An Endless Love to Remember: A Historical Western Romance Book

by Lorelei Brogan

  “Well, yes. I did wonder if I were still part of the family, since I’ve been feeling completely ostracized.”

  “Of course you’re still part of the family, Vic. This was merely my way of trying to protect you from more spiteful comments, during an unnecessary altercation. So. Let me explain.”

  Even then, it took Sophie a few minutes to assemble her thoughts. She had no desire to upset the girl beyond measure. Yet how does one go about preparing a kinsman for one’s possible impending demise?

  She clasped her fingers over Vickie’s hand, as if warm, loving touch might help soften the news.

  Then she began.

  At the realization, partway through the account, that her aunt had been in actual physical discomfort for the past few months—and keeping silent about her condition until she could no longer do so—Vickie went pale and caught her breath on a little mewl of protest.

  “Oh, Aunt Sophie! And we never knew? None of us ever knew! What have we done to you?”

  “No, no, dear. I will admit that these somewhat—um—turbulent times lately haven’t helped, but unfortunately heart problems seem to run in our family. At least, according to past history from my parents, as I know it, from years ago.”

  Of the two Clark girls, Vickie had always been the more sensitive, the more easily affected by sympathy and compassion for anyone encountering the normal or the exceptional troubles of life. As she began to absorb the details now, she suddenly sprang out of her chair for a lengthy, emotional embrace.

  “I can’t imagine how you’ve dealt with all this,” she managed, in muffled, broken tones. “I’m so sorry. You must get help! Surely something can be done, and you’ll be with us for many, many years!”

  “Well, as to that…”

  The rest of the story followed concerning the proposed trip to a specialist in San Antonio, as early as tomorrow, and the plan for Vickie and Lydia Prentiss, the foreman’s wife, to share housekeeping duties during Sophie’s absence.

  Still teary-eyed, Vickie stared in astonishment. “I’m to stay here at the ranch? But, Auntie, I hoped you might choose me to accompany you! You’ll need some female companionship, won’t you?”

  “I will, dear. But…”

  Again the hesitation, knowing that this disclosure might be almost as upsetting as the report of her declining health itself. But it had to be told, and Sophie did it as gracefully and tactfully as possible. After all, with Sam Marsden perfectly suited as escort, Vickie could hardly join the little party in the surrey. That place rightfully belonged to Jessica.

  Hiding her disappointment, remembering her own admonition toward maturity, Vickie drew in a deep breath. “Of course, Aunt Sophie,” she agreed quietly. “I’ll do whatever is best for you. And, please, know that all my prayers go with you, for a safe journey and an encouraging diagnosis from this physician to whom you’ve been referred.”

  The woman leaned forward, with her usual kindliness and sweetness, for another heartfelt embrace. “Thank you, Vickie, dear. That’s all I can ask. And I appreciate, so much, the girl you are, and the responsible young woman you are becoming.”

  Chapter 15

  Today’s journey to San Antonio, taken via the big red-wheeled two-seated surrey with room in the back for various pieces of luggage, was to be a solemn one, its goal neither certain nor happy.

  Yet Jessica woke in the brightest, sunniest of moods, ready for this rare excursion into a world with which she was so unfamiliar. She had packed all of her necessities, and many items that were completely unnecessary, the night before; and she had come down to breakfast smiling and humming to bestow a light kiss upon both parent and aunt.

  Clearly Riley didn’t trust such a fey attitude. Perhaps he felt it was unlucky, and he wanted nothing to do with it. Whatever the problem, he gave his daughter one of his looks as she floated back and forth in the kitchen like thistledown.

  “Lookin’ forward to this junket, are you?” he wanted to know.

  “Oh, absolutely! Aunt Sophie, have we any more cream? I must hurry with my last-minute things—Sam is due to be here at ten o’clock, and he is usually quite dependable about time.”

  Once again Vickie had deliberately absented herself from this—in her sister’s opinion—festive occasion. Not surprising. The two were still not on speaking terms, and Sophie had already said her goodbyes in private.

  “Oh, there, that must be Sam at the door. Hurry, Aunt Sophie, we’ll be late.”

  “Late for what? You got no appointment set that I’ve heard of. Stop rattlin’ around like a dratted tumbleweed, girl, and settle down. You’re scatty enough to make your aunt sorry she ever decided allowin’ you to trek along.”

  She swooped in for another kiss and a pat upon the top of his gray hair. “Oh, Papa, don’t be such an ogre. It’s a glorious day for traveling!” Just that quickly she flitted away to the front door, where she could be heard twittering to Sam about inconsequential nothings.

  Pushing himself rather painfully out of his chair, employing his cane, Riley raised one ironic brow at his sister. “Think that’n will ever have a sensible thought in her head?”

