Second Chance Bride (8 page)

Everyone shouted their approval. “I think we’ll all enjoy celebrating with you.”

“Good.” Elizabeth smiled again. “But can you guess what I’m getting for my birthday?”

“A new doll?” Clara asked. The boys made sounds of disgust about such a feminine gift, but Elizabeth shook her head.

The guessing continued: an apple, a hairbrush set, new shoes, a dress. No one found the correct answer.

“A pony!” Elizabeth finally said. “My father is giving me a pony. I’ll ride it to school on Monday.”

“A pony,” Martha said. “What color?”

“I don’t know yet. He’ll have it for me when I get home.”

Everyone told Elizabeth how excited they were about her present and wished her happy birthday. After they shared the delicious torte Lucia brought down, the other students left for the day.

With an impatient Elizabeth dancing around, anxious to get home to see her pony, Annie helped Lucia clean up and then saw them off, waving as the two headed to the ranch house in the wagon.

Finally alone, Annie went back into the schoolhouse and twirled around the room. She’d lasted another day. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, the prayer feeling more natural.

The students had sung a lot and done sums orally, but she seemed to have them convinced she was a real teacher. Over the weekend, she’d have two days to work, to learn, to attempt to read several stories in the upper-level readers and understand them. Two days minus time for Sunday services, but that still left her plenty of time. Annie pulled a desk over to a window again and began to work.

The wind picked up at sundown, whipping around the corners of the sturdy schoolhouse. Surely, Annie thought as she looked out the window, a storm was coming to break the drought. But no sound of rain pattered on the roof.

Annie had finished reading several stories and sat up to stretch. Her shoulders hurt constantly from leaning over the desk, but the persistent work helped her feel more confident. As she leaned her head on her hands in an effort to relieve a headache that plagued her, she heard a persistent sound from the back of the building, loud enough to be audible above the roar of the wind. What in the world was it?

She shook her head and picked up the book again, but the odd sound continued, just loud enough to distract her. A glance at her watch told her it was only ten o’clock, which meant she had several more hours of work ahead.

But the noise didn’t stop. It interrupted her concentration as she read the moral story about a little girl named Minnie who always complained. The author of the story held Minnie up as a good child who attempted to teach everyone to behave as perfectly as she did by her constant nagging. She seemed like a whiner to Annie. Happy to have a reason to stop reading this particular story, she stood and headed toward the sound.

When she walked past the kitchen, the sound grew louder. Entering the bedroom, she realized it came from outside her back door.

She stopped. Should she open it? If there were anyone outside who wished to do her harm, it would be easy enough for him to break in. Slowly she approached the door, opened it and peeked out through a narrow slit.

No one was there, but the sound continued. She looked down. On the top step stood a tiny ball of fur. In an instant, it tore past her feet and into the building as the wind grabbed the door and slammed it behind the creature.

Annie turned. In the middle of the room stood a small bit of black fluff with four white feet and a dot of white on its nose. From its mouth came the loudest caterwauling Annie had ever heard. And it didn’t stop.

“Come here, kitty.” Annie reached out her hand, but the little animal backed up and growled. Annie put her hands on her hips and looked at the cat. What should she do?

“Are you hungry?” It did not, of course, answer, but strutted out of the bedroom with its little black tail standing straight up like a scorpion’s. And it kept up the loud, demanding meowing. How could such a small creature make so much noise?

Annie had no other choice but to follow it. She was, after all, in charge of the schoolhouse, responsible for its good order and cleanliness. Allowing the kitten to wander through didn’t seem responsible. Of course, what harm could something so small do?

More than she would’ve thought. By the time Annie found the cat, it had pounced on a piece of soapstone and knocked it to the floor causing it to break and scatter dust and fragments all over; discovered a piece of paper that it tore up into small scraps with great delight; and scratched on the door jamb, leaving deep marks with its sharp little claws.

“No, kitty.” When it didn’t pay any attention to her, Annie took advantage of the animal’s inspection of a bug to pick up the kitten.

“Meooooow,” the tiny creature complained in a voice loud enough for one of the cougars Annie’d been told lurked in Texas, then wiggled away.

