Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Alexandra asked dubiously as she watched Lisa slide a pin through her hat, anchoring it to her dark hair.
“I’ll be fine, Drina,” Lisa sighed.
Alexandra shifted in the small space between the sitting room and the front door, one hand resting on the latch. When she’d told Lisa about her plan of going to the women of the town the night before, she’d had no idea that it would mean Lisa joining her.
“It’s just that your fever’s only been broken for two days now,” Alexandra continued, looking her aunt over. “Perhaps you ought to be in bed.”
“Perhaps I’ve spent enough time in bed,” Lisa countered.
Alexandra hesitated, studying Lisa as discreetly as possible. Her aunt seemed steady enough on her feet for now, but her face was still pale and thin. Her dress, a dark brown cotton with pleated trim and rust-colored lace at the neck, hung on her just a bit too large.
Still, her brown eyes were bright and alert, and there was something of her old determination about her again, which cheered Alexandra more than she could say.
Somewhere at the back of her mind, the doctor’s voice said something about the dangerous part being the part where she starts to feel herself again. Alexandra looked at her aunt’s bright eyes and decided, quite deliberately, not to listen to it.
“Very well,” Alexandra relented. “I suppose you can come.”
Lisa, her arms still above her head as she fiddled with her hat, paused and locked eyes with Alexandra. “Well, thank you, Mother, for giving me permission,” she said dryly. “If I behave well, do you think we might stop for some gumdrops on the way home, too?”
Alexandra instantly perked up. “Do you think there’s a confectioner in town? I’d consider robbing a bank for some violet creams.”
“Only one way to find out,” Lisa said, at last satisfied with the lay of her hat. She started to pass through the front door, but Alexandra stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Take this at least,” she said. From the corner by the door, Alexandra withdrew a walking stick. It was simple wood, polished to a high shine, beautifully grained.
Lisa stared at it disdainfully. “I’m not a woman in my dotage.”
“Think of it as just a precaution. Besides, we don’t know what these cowboys and miners are like—you might need it to keep someone in line,” Alexandra suggested, only half in jest. She could see Lisa considering it.
“Mr. Byrne dropped that off when he heard you were getting back on your feet. Surely you wouldn’t want him to think that you’re ungrateful. ”
Lisa gave her a dour look that said she didn’t buy the manipulation, but she reached over and snatched up the walking stick. Satisfied, Alexandra followed her out the door.
The children were assembled in the front yard, lined up as if under military review with Antony strolling in front of them, his hands behind his back.
“You have this unruly lot under control, Mr. Byrne?” Alexandra asked, pausing to tighten the string of the reticule at her wrist. She gave a sly smile and wink to the children, who were in great danger of dissolving into giggles.
“Don’t you worry, Missus,” Antony said. “We’ve our marching orders: The grounds of the ranch will be in top form by the time you return home. There won’t be a stray twig or weed to be seen. Isn’t that right, soldiers?”
“Yessir!” the children answered as one, snapping salutes that were more or less correct.
“I didn’t know you were a military man, Mr. Byrne,” Lisa commented. Alexandra saw her giving Antony an assessing look.
“Yes’m,” Antony said, dipping his head to Lisa. “Army of the Ohio under Burnside,” he said. “Wounded during the Ohio raid, then rejoined for the Atlanta campaign.”
“Hmm,” Lisa said, tilting her head. She and Antony stared at one another for a long moment, the children and Alexandra exchanging an amused glance.
Alexandra pointedly cleared her throat.
Antony, brought back to the present, made a show of straightening his dark red twill vest, then gestured to where a cart and horse were tied to a fence rail. The horse, a sturdy chestnut with a flaxen mane and tail, stood easily in the sun, one back hoof cocked.
“This here’s a balance cart,” he explained. “They’re easy to drive, and this one’s sprung well, so it shouldn’t rattle you two around too badly. Do either of you have any experience driving?”
“I do, though it was long ago,” Lisa said. “I used to drive myself everywhere as a girl.”
“Not so long ago, then,” Antony said with a smile that Lisa answered with a look of tolerant disbelief. “Well, in any case, ol’ Buck here will take good care of you. Just point him toward town, and he’ll get you there.”
“Not sure I should be putting my faith in a horse named Buck,” Alexandra muttered as she climbed up to the driver’s seat and scooted over. Lisa followed her, accepting a helping hand from Mr. Byrne.
