Truly Yours Historical Collection December 2014 Read online

  “Well. . .we went over to the store, and Mr. Oliver gave Mr. MacPheters his list. Then Mr. MacPheters gave him the mail, and Mr. Oliver started reading it while they got his goods for him.”

  Sadie watched him closely, wondering where this rambling tale was headed.

  “Spit it out,” Tallie chided, and Pax glanced at her then down at the floor.

  “Then Mr. Oliver told me to bring everythin’ out to the wagon, and he went outside.”

  Sadie stepped over close to Pax. The boy had been like a little brother to her—a pesky, troublesome little brother at times, and they didn’t stand on ceremony with one another.

  “Pax, you just tell me what’s going on right now, or I’ll box your ears.”

  “Me, too,” Tallie said ominously.

  Pax looked from Sadie to his mother then stepped back toward the door. “Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on that I know of, except Mr. Oliver didn’t speak to me after that, except to ask if I was sure I got everythin’.”

  Pax sidled toward the door, not looking at her, and Sadie reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “That’s all I know, Miss Sadie. Honest.”

  She looked deep into his dark eyes then released her hold on him. “Fine. I’ll find out soon enough anyway. Just you be ready to ride tomorrow before breakfast, you hear me?”

  Pax grinned. “I be ready right after I milk the cow, Miss Sadie, unless your papa tells me to do somethin’ else for him.”

  She nodded curtly and turned away. She hadn’t ridden for a week, and she missed the long rambles with Pax. The heat had been overpowering throughout July, and her father and Tallie had both advised her to stay out of the sun. But enough was enough, so she had made a date with Pax to ride early before the worst heat overtook them again.

  Tallie selected a sturdy wooden spoon and returned to her worktable. “I keep telling your papa he needs to put you in a sidesaddle, but he won’t listen to me. Lets you ride all over the valley like a farmhand.”

  “Only sissies ride sidesaddle. I have to ride spirited horses and keep them in condition. You know I have to keep Mr. Cooper’s mares fit.”

  Tallie shook her head. “They’re already fit.”

  “Ha! That’s what you know. I haven’t ridden them all week. Every one of them needs a good workout.”

  “Pa and me took Maude and Buttercup out yesterday,” Pax said sheepishly, and Sadie stared at him.

  “What? You and Zeke? You didn’t tell me!”

  “Mr. Oliver say they need exercise. He knows you want to ride them, but it was too hot yesterday.”

  Just then the dining room door opened, and her father looked in.

  “Sadie, I need to see you for a moment.” He turned and let the door swing to.

  Sadie stared at Tallie as she fumbled with her apron strings.

  “Probably nothin’.” Tallie picked up her tin measuring cup and stooped over the flour bin.

  “I should have gone with Papa myself.” Sadie walked slowly through the dining room, across the entry, and into the parlor. A queer feeling of dread was settling in her stomach.

  “Papa?”

  He was sitting in his armchair, and he looked up from the paper in his hand. His solemn expression did nothing to dispel her anxiety. “Sit down, daughter.”

  Sadie took one of the side chairs. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she waited, clutching a handful of the gray fabric of her housedress. They sat in silence for a long moment, and her father stared down at the sheet of paper. She saw that it was a letter, and her fear multiplied.

  “Papa?”

  He looked at her then, and she could see tears standing in his eyes. “It’s Tenley.”

  “No!” She left her chair and knelt beside him, grasping his arm and peering at the letter. “Tell me, Papa.”

  Her father swallowed hard and reached out to her. His hand shook, but he placed it on her head and stroked her hair.

  “I’m afraid he’s gone. It was in the battle—”

  “No, that can’t be!”

  “Hush, child. Listen to me. He was wounded in the battle for Mexico City. He didn’t survive his wounds.”

  “But that was. . .” Sadie stared up at him, unable to accept his words. Not Tenley! First her mother, now her precious brother. It was too much to bear. Her chest tightened, and she had to struggle to breathe. “They captured the city almost a year ago, Papa!”

