New Beginnings Spring 20 Book Box Set

by Hope Sinclair

  She felt the sudden urge to tell him this, to tell him that she was so relieved, so happy that he was the man who had written her that letter, so happy that of all the men waiting outside the wagon, she had promised her hand in marriage to the best one. But she didn’t want to overwhelm him. They had only just met, and she supposed she had already given him quite the scare when she arrived. So instead, she said simply, “I suppose I owe thanks to God,” she said, “That you’ve mended your unsavory ways since the last time we met. I would have suspected the boy who dropped a scorpion on my shoulder would have felt in good company with the men out there.”

  “I’m not sure I follow,” he said, his eyes glimmering with curiosity as he glanced up at her intently. His stare was intense and undiluted, the expression of someone who has afforded you his complete and undivided attention.

  Lorraine’s frown wrinkled slightly, and she wondered if she had been too familiar with him… if she had made him uncomfortable.

  “I—” Lorraine began, but before she could say another word, the wooden door to the general store was thrown open and a flash of vivid blue swept through the doorway.

  “Lorraine!” the flash of blue stopped at Lorraine’s side and froze, revealing itself to be a woman donning the most vibrant blue silk dress that Lorraine had ever seen.

  “It’s me, Camille!” the woman explained when Lorraine stared up at her questioningly.

  Lorraine’s face melted from confusion to surprise, then to affection as she greeted the friend who, despite their correspondence, she hadn’t seen since childhood.

  “I can’t believe you’ve finally arrived!” Camille said, holding Lorraine’s hands in hers. “I was meant to greet you as soon as the wagon arrived, but by the time I got to town everyone had already gone. And then I heard what happened—you fainted!”

  “It’s all right,” Lorraine assured her friend. “Mr. McCoy has perfect timing.”

  “I beg to differ,” Camille said with a confused laugh. “If he had any sense of time at all, Jace would have been waiting for you by the wagon himself.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Lorraine said, confused by her friend’s remark. Jace McCoy had been waiting for her when she stepped off the wagon, and Jace McCoy was still standing by her side now.

  “Jace McCoy was called away on business at the last minute,” Camille explained. “He asked me to take his place and meet you when you arrived.”

  “So…” Lorraine turned slowly to the man with the kind face. “You’re not Jace McCoy?”

  “Of course not,” Camille answered for him with another chuckle. “That’s Finn Oakley.”

  FIVE

  Lorraine wore the scarlet flush of embarrassment on her cheeks for the rest of the evening, long after Camille had led her away from Hartley’s General Merchandise Store and its handsome shopkeeper, Mr. Finn Oakley.

  The two women and a wide-awake Brandon arrived at the Rogers’ family home just before sundown, and though Lorraine only vaguely remembered Camille’s family from her distant memories of that long-lost family trip to Arizona, each member of the family greeted Lorraine with the warmth and familiarity as if they had only last seen her yesterday.

  “It’s all my fault, I’m afraid,” Camille said that evening as she recounted the embarrassing tale at the dinner table. “If I hadn’t been late reaching town, I would have gotten to Lorraine in time!”

  Lorraine blushed, looking down at the hearty serving of food that had been piled onto her plate. Having grown accustomed to going hungry, she found herself suddenly unsure of how she was going to manage an entire plate laden with delicious, hot food—food that wasn’t stale or tinged with the start of mold.

  “Perhaps Jace McCoy could have made a better effort to greet his bride, after she has traveled all this way,” Mrs. Rogers said gently. A look of stern judgment flashed over the woman’s face, and Lorraine got the distinct impression that it wasn’t entirely reserved for Jace McCoy.

  Lorraine was vaguely aware that Mrs. Rogers herself had traveled to the Arizona Territory as a mail-order bride. She wondered if the woman now felt a sense of judgment or reservation toward Lorraine for making the same decision, for making the decision when she had already mothered a child by another man.

  “He’s a busy man, Mother,” Camille said defensively. “Ever since his father died and left him the family business, he’s carried the weight of this entire town on his shoulders.”

