Once More A Family
Ada shrugged. “I don’t know. I never had the chance to ask him. He died the day the scandal broke. I’ve been too busy trying to arrange things since then to even stop and wonder if he was guilty.”
Aunt Pearl nodded. “Tell me, Ada, do you have faith?”
What a surprising question. Ada had never really considered the matter before. “Yes, of course. We go to church every Sunday.”
“What I am talking about is faith, Ada, not worship. Living out here, you have to have a lot of trust in God. There isn’t any other way to make it. Do you believe that God has a plan for you?”
“I suppose so.” Uneasiness gripped Ada. “Are you saying that He wants me to marry Jack Burnett?”
Aunt Pearl laughed again. “Child, you are sharp. You don’t need the suffrage movement, but I could see how it might need you. I am telling you that Jack Burnett is a fine young man, with a lot of land of his own and a pretty house up on the hill. He’s handsome, to boot, but you’ve seen that for yourself. I’ve known him since he moved out here with his first wife, Emily. She was a bit hoity-toity for my tastes, and I think you’ll be a better match for him than she was. You could do a lot worse.”
“If I marry him, it would be in name only. You said so yourself.” Ada stood her ground. She folded her arms across her chest.
“If you’re worried that Jack Burnett will run through your money, like Gus did to your mother, just remember that you have not a cent to your name,” her aunt warned her tartly. “Only through marriage will you gain anything. Now go upstairs and freshen up. I’ll call the justice of the peace in.”
Angry frustration rose in Ada’s chest, but the solution was before her.
She hated being ordered around.
She left the parlor, shaking with anger, and made her way to the bedroom upstairs. She filled the basin with tepid water from the pitcher and scrubbed her face and hands with a bar of lavender-scented soap. The water ran down to the basin in muddy rivulets. She was filthy. There was nothing for it. She must empty the basin out and put in fresh water in order for her ablutions to have any benefit at all.
Ada heaved the basin up, dribbling some of the contents on her dress. How absolutely disgusting. She would not feel really refreshed until she’d taken a long bath in scented water and changed into a fresh dress. Until then, this would have to do.
Ada glanced over at the window. It was open, but a screen kept her from being able to fling the water from the second story. She struggled out of the room and down the stairs. It was going to be rather difficult to keep the water from sloshing over with each step, but if she took the stairs slowly, most of the water would be contained. When she reached the bottom stair, she hoisted the basin onto her hip. Where should she throw the water? Aunt Pearl was nowhere to be seen, and there seemed to be absolutely no servants anywhere. She paused, biting her lip. Well, she couldn’t very well wander through the house with a bowl full of dirty water. She had already arrived looking ridiculous enough as it was.
She crossed the front entry and opened the screen door. Then, without pausing, she flung the water in the general direction of the yard.
A deep, decidedly male voice exclaimed, “Whoa, there.”
Ada gasped, dropping the bowl in her surprise. It smashed, sending ceramic bits and pieces scattering over the length of the front porch. Horrified, she surveyed the damage and then raised her eyes to behold Jack Burnett, his face and the front of his shirt both dripping wet. If only the ground would open up and swallow her.
“I am so sorry, Mr. Burnett.” She tugged inside her sleeve, pulling out her handkerchief. “Here. Take this.”
He motioned the handkerchief away, his expression dark and unreadable. “No, thank you. I’ve got one of my own. I wouldn’t want to ruin yours.” He mopped his brow. “I suppose you and your aunt have had a chance to talk?”
“We have,” she replied, with as much dignity as she could muster.
He tucked the bandanna back in his pocket, and a surge of some strange feeling grabbed hold of Ada. Surely she wasn’t attracted to this man? He was no better than any other man of her acquaintance, arrogant and smug. No, she must be exhausted from the journey and from the emotional upheaval she had endured.
“Will you marry me?”
“For a price?” She couldn’t keep her voice from trembling. She cleared her throat.
“Well, out here we would say we are killing two birds with one stone.” His eyes gentled, and he gave her a smile. “You see, we need each other, and marriage would fix both of our problems. If you make me a nice home, then I get my daughter. I pay you for your trouble, and you can keep your sisters in school. What do you think?”