Annie went into the kitchen and opened a can of milk, poured it in a bowl and added a little water. She found the kitten exploring her desk and put the bowl next to it. In no time, the cat had lapped the bowl clean and began washing her face with her tiny white foot. Before it finished, the cat blinked a few times, then curled up on the desk and fell asleep.

What was she going to do with it? She watched for a few minutes while it slept, its sides rising and falling. She placed a finger under the animal’s chin and scratched. Loud purrs sounded through the schoolroom.

What
was
she going to do with it? Annie picked up the lamp in one hand and the cat in the other. The little creature pressed its soft, furry warmth against her chest and continued to purr. She suspected the schoolhouse wasn’t the place for a kitten. Maybe a big mouser who lived outdoors, yes, but not this little speck of fur that was barely the size of a mouse.

Annie put the lamp on the dresser, then opened the door and leaned over to put the kitten back outside. It woke up and looked at her with wide, startled eyes, digging its claws into her basque and refusing to let go.

“All right.” Annie stepped back inside and closed the door. “You can stay for tonight—just tonight. Tomorrow, when the wind lets up, you’re going back outside.” She lifted the kitten’s chin and looked into its face. “Is that understood?”

It purred.

Annie folded a towel and placed it in the corner of her bedroom. “That’s your bed for tonight.” She placed the cat on the towel, then began to undress. Before she slipped on her nightgown, the little animal had scaled the blanket on the bed and curled up in the middle of it.

“All right.” Annie laughed. “You can stay up here tonight. But tomorrow you’re back outside,” she repeated.

“Miss Cunningham, Miss Cunningham!”

Someone was knocking and calling her name at the front door. Annie turned over and attempted to ignore the sounds. It was Saturday morning. Certainly she had the right to sleep late. Or was there something in her contract about getting up early on Saturday mornings?

Then the knocking began at the back door. She opened her eyes slowly and discovered a cat lying on her pillow. Oh, yes, the kitten. The sight reminded her that her exhaustion this morning was due to a small, furry tornado that had raced across the bed all night long.

Sunshine filled her room. What time was it?

“Just a minute!” she shouted with as much courtesy as she could find inside her sleep-deprived body. She slid off the bed, stumbled toward the dresser and picked up her watch. Nine o’clock. She should be up by now.

“Just a minute,” she repeated but more politely. She’d glanced at the chemise she slept in and wondered how she could answer the door—she had no robe. When she moved the cat so she could use the blanket, it howled in protest. Annie wrapped the cover around her and opened the door to peek outside. “Oh, good morning, Lucia.”

Lucia stood outside with a bundle in her hands. “Good morning, Miss Cunningham. I’m sorry to bother you, but Mr. Sullivan sent me.”

Was the board meeting this morning? Annie shook her head. No, Tuesday evening. Had she forgotten an appointment John had scheduled for this morning? She opened the door and allowed Lucia inside.

“It will take me a moment to get dressed.”

Lucia took another step inside, put the bundle on the bed and untied the twine. As she did, the kitten jumped across the covers and attacked the string. Lucia jumped back.

“Oh, Miss Cunningham, you have a kitten.” She scratched the cat’s ears. “It’s so cute. Does it have a name?”

Annie thought of the little creature’s loud protests and remembered the story she’d been reading about the girl who always complained. “She’s Minnie. She wandered in last night when it was so windy, but I’m not keeping her.”

As if she understood, the kitten started her loud meowing.

“Miss Cunningham, we have badgers, foxes, armadillos, bobcats and raccoons in this area. If you don’t keep the cat, the scavengers will eat her.”

Minnie wouldn’t even make a mouthful for any of those animals. Perhaps she’d keep her a few more nights, or until she was big enough to defend herself.

“Mr. Sullivan sent me to ask if Elizabeth could come over to show you her new horse.”

“Of course.”

“I brought you some bacon and a few biscuits, so you wouldn’t have to fix your breakfast this morning.” She handed Annie the bag. “I reminded Mr. Sullivan you don’t work on the weekends, but Miss Elizabeth was so insistent. He can’t turn her down.”

“I’m glad she wanted to share her excitement with me.”

“And he’s bringing over a horse for you to ride,” Lucia said.

