Winds of Paradise (Paradise Valley Book 2)

by Vivi Holt

  Dearest Jane,

  There’s coffee on the stove, may just need some reheating. You’ll find a plate of breakfast – sausages, eggs and bread – under a cloth on the table. Your clothes are drying by the fire. Hope you are feeling better.

  With love, Laura

  Tears threatened and a rush of affection for the kindly woman filled Jane’s heart. After everything that had happened, she was stuck on the verge of tears. Any little thing could push her over the edge.

  She wandered to the stove and stoked the fire through the small door, then closed the door, lifted the coffee pot from the back of the stove and moved it to one of the burners to reheat. She sat down at the table and pulled the cloth from her plate of food. It was still warm and looked delicious, and she realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast the previous day. And she was thirsty as a sponge.

  There was a jug of water on the table and four cups turned upside down beside it. She flipped one over and filled it with water. Her tongue was thick and dry, and she slurped down the water in great gulps to soothe her parched throat.

  Dusty had been so kind and thoughtful the previous day. He’d stayed with her until the fire had finally extinguished itself. He’d brought her over to the Langstons’, making sure she was settled in before he rode over to the hotel for the night. He’d promised to call on her this morning to accompany her to church, too, so she’d best get a wiggle on, lest he find her in a sorry state of undress.

  She almost smiled at the thought, but the sorrow wouldn’t let her. She knew that it would all work out somehow. She was grateful that no one was hurt, including her. But she couldn’t help grieving over all that was lost. The lovely, quaint little schoolhouse where she’d spent only a few weeks getting to know her children and teaching them was gone. Her rooms were gone. Everything she had, all her worldly possessions, were ash.

  Granted, she didn’t own much – it had all fit in one trunk and a carpetbag. But there were so many sentimental things she’d hoped to keep forever: letters from loved ones, trinkets she’d found along her journey, a locket from her grandmother, even the winter clothes she was sewing for herself and the Thompson children. All destroyed.

  She choked back a sob and smoothed her hair down. No, she wouldn’t think about all that now. She lifted her fork and began eating her breakfast, only stopping to get the coffee pot and fill her cup with the steaming black brew. It wouldn’t help for her to fall apart now. Especially since Dusty would be there any moment.

  She finished eating, then checked on her few things that Mrs. Langston had hung in front of the fireplace, and miraculously they were warm and dry. More importantly, two dresses hung there along with a thick winter coat. Piled on a nearby chair were underclothes, stockings and shoes. All of them roughly in her size. Bless you, Laura Langston. Bless your dear heart. Even that kindness brought a tear to her eye.

  She dashed it away with the back of her hand, resigning herself to being an emotional mess that day. After dressing in a worn but serviceable blue gingham day dress, she spent a good deal of time fixing her hair.

  She was just setting the final hairpin in place when a knock sounded at the front door. She checked the laces on the boots, straightened her skirts and rushed to open it. Dusty stood there, his hat clasped between his hands. He’d brushed his clothes clean, but the faint odor of smoke still clung to him. Concern was etched across his handsome features. “Mornin’, Jane. How ya feelin’ today?”

  “Better for seeing you.” She surprised herself by falling against him with a sigh, pressing her cheek to his coat. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her close until she pulled away, wiping yet another tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m just all to pieces this morning. I don’t know if I’m coming or going. And it seems everything sets me to crying.” She laughed through the tears. “Let me just fetch my coat and I’ll be right with you.”

  When she returned, he gazed at her softly. “It’s to be expected ya wouldn’t feel like yerself. Ya went through a lot yesterday and there’s more to come, no doubt. But I’ll be here with ya to help any way I can.”

  Her eyes found his and she felt a gigantic weight shift from her shoulders. She knew then that she wanted to spend her life with this man if she could. He made her feel she wasn’t alone for the first time in many years, that perhaps they could shoulder the weight of her problems and his together.