  “I think you will have to be patient with both girls,” was Sophie’s quiet response, as she tied an autumn-hued bonnet over her head. “Please promise me, that, whatever happens, you will be patient. And kind.”

  “Hey, old girl.” Faintly alarmed, Riley threw one arm around his sister’s sturdy shoulders. “Don’t go borrowin’ trouble, all right? Let’s wait till you see that big city sawbones.” His grip tightened. “You have a good trip, and come back thinkin’ positive.”

  Sophie gave over her designated position in the front seat to her niece, while she took her ease in the back. Jessica’s skirts and hoops and ruffles took up a lot of space, and she didn’t envy poor Sam’s obligation at trying to contain everything.

  Clean, neat, freshly shaved, with his black hair curling over his ears beneath a dressy gray Stetson, he had gotten the stack of luggage (“Honest, Jess? Four pieces, plus a portmanteau? You figure to be takin’ a trip around the world?”) situated in the empty space to the rear of the surrey before helping each lady to step up inside.

  At the last minute, Lydia rushed out carrying a large wooden box.

  “What, somethin’ else to stuff in there?” asked Sam, tongue in cheek.

  “Food for the journey. Bread and meat, cheese, eggs, chocolate cake. Oh, and several jars of coffee.” Lydia smiled at the young man. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you folks don’t get hungry, along about noon, and nowhere to have dinner.”

  “Thank you, Lydia.” Sophie reached out a grateful hand. “That was so thoughtful.”

  She shrugged as she stepped back out of the way. “You had enough on your mind, Sophie, without worryin’ about preparin’ somethin’ to eat. You be safe, now.”

  San Antonio, to the east and south of the Yellowstar, which lay deep in Hill Country, was considered part of the South Texas Plains. However many hours Riley had allowed for travel, Sam was figuring on some six to seven if all went well. In this area, road conditions would be fair; much improved (he hoped), the closer they approached a city of something close to fifteen thousand inhabitants.

  For the first couple of hours, Jessica kept up a steady stream of chatter.

  Did Sam believe it might rain? Because she was wearing her best traveling suit, in subdued moss green with these cunning little ruffles on the skirt—had he noticed those ruffles, tied up by bows, and how attractive she looked with such a low bodice and elbow-length sleeves?—and she certainly didn’t want to get caught by bad weather that might ruin her outfit.

  Did Sam have any idea of when they might arrive? Well, yes, of course he had mentioned travel time to her, but that information had just gone right out of her head. Very late this afternoon? Possibly early evening? Truly? Oh, she’d had no thought the city might be located so far away. No wonder the Clarks had never, to her memory, visited San Antonio before.

  Did Sam plan on aski
ng his brother to serve as best man at their wedding? He seemed very much a hermit, didn’t he? Not much interested in family functions. She had already chosen her colors for the wedding—pink mallow and sea blue. Didn’t he agree those would be a beautiful combination to be seen in May? And wait, just wait, until he finally got a glimpse of her gown. It was scrumptious. Simply scrumptious.

  Most of her prattling went in one of his ears and out the other, she could tell. Which hardly seemed fair. She was simply trying to entertain him during a long and tedious journey.

  Sophie, she noticed, had given up. Having wisely carried along a pillow, she was stretched across the rear seat, lulled by the rhythm of the turning wheels and unabashedly napping.

  Autumn in Hill Country usually brought days of fine weather, and this was no exception. The sky was a cloudless azure that promised more to come; the dirt road upon which their matched team of horses trotted was damp enough to keep down the dust and dry enough to ensure easy transport.

  Meadowlarks sent up their occasional warbles from a fence post, or from farther out in the tangled grasses. Trees scattered here and there provided plenty of dappled shadow to keep stronger rays of the sun at bay. Even had the roof of their surrey not given shade, she had her lacy parasol at the ready. Just in case.

  Feeling at peace with herself and the world surrounding, Jessica sat back in her seat with a sigh. One that would have been contented, had their escort simply put himself out just the teeniest, tiniest bit to provide more pleasant companionship.

  Must he perch there beside her like some sort of Egyptian statue, moving only to flick the reins now and then or to shove his hat either forward or back?

  Horrors. Startling thought: was it possible that—that this would be his behavior toward her during their marriage? Was this what she had to anticipate—this leaden silence, this withdrawn attitude, this lack of notice in every way?

  “Sam,” Jessica said suddenly. Then, ignored, again. “Sam.” With a trace of irritation.

  “Ahuh.”

  “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

  A common complaint from any female, who could use up more words than a dictionary, to any male accustomed to the peace and quiet of a usually solitary existence.

  “Ahuh.”

  “Indeed? Then kindly repeat back to me my very conversation.”