“He shouldn’t do that.” Annie clasped her hands in front of her. “I really don’t ride.”

“Well, Mr. Sullivan seems to think you ride and that you’d be happy to have the opportunity.”

Matilda probably rode well. She’d looked like the type of woman who did everything capably. Annie was the type of woman who’d never been on a horse and wasn’t all that fond of the large animals. They had a tendency to prance and to show their big teeth.

“Maybe he has me confused with one of the other applicants for this position.”

Lucia shook her head. “You were the only applicant.”

Oh, dear.

“Mr. Sullivan sent me over with a divided skirt, one of his wife’s. It should fit you.” Lucia held it up. “He didn’t know if you had brought your riding clothes with you.”

Annie shook her head as she took the garment from Lucia. What had she gotten into? “I didn’t bring riding clothes,” she said. She did not add “Because I’ve never ridden a horse, ever.”

She’d have to ride. Clearly John expected it. It would make Elizabeth happy, but could she even stay on the horse’s back, never mind actually ride it?

She’d have to. Suddenly, teaching herself to read didn’t seem so hard after all.

A
fter Lucia left, Annie pulled on the divided skirt with her brown basque, combed her hair, then settled down to enjoy a biscuit and share the bacon with Minnie. With a few minutes remaining before ten o’clock, she went outside to await the Sullivans.

“Miss Cunningham!”

Annie looked up to see a pretty chestnut pony frisking along with Elizabeth on its back.

“This is my pony, Brownie.” The child brought the horse next to Annie and stopped it after a few unsuccessful tugs on the reins.

“Soft hands, Elizabeth,” John said from a few yards behind his daughter, astride Orion. He was wearing denim trousers, a plaid cotton shirt and a wide-brimmed hat. He looked quite handsome and approachable—the banker was nowhere to be seen today.

He nodded toward the pretty brown-and-white pinto mare he led. The animal looked calm which made Annie feel just slightly better.

“Good morning, Elizabeth. Good morning, Mr. Sullivan.” Annie smiled and put her hand on the new pony’s neck. “She’s beautiful. Tell me all about her.”

“My father bought her for me at an auction in Fredericksburg. They just delivered her yesterday.” Elizabeth loosened her hold on the reins a bit, and the pony pranced sideways.

“She has a lot of spirit.” Annie watched as the girl attempted again to rein in the pony.

“Maybe a little more than I realized.” John moved his horse closer to his daughter with the protective affection he always showed toward her. “But I’m sure that with practice, Elizabeth will be able to control Brownie.”

“She’s a wonderful present. Thank you for bringing her to show me.”

“As I’m sure Lucia told you, Elizabeth and I were hoping you could join us for a ride. We’re going over to the high meadow so Elizabeth can spend some time getting used to Brownie there,” John said.

“I haven’t ridden in so long.” She studied Elizabeth, who rode with her elbows in, lightly holding the reins, her feet resting comfortably in the stirrups. Could she do that? If the horse didn’t start bucking or doing those other wild things she’d seen the animals do, probably so.

He frowned as if attempting to remember. “I thought you’d written that you rode daily.”

“Well, yes, but I’ve never been a very good rider.” Well, didn’t that explanation sound foolish? She walked toward the gentle mare. The horse didn’t seem intimidating. Annie feared she’d have to get on her back and attempt to ride, but how?

Again, she remembered the mayor’s wife in Weaver City. She stood on a step and put one foot—the left foot?—in the stirrup and threw her right leg across the horse.

But even if she could get on the horse, she’d never fool anyone into believing she was an accomplished rider. And, although she’d healed greatly since the accident nearly two weeks earlier, her leg still ached.

“Oh, Miss Cunningham, we’re going to have so much fun.”

She turned back to see Elizabeth smiling in anticipation. With a sigh, she said to John, “If you could help me, I’d appreciate that,” she said. “My leg is still a problem.”

John quickly dismounted and tied his horse to a post. “I do apologize. Elizabeth wanted to show you Brownie so much that I didn’t even consider that you may still be in pain.”

The horse wasn’t too big. As long as it stood patiently before Annie, she might as well try to get on. She put her hand on the nose of the mare, which nickered softly.