  “Well that’s simply not true,” Mr. Rogers interjected, his lips twitching beneath his mustache. “McCoy’s Ranch may be a big business in this town, but it’s not the only one. And that boy is hardly carrying this town on his shoulders. In fact, I’d say the opposite.”

  “Father, please,” Camille turned pleadingly to her father.

  “There’s always been something I didn’t trust about the McCoys,” Mr. Rogers said, undaunted by his daughter’s request to abandon the conversation. Lorraine noticed the strained look on Mrs. Roger’s face and the pained exasperation on Camille’s.

  The tension surrounding the dining room table had all the hallmarks of a bitter and unresolved family feud. There was clearly more to the story here, clearly a reason why Mr. and Mrs. Rogers seemed so distrustful of Lorraine’s future husband, and why Camille, in turn, seemed so defensive of him.

  Perhaps the answer was rooted in the family business? Lorraine knew that Jace’s father had recently died, leaving Jace the sole heir to the McCoy Ranch. While Mr. Roger’s objections weren’t necessarily untrue, McCoy Ranch was certainly one of the most profitable businesses in all of Tombstone, perhaps even in all of Arizona. From what Camille had relayed to Lorraine, the McCoys’ was one of the largest cattle ranches in the western deserts.

  Whatever grievance Mr. Rogers had with the operation, it couldn’t be too closely tied to business. Mr. Rogers had made a small fortune as a prospector mining silver and gold across the Arizona territory until he reached Tombstone and had, quite literally, struck gold.

  Mr. Rogers had amassed an enormous wealth, a portion of which was squandered on some less-than-sound business dealings. Still, the Rogers family was very comfortable, and there didn’t seem to be any reason for the patriarch to despise a fellow self-made family business that had found success in an unrelated field.

  “He’s a good man,” Camille insisted.

  “For Lorraine’s sake, I hope that’s true,” Mrs. Rogers said darkly.

  “I wouldn’t fret too much for Lorraine,” Camille said with a smile. There was a brazenness in her voice that hadn’t come across in her letters. A tone that Lorraine very much disliked, now that she heard her friend speak for the first time in so many years.

  “Why’s that?” Mrs. Rogers asked.

  “I suspect Lorraine was well on her way to securing a second suitor when I found her today,” Camille teased, the expression on her face making Lorraine cast her eyes to the floor once more with embarrassment.

  “Oh?” Mrs. Rogers asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “Mr. Oakley was nursing her back to health at the general store,” Camille said.

  “I thought he was Jace McCoy,” Lorraine said in her own defense. “I had expected him to meet me at the wagon, and then when I fainted and came to…”

  “Once Mr. Oakley had rescued you,” Camille smiled suggestively.

  “Please, I feel terrible enough as it is,” Lorraine said, feeling her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I must have put Mr. Oakley in a terribly uncomfortable position…”

  “Oh, I’m sure he was flattered,” Mrs. Rogers said with a kind smile. “Pretty little damsel in distress like yourself fainting into his arms.”

  Lorraine knew that Mrs. Rogers meant well, but the remark only made her feel worse.

  “Enough of this girlish gossip,” Mr. Rogers said, changing the subject. “Surely the real concern here is that Miss Hayes fainted in the town square today? Should we call on the doctor?”

  Mrs. Rogers looked at Lorraine, and her face was tinted wit
h sudden concern, as if she had been so distracted by the hilarity of Lorraine confusing Mr. Oakley and Mr. McCoy, that she hadn’t even had the chance to consider the fact that whole problem had arose in the first place because Lorraine fainted.

  “I’m sure I’m fine,” Lorraine said, blushing again.

  “Do you think it was the heat? Motion sickness from the wagon ride?” Mrs. Rogers asked.

  “Must have been all the factors combined,” Lorraine smiled agreeably, wishing they could talk about anything—anything—else. “I suppose I was just a bit fatigued from the journey. Perhaps I hadn’t had enough to eat or drink, you know how travel can be.” She laughed politely, wishing someone else would speak up, change the subject.

  “That’s odd,” Mr. Rogers said. “I’ve never been more relaxed and better rested than when I return from a journey on the sleeper car.”