“Aunt Pearl makes it sound as though I have no choice in the matter.” She admitted it grudgingly. Life had been constant humiliation for months now, and everywhere she turned, doors had closed in her face.
“Of course, you have a choice.” He leaned up against the porch column, eyeing her squarely. “The only reason I acted the way I did is because, well, I thought you had come to an understanding already with your aunt. I thought you two had corresponded and she had explained matters. But maybe that was the wrong way to handle things. You see, there’s a reason why I want to marry you. As I said before, I need a wife.”
“Surely there’s someone around here you know better than me.” For the first time since their meeting, a real curiosity seized her. Why on earth did this man want to marry her, after all? It didn’t really make sense.
“It’s not that simple.” He glanced down at his boots, his jaw tightening. “My first wife died eight years ago, and her father thinks that Winchester Falls is no place for his granddaughter to grow up. He placed Laura in a boarding school a few years back. I visit her during the holidays. It’s not worth bringing her to Texas for visits. My father-in-law raises such a fuss that bringing her here causes a lot of trouble. In fact, he was threatening to take Laura away for good. I can’t let that happen. She’s only ten years old, and she needs a real family. Your aunt Pearl was kind enough to offer a compromise.”
“Why would Aunt Pearl even get involved?” None of this made much sense.
“Your aunt has been a friend of my family since we moved out here. She became acquainted with my father-in-law and, well, people have a tendency to listen to Pearl Colgan when she speaks. So she was a good person to step in and settle matters before it got too ugly.” He gave a wry smile, but the expression in his green eyes was still dark.
“One of the conditions my father-in-law agreed to was that if I could marry a girl from a fine family, and set up housekeeping here in Winchester Falls—proper housekeeping, not frontier living like I’ve been doing—then he will allow Laura to come live with me.” He gave her a searching glance. “You’re from an excellent family back east. My father-in-law would approve of you. Besides which, you’re related to Pearl Colgan, which makes you okay in my book.” He lifted one shoulder laconically. “If you agree to the bargain, my daughter gets to come home. I don’t even want to wait for the end of the school year—we’d go get her as soon as possible. You’ll have a nice place to call your own. I’ll pay you wages, so that you can keep your sisters in school. I’m a good provider, and I even know how to make a decent cup of coffee. What do you say? Will you marry me?”
Ada hesitated. “I’ve never thought of marrying anyone, to be honest. My work in the women’s suffrage movement means a lot to me.” She lifted her chin. “I believe that women should have the same rights as men.”
He grinned, a boyish smile that made her heart flutter ridiculously in her chest. “Fine with me. If you think you’re the equal of any man, I’ll take your word for it. In fact, I challenge you to prove it. Show everyone out here that you are made of sterner stuff than your average New York belle.”
She eyed him warily. “You’ll get to have the family situation your father-in-law demands of you.”
He shrugged. “Sure. I’m aiming for an agreement that’s acceptable to both parties.”
Ada swallowed, nervousness gripping her tight. There was no reasonable way to decline. She had no place to go, after all. Aunt Pearl had made that quite clear. If she married Jack, she would help him to bring his daughter home. It was sweet that he cared so much. Her father couldn’t have been bothered to bring any of his daughters home. No, in fact, the arranging of schooling and vacations, trips and homes had been done by Mother. After Mother died, Ada had assumed that role for the family.
Her sisters had come to rely on her for strength and security. This arrangement would allow her to continue to provide both. If they wanted to remain in school, she would have the funds to make that possible. If they preferred to come to Texas, she would have created a suitable home, not just for Laura but also for her sisters.
On the other hand, she had never intended to marry. Marriage made her suspicious. It seemed that men used matrimony as a kind of weapon to get what they wanted, as Jack was doing now. “If I agree to it, I have one condition.”
“Name it.” He had grown suddenly still, watching her with those disconcertingly green eyes.
“If we marry, I’m an equal partner in this venture,” she replied, slowly forming the words that had entered her mind. “I must have my rights. I need to be able to continue my work as a suffragist. I must maintain my own funds, which cannot be touched by anyone. The lack of equality in the wedded state that I have been witness to has made me hostile to the institution of marriage for many years.”