“She seems like a nice creature.”

“Elizabeth learned to ride on Mercy.”

If a child could ride this horse, certainly Annie could. She took the reins, stood on the step and placed her foot in the stirrup.

Mercy shuffled her feet and moved away, which almost caused Annie to fall on her face. She’d grabbed the saddle and held on, but it confirmed her belief that horses could not be trusted.

“I’ll hold her still.” John took the reins.

Reciting the points of mounting a horse to herself, Annie swung her leg over the saddle and found herself on Mercy’s back.

“Well done,” he said, looking at her closely for a moment. With a much smoother motion, he mounted his horse.

Watching Elizabeth trot off ahead of her, Annie held the reins lightly, sat straight with her elbows in and gently pressed Mercy’s sides with her legs. Fortunately, the mare followed Elizabeth’s pony toward the meadow. As they broke through the grove of trees, Annie gasped in delight at the view. In the distance, she could see herds of cattle grazing. She pulled on the reins and, amazingly, Mercy stopped.

White-tailed deer—three or four does, several bucks and three fawns, slender, graceful and so fragile looking—grazed on the long grass and clover. When they heard the horses, the deer lifted their heads, then turned and disappeared into a thicket.

Twined around tree stumps were thick trumpet creepers, their orange blooms brilliant against the grass. Hummingbirds and butterflies flew from flower to flower in the warm sunshine.

“This is beautiful,” she said, her voice conveying amazement. “You must love this place.” She took in the beauty for a few more minutes before she asked, “How long have you lived here?”

“Forever, it seems.” He smiled as he looked across the meadow. “My great-grandfather came to the area from Boston. He joined with Stephen F. Austin in 1823, when Mexico opened the area up to Americans. We have letters he wrote to my great-grandmother before she joined him. He said that hundreds of bison covered the land as far as a man could see.” He stretched his arm out and waved it across the area ahead of them.

His pride in his family glowed on his face, and Annie was torn. On one hand, she felt drawn to him, in awe of his passion about the place of his family in history; on the other, she wondered what she was doing next to him, looking out over this land that had belonged to his family for generations when she didn’t even know where her parents had come from.

“In 1835, my grandfather was at Gonzales. He stood by the canyon and waved the ‘Come and Take It’ flag with the ‘Old Eighteen.’ My great-uncle fought and died at the Alamo with Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie, and my father fought at San Jacinto.”

“Your family has been part of Texas from the beginning.”

He nodded. “The Sullivans have been on this land for over sixty years. I can’t tell you how proud I am of my family and my name. We are Texans.

“But enough about me, Matilda.” He turned and smiled at her. “Why don’t we sit over there.” He dismounted, tied his horse up and turned to her, his closeness warming the chilly morning. Holding his hand out, he waited for her to dismount.

Well, she had little choice. Reversing her method of mounting the horse, she attempted to turn in the saddle; but her aching right leg made her clumsy. Her foot slipped in the stirrup at the same time the mare took a step. If he hadn’t caught her, she would’ve fallen in a heap at his feet.

Awareness of him shot through her. Embarrassed of both that odd feeling and her clumsiness, she shrugged from his grasp and turned toward him. “Thank you.”

“We should have been more considerate about your injuries.” He took her arm again and helped her sit down on a log. “Now we can talk about you.”

Not what Annie wanted. She needed to change the subject but couldn’t think of a way to distract him. They were surrounded by the sounds of nature, held gently by the splendor of the high meadow, serenaded by the birds and all the melodies of God’s world.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked once they were both settled, watching Elizabeth ride her pony around the meadow.

“Why don’t you tell me about your background and interest in education?” Annie replied before he could ask any questions. “Did you attend Trail’s End school?”

“Until sixth grade. At that time, my father decided I needed a better education, and he sent me to boarding school in Dallas.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten or eleven.” He shrugged. “It was expected.”

He must have been lonely. She felt sad for the little boy he’d been.

“That’s the reason I’m determined to raise the educational standards here.” He rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together as he watched his daughter, love and pride evident on his face. “Her grandparents want her to go to St. Louis for school. I want to keep Elizabeth here with me as long as possible, but I also want her to have a good education.”

