Читать книгу Hero Of The Flint Hills - Cassandra Austin - Страница 10

The wagon was almost even with the house before Lynnette was able to relax. And it wasn’t because of the man sitting so close beside her. Or at least it wouldn’t have been if she wasn’t certain that he watched her.

“Mostly we live in the top two floors,” Emily said. She seemed to take Lynnette’s effort to keep her face turned away from Christian as interest in the house and leaned around Christian to talk as the wagon jostled up the slope. “The bottom floor’s for entertaining, which we don’t ever do.” She scowled at her brother.

Lynnette stole a glance at Christian. He was smiling fondly at Emily. Deep dimples in his cheeks made her long to test the texture of the fine blond stubble visible where the sun struck his face. Shocked by her thoughts, Lynnette turned her attention back to the house.

It had been built into a hillside, allowing ground-level entrances to the bottom floor in front and the middle floor in back. The first floor sported corner bay windows and a porch at the front door. These became three balconies for the rooms above. The top floor consisted of a mansard roof with two large dormers, each with its own smaller balcony.

Christian drove the wagon past the house and turned up a graveled path that led between it and the barn. Lynnette had been so enthralled by the house that she had scarcely noticed the barn. It too had ground-level entrances on two floors and a ramp that led to the third. She looked forward to a chance to explore the massive structure.

The wagon turned again, and Lynnette got a glimpse of a wide valley below before her view was blocked by the house itself. The back had the same quiet grandeur as the front, though it was less imposing with only two stories visible.

The two gables had the same small balconies, and she turned to see what their view might be. The ground sloped upward gradually from the house for barely twenty yards then rose sharply. A trail meandered up a hill that dwarfed the house, and Lynnette could only guess what the view would be from there.

“Welcome to the Prescott Ranch.”

Lynnette turned to find Christian regarding her quizzically. Was she acting like a city girl, studying her surroundings so intently? There was no need for her to feel defensive. She was a city girl. Besides, she had no reason to impress this man.

“Thank you,” she murmured, hearing the chill in her voice.

Emily had already climbed down from the wagon and run around it. Christian jumped down from the dashboard and turned to offer Lynnette a hand. She was about to grasp it when Emily’s shout caught their attention.

“Papa!”

A tall thin man with fine gray hair had come through the door. Emily flung herself into his arms, and he swung her around much as Christian had done. “It’s good to have you home, Em,” he said once she was back on her feet. He sounded slightly out of breath. “Help the lady down, Christian.”

In a moment she was on the ground, and Christian’s callused hand was slipped out of hers. Instead of stepping away, he took her arm lightly and led her forward. “Miss Sterling, let me introduce Hugh Prescott. Pa, Lynnette Sterling.”

“We’re happy to have you, Miss Sterling,” Hugh said, his arm still around his daughter. “I’m sorry Arlen isn’t here to make you feel welcome. The rest of us will do the best we can.”

Lynnette smiled. “That’s most kind of you.” He looked so much like Christian she had to turn and compare their faces. But Christian wasn’t smiling. She turned back to the elder Prescott quickly. “Please, call me Lynnette.”

“Christian, get Jake to help you with the trunks. I’m sure the ladies would like to get out of the sun.” He turned and walked Emily to the house, releasing her only as they came to the door. He held a hand toward Lynnette, encouraging her forward.

She resisted taking a backward glance at Christian. Why had he been watching her so seriously? Was he judging her suitability to marry his brother?

She decided to put Arlen’s strange brother out of her mind and walked resolutely through the door. Emily had crossed a small room lined with benches. Hooks on the wall held coats and rain gear. Several pair of boots were shoved under the benches. At the end of the room, the door stood open.

“That way’s the washroom and the kitchen.” Emily pointed to the left when Lynnette had caught up with her. “This is Pa’s study,” she said, indicating the room to the right of the entry.

Lynnette followed Emily through a door across the hall and stepped into the living room. There was a rock fireplace, groups of comfortable-looking chairs, small tables, shelves and an open stairway leading to the top floor.

Across the room stood double glass doors. The view of the valley beyond was breathtaking. Lynnette walked toward the doors trying to think of words to describe the shades of green in the grasses and trees, the sheer distance that one was able to see.