“Oh, don’t mind that,” Antony said, grinning up at the pair of them. “He’s just named that on account of he’s too big and lazy to give a proper kick.”
“Right then,” Alexandra said. She took up the reins, positioning her hands with Lisa’s gentle instructions. Holding her breath, she let one of the long reins fall on Buck’s rump. He lifted his head and set off at a sedate walk. Alexandra exhaled in relief.
With a good deal of encouragement from Lisa, Alexandra managed to get the horse and cart turned out onto the road without tipping either one over.
Once out on the wider road, Alexandra clicked to Buck, letting one of the reins snap gently against his rump again.
He grunted in response, but picked up his feet into a half-hearted trot.
“So,” Lisa said, “we’re pleading our case to the good people of Virginia City, are we? Do we have a plan of attack?”
“Not really,” Alexandra admitted, raising her voice to be heard over the wind and the jingling of harness and creaking of cart. “I suppose I was just going to appeal to their better nature.”
“Hmm,” Lisa hummed, her forehead wrinkling. “Might be worth appealing to their more practical nature—if the ranch goes under, where will they turn to for horses?”
“That’s a good point, too,” Alexandra agreed.
She maintained a rigid posture, afraid of moving in the slightest lest it upset the horse or unbalance the cart.
The dirt road, with all of its ruts and dips, was giving her quite a thrashing.
“I imagine that Mrs. Bruin will be able to provide us some guidance.”
“That’s a fine idea,” Lisa said. Alexandra saw her aunt look at her askance. “You’re going to rattle yourself to death if you don’t relax a little.”
“I can’t,” Alexandra said, her voice breaking as the cart wheels found another rut. “Things are going well, and if I change anything, it might all fall apart.”
“Uh-huh,” Lisa said, giving Alexandra an arch look.
As always, Alexandra had the distinct feeling that they were having two separate conversations. She refused to give her aunt the satisfaction, however, and kept her eyes fixed between Buck’s ears.
In fact, she had spent a good part of the night failing to sleep over it.
She had turned it about every way she could think of: the shutter coming down behind his eyes, his hand closing into a fist and going back to his side, the screen door cracking against the frame.
She had gotten precisely nowhere. The only conclusion she could reach with any confidence was that she had been perfectly willing to let him kiss her, and that this was a thing she was going to have to sit with whether she liked it or not.
She did not much like it.
They spent the rest of the ride into town in silence, though Alexandra was sitting so close to her aunt that she could swear she felt her shoulders shaking with laughter.
It’s probably just the road, Alexandra told herself.
***
Mrs. Bruin was exactly the sort of woman that Alexandra had imagined the good doctor would be married to.
She was short and plump, everything about her round and welcoming.
Her face might have been called plain if it weren’t so busy being pleased about something.
She didn’t open the door when Alexandra politely knocked so much as threw it open, her face lighting up as if company were the most delightful thing in the world.
“Oh! My dears!” she said, her voice sharing the same vague brogue as her husband. “Oh please, do, do come in! I cannot tell ye what a joy it is to see you up and about, Miss Hampshire. I confess I nearly wore my rosary out on your account.”
“That’s—” Lisa began, but before she could get anything else out, Mrs. Bruin was taking both her and Alexandra by the hand and pulling them into her house. She fussed about them in the entryway, offering to take hats, shawls, anything at all.
“I’ve been hoping y’d visit from the moment my dear Aldous told me about you,” Mrs. Bruin said, ushering Lisa and Alexandra deeper into the house.
It was a home of few rooms, but they were well-appointed and made cozy by their small size.
Alexandra suspected it was one of the first homes built in town.
“To think, coming all the way out here in one go like that,” she said, her brown eyes warm with compassion.
“Well—” Alexandra started, but Mrs. Bruin barreled right on past her.
“Oh, and the drive into town is so dusty, isn’t it? And here’s me, rattling on and not having offered you a drop of anything,” she said. She ushered Alexandra and Lisa into a small parlor and sat them down on a pair of matching chairs upholstered in light blue.
She disappeared through a doorway with a curtain of blue damask, chattering all the while.
Alexandra couldn’t hear her over the preparation of refreshments.
She took the chance to study her surroundings: The furniture was simple, but well-made; the remarkable thing was that every available surface was covered in some kind of lace. Crocheted, tatted, bobbin, needle-run.