  “Yes, in September.” He sighed and held the letter out to her. “This is dated January first. It seems he lingered for several weeks in the field hospital; then it took his commanding officer awhile to write the letter. And who knows where this letter’s been in the past six months? But it’s here now, and so now we know.”

  She refused to look at the creased letter or read the fateful words. “No, Papa. We would have known. I would have known.”

  He shook his head helplessly. “We’ve all prayed so hard.”

  “I’ve prayed every day,” Sadie agreed, tears choking her and making her voice crack. She leaned her forehead against her father’s knee and sobbed.

  “We’ll get through this,” he whispered, patting her shoulder. “Sadie, child, it’s a cruel thing, but we’ve still got each other.”

  Four

  Harry tested the latch on the door of the tiny, one-room cabin. It was good enough to keep the door shut while he rode to Virginia and collected his brood mares from Oliver McEwan.

  It was late August, and he’d planned to be on the road by now, but everything had taken longer than he’d anticipated. Thanks to several kind neighbors, his barn was now complete. That was the critical structure. All summer Harry had prepared timber, cut and stacked hay, and split firewood, then built a paddock. Last of all, he had thrown up the little cabin that would shelter him this winter. He’d planned a bigger building—a real house—but setbacks in building and haying had cut short the time he could spend on it, and he’d settled for this barely adequate cabin. No matter. He would add on to it next spring.

  The important thing now was to bring the mares home. McEwan had agreed to have them bred to drop spring foals and ready to go when he arrived. In his mind’s eye, Harry could see the mares trotting across his pasture with their colts at their sides. Of course, he had yet to fence the pasture, but he ought to be able to do that before cold weather set in.

  He sighed and looked out over his property. There was still so much to do! He’d better not linger too long at McEwans’, tempting as the thought was.

  The image of Sadie in her rose-colored gown came unbidden to his thoughts as it had many times since his trip to Virginia. She was a budding rose, a girl maturing into womanhood, and he could hardly wait to see the full-blown flower.

  Another picture of her flashed across his consciousness then—the wild Sadie dashing out of the woods on that exquisite mare then hauling back on the reins in a desperate effort to avoid disaster. Then the subdued Sadie, lying in the dust and looking up at him cautiously, gasping for breath while he tried not to stare.

  Harry stooped to pick up his tools. He would leave at first light. He didn’t want to put the trip off any longer or delay seeing her.

  ❧

  “Papa, are you all right?”

  Her father had dismounted and stood beside the stallion, pressing his fist against his lower back. He gave out a sigh and smiled at her. “Just growing old.”

  “It’s Clipper’s rough trot that’s getting to you.”

  “You may be right.” He eyed the horse critically. “He looks so good, but his gaits are downright painful.”

  “Not to mention that little bucking trick he does if you touch his flanks.”

  He gave her a rueful smile. He’d been trying to break Clipper of that habit, with no success.

  Zeke came from the barn and reached for the horse’s reins. “Let me walk him, Mr. Oliver. Pax, you get Miss Sadie’s horse.”

  “Nonsense. I can cool down my own mount.” Sadie cluck
ed to Lily and led her along behind Zeke across the barnyard. She knew her father was wondering if he’d made a mistake in keeping Clipper as a stallion, but he wouldn’t discuss such matters with her. Clipper was young, only four years old, and had been earmarked to replace their aging stallion, Star. In Sadie’s opinion, there would never be another horse like Star, but she knew he was getting on in years, and the farm’s income depended on the McEwans finding another exceptional stallion soon.

  She glanced back at her father. He seemed to move a little slower since the letter had come from Tenley’s commander, and Sadie was startled to note that his hair was graying quickly. Throughout the month of August, he had thrown himself into the work of the farm, and Sadie began to worry. He was working too hard. His grief drove him, she knew. Tenley’s death had devastated him, but instead of languishing in his sorrow, he spent long hours in the fields and at the barn, working with the horses, haying, and most recently harvesting wheat and oats.

  She had begged him to hire more help, but he had insisted he could do the work with Zeke and his two sons, Pax and Ephraim, the older son who lived a few miles away. Ephraim eked out a living for his young family as a blacksmith, but every summer he devoted a few weeks to work on the McEwan farm.

