Bella's Vineyard

by Sally Quilford

  Bella’s Vineyard

  Sally Quilford

  © Sally Quilford 2010 All Rights Reserved

  Cover Image: Romance Novel Centre/Jimmy Thomas

  Originally published by My Weekly Pocket Novels and Linford Romance Library

  Bella’s Vineyard

  Chapter One

  America the mid-1880s

  Isabella Tennyson began to think their travels would never end. A long sea journey, several stagecoaches, the Trans-Continental Railway, and more stagecoaches had left her body in a permanent state of motion, not to mention the times they had to get out and help push the coach up a hill or over rocky ground. Even on the nights they stopped in hotels, and she was able to put her head on a pillow after a long day’s travel, she fancied she heard the horses’ hooves and it seemed the bed underneath her rolled as much as the coach.

  “It won’t be long now, Bella,” said Andrew. They were on the final leg of their journey.

  Outside the coach window, the vast country spread before them. Bella had come from a small town in the middle of England, and it had never taken more than a day to travel to the coast by train. This new world just kept on going. It must end soon, she thought. True it was beautiful, and the sheer scale had taken her breath away to begin with. But after all the travel, through wind and rain, then heat and dust, she prayed for the land to come to an end somewhere.

  An Englishman on the railway who had lived in America for some years, had told them, “Men can go mad in this country, with all this space to play with. It does something to their mind. The land you’re going to is lawless. That’s what comes of being so far from civilisation. If you don’t mind me saying so, sir,” the man turned to Andrew. “It’s a bad idea to take this young lady out to California. Take her back to New York.”

  Andrew had given Bella the guilty look he wore almost as a mask since they left England.

  “We will endure,” he said. Bella had nodded. Instead of enduring, she could be at home, rather than being thousands of miles from all that she had known for twenty-two years.

  She looked, without really seeing, out of the coach window. There was no end in sight. She suppressed a silent scream. Yes, she might well go mad here, with no external checks but she feared more for her brother’s sanity.

  The men sitting opposite them in the coach did not help her state of mind. They wore the large brimmed hats that were common to the country, with thick double-breasted coats, and stovepipe chaps. Their hats were lined with sweat and the coats stained with gravy and all manner of foodstuffs. Every now and then they drank from a shared bottle of sour-smelling alcohol, an aroma like nothing Bella had ever known. To make matters worse they chewed tobacco and then spat it out the window – not always into the wind – whilst on the wall behind them, the coach regulations forbade such behaviour. Bella wished Andrew would say something, but understood why he did not. The large guns at the men’s hips were enough to silence anyone.

  In the far corner of the coach a man dressed in a long black coat leaned back, with his hat pulled down over his face. His long, muscular legs were barely able to stretch the length of the coach, whilst a tanned hand rested on the open window. She had no idea if he were awake or asleep. Sometimes and with no real reason to believe it, she sensed he was listening. His stillness unnerved her. It did not seem natural compared to her disturbed equilibrium. He had been that way since Bella and Andrew boarded the coach. The two men chewing tobacco had at least raised their hats to her. It seemed that their manners extended no further.

  “What do you think he’ll be like?” one of the men said. He was the smaller of the two, with bright red hair and the beginnings of a pot belly. Bella guessed he was about twenty-five years old.

  “Don’t matter,” said the other man. He was heavily set, and could have been anywhere between the ages of forty and fifty. When he took his hat off to Bella, he revealed that the hair that had stuck out of the bottom was all that he had. “He ain’t gonna live much longer than the last Marshal.”

  “I hear he’s a college boy. Got degrees and everything.”

  “I hear his great-grandpappy was a Cherokee. Ain’t no amount of college gonna wash that dirt off a man’s skin,” said the big man, punctuating the comment by spitting on the floor.

  “Excuse me.” The words came from Bella’s mouth as a croak. She coughed a little, partly to clear her throat and partly to stem the tide of nausea. “Excuse me, Sir, but the sign says that you’re supposed to spit into the wind outside the coach, and I would be very grateful if you did.”

  Andrew put his hand on her arm, as if to halt her breathless tide of words.

  “Well, well,” said the big man. “What do you think of that, Tom?” He turned to his friend. “The sign says we’re supposed to spit into the wind.”

  “I don’t know about that, Bill, but then I ain’t never learned to read.” Tom spat onto the floor of the coach. Both men put their hands to their guns. “I don’t much like being told what to do by some stuck up little English girl.”

  “Please, don’t take offence,” said Andrew. “My sister is tired. We’ve been travelling for many weeks now.”

  “Your sister eh?” said Bill. “That’s what they all say.” The younger man cackled, and made an offensive remark about the nature of Bella and Andrew’s relationship.

  Bella longed for her brother to say something, but he just sat back in silence.

  “We are brother and sister,” she said, “and I resent the implication that we’re not. Now please, if you don’t abide by the rules, I’ll be forced to speak to the driver.”

  At that, Bill and Tom burst out laughing. “He’ll be dead two minutes later,” said Bill, his hand still fingering the trigger of his gun.