He stared at her, as though taking a few moments to process all that she had just said. His expression was shuttered a little, as though he were distrustful of her intentions, as well. Her heart continued its heavy pounding against her rib cage, and she surreptitiously wiped her palms on the front of her dusty black skirt. What if he said no to her conditions? What then?
After a small eternity, he stuck out his hand. “Miss Westmore, you have yourself a deal.”
Chapter Two
As soon as Jack grasped Miss Westmore’s hand in a firm shake, a sense of loss tugged at him. Another marriage that didn’t mean anything, at least in the traditional sense. That seemed to be his lot in life. Well, there was no use in getting upset. Miss Westmore was everything his father-in-law wanted in a stepmother for Laura. She was educated, cultured and pretty. So, just as with his first marriage, he’d at least get Laura out of the deal.
“I suppose we should go into the parlor,” he remarked, releasing her hand.”
Miss Westmore nodded and peeked around the corner of the veranda. “Tell me, why aren’t we being married in a church? It seems strange for so solemn a ceremony to take place in front of a judge.”
“There’s no church in Winchester Falls.” He never even missed it, to be honest. “I guess there aren’t enough people.”
“Hmm.” Miss Westmore’s eyebrows drew together. “I’ve never lived anywhere that didn’t have a church of some kind.”
“Winchester Falls is still pretty new.” He shrugged. “We’re building this town from scratch.” He offered her his arm, a bit rustily. He’d have to get used to squiring a lady around again. “Should we go?”
She nodded, taking his arm. All the color had drained from her face. She must be nervous. Who could blame her? This was a lot to take in all at once, and even more to handle gracefully. She didn’t seem the type of woman to appreciate much coddling, though.
He led her around the veranda and into the front vestibule. “Don’t be chicken,” he whispered. Maybe teasing her would brace her a little.
“I beg your pardon?” She halted, looking up at him with a sharp, startled expression.
Maybe teasing wasn’t the right road to take, either. “I just meant—don’t be scared.”
She squared her jaw, looking at him frankly. “I’ve never been afraid of any man in my life.” Then she squeezed his elbow, propelling him into the parlor. Sure enough, Pearl and Frank Lowe, the judge, stood waiting before the fireplace mantel.
“So you were able to talk some sense into her.” Pearl laughed. “You have succeeded where I failed, Jack. Of course, a handsome fellow like you is more persuasive than an old farm woman like me.”
“I am an entirely sensible creature,” Miss Westmore said, breaking away from him. “We’ve come to an agreement that is acceptable to all parties. There’s no need to be so ridiculous, Aunt Pearl.”
Frank shot Jack an amused look that said, plainer than spoken words, Are you sure you want to get hitched to that?
For his part, a grudging respect surged through Jack as he stood beside her, waiting for the ceremony to begin. She was small of stature but stout of heart. It would be hard to picture anyone coercing her into doing anything she didn’t want to do. His first wife had simply gone along with whatever the St. Clair family wanted. Even miles away, they had controlled every movement of the Burnetts. Which, incidentally, his father-in-law still was capable of doing. After all, here he was, marrying a woman he barely knew just to please the man.
The ceremony was over as soon as it started. Miss Westmore gave him a startled glance as he slipped a ring on her finger. He kissed her briefly on the cheek, and they were married. It was as simple as that.
Pearl came forward to embrace them both, and Frank shook Jack’s hand as he passed through the parlor and out the front door.
“I suppose you want some supper.” Pearl smiled at her niece. “You must be starving.”
“Actually, I prefer to go home,” Miss Westmore replied, her voice sounding tired. But she wasn’t Miss Westmore any longer. Now she was Mrs. Burnett. That would take some getting used to.
Pearl looked as though she’d been slapped but gave a strained smile.
“Sure.” Jack stepped in between the two women. “I know you’re probably worn-out.”
Miss Westmore nodded. No, she was no longer Miss Westmore. She was Mrs. Burnett now, but that seemed too strange to accept just yet. He’d just call her Ada. That seemed less formal. “Is my trunk still in your carriage?”