  Zeke turned ahead of her and walked toward the barn with Clipper straining at the lead rope. Her father had given the stallion a good run, but he was still dancing and tossing his head. He reached over to nip Zeke’s sleeve, and Zeke slapped him on the nose.

  “Quit that, hoss!” Zeke glanced at Sadie. “Your papa ought to sell this one for a racehorse. That all he’s good for.”

  “Pa!” Pax shouted.

  Sadie jerked her head to stare at him. Pax was standing just inside the barn door, and he appeared to be wrestling with her father.

  No, she realized in horror, Pax was holding her father up, keeping him from falling to the ground.

  “Pa, help!”

  “Zeke!” Sadie shrieked. Lily snorted and shied, and ahead of them Clipper neighed and reared. Zeke kept his hold on the lead rope and yanked down on it firmly.

  “Ho, you hoss! Easy now.”

  Sadie realized she had broken one of her father’s ironclad barn rules. Instead of helping in an emergency, she had screamed and caused the volatile stallion to panic.

  She ran in agonizing slowness toward Pax and her father, pulling Lily along with her. “Come on, Lily! Come!” She would not break another rule and drop the lead rope. Loose horses would only cause more mayhem.

  As she ran, she saw her father slide from Pax’s grasp and crumple to the straw-strewn floor.

  Dear God, no!

  A fractured prayer left her heart as she thrust Lily’s reins into Pax’s hands and knelt beside her father.

  ❧

  “Mr. Cooper’s here, sugar.” Tallie smiled in apology from the doorway to Sadie’s bedroom.

  Sadie wiped a tear away. “He’s really here?”

  “He just rode up to the barn. My Zeke is taking his horse. He’ll show him the mares so Mr. Cooper can see how nice and fat they are; then he’ll show him to the house.”

  Sadie nodded and pushed herself up out of the rocking chair.

  “What am I going to do, Tallie?”

  “Why, the same as your papa would do.”

  “But everything’s changed now that Papa’s dead.”

  “I know, child.” Tallie opened her arms wide, and Sadie flew into them with a sob.

  “What if he doesn’t want to buy the mares anymore?”

  “Of course he does! If he didn’t, he’d have sent your papa a letter.”

  Sadie nodded and sniffed, and Tallie turned to open a small inlaid box on top of Sadie’s dresser. She took out a clean muslin handkerchief and handed it to her.

  “Here now, mop your face. You need to look your best when you greet him.”

  Sadie pulled in a shaky breath. “What if he wants his money back? Because—”

  “Whoa now! You just borrowin’ trouble. That man came for his horses, and you’re gonna give them to him. He gives you the money, and that’s that.”

  Sadie nodded and exhaled slowly. That’s that, she thought. It wasn’t at all how she had pictured her second meeting with Harry Cooper. She had imagined her father would invite him to spend the night again so they could enjoy another long evening of conversation. She’d thought she would at least have a chance to sit at dinner with him again. She’d planned it for months, down to the menu Tallie would prepare and the imported lace on her gown.

  “You freshen up,” Tallie said. “Put on your new blue dress. I’ll go down and start the fried chicken for supper.”

  “No, Tallie, not the fried chicken.”

  Tallie stared at her. “Why not? Just like you said, Miss Sadie. Fried chicken, biscuits, butter beans, and carrots, then the pies. He liked my pie, remember?”

  “I remember, but, Tallie, I can’t invite him to stay to dinner tonight.”

  Tallie pressed her lips together. “Well, maybe not.” Her shoulders drooped as she left the room.

  Sadie stared into the mirror over her vanity. How could she face Harry with these red eyes and this haggard face? And yet she didn’t have the energy to try to do anything about it.

  ❧

  At last Harry got Zeke to stop extolling the virtues of the McEwan horses and take him to the house. He was a bit surprised and disappointed that Oliver hadn’t come out to the barn on his arrival, but Zeke had explained that his boss had been “poorly.”

  “Will I be able to see Mr. McEwan?” Harry asked as they entered the house and Zeke steered him toward the parlor.

  “Oh, I don’t think Mr. Oliver can see you today.” Zeke shook his head with doleful regret.

