Magic in Her Eyes

by Donna Dalton

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Donna Dalton

  Magic in Her Eyes

  Copyright

  Dedications

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  She charged for the house,

  grateful for a clear mind and calm stomach. She had all but broken into a run as she rounded the corner and at full speed met a blue wall of chest and arms. The air left her with a whoosh, and she tottered on wobbly legs. Strong hands curled around her upper arms.

  “Whoa there,” came a deep, commanding voice. “Where’s the fire?”

  Her hands splayed over the man’s chest, the wool of his jacket rough beneath her fingertips. Shiny gold buttons marched upward to a bold chin, firm lips, and a slender nose. Eyes the color of aged tree bark drilled into her, intense and searching.

  Her mind went unexpectedly blank, and her mouth dry as a sunbaked pond. Her stomach was dancing again. She must have pushed herself too quickly after the vision. Certainly that was the problem.

  She shrugged out of his grasp and took a step back. He wore the blue uniform of the United States Army and had a curved saber strapped to his waist. A soldier.

  Like the ones from her vision.

  “Do you have Anna? Is she all right?”

  “Anna? Don’t know anyone by that name. I came to speak with Mrs. Mildred Campbell. I was told she ran this place.” He swept off his hat, revealing a tanned brow bunched with frown lines. “Are you Mrs. Campbell?”

  Some days, especially days like today, she wished she were. “No, I am not Mrs. Campbell.”

  Praise for Donna Dalton

  A partial of this story won first place in the 2015 HERA Show Me the Spark contest and the 2015 VOTS Hot Prospects contest.

  ~*~

  Check out Donna’s other historical romances

  available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.:

  THE CAVALRY WIFE

  THE REBEL WIFE

  IRISH DESTINY

  IRISH CHARM

  SEVEN SWANS BRIDE

  THE GIFT

  LOVING BYRNE

  Magic

  in Her Eyes

  by

  Donna Dalton

  The Gifted, Volume One

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Magic in Her Eyes

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Donna Dalton

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc. Design

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First American Rose Edition, 2017

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1504-1

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1505-8

  The Gifted, Volume One

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedications

  I dedicate this book to

  my wonderful group of fellow writers,

  Mary Ann Clark,

  Alleyne Dickens,

  Jo Bourne,

  and Pam Roller.

  You helped me develop and polish this story

  until it turned into the gem it is today.

  Thank you for all your help.

  ~*~

  I would also like to thank my beta readers

  for their unfiltered feedback.

  You are the best.

  Chapter One

  Indian Territories, May 1872

  The oak was tall and grand, nearly one hundred years old, and not doing her a blessed bit of good. Some called it foolish to repeat the same efforts over and over in hopes of a different outcome. Some called it insane. She called it desperate.

  Meredith brushed a hand over the rough bark. Brittle edges broke and fell to the ground. She briefly closed her eyes and formed an image in her head. Rosy, rounded cheeks. Red curls pulled back with a pink ribbon. A matching pink pinafore. And little hands holding onto a gray barn kitten.

  What do you see of her? Let me see.

  Nothing came. Only silence—no rustling of leaves, no groaning of limbs. Even the birds remained mute. It was frustrating, but not unexpected. Her visions had a mind of their own and would appear only when and if they chose.

  She sank to her knees, ignoring the bite of gnarled roots pressing through skirt and petticoats. Bruised skin would be a small price to pay if it saved Anna.

  Please let me see her.

  The silence persisted, and irritation flared inside her. Time was slipping away. Precious time. A child’s welfare was at stake. As much as she wanted to scream and rail, harsh demands might anger whatever governed the tree’s life-giving force. She needed its cooperation.

  Aunt Mildred had coached her to concentrate on the tree, on connecting with it. Push all other thoughts out of her head and focus on pulling forth a vision of what she wanted to see. She rested both hands on the trunk and refocused her mind.

  “Please.” Out loud this time, yet barely above a whisper. “I must find her. What do you see?”

  The oak trembled beneath her fingertips, its tap root rumbling up into its heart. A low hum filled her ears. Warmth seeped through her fingers and spread into her palms. Energy pulsed through her, inviting her, connecting with her.

  “Yes. Yes. That’s it. Show me what you see.”

  Her vision swirled with white fog, extinguishing the sunlight. The legs of a horse emerged. Dark brown. Hurrying. More legs appeared. The thud of hooves thundered in her skull. The sensation knotted her stomach, and she swallowed back a bitter taste of bile. She wouldn’t pay the price yet. She hadn’t seen the prize.

  Splashing replaced the drumming in her head. Water sprayed beneath churning hooves. A creek? River? Where?

  “Show me more.” Louder still. “Show me the girl.”

  The splashing retreated. Darkness reached in and shrouded the image. No. No. No. There has to be more. She dug deep within herself and willed every ounce of energy into reviving the vision. The dark cloud refused to budge. Panic caught in her throat. She had to make this work.

