The Last Bloom Read online

  “Debarking now in Willow Creek,” the conductor proclaimed.

  Cassia sighed, straightened her shoulders, adjusted the brim of her hat, and stood.

  Chapter Two

  Willow Creek was a bustling town, the main street becoming longer and wider within a few decades. There were sidewalks and paved roads. High buildings replaced the smaller ones, turning a once quiet, western town into a busy little city. Nothing, except the old church and parsonage, remained of bygone days. Those two old structures are what her mother called an old stand-by, the safe haven where anyone could go for help in a storm. And if anyone knew this first hand, it was Amanda Holmes.

  Amanda Gregory Eagle Holmes was first married to an Apache Warrior named Proud Eagle, during a time when the white man and red-skinned man were enemies. Amanda bore three children from this union—Gabriel Golden Eagle, Raven Eagle, and Sunny Eagle.

  When Proud Eagle died, Amanda wed the Reverend Joshua Holmes, Cassia’s father. Both were past their prime, her mother fifty and her father sixty-two, when she was born which was why Cassia’s birth was such a miracle—or a down-right-shock, as Sylvia, Reverend Ben Newcomb’s wife and Amanda’s close friend, always stated. The Apache people living at Eagle’s Landing entitled her The Last Bloom. And truly, for Amanda and Joshua, that’s just what she was.

  By the time she was born, Cassia’s half-siblings were old enough to be her parents. Thus now the reason all of her nieces and nephews were around her age. Those that were older than she, refused to call her auntie, as they felt more like cousins. However, even though the family dynamics was not like that of other families, there was lots of love and cooperation among the members as everyone looked out for each other.

  Her brother Gabriel and sister-in-law Riley lived next door and became like second parents. Many times she was left in their care when her parents went on a holiday. She respected their word, obeyed their rules, and accepted the punishments they doled out to her when she was naughty. They nurtured her when she was ill, supported her goals, and cherished her humor. Their three children, Ethan Soaring Eagle, Silas Warning Eagle, and Anita Awakening Eagle were like siblings and best friends rolled into one. She loved them all dearly and couldn’t wait to see them again.

  As she stepped down from the platform, she spotted one of her nephews. Silas was sent to fetch her from her travels and welcomed her with a warm smile spreading across his young, handsome face. At twenty, Silas was a formidable male specimen, muscular and over six feet tall, possessing his mother’s large green eyes. And like his father a splash of gold hair swept across one side of the very black, thick curls that just reached the rim of his shirt’s collar. That very streak was what won him his name, after his great-great-grandfather, Lord Silas Collins. It was a well-known fact Lord Collins owned the same unusual shock of the sun throughout his hair, as well as a crescent shaped birthmark on his abdomen.

  He closed the distance between them with a few long strides. She dropped the baggage she carried before Silas embraced her, lifting her off her feet and swinging her around.

  “Ah, you’re home at last,” his newly grown-male voice cracked, the pleasant aroma of leather and spice emanating from his skin. “Dearest Auntie Cassia,” he teased, “all grown up and now a proper professional.” He gasped as he glimpsed the short curls peeking out from beneath her hat. “And you’ve cut your hair.”

  She giggled. “It’s all the fashion.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss upon his cheek. “And look at you.” She changed the subject and pulled back to look into his eyes. “My little nephew, all grown up.”

  He placed her upon her feet and stared down into her eyes, before reaching to retrieve her baggage. “This is all you have after all this time…only two bags?”

  She nodded. “It’s always best to travel light, if one can.”

  He frowned. “Well, I guess I should take note of that advice, although I’m sure my dear sister, Anita, won’t be so cooperative.”

  She looped a hand through his arm. “And where are the two of you going?”

  He sighed. “We are bound for England, along with Mama, in ten days. Now that the war is over and it’s safer to travel overseas, Anita and I will be embarking on our futures. Mama, of course, will stay on until Papa joins her at the end of the summer…possibly sooner as he can never manage to stay apart from Mama too long.”