“It is. I just need to go hitch up the horses and bring them around front.” He hesitated, glancing from one woman to the other. The air had become distinctly frosty despite the balmy early-spring weather.
“I’d prefer to go with you to do that,” Ada replied. “Goodbye, Aunt Pearl.” She gave her aunt a curt nod and then flounced out of the room.
“She’s mad at me,” Pearl fretted, turning to Jack. “Hopefully she’ll come around. I do think this is for the best. I wouldn’t have suggested it, otherwise. You know me—I am always looking for the sensible solution.”
Jack nodded. It was better not to get involved in a family argument. He’d learned that one the hard way. “We’ll be seeing you, Pearl. Give her a few days to get used to things. I’ll bring her by once she’s settled in.”
Tears filled Pearl’s eyes, but she said nothing. She merely nodded and patted his shoulder. A prickle of unease worked its way down Jack’s spine. This didn’t feel right—the rushed wedding to a stranger, the tense surroundings. Even Pearl’s tears were unusual and made a fellow feel off balance. He hadn’t seen her cry since the day her husband, R. H. Colgan, had died. She was as tough and salt of the earth as they came. That she was crying now over her niece’s situation was downright odd.
The sooner they were home, the better.
He left the parlor and joined Ada on the porch. “Have you ever hitched up a carriage before?”
She shook her head. “I had my own curricle at home, but the groom always readied it for me.”
“Well, if you’re going to be as equal as me out here, you might as well start with hitching up your own horses,” he replied. He wasn’t trying to be fresh with her, but, on the other hand, it really was time for her to learn how to handle a few things herself.
He showed her how to hitch the horses to the harness, and she stroked their necks with a gentle hand. “Such beautiful bays. I’ve missed being around horses. Mine were sold before I left New York.”
He glanced over at her in startled surprise. “You know about horses?”
“Of course.” She heaved herself up into the wagon, disdaining his outstretched hand. “I’ve ridden every single day since I was six years old. I’ve been on several fox hunts, of course, and even tried my hand at a steeplechase once.” She leaned forward, her eyes glowing at the memory. “Father never knew about that. He would have been appalled.”
Fox hunting was a St. Clair pastime, a ridiculous waste of horseflesh and energy. He pulled himself up beside her and flicked the reins. The bays moved forward as he pointed them toward home. He could tell her, on no uncertain terms, just what he thought of the kind of people who went fox hunting in Virginia. That, of course, would mean starting a fight. He’d like to at least get her home before they had another row.
He lapsed into silence as they rolled over the hilly road that stretched between his property and Pearl Colgan’s. If Ada could ride well enough to keep her seat during a steeplechase, then she might be of help around the ranch. He’d never really had help unless it was his hired hands. Emily had been afraid of horses—the only St. Clair to be terrified of the animal. So it took everything he had to try to get her to drive a gig alone. After all, he couldn’t be at her beck and call to drive her to every social function in the county.
Ada was quiet, too, but not in an uncomfortable way. He looked over at her once more. Dust still covered her traveling dress and dark circles ringed her eyes.
“Only one more turn and we’re there,” he said in a hearty tone of voice. “Hope you’ll like it.”
“I am sure I will,” she replied, so promptly that it was obvious this was her training as a well-bred young woman talking and not any special enthusiasm.
He guided the horses around the bend in the road, but they were so used to taking this route that he hardly needed to twitch the reins at all. They passed through the front gate and wound their way up the drive to the house.
They traced the semicircle around the front and drew to a halt before the front porch. He paused a moment, savoring the feeling of the wind. His ranch had the advantage of being on a bit of a hill, the only raised part of earth for miles around on the prairie. This location gave a great view of the patchwork fields down below, some green and others brown, depending on what was growing and what had been harvested.
He jumped down from the seat and walked around to her side of the carriage. He extended his hand to help her down. “Well, what do you think?”
* * *
Ada took his hand, gathering her skirts as best she could in her other hand, and then leaped down from the carriage. As soon as she gained purchase, she dropped his hand quickly. She might be his wife in theory, but too much physical contact was unsavory, given the reality of their situation. She glanced up at the house, shading her eyes from the sun.