She opened the doors and stepped out. The round balcony was larger than it had appeared from below. With the breeze on her face and nothing in sight to ground her on the hillside, Lynnette felt as if she were floating over the valley. Her fingers and toes tingled with adrenaline, and she gripped the rail.

“I’ll tell Martha to bring some lemonade.” Hugh had spoken softly, and Lynnette turned in time to see him leave his daughter’s side. As she walked back inside, he disappeared around the stairway. A large black and white cat entered from the same direction and sat inspecting the new arrivals.

“That’s Tyrant,” Emily said, motioning Lynnette into a chair. “Don’t try to be his friend.” At Lynnette’s raised eyebrows, she continued, “He’ll make up his own mind, and you’re better off ignoring him. He loves Arlen and Papa, but barely tolerates the rest of us. Martha despises him, but I think he loves her the best, maybe because she smells like the kitchen.”

Tyrant walked past them as if they were unimportant and sprang into a brocade-covered chair, making himself comfortable. “Come here, Tyrant,” Emily coaxed. “Don’t you remember me?” Tyrant gazed at her, blinked and proceeded to wash his paws.

Christian came through the door backward, carrying one side of Lynnette’s trunk. The other end was supported by a boy only slightly older than Emily. “Welcome home, Miss Emily,” he said, giving her a smile that could only be described as teasing.

“That’s Jake,” Emily said to Lynnette. “He works in the barn and does simple tasks around the place.”

Lynnette bit her lip and tried for a pleasant smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Jake.”

Christian gave an exaggerated sigh. Jake, of course, had stopped walking as soon as he saw Emily. Christian set his end of the trunk on the floor, causing Jake to drop his, then seated himself on the trunk, crossed his arms and watched his younger sister. Her hair was a most unsophisticated mess around her shoulders, making her look younger than her thirteen years. In contrast, she sat demurely on a wingback chair, modeling her pose after Lynnette’s. Miss Sterling, he corrected himself. He hadn’t been invited to call her Lynnette.

Emily cast poor Jake a twinkling smile. “Miss Lynnette doesn’t really mean it, Jake. She’s just being polite.”

Christian turned his attention to Lynnette as the young people continued their teasing. Her eyes traveled from one to the other, amusement evident in the soft curve of her mouth. If he wasn’t mistaken she deliberately avoided looking at him. Fine. It gave him time to study her.

Arlen’s “china doll” came to mind, but it didn’t quite fit There was too much life under those porcelain features. That, more than her beauty, made her attractive. She had perfect manners, as Arlen had said, was quiet and reserved—reserved to the point of being embarrassed by his display of affection for his little sister, a sister whom he hadn’t seen in nearly a year.

Once or twice he had found himself trying to measure her reaction to this land, his home. What did he care whether she liked it here or looked down her nose at their way of life? He wasn’t looking for a wife. And if he was, a woman like Lynnette wouldn’t even be in the running.

But that wasn’t why he studied her. He felt a need to protect his brother. Arlen was young and could be easily taken in by promises from those pretty lips. And she didn’t love Arlen. He was sure of it. She hadn’t asked about him once, not when Arlen had failed to meet them at the station, not during the long ride to the ranch.

Had she committed herself to Arlen out of desperation? Arlen had indicated that she was practically destitute. Was that the truth? Her dress certainly seemed older than the latest fashion, but had she chosen it carefully for effect?

Christian gave himself a mental shake. Her actual situation wasn’t the point What kind of a wife would she make Arlen? His eyes narrowed as he watched her laugh softly at one of Emily’s quips. She was a beauty, all right, just as Arlen had said. What was inside, however, remained to be seen.

He stood abruptly. “Are you two done bickering?”

“I believe so, sir,” Jake replied. “The poor girl’s starting to repeat herself.”

“Only because it’s so hard for you to understand things,” Emily replied airily.

Christian and Jake lifted the trunk as one and headed for the stairs. Christian stepped aside at the bottom, allowing Jake to back up the stairs, taking most of the weight himself. Jake was strong, but he was seventeen, a boy yet.