  “Come back, please. Anna needs this. I need this. Show me a glimpse of where she will be.” Even an hour into the future would be enough to locate the child.

  The vision remained obscured. She was going to fail. Again. She dug her fingernails into the bark, straining to wrench something out of the darkness. Anything. There was only swirling silence.

  Arms frail as seedlings, she slumped forward and pressed her throbbing forehead against the trunk. There was nothing more she could do. Her gift refused to be controlled. Aunt Mildred was wrong. No amount of practice or mental focus would entice the trees to coo
perate. She would never be able to command the visions as her aunt did. She was utterly unworthy of Mildred’s confidence.

  The oak shifted beneath her. Waves of energy swirled around her, ebbing and flowing like the tide. The haze withdrew. The galloping horses re-emerged, more distinct this time, and revealing the legs of riders wearing uniform trousers, tall boots, and sheathed swords.

  Soldiers.

  She pushed upright. “Is Anna with the soldiers? Is she at the fort? Let me see her.”

  A brilliant explosion of light answered, and the image vanished, leaving behind a thick curtain of blackness. Tears burned in her eyes. All her other visions had ended in a similar flash. This one would be no different. It was over. Yet again, what she wanted to see, what she needed the tree to bring forth, hadn’t materialized. And little Anna would suffer the consequences.

  Busy preparing the midday meal, she hadn’t noticed the child missing until Anna failed to come to the dining hall with the other children. The last anyone had seen of her was when the girl left the schoolroom to use the privy. Meredith had checked the outhouse and the surrounding area. A search of the barn netted the same disheartening result.

  Frantic, she’d scoured every nook and cranny of the main house. She had even gone to Anna’s favorite playing spot, the base of a willow that overhung the shallow duck pond. The child was nowhere to be found. That was two hours ago, far too long and dangerous for a five-year-old, especially in light of the recent Indian attacks.

  Dread rolled in her stomach. Anna was her responsibility, as were the seven other children at the orphanage. Before coming to Seaton House, she had only been responsible for herself—and look how that turned out. She’d been banished from her home in Pennsylvania to the uncivilized Indian Territories. She wouldn’t let that happen again. Couldn’t. She had nowhere else to go.

  Meredith drew in a deep breath and worked to regain her strength and her wits. Aunt Mildred depended on her to look after the children. If she couldn’t do that using her visions, she’d have to employ her more reliable abilities. Her stepbrother always said she had the eyesight of an eagle and the fleetness of a deer. If necessary, she’d soar over every inch of the property looking for Anna.

  A faint clatter snagged her attention. She blinked the haze from her eyes and focused on the barn. What she could see through the open doors was quiet and still. Nothing moved outside the barn or in the nearby fenced paddock. The only movement came from the chickens scavenging in the garden for insects. She turned slowly to avoid upsetting the agreement she and her head had come to. If she didn’t move too fast, it wouldn’t spin.

  The back of the main house remained equally quiet. Nothing stirred on the veranda or in the wide expanse of grass-covered yard. Even the laundry hung motionless on the clothes line. In her disoriented state, perhaps she had imagined the clamor.

  A muted rumble drifted around the side of the house. She hadn’t imagined that. It sounded like talking. She grabbed a handful of skirt and shot to her feet. Please let that be Anna returning.

  She charged for the house, grateful for a clear mind and calm stomach. She had all but broken into a run as she rounded the corner and at full speed met a blue wall of chest and arms. The air left her with a whoosh, and she tottered on wobbly legs. Strong hands curled around her upper arms.

  “Whoa there,” came a deep, commanding voice. “Where’s the fire?”

  Her hands splayed over the man’s chest, the wool of his jacket rough beneath her fingertips. Shiny gold buttons marched upward to a bold chin, firm lips, and a slender nose. Eyes the color of aged tree bark drilled into her, intense and searching.

  Her mind went unexpectedly blank, and her mouth dry as a sunbaked pond. Her stomach was dancing again. She must have pushed herself too quickly after the vision. Certainly that was the problem.

  She shrugged out of his grasp and took a step back. He wore the blue uniform of the United States Army and had a curved saber strapped to his waist. A soldier.

  Like the ones from her vision.

  “Do you have Anna? Is she all right?”

  “Anna? Don’t know anyone by that name. I came to speak with Mrs. Mildred Campbell. I was told she ran this place.” He swept off his hat, revealing a tanned brow bunched with frown lines. “Are you Mrs. Campbell?”

  Some days, especially days like today, she wished she were. “No, I am not Mrs. Campbell.”

  “Where can I find her?”

  “Why? What do you want with her?”

  “I have an urgent matter to discuss regarding the children.”

  It couldn’t be any more urgent than finding Anna. She skirted him and headed for the front of the orphanage. “That won’t be possible. She’s away on a trip.”

  “When will she return?”