  “It’s true,” Mrs. Rogers nodded, glancing affectionately at her husband. “Sometimes I suspect he travels for work just as an excuse to spend a week on the rails.”

  “You didn’t find it comfortable, Lorraine?” Mr. Rogers probed.

  “It was lovely,” she said, still wearing a stiff and strained polite smile.

  The train had been absolutely dreadful, but she couldn’t say that, could she?

  “Did you not get along with the attendant assigned to your private cabin?” Mrs. Rogers asked, pressing the issue. “Should we write a letter of complaint? I’m well acquainted with the board, if you have any complaints about your journey—”

  “No complaints at all, Mrs. Rogers,” Lorraine assured her. “I was just in the passenger car, so I didn’t—”

  “Pardon me?” Mrs. Rogers said, and when Lorraine glanced up from her plate she realized the entire table was turned to face her with wide eyes.

  “Did you say… the passenger car?” Mr. Rogers asked.

  “Yes,” Lorraine said, wondering if she had said something wrong. She had been on the passenger car, hadn’t she?

  “Miss Hayes,” Mr. Rogers said, clapping the heavy palms of his hands together and staring at her across the table, as if this was a matter of the utmost importance. “Were you given a third-class ticket for your journey?”

  “Yes?” Lorraine said faintly, her heart pounding in her chest. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have just pretended that she had been in a private cabin, eating luxurious meals or whatever the Rogers had assumed in the first place.

  Lorraine glanced across the table and noticed that even Camille seemed shocked.

  “One of the wealthiest men in the Arizona Territory,” Mr. Rogers shook his head, “and he sends for his bride and her son on a third-class train ticket.”

  Mrs. Rogers shook her head, her face flooded with thinly veiled disgust.

  Earlier, Lorraine thought it wouldn’t be possible to feel any worse about the day’s events than she already did. But that moment at dinner, she changed her mind. The concerned and disgusted looks worn by all three members of the Rogers family made her feel worse than anything she had experienced thus far, and if she hadn’t become so adept at composing her emotions, she might have been tempted to burst into tears on the spot.

  After dinner, Lorraine retired to her quarters and found Brandon fast asleep. She bent over his face and kissed his soft skin, and then she knelt and said her prayers, thanking God for their safe passage to Arizona, for the food in her stomach that made her feel not-hungry for the first time she could remember, and for the kind Mr. Oakley, the one bright light in an otherwise dark day.

  SIX

  Jace McCoy returned from his impromptu business trip the following afternoon, and he sent for Lorraine to straightaway visit him at the McCoy Ranch.

  Camille lent Lorraine a brightly colored dress for the occasion and helped her style her hair in a way that, according to Camille, was well favored by Mr. McCoy. Lorraine had gone to fetch Brandon before they set off, but Camille gave her a horrified look.

  “You’re not bringing him?” she asked.

  “Of course I am,” Lorraine said.

  “No,” Camille shook her head emphatically. “You should meet him on your own, first. Don’t overwhelm him.”

  “He’s agreed to marry a woman with a son,” Lorraine pointed out. “Why would it overwhelm him?”

  “Trust me,” Camille urged.

  “I can’t leave my son, Camille,” Lorraine said, trying to sound as diplomatic and reasonable as possible. “We’re a pair. If Jace can’t accept my son, then we simply cannot be married.”

  Camille hadn’t spoken to Lorraine for the entirety of the journey after that, but Lorraine didn’t mind. She spent the time watching the orange desert landscape with Brandon, pointing out the rock formations and strange shapes. The young boy watched with wide eyes, his face glowing with excitement as he took in the foreign vistas and tried to make sense of it all in his mind.

  Camille seemed unamused with the lesson, and she busied herself with a cross-stitch to pass the time on the short journey north to McCoy Ranch.

  Lorraine didn’t feel nervous until she saw the sprawling ranch in the distance, spread over the flat orange terrain. There was a wide prairie drenched in crisp hay, and hundreds of shiny black cows roamed and grazed, the sun glinting off of their silky hides.