A grinning boy, at present. The grin didn’t leave Jake’s face all the way up the stairs. They put the trunk down and Jake opened the door to the room Lynnette would be using. “This is one heavy trunk.” The boy grunted as he lifted it again.

“I think the lady plans to stay awhile.”

“You reckon she’s got a different outfit for every day?”

Christian chuckled. They walked down the stairs and met Martha at the bottom with a tray of lemonade. Christian reached for a tall glass. “Why thank you, Martha. You read my mind.”

She carefully swung the tray out of reach. “These are for the young ladies.”

Christian threw his arm around Jake’s shoulder as they walked through the living room. “Fine thing, Jake. We do all the work, and they get the refreshment.”

“It’s the way it always is, boss. The way it’ll always be.” Christian noticed he cast a sidelong look at Emily as they passed. These two had been teasing each other since they were babies. Eventually, one of them would outgrow it. He hoped.

By the time they came back with Emily’s lighter trunk she, Lynnette and Hugh had taken their drinks out on the balcony. Christian noticed Jake’s disappointment and wondered if an end to their childish relationship was a good thing after all.

“You know, Jake,” he began as they set the trunk on the landing and opened Emily’s door, “you can tease my sister all you want, but remember she’s a child. And remember whose child. I’m afraid if you lay a hand on her, your father and mine will take turns making you wish you hadn’t.”

Jake shuddered. “Not to mention what she would do.”

Christian laughed. “Let’s get those bags up here, then find our lemonade.”

A few minutes later Christian, lemonade in hand, stepped out onto the balcony. Martha had insisted Jake stay in the kitchen and not “interfere with the family.”

Emily and Lynnette were sitting on folding chairs while Hugh leaned against the rail. Christian took a place on the far side, not wanting to block the ladies’ view of the valley.

“In spite of all that, school isn’t too bad, Papa,” Emily said, smiling an acknowledgment of Christian’s arrival. “I have lots of friends there. None so nice as Rose, of course. Will Rose be able to stay sometime this summer?”

“I’m sure she’s planning on it, dear.” Hugh had nodded a greeting to Christian but hadn’t interrupted his daughter’s chatter. She was evidently catching him up on the past year.

As he sipped the lemonade, Christian reflected on his family. They had remained close in spite of Felicia. Did she ever miss this sense of belonging or had she found something she valued more? Of course, Felicia had Emily nine months out of twelve. And Arlen nearly half the time. What Christian really wondered was if she ever missed her husband or stepson.

He shook off the thoughts and studied their guest, Arlen’s addition to the family. She appeared to relax, dividing her attention between Emily, Hugh and the view below.

Perhaps sensing his scrutiny, her eyes turned in his direction. He knew he should give her a friendly smile and turn his eyes elsewhere, but it wasn’t that easy. She was lovely to look at. Small perfect features were surrounded by shining chestnut hair, upswept and anchored so securely only a few stray wisps had come loose during the wagon ride. Hazel eyes, almost green in the sunlight, watched him questioningly, as if she tried to read his thoughts and failed. If she was after Arlen for his money, he was the one she needed to worry about. Had she recognized that already?

“Did you put Lynnette’s trunk in my room, Christian?”

Christian pulled his gaze from Lynnette to Emily. “Arlen’s room,” he answered.

“Arlen will be gone a great deal,” Hugh interjected. “When he’s home, he’ll share his brother’s room.”

“I didn’t know which bags were whose so they’re all on the landing,” Christian said.

“Thank you,” Lynnette said. “For moving my things and for making room for me.”

Christian caught himself gazing at her again. He drank the rest of the lemonade quickly, setting his glass beside Emily’s chair. “Great to have you home, little sister,” he whispered, bending close to her ear. He kissed her temple, stealing a glance at Lynnette over the top of her head. As he expected, she averted her eyes, embarrassed that he would kiss his sister. Poor Arlen, he thought, as he left the balcony.

Lynnette chewed on her lower lip, trying to quash her reaction to Christian’s presence. The atmosphere had changed the moment he entered the balcony. He was different from the businessmen she was used to. His manner of dress, his long hair, these made the writer in her curious.