  “And you’ll be dead two minutes after that.” A rifle appeared out of the long black coat, and the man in the corner sat up and straightened his hat. He was in his mid-thirties with a pair of blue eyes, rimmed with dark lashes. The affect against his tanned skin was startling. His cheekbones were finely carved, almost Slavic, and his mouth sensuous. He turned to look at Bill. “Now you just do as the young lady asks, and abide by the rules.” Despite having the slow drawl characteristic of American inhabitants, and a tone that brought to mind a low growl, his voice was more cultured than Bill and Tom’s.

  Bill went for his gun, but in the confines of the coach, the man in black was quicker. In an instant, he pushed the rifle against Bill’s chest. Tom reached for his gun, and then thought better of it.

  “Now you and I know something that the young lady and her brother don’t know,” the man in black said, putting extra emphasis on the word brother. “If you kill the driver of the mail coach, it is a federal offence,” he said, “liable to get your name on posters all over the country, and a rope on a tree outside some small town. And you two look strictly small time to me.”

  “Maybe we could just kill you,” said Tom, his voice wavering. “You ain’t nobody special.”

  “Yeah, who the hell are you?” said Bill. “I wanna know before I kill you.” With the rifle still pressed against his chest, there did not seem to be much chance of that.

  “Me?” The man in black smiled, showing even white teeth. He opened his coat slightly, revealing the glint of a silver badge. “I’m just a college boy.”

  “Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner,” said the man in black. Tom and Bill had been deposited on the roadside and told to find another way home. The coach continued its journey with just three passengers. “We had word there may be some trouble on this coach and I was asked to come along incognito. My name is Vance Eagleson. I’m a federal marshal.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” said Andrew, holding out his hand. “I’m Andrew Tenny
son and this is my sister, Miss Bella Tennyson.”

  Bella inclined her head and smiled shyly. Though not big in the sense of the uncouth Bill, Vance Eagleson seemed to dominate the carriage.

  “What brings you folks all the way from England?” asked Vance.

  “Our aunt died last year and we’ve come out to claim her land,” said Andrew. “It’s in Milton. In … “he paused, and looked to Bella for confirmation.

  “The Sierra Nevada,” said Bella.

  “Milton’s where I’m headed too,” said Vance, nodding. “They’ve had some problems keeping their Marshals lately, so I’ve been appointed by the government to the role.”

  “Is it true they’ve been murdered?” asked Bella, wide-eyed.

  “Yes, ma’am. I don’t know how much you know about where you’re going, but civilisation has been slow arriving in the west.”

  “I have been warned it isn’t a safe place for my sister,” said Andrew.

  “You were told right, Mister Tennyson. Milton is still a dirt town at the moment. They haven’t even got the railroad yet. As far as I know, it’s got a couple of stores, a saloon and a …” Vance paused. “Well, some things aren’t fit for a young lady’s ears.”

  “But there are vineyards there, aren’t there?” said Bella.

  “Yes, ma’am. Outside of the town limits, I believe. I hear they make some fine wines. The workers used to be Chinese, which brought its own problems.”

  “You don’t like the Chinese?” said Bella.

  “I like them fine, ma’am. I knew a lot of Chinese folk back in Chicago. Unfortunately, as you heard old Bill there say, anyone whose skin isn’t whiter than white is not particularly welcome around these parts. There’s been a lot of animosity towards Chinese vineyard workers in the Sierra Nevada, because now white settlers are moving there, they want the work for themselves.”

  “Is it true your grandfather was a Cherokee?” asked Andrew, his eyes shining with excitement. During the journey he had regaled Bella with stories of Indian ambushes, whilst assuring her such things seldom happened anymore.

  “My great grandfather, yes. I hope that don’t make you sorry to be sharing this coach with me.”

  “No, not at all,” said Bella. She wanted to tell him that he was a man she felt they could trust, and that nothing else mattered, only shyness prevented her. “We’re very grateful for your intervention with those men.”

  “A word of warning, ma’am. It’s not always a good idea to challenge folks around here. Men get killed for a lot less.”

  Bella looked at her brother, and once again wondered what sort of land he had brought her to.

  A few hours later the coach finally arrived in Milton as the sun began to set. Vance Eagleson told them to wait whilst he found out if they could get a lift to their aunt’s place. They waited by their trunks until he returned.

  The town was much as he had told them. The wide road was a muddy track, and within minutes, the hem of Bella’s travelling skirt was caked in dirt, despite the fact she had barely walked on it. There was a hardware store, which also appeared to sell a myriad of other items, and a telegraph office on one side of the street. Across from them was the saloon, and next door to that an establishment called Aunt Kitty’s.

  The only other buildings in the town were a blacksmiths, the Marshal’s office, attached to the jail, a makeshift wooden church, some two hundred yards out of town and next to that, a small building that appeared to be the schoolhouse. If there were any homes in the vicinity, they could not see them from where they were.

  Piano music emanated from the saloon, along with the sound of men talking, but the streets were empty.

  “I’m sorry, Bella,” said Andrew again, as they waited for the Marshal to return.

  “Stop it!” she snapped.

  “What?”

  “Saying sorry. We’re here now, we have to make the best of it.”

  “You’re still angry with me.”