  She’d never thought about a man that way before. All her adult life, she’d carried her troubles alone, never believing she would find the right man to share her life with, who could take some of her burdens. She’d always assumed a husband would mean additional work – more cooking, cleaning, demands to fulfill. That’s what her parents’ marriage was like – Father gave Mother orders, and she begrudgingly did his will, all the while complaining behind his back about how he was a “ne’er-do-well scoundrel.”

  But Dusty, she could tell, would help her carry whatever difficulty or responsibility she had to endure, even take the full load from her at times. The thought sent a thrill of hope and relief coursing through her tired body. The idea of allowing someone else to shoulder her grief and worry was an appealing one – she was just too tired to do it alone anymore.

  Jane smiled at him, her heart full of love for the man who held his arm out for her. He grinned at her and they walked over to the church together. Side by side.

  ***

  After Dusty left for Paradise Ranch, Jane decided to walk over to the remains of the schoolhouse. She didn’t hold out much hope, but perhaps something of hers had survived.

  She pulled on the coat and wrapped one of Mrs. Langston’s shawls around her shoulders, shuddering at the cold wind that hit her face on the way out. She wished she had a hat to keep some of the frigid wind at bay. The coming winter would be her first in Bozeman, and now she didn’t have her winter clothes to keep her warm. She didn’t even know where the clothes she was wearing had come from.

  When she arrived, the site was still smoldering, with gusts of ash and steam blowing over the charred brick foundation and around the chimney that still stood on the blackened ground. She retrieved a long stick from nearby and poked through the debris to where her rooms had been. She searched and searched, her heart despondent.

  Where the fireplace once was lay the mantle, a long thick slab of timber. It was where she’d kept her jewelry box. Was it too much to hope that her grandmother’s brooch had survived the flames? She bent, searching around the plank and discovered the remnants of the box, mostly intact but charred beyond recognition. As she slowly opened it, she squealed in delight – a few pieces of costume jewelry had survived, though her nicest necklace was melted into the fabric of the lining.

  And there was the brooch, still in one piece. The woman’s face engraved in alabaster on its surface shone up at her, and she began to cry again, clasping the heirloom to her chest. It was the only thing she had left to remind her of family, of home. She opened her eyes to take in its every curve and line once again, then slipped it into her bodice, buttoning it back tightly to prevent the brooch from falling out.

  She sighed deeply as she stood to walk out of the ash and debris. Her boots, stockings and the bottom of her skirts were black, and she’d have to wash them when she returned to the parsonage. But nothing could dampen her joy at having found the brooch, not even an afternoon of scrubbing.

  She looked at her soot-covered hands, shrugged and hurried back, anxious to show Mrs. Langston her discovery.

  ***

  “Jane dear, come in to the kitchen, if ya will,” called Mrs. Langston Monday morning.

  Jane rose dolefully from her bed and smoothed back her hair. She forced a smile onto her face and hurried out of the bedroom.

  “There ya are, my dear. The Reverend and I wanted to talk with ya for just a moment, if it’s agreeable.” Mrs. Langston gestured for her to join them at the kitchen table.

  Jane sat in front of a steaming cup of coffee. A plate of cookies lay in the center o
f the table, and Mrs. Langston picked it up and offered it to her. “No, thank you, Mrs. Langston. I’m not hungry.” But she took a tentative sip of the coffee.

  “Of course ya ain’t, after all that’s happened,” crooned Mrs. Langston, setting the plate down and patting Jane’s arm softly. She nodded to her husband.

  He coughed and laid his cookie on the plate in front of him. “Yes, hrumph, right-o. Well now, Mrs. Langston and I were talking, and we thought we should discuss with you what’s to happen with the school.”

  Jane’s interest piqued, and she waited for the man to continue.

  The Reverend groomed his beard with one hand and smiled warmly at her, his eyes full of compassion. “We had a meeting in the church after the service, after you left. And we all agreed that the school should be moved to the sanctuary for now. It’s so early in the term, it would be a shame for the children if it were to be cancelled, don’t you think?”