She had been trying to explain away her interest in him when he kissed his sister. The sight of those full lips as he bent toward Emily sent butterflies loose in her stomach. She couldn’t remember when she had ever had such a reaction. Surely it was the long trip, the upsetting change in her situation.

“Are you ready to see your room and unpack?” Emily asked.

“I believe so,” she answered gratefully. “Just let me return my glass to the kitchen and thank Martha.” She stood and turned toward Hugh. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay the summer.”

“That’s quite all right. Leave your glasses on the tray. I’ll take care of them. You two run along and rest before dinner.”

“Thanks, Papa.” Emily ran to give him a hug before leading Lynnette into the house. The stairs were all that separated the living room from the dining room, and, as they started up, Lynnette looked over the banister at a lovely simple table with six straightback chairs.

“The stairs are in the center of the house,” Emily explained. “There are four rooms upstairs, one in each corner.”

The stairs emerged onto a narrow landing. A railing that matched the banisters circled the stairwell. “That’s your room.” Emily pointed to a door to the right. “Papa and I get the great view. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Lynnette said.

Emily paused by the collection of valises, picking one to take to her room. “I’m over here,” she said. “If you need anything, just knock.”

“Thank you, Emily. Have a good rest” She watched the girl go into her room. If Christian and Arlen’s rooms were to the back of the house, that must be Christian’s door. She quickly turned and noted Hugh’s door as well. She didn’t care which room was Christian’s.

She turned the knob to Arlen’s door and pushed it open. Her trunk stood just inside. She gathered up her valises and brought them in with her, plunking them down on top of her trunk before she turned to look around.

The room was large, as she had expected. A star quilt in shades of pink and green covered the four-poster bed, giving the room its only color. The tops of the dresser and writing desk were bare except for oil lamps. The drapes that could be drawn across the balcony doors were an eggshell white. Only two pictures were on the wall, one a family portrait, the other a garden scene in hazy, subdued colors.

Did this colorless room reflect Arlen’s tastes? She was sure the pink and green quilt wasn’t his. She decided she shouldn’t make too much of it. Perhaps the quilt replaced one of even brighter hues. She crossed to the writing desk, opening the top drawer. It was stuffed with items that normally would have cluttered a desktop. Lynnette smiled to herself as she closed the drawer. He had cleared the top for her.

A quick check of the dresser revealed that he had emptied more than half of the drawers for her belongings, evidently moving his necessities to Christian’s room. She went to work, unpacking her bags and the trunk. She tried to conjure up some feeling of intimacy with Arlen as she put her undergarments away where his had recently been stored, but she didn’t feel any different than she would moving into a hotel room. She brushed it off as a result of his items having been removed before her arrival. There was very little here to remind her of Arlen.

She left a few of her things in the trunk for storage and shoved it against the wall. Once everything else was put away, she went to the balcony. It was smaller than the one downstairs, probably no more than five feet square. She stepped to the railing and let her eyes follow the twisting trail to the top of the hill.

To her left and right was the roof itself, with Christian’s balcony rails visible beyond. She looked quickly in the other direction. She could see the corrals where the ledge, upon which most of the house was built, widened to accommodate them. Nearest the house was a square pen with a lone post of mysterious purpose in the middle. She could see part of the barn. Fascinated, she considered going down to explore but knew dinner would be served shortly.

Turning back into her room, she eyed the quiltcovered bed. She should lie down and rest before dinner as Hugh had suggested, but it didn’t sound attractive. Closing her eyes would bring forth images of her father dying, her lost home, her friend, Amanda, so far away. She felt a need to stay busy.

A china basin with matching pitcher sat on a shaving stand. Relieved to find the pitcher full, she quickly washed her face and fixed her hair.

Coming down the stairs was a marvelous experience. She could look down on the rustic living room or the simple dining room or out the tall glass door a few feet from the base of the stairs onto the valley below. The latter commanded most of Lynnette’s attention. She couldn’t resist stepping out on this center, square balcony and looking across the valley again. She wasn’t sure if it was the colors, the feeling of flight, or the sheer openness that most attracted her. If she would be allowed to spend all summer on one of these balconies, she knew she would be happy here.

“It’s quite a view, isn’t it?” Hugh’s voice startled her, and she turned to find him on the corner balcony off the dining room.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

“That’s precisely why I chose the back of the house for my study. I’d never get any work done as long as I could see this.”