  “No, I’m not angry with you. But it’s fair to say that if not for you, I could be at home, in our own country, instead of this god-forsaken place.” Bella was intelligent enough to know deep down that she was being unfair to their new home. Quite apart from the fact she was first seeing it through a haze of exhaustion, homesickness rendered her irrational.

  “If only I were as perfect as you are, Bella,” Andrew said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “It must be wonderful to always be right.”

  “I’m not always right,” said Bella, her eyes too dry from exhaustion to shed tears. “I…”

  “Ma’am, sir.” It was Vance. Bella wondered how long he had been stood there. “They tell me that your aunt’s place is an hour’s drive out of town. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed here tonight, and travelled up in the morning.”

  “No, I want to go tonight,” said Bella. “I mean, sorry, but I’d just like to end this journey.”

  “I understand that, ma’am, but no one will take you up there in the dark. Besides, you’ve no idea what state the place is in. You’d be better seeing it in daytime, when you’re less exhausted. The saloon has a couple of rooms spare. You could stay there and travel up in the morning.”

  “I suppose we could stay at the saloon,” said Bella, her heart sinking.

  “Do they play cards in there?” Andrew asked.

  Bella’s heart sank. That was all she needed.

  “I guess so,” said Vance. “But you folks look tired. Why don’t you get some rest? I have to go report for duty now, but if there’s anything you need, I’ll be at the jailhouse.”

  “Thank you for all your help, Marshal.” Bella held out her hand, and he took it in his, holding it for just a bit longer than necessary. In his strong handshake, he seemed to tell her he understood everything. But how could he?

  “Anytime. Like I said, call on me if you need anything.”

  Bella said a quiet goodnight, before following her brother to the saloon.

  Chapter Two

  Despite her misgivings about sleeping at the saloon, Bella had a good night’s rest, no doubt due to her utter exhaustion and the bed seeming to rock and roll beneath her. The following morning, she dressed and knocked on her brother’s door. He did not answer.

  “Is my brother in his room?” she asked the bartender when she went downstairs.

  “Yes, ma’am. He had a late night. Said not to wake him too early.”

  Bella sighed. “We need to wake him,” she said. “Where can I arrange a cab to take us to my aunt’s vineyard?”

  “There ain’t no cabs here, ma’am, but if you go to the blacksmiths, he’ll get one of his boys to take you and your luggage up there in a buckboard.”

  “Thank you.”

  Bella walked to the blacksmiths but there was no one around. “Morning ma’am.”

  “Marshal, good morning.” Bella turned and smiled. At the moment Vance Eagleson was the only familiar face she knew, and a welcome addition to her morning at that. “I’m trying to arrange a buckboard – whatever that is - to take us up to the vineyard, but I can’t find anyone.”

  “I think the blacksmith had to go and shoe some horses for one of the ranchers. I’ll be happy to take you up to your place.”

  “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble at all, ma’am. I’m going to introduce myself to a few folks in the area, and you’re on my way. Where is Mister Tennyson this morning?”

  “He’s still sleeping.”

  “Then why don’t you leave him here, and he can get a ride up later?”

  Bella was surprised by how attractive Vance’s suggestion seemed. She had spent every day for three months with her brother. It might do them both good to have a few hours break.

  A half an hour later, the luggage was loaded onto the Marshal’s buckboard, which turned out to be a four-wheeled wagon, pulled by a horse. The buckboard in question was a piece of wood at the front that acted as both a footrest and a barrier against a kicking horse.

/>   Bella had left a message for her brother to join her.

  Vance took her up into the hills, where the land became prettier. The sky overhead was sapphire blue. Ruby and emerald vineyards rested among a wheaten patchwork quilt. In the far distance she could see the snow-topped range. “That’s why it’s called the Sierra Nevada,” Vance told her. “It means ‘snowy mountain range’.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Bella smiled. “Though I must confess I was getting a little tired of scenery.”

  “Yep, it gets you like that when you first see this land. It’s beautiful, but overwhelming.”

  “But you were born here.”

  “In Chicago, ma’am. Not out here, in this wilderness.” He paused for a moment. “I noticed some tension between you and your brother yesterday. Is it anything you’d like to talk about?”

  Bella thought about it for a short time. “I don’t want to burden you …”

  “You won’t be doing that. Maybe I can help.”

  “No, you can’t. My brother … well he has a problem.”

  “Gambling?”

  “It’s that obvious?”

  “He was playing cards into the early hours, ma’am. One of the deputies saw him.”

  “He promised me…”

  “I've seen a lot of men run out of their homes due to gambling debts. Is that why you had to leave England?”

  Bella nodded. “He owed money to the wrong people. We had no choice but to run away. Luckily we got the news about Aunt Bella’s vineyard. I suppose we could have sold it, to pay off his debts, but it seemed better to try to make a new start.”

  “Your mom and dad couldn’t help?”

  She shook her head. “Mother died when I was ten and Andrew was fifteen. Father died two years ago. In a way it’s a blessing. He never knew quite how bad Andrew’s problem was, and for that I’m grateful.”

  “Must have been hard for you, leaving it all. Did you leave behind a sweetheart? Back in England?”