  She searched his face. “So it is time, then, for you to take your rightful place as heir?”

  “That it is,” he answered softly. “Though it is customary for the oldest son to fulfill such a task, Ethan must remain here. Should anything happen to Papa, Ethan will be named the next chief of the Western Apache tribe…or, what’s left of them.”

  “You always knew this day was coming,” she said. “Your father promised Lucinda Collins that one of his sons would take over Collins Stead so the family bloodline would continue.”

  “I know,” he said. “And it’s not like I’m not familiar with the place. I’ve traveled to England every year since I’ve been born—not counting the war years. Oliver and Leah Mills, the grounds overseer and close friends of my parents, will be there to guide me. Plus, Glenshire Sussex is a mere three quarters of an hour from London, by horse.” He arched a mischievous brow. “And I’ve been doing a bit of reading about the numerous adventures to be had in large cities.”

  She chuckled lightly. “Not to mention the very pretty Danica Mills who is close to your age and living on the grounds with her parents.”

  Silas blushed. “Yeah, that’s true as well.”

  She frowned. “Then what troubles you?”

  He shrugged. “The fact I’ll never again be able to call Eagle’s Landing my home. Once I step foot into that mansion, I’m there for life.”

  “It’s not like you can never return to Eagle’s Landing for a visit,” she offered.

  “But I will never be able to permanently stay,” he said. “I’ll be expected to marry an English woman, my children will be British citizens, not Americans, and when I pass away, I’ll be buried in the Collins family plot.”

  “And you will be the lord of a manor, rich enough to travel anywhere in the world you desire, influential and respected by others, and served daily by a staff of servants,” she countered.

  A slow smile spread his lips. “I will, won’t I?”

  She giggled. “Not such a bad trade off after all.”

  He joined her mirth. “No, not so bad at that.”

  “And why is Anita joining you?”

  “She’ll be staying in Brighton for the summer with Auntie Sunny and Uncle Rafe, where she will be able to fine-tune her skills as an artist,” Silas explained. “It’s what she always dreamed of doing, and now that she’s sixteen, it’s time she begins her career. So she’s very pleased…extremely excited to leave.”

  “Ah, if anyone can introduce her to such a career, it’s my sister, Sunny, an amazing artist herself, who has many connections in that field,” she said. “By the time Anita returns, she’ll have a résumé grand enough to enter a good college here in the states.”

  “That’s what Mama thought as well.”

  She squeezed Silas’s arm affectionately. “Then I’d say we’ll have to make the best of these next ten days, since it might be some time before I see you again.”

  He nodded, escorting her from the station terminal, out into the beautiful Arizona spring day.

  As Cassia made her way to the horse and carriage, she raised her face to the afternoon sun blazing in the cloudless sky. “One thing I missed terribly while in England is the warmth of the sun. All it ever seemed to do in London is rain, a thick mist of fog blankets the earth whether it is early morning or late at night.”

  After Silas helped her step up into the carriage and stash her baggage in the back of the wagon, he ran around to his seat. With a tug on the reins, he set the vehicle in motion. About a mile down Main Street’s thoroughfare, they were abruptly halted by a horseless carriage emergin
g from Summit Street to drive ahead of them.

  Silas scowled. “That’s the bank manager’s son, Willis.”

  She frowned. “Flora Washburn’s grandson?”

  He nodded. “He thinks he’s something grand because his father runs the bank and his mother runs Remington’s Department Store.”

  Cassia gasped. “Flora’s Boutique is now a department store?”

  He nodded again. “A lot has happened in eight years.”

  “I can see that.” She glanced around as they passed through the town.

  “Since Flora’s daughter-in-law has completely taken over the business, she’s had the building renovated, made it larger and two stories high. They sell everything from women’s clothes to furniture.”

  “No doubt Flora’s husband, Vernon is the creator of the furniture,” she added. “I remember how he built things in his barn, even helped him sand and paint a few chairs when I was younger.”

