia to sleep in the cabin during the blizzard, even though she now preferred the cabin to her former room in the main house. The pretty white flakes had been falling gradually all night long, and now there was more snow on the ground than they’d had all through December.
Everyone looked nervous yet hopeful when breakfast was over, and after a brief exchange with Joshua, Wade had still hitched up the wagon and driven to town. His aim was to beat the storm to fetch Lady Hazel off the coach if she arrived. He was elected for the errand because he knew Wyoming winters better than anyone except Henry. Wade had grown up in Cheyenne and Wyoming Territory, and he knew how fast blizzards could appear out of nowhere.
“Now Wade,” he’d said, “if it looks like a storm, take this cash and stay in town. There’s enough here for a week’s stay at the fancy new hotel in Belle, The Paradise, or the other hotel or the boarding house. Don’t risk Mia’s cousin’s life or yours trying to play the hero. Understand?”
“Yes, boss, I understand,” Wade had nodded before sliding his hat on. He’d graciously accepted the extra scarf and a pile of heavy quilts from Mia with a friendly wink and the likeable smile they’d become accustomed to. Fern had handed Henry a picnic basket of food as well.
“Our prayers go with you,” Joshua had added as Patrick and Edward patted Wade on the back. He might be the newest wrangler, but he’d been embraced by the Silver Aspen cowboys. They respected his hard work and strength. In fact, it seemed as if Wade had always been there, and the memory of Thomas, the former wrangler who’d taken up with the Thorpe Gang, had finally begun to fade like a hard to remember dream.
“Keep the lights burning in the windows,” Wade had requested as he’d turned to go.
“We will,” Joshua had assured him.
Mia sighed as she remembered the conversation from earlier, pulling her shawl closer as another howling wind whipped about the cabin. She squeezed her eyes shut as if it would close her ears from hearing the portentous sound and bent her head down over her work. She was thankful her dark hair fell softly about her shoulders to hide the growing concern on her face from her companions. If the wind kept growing into a roaring howling sort, she knew all of them would worry. She struggled to concentrate on making neat, tiny stitches on the linen fabric within the hoop in her hands. Dear Lord, please protect Wade and Hazel and all the people in this area, she prayed silently as the day went on.
Wade Jefferson breathed a sigh of relief when he finally reached the livery in Belle. It seemed as though he’d traveled the whole way from Silver Aspen on the northeast side of Belle against a wind moving west to east. The storm had grown intense during the second half of his journey into town, and when he’d arrived to find the stage there, he hoped Lady Stanton’s relation would be waiting inside. He couldn’t be sure. The trip might have been a complete waste. Maybe she was held up waiting out the storm back in Laramie. He pulled the team to a stop beside the driver and asked if any passengers remained, hollering over the wind gusts that seemed to topple one over another now that the weather had grown worse.
“Just one lady from England if you’re
from Silver Aspen!” The driver yelled, cupping a hand over his mouth so the wind wouldn’t carry his words away. “British accent!”
Wade nodded and smiled, a relieved look on his face telling the driver the passenger was now in safe hands as he shouted a reply. “Yes, Silver Aspen for Lady Hazel Brayden!”
“She’ll be mighty glad tuh see you!” He climbed down from the front seat to where the coach was parked in the little bit of shelter the outer walls of the livery had provided.
As the driver made his way to drop the steps down and open the passenger door, Wade wondered where the maid was. Hadn’t Lady Stanton said there’d be two ladies? The driver had said only one passenger remained. Apparently, Lady Hazel Jane Brayden was the only one on board arriving on the late morning stage, bringing with her a flurry of blinding snow and a bitter, cold wind whipping around every corner.
Nothing could escape that wind. Ice patches had begun to form over many places on the roads and boardwalks in Belle, which looked small against the storm as a few brave townsfolk hurried inside the little shops here and there. Even the horses bent their heads down to try to keep their faces and noses from freezing.
When the door opened, a good deal of snow blew directly into the coach, catching Hazel off guard. She kept one hand inside her fur muff, glad for the coal box at her feet which the driver had faithfully tended each time they’d stopped. She pulled the fur trimmed hood of her cape around her face and stood up to exit the conveyance. Had someone finally come to deliver her to Silver Aspen after all? Perhaps Mr. Joshua Stanton himself, her cousin’s new husband? Surely Mia wouldn’t risk coming into town in this stormy weather; though Hazel couldn’t help but wish with all her might to find a familiar face waiting her arrival.
She had only one aim and was determined to have her way. She wanted to reach Silver Aspen and sleep for three days. Seeing the town could wait until later. She’d made it across the entire Atlantic Ocean and the harrowing Appalachian Mountains. What did a little swirling snow and cold wind matter at this point? She just wanted to be done with the entire journey. She did not want to sleep in one more guest bed in yet another strange town. She wanted her own bed and a good night’s rest, one where she wasn’t being jostled about like a bowl of soup or led to some small room above an inn or boarding house where she could hear the echo of drunken voices singing cheerful foreign songs well into the wee morning hours.