  “Oh yes, it would be. I think that sounds marvelous, Rev. Langston – thank you so much. The children and I surely appreciate your generosity and hospitality. If it weren’t for the two of you … I just don’t know what I’d … oh!” Jane burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. She was horrified at her own display of emotion, even though she knew she couldn’t help it. Mrs. Langston patted her arm again, cooing comforting words over her as the Reverend hemmed and hawed.

  Finally she composed herself and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “And me without a handkerchief,” she giggled, followed by a sniffle.

  “Never mind, dear, you can use mine.” The Reverend handed her a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “I assure you, it’s quite clean, per my wife’s specifications.” Mrs. Langston nodded in agreement.

  Jane blew her nose gratefully into the square of fabric. “Well, then I think school should start up again tomorrow to keep things going.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” the Reverend asked, bushy eyebrows raised high.

  “For those children, I’ll do whatever I can. Thank you again.”

  They finished their coffee and conversation, and Jane returned to her room in relief. She’d wondered what would happen to her job after the fire. She’d spent every cent she had getting to Bozeman and buying supplies, and still owed the haberdashery for the fabric, buttons, cotton and lace she’d purchased. Now that she knew she still had her job for the moment, she’d be able to pay off that debt as planned.

  She still had no winter clothes, though. And making some to help the Thompson children was now out of the question. But there was nothing she could do about any of it. She was grateful to be alive and thankful for the clothes on her back, a job she loved and friends who were willing to take her in. It was more than so many others had.

  Jane lay on the bed and curled onto her side with her hands folded beneath the pillow. She wished Dusty was there with her. She missed him when he was gone. And right now, she missed his embrace and his kind brown eyes looking on her with love. For that, most of all, she was grateful.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sound of the dinner bell cut through the still Friday evening. Dusty finished driving the final nail into the newly broken buckskin’s raised hoof, clipped off the end of the nail and bent it down against the top of her hoof. He set it down gently and she shifted her feet with a snort, still unsure of the feel of the shoes now gracing all four hooves.

  “You’ll get used to it,” he laughed, patting her leg affectionately. He straightened, loosed her halter and she trotted to the other side of the yard, raising each hoof high as she went and shaking her head in confusion. He laughed again, then carried his tools into the barn to stow them away.

  The barn was warmer than the cool air outside and the smell of fresh straw gave a pleasantly welcoming aroma. A row of stalls housed various horses who munched happily on their evening meal, swishing their tails as they ate. He strode out the other end of the enormous structure and began the climb up the hill to the bunkhouse.

  The smell of supper greeted him as he pushed through the door. An enormous pot of stew bubbled on the stove top, and Cookie stood beside it with a ladle, dishing generous spoonfuls onto each cowboy’s plate as they passed by him in a line. Dusty reached for a plate from a stack on the shelf by the table. “That smells good, Cookie.”

  “Tastes good, too,” chimed in Ost, who’d already begun eating.

  “Hey! Wait for the blessin’, ya little heathen,” exclaimed Cookie, frowning at the boy. Ost put down his spoon and glanced around the room with red cheeks. The rest of the group ribbed him with shouts and laughter.

  Cookie filled Dusty’s plate with a steaming helping of slow-cooked meat, potatoes, vegetables, onions and herbs. “Thank ya, Cookie,” he said, then sat with the others and waited until everyone had been served.

  Cookie sat at the head of the table and bowed his head over steepled hands. “Heavenly Father, we thank Ya for all Yer provisions and the food Ya saw fit to give us. May Ya bless it to us and keep us in Yer care. Amen.”

  “Amen!” came the chorus from the ranch hands, and each of the men dug in. After a hard day’s work, they were always ravenous by supper time.

  “So, Dusty, how is your lady friend?” Vaquero broke his usual silence, and the others glanced up in surprise.

  “She’s shook up, of course,” said Dusty between bites. “But the Langstons let her move into the parsonage, so she’s taken care of for now. She lost everythin’, though, so I think she feels a bit low.”