  “Yup, Vernon has gotten pretty famous for his handmade furnishings. And folks from all over, especially Phoenix, who want the country look in their homes, flock to Remington’s for the perfect table or chair.”

  “How many around here have a horseless carriage?”

  Silas shrugged. “Besides the Remingtons, I’d say about twenty to thirty families. Though I’ve seen the streets full of automobiles, which is what they’re called, when I accompanied Papa on a trip to Phoenix last summer.”

  “What do you make of them?” She settled herself for the forty-five minute ride to Eagle’s Landing.

  “They fascinate me.”

  “I hear they can be quite costly,” she said.

  “They were at one time, but Henry Ford with his Model T has changed all that.” He glanced her way. “I read a magazine article on Ford’s automobiles and learned quite a lot.”

  “What did your efforts discover?”

  “They are the traveling mode of the future,” he said. “And it was two Hungarian immigrants that helped design the vehicle. When I read their names, Joseph A. Glamb and Eugene Farkas, I began wondering about them.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, maybe at one time they were just two poor farm boys, living in a modest wood-framed home, running around barefoot and spending Saturday afternoons fishing at the nearest waterhole. They dared to be different, challenged themselves, and against all odds they came to America to pursue their dream of success, to seek their fortune,” he said, his voice growing in awe for men he never knew. Never would meet.

  “Yes, daring to be different,” she whispered. It was what she wanted, to be different. To be book-learned in the medical field, and not just a country woman birthing babies. The challenge to be knowledgeable and skilled, the ability to really help the patients she treats. It was what she always dreamed of doing while she tagged along with Owl Woman and Doc O’Clarity.

  “Then they meet Ford and his team of men who all wanted to think of ways to make life easier,” Silas said, bringing her thoughts back to their conversation. “And they come up with a design whereby no one would ever have to walk or ride a horse far distances or in bad weather again.”

  “Strange how life works. They came to America for a better way of life, and you’re leaving America to seek your success and fortune,” she said.

  Silas turned briefly to look her way, excitement filling his green eyes. “I think I’m going to buy an automobile when I get to England.” He squared his shoulders. “After all, the lord of a manor must have a way, other than a horse, to get around.”

  She returned his exuberance with a smile. “Perhaps leaving Eagle’s Landing might not be so awful after all.”

  He chuckled lightly. “No, perhaps it won’t be too bad at that. And as you mentioned,” he added, “there’s always Danica Mills.”

  Chapter Three

  Upon entering Eagle’s Landing, Tribal Square is what a traveler first saw. This was not always the case. Until Cassia was ten years old, this part of the town was secluded and set aside only for the few Apaches who chose to continue living traditionally, their wickiups in a small cluster by the creek.

  Wickiups were made of a framework of poles and limbs tied together over which a thatch of bear grass, brush, and yucca leaves were placed. The wickiup was then topped with a canvas like material that was stretched over the structure on the windward side. An opening at the top allowed smoke to escape from the fire pit, situated in the center of the abode. But as the elders died, and families grew, the primitive dwellings were abandoned for modern-day, wood-framed houses. Now the square was a tourist spot, complete with a visitor’s center that housed a small museum, an eatery serving sandwiches, hotdogs, ice cream, coffee, tea, and soda pop, and a gift store selling Apache and other handmade items. Revenue from tours and other festivities helped to improve and sustain the town, as well as educate the populace on the Apache way of life. The Pow Wows held also helped to keep the Apache tradition alive for the younger generations born into the tribe.

  Another great change since 1906 was the town’s expansion. Around 1905 her brother, Gabriel, purchased the land across the bridge, known as Beaver’s Bluff. The one hundred eighty acres of land was once used during the Gold Rush days as a stop off to and from California. Nothing much made up the town even then but a saloon, a small boarding house, and a place to stable a horse.