  Not soon enough. “I don’t know. A month? Two, perhaps.”

  A mule-drawn wagon and several mounted soldiers occupied the front driveway. In consideration of the recent attacks, the patrol had most likely come to check on the outlying orphanage. As much as she wanted to stop and find out, she couldn’t. A child’s welfare demanded her time and attention.

  The thud of boots followed her up the steps. “I need to speak to whoever oversees the orphanage.”

  “That would be me.”

  “Excellent. If you’ll give me a minute to explain…”

  “I don’t have a minute. Or a second, for that matter.” She yanked open the door and rushed inside. Failing was not an option. Not this time.

  ****

  Preston trailed the woman into the orphanage. What a shrew. She’d nearly bowled him over with her headlong charge. And she didn’t seem the least bit inclined to slow down and give him an apology or the courtesy of listening. On the other hand, she was definitely a looker. He’d expected the matron to be older and trail-worn. Not this lovely vision with honey-colored hair and violet eyes flashing with challenge. Her flowery scent brought to mind bedrooms and silken sheets; he’d been reluctant to let her wiggle out of his grasp.

  He moved into the foyer of Seaton House, a home for orphaned children, and stopped. The fresh aroma of beeswax polish contradicted the clutter. A doll lay discarded on the floor. Several apples and a mound of leaves littered the base of a pedestal table. A child’s straw hat dangled from an oil lamp perching precariously at the edge of the tabletop. The disorder didn’t speak very highly of the steward.

  She stood to his left, retrieving a bonnet and shawl from a coat tree. Oh, no. She wasn’t going anywhere until he delivered his message.

  He adopted his most commanding stance, one that demanded respect and obedience. “I’m Lieutenant Preston Booth from Fort Dent. I need to speak with you, Miss…Missus? I’m sorry; I don’t know your name.”

  “Miss Talbot. Meredith Talbot.” She slipped the bonnet over her head and tucked in several stray curls that had escaped the bun coiled at her neck. “And I don’t have time to talk with you right now.”

  She would have to make time. “This isn’t something that can wait, Miss Talbot.”

  “It has to. One of my children is missing.”

  Damn. An unexpected and most ill-timed impediment. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  A door on the far side of the room blasted open, and a flood of young people rushed into the foyer. They surrounded Miss Talbot, tugging at her skirts and peppering her with questions. Their high-pitched voices grated on his ears like fingernails on slate.

  Children should be seen and not heard. His father’s customary admonishment seemed quite fitting.

  “Quiet,” he bellowed, the sound bouncing off the walls and grabbing attentions. Astonished eyes rounded on him, yet instead of subsiding, the din grew louder and more insistent.

  Miss Talbot raised her hand. “Quiet now, children. Quiet.”

  Her tone was much lower than his and spiced with sweetness. Good luck with that. To his surprise, the racket dimmed and finally abated. The piercing gazes, however, continued to hold onto him, slicing him with t
heir wariness.

  “There’s nothing to worry about.” Miss Talbot rested a hand on a small shoulder. “Anna is going to be just fine. She most likely took her kitten into the woods for an adventure and lost track of time.”

  “But Miss Talbot,” a girl whined. “She missed the noon meal. Anna never misses a meal. She must be hurt.”

  “Or maybe the Indians got her,” an older boy insisted.

  Miss Talbot speared the youngster with a quelling look. “Don’t be scaring the little ones with talk of Indians, Gabe.”

  “But what about the soldiers?” The boy cut him a mistrustful glare. “Why are they here?”

  “The soldiers are just checking on us. They will be leaving soon.” She shooed the children with a flick of her hand. “Now all of you…back into the schoolroom. I know you couldn’t have finished your lessons already.”

  “But Miss Talbot—”

  “Go on now. All these questions will only delay my search for Anna.”

  With grumbles and dragging feet, the children finally filed back through the doorway. Preston let go a relieved breath. Good. Now, he could hear his own thoughts.

  Miss Talbot slung a thin shawl around her shoulders and angled toward him. “If you did come to check on us, Lieutenant, I’m glad for it. As it turns out, I could use your help.”

  “Tell me what you need.” The sooner he got this task over and done with, the sooner he could get back to his regular duties.

  “Since my housekeeper had to go into town, I need you to watch the children while I expand my search over the property and into the next.”

  He’d rather thrust hot pokers into his eyes. “My men and I will conduct the search.”

  Rosy lips pulled reed thin. “Strange men will only frighten the child. She won’t come to you. I need to be the one looking for her.”

  Damnation. A run-in with the quartermaster over ammunition had already turned his day sour. Now this. His plan to weather his assignment at Fort Dent until General Pope came through with the promised transfer to a post worthy of his education and training teetered on unstable legs.

  He shoved on his hat and retreated to the porch. “Private Greene, dismount and come inside. Watch over the children and don’t let them leave the house for any reason. You other two men, set up sentry posts at the front and rear.”