Chapter 39
Late-November rain pinged against the porch roof and the side windows as Cora lifted the curtain.
A rider dismounted by the hitching post beneath the gray afternoon sky.
The rubberized poncho and wide-brimmed hat with a low crown hid the identity of the man, but it wasn’t Arthur.
He’d get his fancy clothes drenched before he’d don such practical wear.
And the visitor was too tall to be Mr. Franklin.
Charlie squeezed in beside her. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know. But fetch me my rifle just in case. Then get up to your loft and stay put.”
“I’ll get mine too. And hide in the kitchen.”
“You’ll do as you’re told. It’s probably just someone passing through or someone from town come to check on us.”
“I’ll get both rifles and take mine to the loft.”
She exhaled and peeked out once more as the boy scurried off.
The stranger knocked. By the third time, she had the rifle behind the door, and Charlie’s feet pitter-pattered on the stairs.
Rivers of water ran off the stranger’s hat. “Miss Scott? I’m Major Garret Ramsey. Perhaps Mr. McKenzie mentioned me?”
“Yes.” She opened the door wide. “Come in.” Her swallow stuck in her throat. Had something happened to Ben?
He stomped his boots on the rug, then removed his hat and shook it on the porch. Charlie crept back down the stairs and up to her side as Major Ramsey disposed of his poncho on the floor by the door.
“I’ll put some coffee on, Major, and I have some stew simmering. But first, I have to know if you’ve heard from Ben. Is he all right?”
The major ran a hand over his damp hair. “Ben didn’t mention anything about himself, but I’m sure he’s as well as can be expected considering he’s missing the ones dear to him in Texas.” His hazel eyes twinkled.
“Us. He means us.” Charlie beamed. “When’s he coming back?”
Ramsey directed his gaze at her. “I’d greatly appreciate a cup of coffee. Perhaps Charlie could fetch it for me?”
“Grownup talk again?” Charlie groaned.
Ramsey chuckled.
“Go fetch him a cupful and walk back carefully so you don’t spill a drop.” Cora scooted him down the hall, then turned to the major. “What’s wrong?”
“Ben’s worried about the two of you here on your own. He asked me to check on you.”
A full day’s ride each way, and it couldn’t wait for the rain to end? “Did he say what the concern was?”
“Not specifically.” He avoided her gaze. “Said something about the potential for Indian trouble.”
Indian trouble? She blinked wide. Wolf Heart?
Was that what this was about? She’d gotten Ben’s attention, all right.
She swallowed back a smile. “I don’t suppose there’s any hope Mr. McKenzie will be able to return by spring to help us out with that, is there?
” Stupid question. Of course not, but she could hope.
Ramsey stomped his boots again. “I couldn’t say, but he expressed interest in seeing you move to safety for the winter. And as soon as I read his telegram—”
“He sent a telegram? Not a letter?”
“I’m sure a letter will follow, but he felt the case needed immediate attention.
And as soon as I read it, I had an idea.
My wife, Sky, could use help with the children.
We’d love to have you stay with us at least until spring.
Not much ranching to be done before then.
Mr. Reynolds and I could drive our wagon here, haul a load of whatever you wanted to take with you, and lock the rest up tight.
And we could bring your few farm animals along. ”
She gnawed her lip. Pack up and leave? With no assurance that Ben would return. Surely, this couldn’t be the Lord’s answer to her prayers. But the Lord didn’t always answer prayers the way one might imagine.
Leave the ranch behind for the whole winter and more than likely for the spring, as well, if Ben had anything to do with it.
Trade her independence for safety and company.
A guest in someone else’s home. Either that or risk Wolf Heart not being able to take no for an answer.
And even if he accepted it in her case, there was Charlie to be worried about.
Her chest tightened. “Not a matter to be settled in an hour, Major.”
“I understand.”
“Here’s the coffee.” Charlie came down the hall carrying the porcelain cup with both hands.
“Thank you, young man.” Ramsey tugged off his gauntlets and wrapped his hands around the steaming brew.
“Pardon my manners, Major. Please have a seat in the parlor.” She motioned toward the room.
Ramsey reached inside his coat pocket. “One more item for you to consider. As I passed through Weatherford, Mr. Miller heard I was headed this way and asked me to deliver this.”
He pulled out a damp envelope, but McKenzie and Philadelphia were still plainly evident.
She clutched it. “Charlie, please take the major into the parlor. If you ask nicely, he might tell you a story.” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried to her room. Maybe this letter would show her what to do.
Her hands trembled as she opened the envelope.
Miss Scott,
We’re not acquainted, but I feel as if I know you from the way my brother talks about you all the time.
I look forward to meeting you someday. I know it’s not my place to say anything, but my brother needs to see you.
My mother and father are treating him horridly, expecting him to carry on generations of legacy at a paper our father helped start only twenty-five years ago.
Ben completely cut all ties to his former fiancée, but that has only landed him in more trouble with our parents and my father’s business partners.
The hope of you is his only bright spot.
He is homesick for you but cannot travel to you right now.
If there was a way that you could see clear to come…
His only bright spot. Wolf Heart wasn’t the only one who thought she should go to Ben.
Evelyn McKenzie was asking her to leave Texas, at least for a visit.
Brow furrowed, Cora sank onto her bed. From the sound of it, Ben was deeply entangled in obligations.
She’d be foolish to think he’d be free by spring or even a year from now.
After the way she’d treated him in the garden, picking up the shard from her father’s whiskey jug and accusing Ben of having a similar character, could she really expect Ben to fight his way back to her? Unless she gave him a reason to?