  Shabby and falling into disrepair, Beaver’s Bluff later became open to vagrants and other undesirables. After Cassia was born, her mother was kidnapped by a white agent named Denton Hall and held captive in a shack at Beaver’s Bluff. It was then Gabriel worked very hard for many years to own the land and clean it up. That area is now known as South Eagle’s Landing, or SEL.

  When she was a youngster, she watched the men erect the covered bridge joining the two parcels of land. The efforts to complete a hotel, a small medical clinic, and even an agricultural college have all these years been in the works. The extended town offered jobs and more land for homesteaders to build on. What started out as fifty-seven acres of land owned by Cassia’s grandfather, Ethan Gregory, were now a quaint yet thriving town, home to many, and a historical site as well.

  As the wagon made its way farther into the town, they passed the cemetery. She’d come many times to these sacred grounds with her mother, to pay their respect and lay flowers upon her grandparents’ graves, as well as her mother’s first husband’s resting place. As she grew older, she often wondered why her father wasn’t bothered by the fact his wife still held dear in her heart the memory of another man.

  Once Cassia questioned her brother Gabriel on the matter, and he had told her, “Your father and my father were good friends. Upon my father’s death bed, his last wish was for your father to take care of our mother. They had an understanding with each other…a code of honor, as they both shared the bond of loving our mother. Your father loved her first and has her last. My father loved her when their time was right. Since there is a season for all things, there is no need for jealousy or hurt feelings.”

  And so, in the Holmes’s household it became perfectly natural to include Peter…which was his Christian name…Proud Eagle’s memory into their lives. Both her parents shared stories about the Apache chief, conjuring up a picture of a very brave, wise, and kind man. Her siblings talked about their father with fondness and absolute reverence, so much so, that Cassia almost felt like she was related to the man as well.

  “You’re overly quiet,” Silas commented.

  She sighed. “I’m just taking in the sights of home.” She inhaled deeply the scents of spring, memories of the days she romped and played in the woods and by the creek, catching fireflies or listening for an owl’s hoot at night. Summer evenings spent sitting on the porch eating homemade ice cream or popcorn with Nora, while they shared their deepest secrets. They were the times when parents did all the worrying, comforted her, and were the wisest humans she knew. And when her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep, sound sleep, fearing nothing and dreaming al
l her hopes came true, and how much the future held.

  As Silas brought the horse to a halt in front of the modest, two-bedroom bungalow on the corner of Amelia Lane and Ethan Drive, Cassia’s heart raced with anticipation. Home…she was finally home, where tonight she’d sleep in her bed surrounded by all her familiar things. She’d wake to her mother’s cinnamon toast filling the house with delicious aromas and a hot cup of ginger tea. Her father, dressed in his clergy clothes, would have just finished reading the daily newspaper and ready to walk to the church, preparing for the morning service. He’d plant a fatherly kiss upon her cheek and give her a quick hug before he departed. How she’d missed this routine.

  “Are you ready to go in?” Silas asked.

  She smiled. “I couldn’t be more ready.”

  When Silas opened the front door, an array of voices shouted “Surprise.”

  She scanned the living room, glancing at all the familiar faces. Her mother came forward first, cupping Cassia’s chin between her small hands and kissing each cheek.

  “How glad I am to see you,” Amanda whispered.

  “And I you, Mama.” Her eyes welled with unshed tears. From the letters she received from home, her parents worried endlessly about her welfare, being overseas during such dangerous and troubled times.

  Then her father made his way to her. Frowning, he tugged on a strand of her hair peeking out from beneath the brim of her hat. “Where have you left your hair?”

  She pulled off her hat and shook out her curls. “It’s all the style, Papa.” With a hopeful smile and looking deep into the light blue eyes that matched her own, she added, “The good thing about hair is that it always grows back.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Aye, that it does.” He enveloped her within his strong arms and kissed the top of her head. “I’m just glad to have my baby girl back home where she belongs.”

  “I am twenty-three, Papa,” she whispered.

  “You will always be my baby girl.” He pulled her close enough to feel the beating of his heart.