  Sadie jumped up from a chair and stood facing Harry as he entered the room.

  “Miss Sadie. How wonderful to see you again.” He stepped forward eagerly and tried to hide his dismay. She wore a fetching ice blue crinoline dress, but her face was pale and drawn, and her hair was poorly dressed, put up in a loose knot from which tendrils were escaping. She must have been at her father’s bedside.

  “Mr. Cooper,” she murmured, and Harry bent over her hand.

  “I’m sorry to hear that your father is ill.”

  Sadie stared past him at Zeke with a look of shock. Had she expected the servant to hide the fact that his master was gravely ill?

  “I—”

  Her face flooded with color, and Harry smiled as a trace of the old, excitable Sadie appeared. Zeke had embarrassed her, no question, and Harry determined to do whatever he could to put her at ease.

  “Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.

  She hesitated then nodded. “Won’t you sit down?” When she led him to a seat near the fireplace, he looked up at the painting on the front wall and smiled.

  “I’ve thought many times of that picture this summer. I confess there were many evenings when I longed to be back here again.”

  Sadie swallowed. She seemed to be struggling with every word today.

  “I—I hope you found the mares in good condition.”

  “Excellent, thank you. Miss McEwan, if your father is too ill for guests today, perhaps I can stay in town tonight and come back in the morning.”

  “Mr. Cooper,” she said, eyeing him carefully, “I must tell you that our family has suffered a great tragedy.”

  He nodded, his heart filled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry about your brother. Zeke told me you received the news a few weeks ago, and it distressed me. I know how much you loved him.”

  Sadie bit her lip, and he thought she was holding back tears. He stood hastily. He longed to stay there and try to be a small comfort to her, but a gentleman would not presume to do that. A gentleman would express his condolences and leave.

  “Miss McEwan, forgive me for intruding at this time. I’ll come back tomorrow, and perhaps your father will be able to see me then.”

  “Oh no, really, Mr. Cooper, he won’t be able to. You see—�
��

  Zeke stepped forward. “Mr. Oliver is restin’.”

  Sadie stared at him. “Zeke!”

  He shrank back toward the doorway, his hands folded and his eyes downcast.

  Sadie cleared her throat and looked up at him, and Harry’s heart pounded. She was the Sadie he remembered, even though she was grieving for her brother and worried sick about her father’s health.

  “You see, Mr. Cooper, Papa’s heart hasn’t been strong lately, and. . .and. . .”

  She sobbed, and Harry couldn’t help stepping closer and touching her shoulder ever so lightly.

  “Don’t distress yourself. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  She sobbed once more. “Perhaps it’s best.”

  He nodded and backed away, not wanting to leave her, yet determined to abide by the social code. He would do nothing to upset or offend her family. At all costs, he wanted to stay in the good graces of the McEwans. Seeing Sadie again, even in her sorrow, had taught him that. If he had his way, this would not be his last visit to the Spinning Wheel Farm.

  Zeke walked slightly behind him on the way to the barn. Harry wondered if Sadie would chastise the servant later for being too forthcoming. Dark clouds were forming over the ridge of mountains in the west, and Pax was leading two horses in from the pasture. When they reached the barn he brought out Harry’s horse, Pepper, and Zeke silently brought the saddle.

  “I take it Mr. McEwan’s condition is very grave,” Harry said. He took the bridle from Zeke’s hand. “Here, I can do that.”

  “Well, suh,” Zeke said, “it ain’t good. A few days back, Mr. Oliver just collapsed. Right over there.” He pointed toward the barn door.

  “Has he seen a doctor?”

  “Ain’t no doctor close, suh.”

  Harry frowned, wishing there was a way to help. He liked Oliver McEwan and had felt they might be friends if they lived closer. And his daughter. . .that was another story.

  “Is there anything I can do, Zeke?”

  “I don’t think so. But if you’s coming back tomorrow, I’ll keep your mares in so they’ll be ready for you in the mornin’.”

  “Thank you, Zeke. It looks like we’re in for a storm tonight. I expect there’s an inn in Winchester?”