“To me this seems like a lovely place to work. I can imagine bringing paper and ink here and writing to my heart’s content.”

Hugh laughed. “You might watch all your papers fly across the valley with a sudden gust of wind.”

Lynnette looked out, trying to picture it It was so lovely and peaceful. She shook her head. “I’d take my chances.”

“Be my guest I’ll have Jake move a desk out for you, if you’d like.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage something simple.” She heard footsteps in the dining room. Martha setting the table, she guessed. “I should leave you to your contemplation,” she said.

“Shirking,” he corrected. “Merely shirking, my dear.”

She smiled. “Whatever. I leave you to it.”

Lynnette closed the balcony doors behind her and moved toward the table. She returned Martha’s shy greeting. “May I help with dinner?” she asked.

“That’s not necessary, miss,” Martha said, unfolding a crisp white cloth on the long table.

Lynnette caught one corner of the cloth and helped her spread it evenly. “I’m not used to being waited on. I’d really like to help. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, but you’re supposed to be resting like Miss Emily.”

Lynnette followed Martha to a beautiful china cupboard. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she whispered.

Martha showed Lynnette where the dishes and silver were and which four places to set, then returned to the kitchen. In a few minutes, the table set, Lynnette followed. A man, several years older than Martha, was laying plates out on a long plank table. He worked effectively in spite of a crutch under one arm.

“You must be Perry,” she said.

“You must be Arlen’s Miss Sterling.”

Lynnette shook the callused hand he offered, pleased by the friendly greeting. Martha was at the stove and seemed surprised to see Lynnette actually in the kitchen. “What can I do now?” Lynnette asked her.

“There’s a bowl of wildflowers on the counter that can go on the table.” She nodded toward them.

Lynnette smiled, taking the hint. Martha was efficient and there were no jobs left this late in the preparations. She took up the bowl of flowers, sniffing their pungent odor. “It was nice meeting you,” she told Perry on her way past. He nodded in response.

The flowers on the table contrasted well with the fine bone china and crystal. Refined, yet simple. She cocked her head to one side, studying the table, searching for better words to describe it. Comfortably elegant, she thought.

“Do you approve?”

Lynnette’s hand flew to her heart as she jumped. Christian stood at the base of the stairs, one hand on the banister. His hair was damp around his face. He looked comfortable enough to have stood there for several minutes.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, when she found her voice.

He smiled, but it wasn’t the unrestrained smile she had seen him give his sister. “That’s because I was here first.”

Lynnette laughed, hoping to break some of the tension that seemed to exist whenever he looked at her. “I was too intent on the flowers, I suppose.”

He nodded. “Is Emily down yet?”

She shook her head. “I could get her, if you’d like.”

“I’ll do it.” He turned and went up the stairs two at a time. Lynnette realized she watched him until his legs disappeared.

“Whom shall I annoy next?” she mumbled.

Not wanting to bother Hugh on the balcony and feeling unwanted in the kitchen, she moved into the living room. The room contained none of the decorative finery that cluttered Felicia’s home in Topeka. She had discovered a shelf of Indian artifacts when she heard Christian’s boots on the stairs.

“Is Emily ready?” she asked, turning to greet him.

“She’s fixing her hair.”

He walked into the room, studying her much as though she were some strange artifact herself. She was relieved when Hugh, donning his suit coat, ambled into the room.

“Ah, you’ve found my treasures,” he said, moving to her side. “These were all found on our ranch at one time or another.” He pointed out several arrowheads, inviting her to hold them and examine them up close. There was also a piece of a clay pipe.

“This is my favorite.” He lifted a large stone ax head and handed it to her. Lynnette rubbed the cold smooth surface, surprised at how heavy it was. She set it carefully back in its place.

They heard a door upstairs open and close. “Well,” Hugh said, offering her his arm. “Bad enough to bore you with my hobbies without keeping you from dinner in the process.”

They met Emily at the bottom of the stairs, and Hugh directed everyone to their seats. Lynnette and Emily were on either side of Hugh at the head of the table, and Christian took the seat beside Emily.