  When the stagecoach came to a halt outside the ranch, Camille let herself out first and took an authoritative lead, marching toward the ranch in a manner that reminded Lorraine of the time that they had spent together as children, all those years ago.

  Nestling Brandon on her hip, Lorraine followed toward the ranch. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest and she felt as though she might faint all over again, just as she had the day before.

  Brandon, once again proving that he possessed a wisdom beyond his years, clasped his mother’s cheek in his hands and planted a peck on the side of her face. And despite the nerves, she felt a smile spread across her lips.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to her son, hugging him just a bit tighter. In that instant, she was so glad that she had insisted on bringing Brandon. Camille had been horribly mistaken when she had suggested that the boy should be left behind.

  After all, she had made this decision largely for Brandon’s sake; so that he could have stability, comfort… the father figure he had never had. They were a pair. There was no Lorraine without Brandon. And if Jace didn’t appreciate that, well… Well, she supposed he could buy her another third-class ticket home to Baltimore.

  The ranch house was a sprawling adobe-style home, flat and made of white stucco that looked bright and pristine against the rusty orange earth.

  A great pair of heavy wooden doors opened, and out came a man with russet-colored skin, shiny brown eyes, and a shaggy head of overgrown brown hair that appeared to be retaining the shape left by wearing a cowboy hat for too long.

  “Howdy, Miss Hayes,” he said, stepping out of the house and tipping an imaginary hat at Lorraine. She curtsied awkwardly, trying to balance Brandon on her hip, and he flashed a smile, revealing one gold-plated tooth that caught a beam of sunlight and reflected it back.

  “Mr. McCoy,” she said.

  “What a pleasure to finally meet,” he said.

  “Again,” she added for him.

  “Again,” he nodded. His eyes were resting on her with an amused expression, and she didn’t feel quite comfortable under the weight of his stare.

  “And without a scorpion this time, I hope,” Lorraine added. It was her attempt at breaking the awkward tension between them, an attempt at being personable, friendly. But the attempt at friendly batter seemed decidedly lost on Mr. McCoy. He furrowed his brow, contemplating her remark, then promptly determined it to be unfunny and shrugged his shoulders to display his indifference.

  “Shall we go inside?” he asked finally, directing his guests through the doors of his home. He made no special effort to single out Lorraine. No special effort to offer a more personal greeting to the woman he intended to marry. Nor did he ma
ke any particular effort to greet Brandon, the boy he had promised that he’d be a father to.

  Jace led them through the sparsely decorated hall into a parlor that opened onto an outdoor square. The house was unlike anything that Lorraine had seen in Baltimore. Everywhere she turned, she saw stone and hard edges, rough surfaces and rocky corners. She trusted Brandon’s capabilities, but her maternal instincts said this wasn’t the sort of house that was safe for a child to run around. She imagined him bumping his head on one of the stone pillars or stepping into a stucco wall.

  Jace continued to lead them through the house, pointing out features and rooms and offering dull descriptions that weren’t particularly interesting to Lorraine or Brandon.

  Then, suddenly, he turned and clapped his hands together.

  “Macha!” he called, and a woman emerged seemingly from thin air. She was dressed in a faded blue cotton dress, and her hair was woven into a pair of tight braids that were woven together at the back of her neck. Lorraine had never seen an Indian woman up close before, never mind one in a servant’s attire.

  “Macha,” Jace said, using a noticeably different tone with the Indian woman than he had with his guests. “Please relieve Miss Hayes of her child.”

  “Oh, that’s quite all right,” Lorraine protested, hugging Brandon closer to her hip as the woman reached for the boy.

  Lorraine looked into Macha’s face and saw that it was wrinkled with wisdom. She looked kind, and she had deep black eyes that were like sparkling onyx pools of knowledge.

  Jace’s face wrinkled into a frown. He was visibly upset that she had defied his instructions.

  “Miss Hayes,” he said firmly. “Let Macha take the child so that we might carry on with our tour.”

  Lorraine was suddenly aware that all eyes were on her, and for a fleeting second she considered turning on her heel and leaving. After all, hadn’t she just made up her mind that she and Brandon came as a pair, not to be separated?