As if Annie were the one to do that. A stab of guilt shot through her.

She thought he was about to ask her a question, so she hurried on. “What did you do after boarding school?”

The scent of flowers along with the occasional buzz of bees was hypnotic, so much so that Annie was worried she might slip up and say something she shouldn’t to this man who believed she was who she said she was.

“I attended Waco College and studied business and finance.”

As she watched him, she saw his expression change from his excitement about the school in Trail’s End to a distinct lack of interest. Noting the change in his voice, as well, she asked, “Didn’t you like it?”

“When I was young, I wanted to be a veterinarian.” He gave a deprecating laugh. “I’ve always loved animals. I wanted to attend Iowa State College.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“My father expected me to be a banker and rancher, to take over his businesses.” He turned toward her. “As you may know, ranchers don’t respect the new science of veterinary medicine.”

“They don’t? Why not?”

“Ranchers have been caring for their animals for years, probably centuries. They won’t put up with some new college graduate telling them what to do.”

Thinking of the ranchers she’d known, she said, “I see your point.”

“And Iowa, as you know from geography, is a long way from Texas. I probably would have hated Iowa. It gets cold there, and it isn’t Texas.”

Then he laughed, a true laugh. Annie joined him, even though she didn’t know why they were laughing. But hearing the sound of their amusement soaring over the meadow felt wonderful and freeing.

“Someday,” he said, “I’ll tell you a few interesting stories about how we take care of animals on the ranch. Even better, I’ll show you our veterinarian’s office. Duffy, one of the ranch hands, taught me everything he knows. He’s the one who made me want to be a veterinarian.”

His gaze held hers. All she could think was how blue his eyes were, not cold at all as she’d thought earlier. His smile, even the tiny sliver he showed her, made her breathless. She didn’t feel at all like Annie or Matilda but instead, like a new, very happy and slightly unsure young woman.

“Matilda, you have a wonderful laugh,” he said in a soft voice that made Annie believe he’d felt the same way about their shared moment.

What was happening between the two of them? She was overcome by a feeling of breathlessness and wonder, and a need to know more about the man. He slowly reached out and took her hand, looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world.

Elizabeth’s voice shattered the enchanting moment. “Father, I’m tired now, and Brownie wants to go home.”

In an instant, he let go of her hand, stood and turned toward his daughter while Annie put her hands to her cheeks, certain they were pink with embarrassment. How could she have dared to look at John like that?

And yet, he’d returned her gaze and held her hand, filling her with pleasure and feelings she didn’t recognize.

If she weren’t so happy, she’d be completely terrified.

As he drove to pick up Matilda for the school board meeting, John thought about the conversation they’d had Saturday morning. He’d wanted to know her better and had attempted to learn about her life, but she had been reticent. No, more than reticent. She’d avoided talking about herself by asking him questions. Not that he didn’t enjoy telling her about himself, but he’d wanted to see if she seemed less disoriented. Or perhaps he had just wanted to know the lovely young woman better.

The conversation had convinced him she’d suffered no ill effects from the accident, but his own state of mind confused him. Something had passed between them three days earlier that had turned his life inside out. Although she was his daughter’s virtuous young teacher, he wanted more—more than he should. And now he had no idea of how to treat Matilda. Should he act like the school board member or the man who found her to be beautiful, charming and everything he desired in a woman?

There was no doubt what his father would say, if he were alive: act like a Sullivan and forget this absurd folly. But John no longer had to answer to his father, and he enjoyed this feeling of attraction too much to deny it.

He found her waiting for him when he arrived at the schoolhouse. He stopped the surrey and stepped out to help her, behaving like the man he was, the man he’d spent most of his life becoming: upright and honest and never foolish. But he feared his smile showed how he really felt.

“Good evening,” he said as he took her hand to help her into the vehicle. “Do you have any questions about the meeting tonight?”

For an instant, her lovely skin went pale and her beautiful dark brown eyes opened wide, enormous in her face. He suddenly felt protective. What could be frightening her? “Don’t worry. The school board is happy with your first two weeks. You won’t have to do more than answer a few questions.” He got into the surrey next to her.