“It’s very pretty,” she said mechanically. Although, to be honest, pretty was an inadequate word. How best to describe this house? She was used to imposing, majestic brick facades, usually with tendrils of ivy clinging to the walls. Jack’s house was very large, too, but airier. It was a two-story structure, painted white, with bottle-green shutters framing each window. A large, curving veranda wrapped around the front of the house, supported by tall columns. Wooden lacework, also painted that same snowy shade, peeked around the columns and was tucked underneath the eaves of the roof. The comparative elegance of the house contrasted sharply with the rough-and-ready Texas terrain. “I don’t understand why your father-in-law finds it inadequate for your daughter.”
“The St. Clairs are snobs,” he replied tersely. “I’ll bring your trunk in. You’ll be staying in the spare bedroom.”
“Thank you.” She meant it, too. What a relief to finally be in her own room after what seemed an eternity of travel.
He nodded and retrieved her trunk and her valise from the bed of the carriage, and she hastened to open the front door for him. He brushed past her, carrying her trunk as easily as if it were no heavier than a small sack of cotton. As she followed, she clutched the banister for support. A heavy layer of dust stained her gloves.
The stairs creaked as they ascended. At the top of the stairs, Jack made a right turn and opened a door off the hallway. “It’s a little unkempt,” he admitted, tossing her trunk at the foot of an iron bedpost. “But it’s got a nice view of the fields.”
Ada glanced around, taking off her gloves. She schooled her features into blank politeness, but inwardly she was shocked. How on earth did a room get so dirty? Cobwebs hung in the corners of the ceiling, and dust had settled over all of the surfaces. The window was gray, lending a kind of grubby filter to the view of the fields outside.
“Do you have a maid?” She kept her voice as even as she could under the circumstances.
“Yes, two of them,” he responded. If the soiled state of the house appalled him, he was good at hiding his dismay.
“Do they have other duties besides taking care of the house? Do you share their services with anyone else?” That would be the only way such slipshod cleaning could possibly happen.
“No, they’re both employed to take care of the house and make meals,” he replied. “Speaking of which, I think you must be pretty tired and hungry by now. I can find Mrs. H. and have her make us something.”
“Aren’t meals served at regular times?” At this point, it was no longer possible to avoid arching her eyebrows. Two servants, a filthy house, meals served haphazardly—this place was in need of serious management.
“Naw, just whenever I am starving enough to ask them to rustle up some grub,” he replied, flashing a bewildered grin. “After all, it’s just me here. No need for them to go to any kind of trouble for a widower.”
Why employ anyone, then? What exactly did two maids do all day? They obviously didn’t keep themselves busy by cleaning the house. Should she throttle him for expecting so little out of life or feel sorry for him for his lonely bachelor existence? Ada forced a smile. “Well, that’s going to change. No wonder your father-in-law doesn’t want Laura to stay here. This place is ridiculously filthy.”
The grin faded from his face. “When my wife was alive, the house was spotless, and the only time he came here was when Emily was still living. So you can’t hang this one on my poor housekeeping skills.”
Ada tossed her gloves onto the dresser, raising a small cloud of dust. “You married me for one purpose—to be a wife, which means running your household. I need a home, too, and I want it to be nice. So, if you have no objection, I shall get started without delay.”
His square jaw tightened. “Be my guest,” he replied curtly. “I need to see to the horses.” He brushed past her and closed the door with a snap.
Ada sat on the bed, removing her hat pins with hands that trembled. Her life had taken such an odd turn the moment she’d stepped onto the train platform that morning. She opened her valise, removing her silver-backed hairbrush-and-mirror set. She unwound her hair and began brushing it with long, smooth strokes to remove the travel dust.
If Jack had known they were going to be married when he came to fetch her that morning, then this house was in the kind of condition he expected her to appreciate when he brought her home as his bride. That was absurd, for no woman would delight in a wretchedly ill-kept house. On the other hand, he seemed genuinely startled and then offended when she pointed out that regular meals and a clean environment must be maintained in a home when raising a child.
She wound her hair back up in its coil, pinning it into place, and changed from her traveling dress into a clean housedress. She removed her boots, which had started pinching her toes, and reveled in the feel of her slippers, so soft and accommodating for tired, achy feet.