Emily had changed out of her traveling clothes into a simple gown of pale green lawn. She looked refreshed and lovely with her hair piled on her head and tumbling down the back in natural curls.

It occurred to Lynnette that both Emily and Hugh had dressed for dinner. It was a custom she had forgotten since her father’s illness. She would have felt out of place in her traveling dress if it hadn’t been for Christian, at ease in his open shirt with the rolled-up sleeves.

Hugh asked a brief blessing and Martha, evidently waiting for their arrival, entered, carrying a platter piled with thick steaming steaks.

“I told Martha Miss Sterling’s—Lynnette’s—first meal at the ranch had to be our own beef.” He took the platter from Martha who returned to the kitchen. He speared a huge slab of meat and held the platter for Lynnette. She was grateful that a few pieces were cut more to her appetite. She stabbed the juicy steak with her fork as he had done and put it on her plate.

Martha returned with potatoes and gravy and then with corn and bread, all of which she set near Hugh’s place. He served the women, then passed them to Christian. “Holler if you want more,” Christian said, taking up his knife and fork.

“When’s Arlen coming home?” Emily asked.

“Tomorrow, I believe,” her father said. “I’m sure he’ll return as soon as possible.” He gave Lynnette a warm smile.

Lynnette returned the smile shyly. She almost dreaded Arlen’s return. That was foolish; he was the reason she was here.

“I think we should have a party,” Emily suggested, evidently feeling her numerous hints had failed in their purpose.

“Did you and Arlen discuss any activities for the summer?”

It took Lynnette a moment to realize Hugh had spoken to her. “No. Nothing specific.” All eyes were on her, and she added, “I’ll be content to enjoy the country air. You needn’t make plans for me.”

Christian and Hugh went back to their steaks. Emily frowned, evidently hoping Lynnette’s plans would be taken more seriously than her own. Lynnette cast the girl an apologetic look.

Emily’s frown didn’t last. She soon launched into a story of one of her classmates’ extracurricular activities, keeping the men entertained and Lynnette free to enjoy the dinner.

Occasionally Lynnette cast furtive glances at Christian. He was an extremely handsome man. In town, a man with his looks would be out to charm all the ladies. Perhaps Christian was like that in other settings; he didn’t flirt with her because of her relationship with his brother.

The disappointment she felt was most inappropriate! She turned her attention to Emily’s story, looking for an opportunity to join the conversation. Emily left her none. Besides, the girl’s story was hard to follow since she knew none of the principals. Her next glance at Christian revealed him watching her. She met his gaze. Let him turn away, she thought.

Instead he let the hint of a smile touch his lips. Deliberately, he placed an elbow on the table, planted his chin on his fist and turned toward his sister, pretending to hang on her every word.

Emily’s voice faltered. She must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. She glanced at him, did a double take and slapped at his arm, slowing, but not stopping, her story.

Christian’s laughter finally silenced her. She turned to scowl at him. “Eat, little sister,” he said. “I want dessert.”

“I’m done,” Emily said. Whether she referred to her dinner or her story wasn’t clear to Lynnette.

Christian rose from the table and headed for the kitchen. Emily scowled after him. “At home we ring a bell so the servants serve dessert,” she said.

“Martha and her family are having their own dinner,” Hugh said quietly. “It doesn’t hurt us to wait on ourselves.”

Emily looked unconvinced but didn’t argue. She quickly thought of another story to share with her father and was well into it when Christian returned. He carried a tray of soup bowls heaped with ice cream.

Lynnette laughed when he traded one for her plate. “If all meals are like this, I’ll be fat long before summer’s over.”

“Perry cranked all afternoon,” Christian said. “We can’t hurt his feelings.”

“Where did he get the ice?”

“From the icehouse,” Emily offered, digging in without concern for the rarity of the treat.

“We cut ice from the streams in winter,” Hugh explained. After a moment he broke the silence left by Emily’s preoccupation with the dessert. “Christian, did you know our guest here wants to take over one of the balconies so she can write?”

“Really?” Lynnette felt Christian’s scrutiny. “What do you write?”

“Fiction,” she said, trying to include everyone in her answer to avoid looking directly at Christian.

“Have you had anything published?”