  He sighed. “You got a problem with my drivin’ you two today, Jess?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I had looked forward to it, very much. A new experience, you understand. But—well, I would appreciate it if you could pay some attention to me. Hold my hand, perhaps, or put your arm around my waist.”

  The look she gave him, from beneath her pretty flowered hat, was not quite a simper. Not quite a warning. The oaf! Why should she have to beg for affection from the man she was going to marry? How dare he put her in this position?

  Sam cast a glance halfway over his shoulder. “You might try keepin’ your voice down a bit. No point draggin’ your aunt into hearin’ any personal stuff b’tween you and me.”

  “She’s sound asleep,” said Jessica carelessly. “She won’t hear a thing. So tell me, Sam, can you comment on my comment?”

  “Not here, Jess. Not now. It ain’t fittn for me to be so forward.” He sounded a trifle impatient, as if he were dealing with a fractious child.

  Jessica subsided with a flounce. Only the most skillful of southern belles can do a decent flounce, especially seated. She’d be willing to bet half her inheritance that, if it were her pestiferous sister bundled up beside him, her bridegroom would be making all sorts of advances!

  But she wasn’t about to remind him of the past, and what’d had happened long ago.

  Mainly because she didn’t want to bring up a painful subject.

  Several days of companionship lay ahead, in an honest-to-God beacon of civilization, with humanity, twinkling lights, and a social life. If she couldn’t manipulate this poor sap into doing the things she wanted, then she wasn’t worth her salt, and every girl in Texas would be ashamed of her.

  * * * * *

  The city was all she could have hoped for.

  What a change from the ranch!

  The Yellowstar had its times of busyness, of course; times usually linked to cattle—either cutting out and separating, or moving to various pastures, or branding, or driving off to market. And all mainly the province of males. (Unless Vickie, the least feminine girl in creation—as far as Jessica was concerned—decided to sneak away from assigned “female” tasks for her usual tomboyish haunts on the range, following the cowpunchers around.)

  Busyness for women meant all the household work, cooking and cleaning and gardening. Especially gardening. The planting, the harvest, the preserving, every season, every year, predictable as the rising and setting of the sun.

  But those were interspersed with great periods of quiet and seclusion.

  This busyness was of a different realm.

  Traffic of buggies and carriages, heavy farm wagons, individual riders, even pedestrians, moved in an orderly, regular flow through the wide streets bordered by mature trees. Construction work—or the remodeling of structures already constructed—was evidenced by the pounding of nails, the buzz-saw of lumber being cut, the shouts carried on between laborers, and the strangely attractive aroma of fresh sawdust in the air. Somewhere in the distance sounded the whistle and the faint clack-clack of iron wheels on track of a train approaching its station.

  Jessica looked at Sam with shining eyes as they made their way down Main Street. “It’s wonderful. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  He shrugged. “Reckon I can take it or leave it. You okay back there, Miss Clark?”

  Daylight was beginning to give way to twilight. The little band had stopped several times along the way, once to enjoy the hearty dinner that Lydia had packed, and again to give the team a rest and to stretch their own muscles, cramped and wearied by travel.

  Now, near to supper time and with all three ready to settle somewhere for the night, Sam had decided to drive through town a bit just to get a lay of the land. Being so completely unfamiliar with the area, he had no idea even where the nearest hotel and eating places might lie.

  “For an old lady, I feel I’m doing remarkably well, Sam,” Sophie said cheerfully. “But thank you for asking.”

  “Reckon we’ll all do better once we get our land legs back, ma’am. Let’s find some place to light while we’re here.”

  That came in the form of the Menger Hotel, a good-sized two story establishment embellished by half-grown saplings planted out front, fancy black grillwork atop a veranda, and tall windows bordered by shutters.

  “It’s so nice,” breathed Jessica, looking around with awe as Sam left the surrey temporarily parked outside to escort his companions into the lobby. “It’s so—so glamorous. Far and away a hundred times better than anything I’ve seen before. The Hotel Dupree can’t touch this.”

  “Good evening, sir, ladies. May I assist you?” A clerk dressed rather foppishly in the latest fashion stood behind his desk like a captain in command of his ship at sea.

  “I reckon, if it’s your job to do so. We’d like two rooms.”

  Within minutes, the newly arrived guests were registered, and a bellboy had gone out with Sam to haul in all the luggage for transport up to the second story. The place could not compare to any modern hotel found in Chicago or New York City or even Sophie’s old home of Boston. But it held opulence and luxury that seemed to fill and expand Jessie’s entire being.

  Rich carved walnut fixtures, tufted leather armchairs and settees, towering greenery that rose and overflowed from ornate china urns, polished wood floors and burgundy floral carpets—she kept turning this way and that, to absorb every last detail, as they ascended the wide stairs.