  He was concerned about her. To think he’d intended to ask her about marriage until he saw the schoolhouse burning. That had been no time for proposing, and after everything that had happened, he didn’t know when he’d get another chance. He hadn’t seen her since he left her at the Langstons on Sunday, and was desperate to see her again soon.

  If only they were married already. He hated being away from her, not knowing how she was doing, if she was safe, what she was thinking. He hadn’t intended to travel to town the following day, given how many Saturdays he’d taken off from work. But he didn’t want to wait any longer.

  The conversation around him moved onto other topics, and he listened half-heartedly to Dan talk about a dead bull in the west paddock, a huge gash in his side from the horn of a rival bull. Vaquero brought up an issue with the southern fence line. Ost complained about the draft by his bunk where the chinking had come loose.

  Then Cookie’s voice broke through his reverie. “… and I need to head into Bozeman tomorrow. I’m gonna stock up on some supplies ‘fore the winter. Anyone free to drive me?”

  Dusty looked up from his plate. “I’ll take ya.”

  “Thank ya,” replied Cookie with a gap-toothed grin.

  This was just the opportunity Dusty needed. He’d be doing Cookie a favor and be able to call on Jane at the same time. And if he got the chance, he’d ask her to be his wife. His pulse quickened. He only hoped she’d say yes.

  The next morning, he dropped Cookie off in front of the mercantile, then drove the wagon on toward the church with a promise to return soon. When he arrived at the parsonage, he was greeted warmly by Rev. Langston, who told Dusty that Jane and Mrs. Langston had gone out but he wasn’t sure where, or when they’d be returning.

  Dusty thanked him and wandered back to the wagon. There was nothing to do but head back to the mercantile to help Cookie with his supplies. He climbed back up onto the hard seat and slapped the reins on the oxen’s backs. Cookie had said he planned to stay the night and take the heavy load of supplies back to the ranch the following morning. Oxen were better at hauling heavy loads than horses, but they were also slower and couldn’t do the trip to town and back in one day.

  On his way down Main Street, Dusty caught sight of Jane and Mrs. Langston outside the haberdashery. He waved to them and parked the wagon nearby, leaping down to greet them with a smile. “Mr. Lewis! How nice to see ya,” exclaimed Mrs. Langston.

  Jane smiled and added her welcome. “We’re just doing
a bit of shopping. We need new supplies for the school.”

  “Here, let me carry that for ya,” he replied quickly, taking a heavy package from Mrs. Langston and a small board from beneath Jane’s arm.

  “Thank ya!” exclaimed Mrs. Langston. “What a gentleman ya are.”

  He walked back to the parsonage with them, and they talked about the weather, what was going on at the ranch and the latest news from around town. When they got there, Jane remarked that they had a lot of work to do to set up for class the following week, and he acknowledged that he had to hurry back and help Cookie. He bid them farewell with a tip of his hat, promising to see them the next day at church before he and Cookie headed home.

  Dusty walked away, disappointed that he hadn’t had a single moment alone with Jane. She hadn’t invited him in or indicated she wanted to spend time with him at all. She’d been polite, cordial, but nothing more.

  He saw Cookie standing in front of the mercantile, waving frantically for him to come. He set off at a run – there was work to be done.

  By the time Dusty and Cookie began lumbering back home in the wagon the following day, Dusty was despondent. He and Cookie had met Jane at church, had sat with her in a pew near the front and afterward at the communal lunch the Langstons had hosted. But try as he might, he hadn’t been able to get her alone. Another missed opportunity to ask for her hand, and now he wouldn’t see her for at least another week.

  He wasn’t sure how long Thomas would allow him to continue to skip work on Saturdays, and soon the winter snows would make it impossible to get to town and back in a day. He was beginning to feel the stress of it all – a line of tension ran down his neck and across his shoulders, and he tipped his head from one side to the other in an attempt to loosen the strain.