And what of her dream? At this point, the surest way to hold onto the ranch would be to ride into town and tell Arthur she’d reconsidered. Live in misery for the sake of cattle and acres?
She glanced around at her mother’s wallpaper, the frilly curtains, the carved walnut bedframe, and the cedar chest. Hollow without someone to share them with.
All of the furnishings were from Nashville.
Her mother had brought them along when she’d forsaken everything familiar to go with her husband to the unknown.
But she was not her mother.
Saddlebags over one shoulder and a carpetbag in the other, Ben strode down the gangplank of the Mary Belle as he disembarked in New Orleans.
The Mississippi lapped against the bow. A fleet’s worth of frigates, schooners, steamboats, and ocean-going steamers flanked the wharf.
Hopefully, one of them would head out tomorrow for Galveston.
Coal smoke and damp stung his nose. Better that than the odor of the liquid sludge which flowed through the city’s drainage ditches.
It was a city full of sights, but the only sight he cared about was across the Gulf and half of Texas. Blue eyes, uburn-tinged chestnut hair, and maybe, just maybe, a smile for him.
He shifted the weight of the saddlebags as his boots struck the worn boards of the dock. The ticket office was farther down on the wharf, if he recalled correctly. “Excuse me.” He nodded and stepped around a lady dressed in a wide hoop skirt.
“Mr. McKenzie? Mr. Benjamin McKenzie?” A young man wearing a black wool wheel cap and a brown sack coat quickstepped down the dock, calling out like a newspaper boy hawking the morning edition. He scanned the crowd coming down the gangplank. “Benjamin McKenzie?”
Ben waved at him and strode over. “I’m Mr. McKenzie.”
“Benjamin McKenzie of Philadelphia?”
“I am he. What do you need of me?”
“Telegram, sir.” The youth whipped an envelope from his coat and held out his hand.
Ben dug in his pocket for a coin and exchanged it for the message.
“Much obliged.” The boy tipped his hat and hurried off.
Ben grimaced as he opened the envelope. If his father or mother were trying to drag him back already…
Surely, no new crisis could have arisen in the ten days since his departure.
He paused. Maybe he shouldn’t read the message.
Just act as if he never received it, at least until he set foot in Texas.
A groan rumbled in his throat. He couldn’t not read it. But nothing short of a life or death emergency, verified by a telegram from Evie, would turn him eastward before he saw Cora.
He uttered a prayer and pulled out the message.
Received wire from Ramsey. Cora on way to Philadelphia. Can catch her in New Orleans. Arriving on the steamer Harlan. Evie.
On her way to Philadelphia? Cora was coming to him?
Mouth agape, he stumbled against a post. A smile crescendoed through his whole being.
His girl was coming to see him—not really his girl, the way they’d left things, but if she was on her way to New Orleans, maybe all was right in the world, and she would be again.
More than he’d dared even pray for. It didn’t mean she was coming to stay or that he’d ask her to.
But she was willing to travel across the country to visit him.
He swiped his hand over his face, but nothing could wipe away the smile.
His hand dropped to his side. What if he’d already missed her? The Harlan could have already landed as far as he knew, and if he didn’t catch her when she disembarked, he might never find her in this city. He took off at a fast walk.
“Hey, mister. Forget something?”
Ben pivoted toward the voice.
An unshaven dockworker pointed at the carpetbag Ben had left by the post.
Ben hurried back and grabbed it. “Much obliged. Can you tell me how I can find the schedule for when the Harlan’s due in port?”
The next day, Ben stood on the wharf. Since yesterday, he’d soaked in a bath, washed his clothes, and even stopped by the barber’s for a shave and a haircut. He clutched a half dozen roses wrapped in paper in his sweaty palm. Cora’s ship was due any hour. Thank God, he hadn’t missed her.
Would Charlie be with her? The telegram hadn’t said anything about him.
Ben scanned the rows of steamers moored along a stretch of docks a mile long.
Laborers hustled around him, working their way between piles of sacks and crates and towers of cotton bales.
Down along another stretch of wharf, passengers disembarked from a steamboat. An egret croaked from a nearby piling.
Last night, he got down on his knees and prayed, and he did so again this morning.
His hope for a future with Cora would likely be decided in the next few days.
His girl was coming to see him. How much dare he ask of her?
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He was here to rescue her, not ask her to leave Texas. Even if he had to glue his mouth shut.
He had to be patient. On the way to wharf this morning, he’d booked them separate rooms in the St. Charles Hotel.
He’d visit with her a few days here in New Orleans.
Gauge her feelings. Then, if he believed he stood a chance, he’d propose.
It was a lot to ask that she’d agree to be his wife under the stipulation that it could very well be six months, a year, or even longer before he could return to Texas and claim her as his bride.
He paced. Whether her answer was yes or no—Dear Lord, please don’t let it be no—he’d need to convince her to stay with the Ramseys and Reynolds, until either he could return to Texas someday to make her his wife and work their own ranch, or they could find another safe alternative.
Dare he ask so much of her? Either way, he’d need to travel to Texas to make sure she got settled in with them.
A petal on one open bud fluttered. He slowed his pace. Flowers weren’t the most practical gift, and Cora was a very practical lady, but he had to show her that she was a treasure.
He strode to the edge of the wharf and gazed down the murky flow of the Mississippi.
A steamer churned toward him, its smokestacks puffing black fumes.
Passengers gathered along the white railing, taking in the sights, probably eager to disembark.
Was Cora amongst them? Holding onto a piling, he stretched forward.
The name on the side of the ship… He squinted.
The last two letters were -an. He stretched farther.
The bow sliced through the water, moving closer to a dock.
Harlan. His chest expanded. Hope was in sight.